Monthly Archives: January 2011

Game One: The Great Rivalry Continues…Nagurski, Nitschke, Butkus, Bears, Brats, Brews…You gotta love it.

Chow Down:

Word to Pete Rock:

[Photo Credit: How Cook Like a Wolf]

Cold Sunday morning in New York. Take it away, Johnny:

Or here’s the original by Robert Service:

Brought to you by our pal, Matt B.

Well, sometimes you make a plan and while it might not be popular, you stick by the plan, you lay low, and then…you blow it all up. The Angels have been criticized this winter for not doing enough, but last night they went out and traded for Vernon Wells. Not just that, they are picking up the rest of his seemingly unmovable contract. MLB Trade Rumors collects some reactions to the deal; Hardball Talk has more.

What was it P.T. Barnum was supposed to have said?

Closer to home, old pals Johnny Damon and Manny Ramirez have agreed to join the Rays. At least it’ll be fun to see them around more often this season.

Houston Street after dark by Bags.

Bags goes to the Modern:

Peep this fun site, The Monkeys You Ordered (and thanks go to Brad for pointing it out):

Our dog is f****** huge.

Via the inimitable Pat Kiernan, yesterday’s mass mob arrests in the New York area have unearthed some fantastic new mob nicknames. As a group, mafia types really excel at the nickname, perhaps even more than ballplayers; today I thought I’d try to merge the two genres. Herewith, actual mob nicknames from the Daily News, and their imaginary position on the baseball diamond:

Tony Bagels
Two good options here: the reliable ace who keeps putting zeros up on the scoreboard, or the hapless rookie still hitting .000 two weeks into his first stint in the majors.

The Claw
Knuckleballer.

Jack the Whack
Dumb-as-a-post platooned corner outfielder who plays unfortunate defense but, at the plate, runs into one every so often and hits it to the next county.

Fat Larry
Elder-statesman DH beloved by teammates and groupies coast-to-coast.

Baby Fat
Fat Larry’s younger brother, a perenially disappointing 3B who would be more suited to DH but is just not a good enough hitter.

Jello
Popular hefty lefty starting pitcher.

Meatball
This would work for like 40% of all Major League players, actually.

Vinny Carwash
Middle reliever who’s nothing to write home about except for his one truly fantastic secondary pitch, probably a changeup.

Junior Lollipops
Light-hitting shortstop who plays just good enough defense and smacks just enough seeing-eye singles to stay in the league basically forever.

Mush
Ancient first base coach famous for his heckling gifts with regards to opponents and umps.

The Beard
I did not know Brian Wilson was a member of the Genovese crime family.

Nighthawk
You know what? I’m not going to make fun of anyone nicknamed Nighthawk. Likely not someone you want to mess with.

Baby Shacks
Former Rookie of the Year 2B who never lives up to the hype.

Mousey
Bullpen catcher and professional butt of jokes.

Johnny Glasses
Grouchy veteran umpire.

Tonight at the Walter Reade Theater, a slept-on Jeff Bridges vehicle featuring John Huston:

I can’t make it, dang it, but man, it should be a good time.

Brian Cashman’s behavior in recent weeks has some wondering if he’s auditioning for a role in a remake of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. How else to explain Cashman’s decision to throw dirt on the signing of Rafael Soriano at his Yankee Stadium press conference? It’s one thing to be honest in answering reporters questions; it’s quite another to submarine one of your newest players, a pitcher who will be extremely important to Yankee fortunes in the late innings.

And then, as if we needed more evidence of Cashman cracking under the stress, we learn that earlier this winter he actually offered Carl Pavano a one-year contract worth $10 million. After misappropriating nearly $40 million of Yankee funds on Pavano, a man who clearly had little interest in actually working (or playing) for his money, Cashman apparently felt obligated to pad Pavano’s wallet again. Either Cashman knows nothing about pitching, as his critics have maintained for years, or he knows nothing about the lack of character of certain players. Can you imagine the reaction of the New York media, not to mention Yankee fans, to the news of Carl Pavano returning to the Bronx? That would have gone over about as well as the news of Pete Rose opening up an OTB parlor next to the Hall of Fame.

