Monthly Archives: February 2011

Webster v Young

Drawings by Robert Weaver, spring training, 1962.

This morning, Jack Curry tweeted that he arrived at his 20th spring training and the first thing he heard was the thud of a ball hitting a mitt. Color me green with envy.

We see homeless people so often that they don’t even register. But sometimes, especially during the winter months, the sadness, illness, and isolation is enough to break your heart.

Over at Son of Bold Venture, Chris Jones offers some tips to young sports reporters, starting with no cheering in the press box.

[Image from the George Grantham Bain Collection]

Wanna know what’s what in long form journalism? Then head directly to Long Form Reads–peep the website, sign-up for their weekly e-mail, check ’em out on Twitter. An essential site.

Dig this strange piece they found from the Guardian about a Japanese woman who was found buried in the snow in Fargo, North Dakota. She was looking for the money that was ditched by Steve Buscemi in “Fargo.”

Picture by Bags

At Diner’s Journal, Edward Schneider writes about Pizza with no sauce but plenty of flavor.

Here is a thoughtful piece on Milton Bradley by Eric Nusbaum over at the new-look Pitchers and Poets:

Vintage Bradley is patient, collected, and dangerous. His swing is compact in the legs and the hips, and from both sides of the plate an aesthetic pleasure. His arms lash across the zone with smooth and level grace. He gets on base like a professional, never seeming dissatisfied with a walk. Once upon a time, he was a decent enough outfielder too. But not even the glimpses of effectiveness reveal Bradley to be a superstar. Instead they reveal him to be simply above average – a good ballplayer, a pleasure to watch, but hardly a superstar, hardly exciting, hardly excitable.

But of course he is excitable. He is practically a caricature at times. He loses his temper during games. He tore his ACL while arguing with an umpire. He broke a bat over his knee (why is this a magnificent achievement of brutal strength for Bo Jackson but a pathetic sign of anger and weakness for Milton Bradley?). I once saw him empty the entire contents of a bag of baseballs onto the field at Dodger Stadium, then fling ball after ball into center field in what appeared to be complete obliviousness to his surroundings. From where I was sitting, I could see whites in his eyes. They boiled.

What’s the right way to understand a player who swirls in so many self-imposed narratives, a player who requires so much? The trait that defines Milton Bradley, the one trait that sets him apart, even from the other smart and vulnerable and self-aware players, is that he demands to be taken seriously as a human being first and a ballplayer second. The earnest statements, the tearful pledges, the tremor in his voice during post-game interviews, the on-field incidents, the off-field arrests: they all reinforce the same subconscious drive to be appreciated or understood or at the very least accepted.

Also, check out this follow-up–Is Derek Jeter more like Mantle or DiMaggio?

Here’s a couple of reviews of the new Salinger biography from the New York Times. The first, from Michiko Kakutani:

This volume, “J. D. Salinger: A Life,” which draws liberally from Salinger’s letters and a memoir by his daughter, Margaret, is flawed by a tendency to assume direct correspondences between the author’s life and work. And it retraces a lot of ground covered in earlier books by Ian Hamilton and Paul Alexander. Still, it does so without the sort of condescending and at times voyeuristic speculation that hobbled those earlier biographies, and it does an evocative job of tracing the evolution of Salinger’s work and thinking.

And the Sunday Book Review write-up by Jay Mcinerney:

For this reader, the great achievement of Slawenski’s biography is its evocation of the horror of Salinger’s wartime experience. Despite Salinger’s reticence, Sla wenski admirably retraces his movements and recreates the savage battles, the grueling marches and frozen bivouacs of Salinger’s war. It’s hard to think of an American writer who had more combat experience. He landed on Utah Beach on D-Day. Slawenski reports that of the 3,080 members of Salinger’s regiment who landed with him on June 6, 1944, only 1,130 survived three weeks later. Then, when the 12th Infantry Regiment tried to take the swampy, labyrinthine Hürtgen Forest, in what proved to be a huge military blunder, the statistics were even more horrific. After reinforcement, “of the original 3,080 regimental soldiers who went into Hürtgen, only 563 were left.” Salinger escaped the deadly quagmire of Hürtgen just in time to fight in the Battle of the Bulge, and shortly thereafter, in 1945, participated in the liberation of Dachau. “You could live a lifetime,” he later told his daughter, “and never really get the smell of burning flesh out of your nose.”

