Curious to see how Hiroki Kuroda pitches tonight. He left his last start early after being hit in the foot by a batted ball.
Good news: David Robertson is back (and will be activated for Friday night’s game).
Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Robinson Cano 2B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Raul Ibanez LF
Nick Swisher RF
Russell Martin C
Hiroki Kuroda RHP
Never mind the moronic Atlanta chant: Let’s Go Yank-ees!
[Photo Credit: Associated Press]
Via the most-amazing site, Kottke, check out this bit of hipness from John Boswell and Fred Rogers:
I’ve used efficient, modern-looking microfilm machines, but not at the main branch of the New York Public Library. The machines there are so temperamental that I half-expect a wise-ass bird poke his head out as if I lived in an episode of “The Flinstones.”
That said, there are few things I enjoy as much as digging through old newspapers and magazines on the hunt for research material. It’s taxing on the eyes, your back gets sore leaning over, you often have to fight threading the damn machine up, and sometimes you don’t get what you came for. Other times, you find things by accident. Oh, those happy accidents.
Along the way, a forgotten world comes alive, especially in the newspapers–advertisements, headlines, stories and pictures. And there are so many writers I’ve never heard of before. Plus, there is the thrill of putting in the time to track things down that you can’t find on-line and there’s so much stuff out there that is not on the web it’s not even funny.
The wife calls me a nerd. Guilty as charged.
“Agua Caliente Nova,” by Robert Bechtle (1975) Oil on canvas
Two years ago, a friend of mine…
And since kindergarten I acquired the knowledge/and after 12th grade I went straight to college…
[Drawing by Marc Johns]
Father’s Day is fast-approaching. Scanning the shelves for the latest baseball books, here are some thoughts:
“Damn Yankees.” ‘Nuff said.
“Wherever I Wind Up,” R.A. Dickey’s memoir, written with Wayne Coffey.
Man, the University of Nebraska Press has a bunch of good baseball titles including:
and
Also, check out Paul Dickson’s formidable-looking biography of Bill Veeck: “Bill Veeck: Baseball’s Greatest Maverick.”
There’s Marty Apel’s history of the Yankees:
…and a reissue of Bill Madden and Moss Klein’s “Damned Yankees” (which is not to be confused with Fleder’s book).
Also, Rob Miech has a book about the rookie stud Bryce Harper: “The Last Natural.”
Yeah, the kid can play.
The Braves batted in the bottom of the first inning when the subway emerged from the ground at Dyckman Street. In the top of the inning, the Yanks had put two runners on base but Alex Rodriguez popped out and Robinson Cano grounded out. I was on my way home from the gym and tuned in to John Sterling on the radio. By the time the train reached 231st Street the Braves had loaded the bases and Sterling proved to be so inept–botching several calls–that I angrily switched to the Braves station. Just in time for a bases clearing double.
That was the major damage against C.C. Sabathia, who pitched well enough. The Braves added an insurance run in the seventh and the Yanks didn’t do much of anything against Mike Minor, who was excellent.
A one-out single by Derek Jeter in the eighth chased Minor from the game and Curtis Granderson slapped a base hit to left field against Jonny Venters who then walked Teixeira. Bases loaded for Rodriguez, hitless on the night and hapless this season with the bases loaded. If there were any Yankee fans confident in Rodriguez to come through with a big hit I’d like to know who they were.
The first pitch, a 95 mph fastball, was low and in the dirt. The next pitch, a slider, had a sharp break but fell well short of the plate. Two-and-zero, bases loaded, and still no confidence, right? Double play, right? The next pitch, another fastball, another one in the dirt. Venters threw a fastball over the plate for a strike and then Rodriguez had a decent pitch to hit but was late and fouled it out of play. This is what we’ve been talking about for weeks, Rodriguez fouling off fat, juicy pitches. The next fastball was inside and Rodriguez fouled it off his left foot.
The crowd, a noisy combination of home town fans and invading Yankee fans, made itself known.
And then he got another fastball. Rodriguez was ready, turned on it and hit a line drive to left field. It was a pea and looked to be a sure double. But it was high enough to clear the fence, good for a grand slam. A kid in the front row made like he was going to catch the ball, then wisely turned to the side at the last moment when he recognized how fast the ball was moving. The boy caught the ball in his hat. Smart kid.