So what exactly is going on with Cashman? Is he, as some conspiracy theorists maintain, greasing the skids for his own departure at the end of 2011, when his contract expires? I guess that’s as good an explanation as any, but it does little to assuage Yankee fans who are concerned about what happens over the next ten months. The Yankees still have work to do. They will need to address the issue of starting pitching at some point. They will have to decide whether to surrender Jesus Montero in any deal for a frontline starter. And they will have to make the decision of whether to trade Joba Chamberlain now, move him back to the rotation, or let him settle into an inglorious role as a sixth- or seventh-inning relief pitcher. These decisions cannot wait for Cashman’s successor; they need to be settled before or during the upcoming season.

Given some of the statements coming from Cashman of late, I’m not sure if any of these issues will be resolved properly. If that’s the case, then perhaps it will soon be time to start thinking about who will be Cashman’s successor…

***

If there’s a positive development to come out of this strange postseason, it’s this: the inability to reel in Cliff Lee has forced the organization to address other, less publicized needs, like the catching, the bullpen, and the bench. The Yankees have had plenty of money to spend on these areas, which has resulted in the net gain of Russell Martin, Rafael Soriano and Pedro Feliciano, and now Andruw Jones.

As I wrote in this space a month ago, the addition of Jones, 33, made so much sense that I thought it would never happen, and yet it did! Jones put up an OPS of .931 against left-handers last season; similar numbers should play nicely on a team that is overloaded with southpaw swinging outfielders. On any given day, Jones can spell Brett Gardner in left, Curtis Granderson in center field, or even Jorge Posada at DH. With Jones batting seventh or eighth against left-handers, the Yankees should have good balance toward the bottom of their batting order.

Defensively, Jones is not nearly the all-world center fielder he was with the Braves, but still has enough speed and arm to spell Granderson, while spending more significant amounts of time in the corners. Jones is far from the defensive liability that Marcus Thames was; as long as the Yankees don’t ask him to play the field every day, he should hold up fine in the outer pasture.

I also like Jones’ degree of postseason experience. He has played in 17 postseason series (all dating back to his days with the Braves), where he has accumulated ten home runs in 238 at-bats and reached base 36 per cent of the time. Clearly, the postseason has not fazed Jones, an important consideration for a Yankee team that has missed the playoffs only once since 1995.

For those keeping score, Jones is the first native of Curacao to play for the Yankees since Hensley “Bam Bam” Meulens in 1993. At one time a top-notch prospect in the Yankee system, Meulens never found the plate discipline that he needed to become the star the franchise had once envisioned. (He also didn’t have a position; he was too stiff to play third base, and lacked the athleticism needed to play the outfield.) But Bam Bam has found success in his second baseball life, as the batting coach of the defending champion San Francisco Giants. Giants players rave about Meulens, who coaxed a career season out of Aubrey Huff and oversaw the hitting of Rookie of the Year Buster Posey. Bam Bam’s next big project will be finding a way to fine-tune the swing of Pablo Sandoval, while also keeping him separated from the buffet table.

Bruce Markusen writes “Cooperstown Confidential” for The Hardball Times.

Bowie Friday:

More Snow.

The beat goes on.

The great Charles Addams:

According to Jon Heyman, Andruw Jones is now a memeber of the New York Yankees.

[Photo Credit: FLC]

I went to Fatty Crab for the first time last week. My brother and I hit the Upper West Side version and we really enjoyed the food. But our waiter was overbearing–sell!, sell!, sell!–and the food was not cheap.

Then, a few nights ago, I had dinner at  Lotus of Siam, the new Thai place on 5th Avenue just off 9th Street. I went with a pal and we arrived early, at 6:00. The host snarled when we told him that we didn’t have a reservation.

“Did that guy just snarl at us?” I said to my friend. “The dining room is half-empty and he”

It was a chilly way to start the evening. Then our waitress…oh, the waitress. “She’s young,” my pal said. I tried to sympathize even though she was either overwhelmed or simply not especially interested in her job. But at $26 an entree, man, I want the service to be welcoming, informative, at least competent. I can deal with rude, like if an old Jewish waiter spills soup on you and then balls you out, but aloof, I can’t abide.