…Salinger always told friends he was still writing, and it’s possible there’s a trove of unpublished stories and novels, although readers of “Hapworth,” in which he seems to be talking to himself rather than to fans of “The Catcher in the Rye,” may wonder whether they wish to see it. “J. D. Salinger: A Life” leaves this and many other questions hanging. Though Slawenski adds to the record, Paul Alexander’s biography is, to my mind, more dramatically vivid and psychologically astute.

There will probably never be a definitive biography of Salinger, but our understanding will be modified by the actions of his executors and the release of unpublished material in the coming years. For the moment, at least, Holden’s creator might take some satisfaction in knowing the extent to which his efforts to erase his own story have succeeded.

One of the pitchers who will be competing for a roster spot with the Washington Nationals this year is:

Garrett Mock.

No word yet on whether he will be joined by other Nationals hopefuls like Robert Jest, Julio Chortle, or Bert Scoff.

Couldn’t resist.

He didn’t come cheap, but the Knicks finally got their man.

Over at ESPN, Mike Wilpon likes the deal for the Knicks:

Anybody who says the Knicks traded away too much is nuts; they clearly upgraded at point guard, and if Gallinari, Mozgov, Wilson Chandler and Raymond Felton were that good, the Knicks would have been better than 28-26 at the break.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting the Knicks are going to represent the Eastern Conference in the NBA Finals this June. They won’t. What I am saying is they’ve got pieces, good ones, enough to be a credible team by the end of March. They’ve got two top-15 players, perhaps two top-10 players, which is something the Knicks couldn’t truthfully say during the Patrick Ewing days and probably since the championship days of the early 1970s, if then.

SI’s Ian Thomsen adds:

Did the Knicks give up too much?

Look at it this way. They weren’t planning to re-sign Wilson Chandler (who went to Denver) as a free agent this summer, because they were planning on using his cap space to sign Anthony as a free agent. So that means Chandler wasn’t part of their future.

They had signed Raymond Felton (who went to Denver) to a two-year contract. And now in this trade they’re receiving Billups as his replacement at point guard for the short term. So that’s a wash.

So now it comes down to forward Danilo Gallinari, Mozgov, the Knicks’ 2014 pick in the first round and a pair of second-round picks in 2012 and 2013 to Denver for Anthony (along with Shelden Williams, Anthony Carter and Renaldo Balkman). Is that such a bad deal?

Awww, look out now.

Hank Steinbrenner popped-off today and the press is grateful.
Alex Rodriguez also spoke to reporters. “Did anyone watch the Super Bowl?” he said. Rodriguez talked about losing weight. From Chad Jennings:

“Kevin Long described it as, he likes to have power, but with the freedom of a swing,” Rodriguez said this afternoon. “I think over the last several years — you’ll have to talk to K-Long a little bit more about it — but he felt there were some restrictions in my swing and some limitations. I think it affected my power.”

…“Kevin Long believes that in order for the power swing to be perfectly right, he really wants you to stroke the ball to left-center,” Rodriguez said. “We always hear right-center, and he has his reasoning behind it, and a lot of it has to do with flexibility, which I think I’ve gotten back.”

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Finally, Andrew Brackman impressed Joe Girardi today.

Pop.

David Park.

Silliness…

Over at NYRB, Larry McMurty reviews a trio of new books on Marilyn Monroe:

In film Marilyn’s talent shows most strongly in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, How to Marry a Millionaire, Some Like It Hot, Bus Stop, and The Misfits. The director Billy Wilder quarreled with her on Some Like It Hot—but Wilder was no dummy and had this to say about her: “I think she was the best light comedienne we have in films today, and anyone will tell you that the toughest of acting styles is light comedy.”

She was almost always photographed smiling, her lips slightly parted, her skin aglow with an aura all its own, and yet there was usually a curl of sadness in her smile: sadness that just managed to fight through; sadness that was always considerable and sometimes intense.