The food was yummy but the portions were small and it was not cheap. Worst of all, I didn’t leave the place feeling happy. I left longing for SriPraPhai in Queens, for a place where the food is great, the prices reasonable and the atmosphere something less than smug.

Milton Bradley has such a fun name… why’s he have to keep ruining it by doing lousy things?

The latest incident – in which Bradley was arrested yesterday on felony charges for threatening an “unidentified woman” – is still firmly in the “alleged” category. No details have leaked out yet as to what precisely he’s charged with, beyond that, let alone evidence of anything. But it’s going to be an uphill battle for the public to keep an open mind, since half his Wikipedia page is taken up with “Controversies.” And that list isn’t even comprehensive – it does not  include, for example, a prior domestic violence allegation (although that  never led to an arrest, and in a separate incident Bradley was the one who called the police on his wife; the police were called to his home three times in a 33-day span). U.S.S. Mariner has a more detailed rundown of Bradley’s troubles over the years. The fact that he’s still in the majors and being paid $11,000,000 a year is a testament to both Bradley’s talent and the Cubs’ poor judgment.

The Mariners, who work with a number of Seattle women’s charities, were lauded in the past for their “zero-telerance” policy on domestic violence – which, as demonstrated by the mess of the Josh Leuke incident, turned out to be, really, more of a guideline. It will be interesting to see what action, if any, they take with Bradley when more facts are known. And although this is premature, it’s interesting to think about what we believe they should do.

It’s a complicated issue. As long as someone is legally free to work, after all, a team has a right to hire them. I appreciate that the Mariners care enough about domestic violence to draw up a policy against it… but with an issue that so often comes with conflicting information, changing stories and inconclusive evidence, it’s not simple to enforce. And if you’re not going to enforce it, what’s the point of having it – except as a PR tactic with a high chance of backfiring?

Of course, there’s a difference between finding yourself in a moral muddle and – as appears to have happened with Leuke – deciding that your farm system is more important than your ethical system. The former is understandable and maybe, with this kind of situation, unavoidable. The latter is pathetic.

From our man in Japan, MrOkJazzToyko:

Dig this piece on J.D. Salinger, “Holden Caulfield’s Goddamn War” over at Vanity Fair (taken from Kenneth Slawenski’s new book on Salinger):  

In the autumn of 1950, at his home in Westport, Connecticut, J. D. Salinger completed The Catcher in the Rye. The achievement was a catharsis. It was confession, purging, prayer, and enlightenment, in a voice so distinct that it would alter American culture.

Holden Caulfield, and the pages that held him, had been the author’s constant companion for most of his adult life. Those pages, the first of them written in his mid-20s, just before he shipped off to Europe as an army sergeant, were so precious to Salinger that he carried them on his person throughout the Second World War. Pages of The Catcher in the Rye had stormed the beach at Normandy; they had paraded down the streets of Paris, been present at the deaths of countless soldiers in countless places, and been carried through the concentration camps of Nazi Germany. In bits and pieces they had been re-written, put aside, and re-written again, the nature of the story changing as the author himself was changed. Now, in Connecticut, Salinger placed the final line on the final chapter of the book. It is with Salinger’s experience of the Second World War in mind that we should understand Holden Caulfield’s insight at the Central Park carousel, and the parting words of The Catcher in the Rye: “Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.” All the dead soldiers.

[Picture by Lorna Burt]

Here’s the latest Yankee news from Lo-Hud, MLB Trade Rumors and Hardball Talk. Brian Cashman is at the center of it all–is he a straight-up honest guy, has be botched another off-season, is he effective, is he on a short leash? Which one of these?

A few years ago I had some words with an older gentleman on the subway. We beefed about space, seating, something trivial. I’d see him after that–never forgetting an enemy–and took a small degree of pleasure when I caught him arguing with other passengers. I hadn’t seen him in a few years but last night he got on the train at 168th street. He looked thinner and older and he smelled. I heard him say something but couldn’t make out the words. A few people stood up and let him sit. He was a sad sight and I felt that I’d been petty, not in having an exchange with him one time, but for holding a grudge.

Happen to walk past the Cinema Village last night…haven’t been inside in years but I do remember seeing “She’s Gotta Have it” there, jeez, almost twenty-five years ago…