In a review of “Marilyn,” by Norman Mailer, Pauline Kael wrote:

Monroe used her lack of an actress’s skills to amuse the public. She had the wit or crassness or desperation to turn cheesecake into acting–and vice versa; she did what others had the “good taste” not to do, like Mailer, who puts in what other writers have been educated to leave out. She would bat her Bambi eyelashes, lick her messy suggestive open mouth, wiggle that pert and tempting bottom, and use her hushed voice to caress us with dizzying innuendos.

…Her mixture of wide-eyed wonder and cuddly drugged sexiness seemed to get to just about every male; she turned on even homosexual men. And women couldn’t take her seriously enough to be indignant; she was funny and impulsive in a way that made people feel protective. She was a little knocked out; her face looked as if, when nobody was paying attention to her, it would go utterly slack–as if she died between wolf calls.

She seemed to have become a camp siren out of confusion and ineptitude; her comedy was self-satire, and apologetic–conscious parody that had begun unconsciously…The mystique of Monroe–which accounts for the book Marilyn–is that she became spiritual as she fell apart. But as an actress she had no way of expressing what was deeper in her except moodiness and weakness. When she was “sensitive” she was drab.

Derek Jeter spoke to the press yesterday. Here’s Tyler Kepner in the Times:

Reporter: “Most shortstops in your age range are just no longer that productive. What gives you the confidence you’re going to be one of the exceptions?”

Jeter: “Well, you said ‘most.’ You didn’t say ‘every.’ So there you go.”

Then Jeter gave a quick laugh, that signature expression of self-assurance he has always shown, the one that lets you know he can win any joust with a writer, but not make him feel too bad about it.

And here’s Joe G:

Here’s Nat Hentoff’s 1966 Playboy interview with Dylan.

When is it okay to abandon your team?

I ask, of course, because of the Knicks.

Photo from the Daily News

I’m not really asking for myself, because I’m not a real Knicks fan. Baseball is my sport. In basketball, I’ve always been rather free with my affections. As a kid I watched the Bulls, because they were on TV a lot and because Michael Jordan. Then in the Patrick Ewing era I liked the Knicks, because I loved everything having to do with New York City. After the Yankees started winning so much I started to feel guilty about it and in the winter of 1999 adopted the Nets, who had always previously sucked, but they disappointed me by (briefly) not sucking during the Jason Kidd years. I moved to Brooklyn after college and went back to the Knicks. So I’m no model fan anyway, and I almost never go to games at Madison Square Garden, because I can’t afford it. But I still think in general terms it’s an interesting question.

Probably most of us would agree that you never bail on a team just because they’re lousy. I mean, you can, of course, but it’s unseemly. You stick it out — that’s a central tenant of what it means to be a fan. But players can be replaced or traded, and general managers can be fired. What about when the team’s ownership is inept, malignant, self-destructive, obnoxious and too flush with inherited billions to ever, ever be forced to sell? This weekend came the news, or at least the very strong rumors, that James Dolan is taking over and (probably – safe bet) bungling the Carmelo Anthony negotiations. And that Isiah Thomas is “consulting” or “advising” (when asked, he refused to say) and calling the shots and not ruling out a return to a prominent role with the Knicks.

I’m not a lifelong die-hard Knicks rooter like so many New Yorkers, and right now I’m glad. Because if Isiah Thomas returns to any kind of meaningful role with the team, I’m done with this team. How many times does he have to demonstrate that, although he was a great player, he is an abysmal coach and GM? (To say nothing of his unfortunate tendencies towards sexual harassment). How can James Dolan possibly be both that oblivious and that contemptuous of Knicks fans? And since he clearly is, why would we ever expect him to change at this point?

The Nets are moving fifteen minutes from my apartment in a year and a half. They have returned to their usual suckiness, and I hate the way they bullied and bribed that new stadium through. And yet. You can say what you want about Jay-Z – but, damn it, he would never in a million years put up with this Isiah Thomas crap.

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Anyway, I’m curious to hear your thoughts. When is it okay to ditch your team? If you’re a Knicks fan, do you have a breaking point – and if so, have you reached it yet? If not, what would it take?