The game was tied as Rodriguez also tied the Iron Horse for the most grand slam’s in major league history. We knew it was going to happen sometime.
Go fuggin’ figure.
Robbie Cano looped a single to center field and after a pitching change and ball one, Nick Swisher pounded a home run over the 390 foot mark in right center field.
Clay Rapada, who the wife calls “Ramapo” worked around a one-out walk in the eighth and held the Braves down.
“Why do you call him ‘Ramapo’?” I asked.
“Because that’s what I called him that time the other week, remember? I don’t remember why I came up with it but I did and it’s sticking.”
The wife knows.
In the ninth, Rafael Soriano faced the two-three-four batters. Martin Prado hit an 0-2 pitch, with “plenty of overspin,” according to Kenny Singleton on the YES broadcast, between short and third. Rodriguez took a few steps to his left, fielded the ball on a high hop and threw Prado out at first. Prado returned to the dugout and banged his helmet. Brian McCann was next, fell behind, and whiffed on an 84 mph breaking ball. Sharp, over the plate, nasty.
Soriano bent over before he pitched, as if he was bowing to the hitter. It reminded me of the bit that Mike Mussina used to do but Soriano faced home plate.
Dan Uggla, 5-11 lifetime against Soriano, popped the first pitch foul then took two pitches for balls before ripping a fastball foul. The crowd stood and cheered–oh, those Yankee fans. Some of the crowd booed too I suppose but they could not be heard. The next pitch was another crisp breaking ball. Uggla swung over it and the Braves, who had runners on base in every inning but one, will have a long night as they try to figure out how this one got away.
Final Score: Yanks 6, Braves 4.
For the Bombers, that’s another series in the plus column. Some nice wins, this one, the second two games against the Mets, and guess who sits alone in first place?
C.C. Sabathia takes the mound tonight in ATL and will get to hit too which is reason enough to tune in.
Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Mark Teixeira 1B
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Robinson Cano 2B
Nick Swisher RF
Andruw Jones LF
Chris Stewart C
CC Sabathia LHP
Never mind the cool breeze: Let’s Go Yank-ees!
[Photo Credit: NoralyB]
Way out in Brooklyn…
Those who come from Brooklyn know just what I’m talkin’…
How to Be a Retronaut. Again and again.
Mark Kriegel on Scott Raab, Lebron James and the NBA Finals.
I don’t expect this series to be settled in fewer than six games. Both teams are strong and fast and athletic. I’m pulling for OKC big time–though I wouldn’t mind seeing James continue his fine play–but think Miami has a strong chance to win it.
Pressed, I’ll give it to OCK in seven. But it could go either way.
This is dated but what the hell. Serious Eats gives us the best Ramen in NYC.
Ah, I linked to this cause I’s hungry and I wanted an excuse to post this picture from A Spoon Full of Sugar.
“Cantata #13,” By Robert Motherwell (1960)
So you want the good news or the bad news? Well, I’ll give you both but let’s start with the good news: the Yankees won the ballgame tonight down in Atlanta and are now tied for first place in the American League East. Really, that’s the only news that matters but there’s more–the Yanks flashed the leather: Ivan Nova and Mark Teixeira turned a slick double play, Robinson Cano made a great pick on a hard-hit line drive and Nick Swisher robbed Brian McCann of a home run (McCann also hit a ball to the wall in center field and ripped a line drive directly into Teixeira’s glove).
Yeah, and Nova pitched seven scoreless innings and showed fine control. The sidearming glimmer twins Cody Eppley and Clay Rapada retired the side in order in the eighth, and Corey Wade and Boone Logan did likewise in the ninth.
The bad news? Yanks didn’t do much with the fourteen hundred runners they put on baset. And while that caused much irritation for Yankee fans during the game and may not be forgotten it’s certainly forgiven.
A shutout. First place. Good news wins.
Final Score: Yanks 3, Braves 0.
[Photo Credit: Bags; Scott Cunningham/Getty Images]
It’s Nova and lots of rain in the forecast down in Atlanta.
Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Robinson Cano 2B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Raul Ibanez LF
Nick Swisher RF
Russell Martin C
Never mind the tarp or any delays: Let’s Go Yank-ees!
[Photo Credit: Brenton Salo]
Over at It’s About the Money, Stupid, William Tasker has some random fun with Yankee numbers.
[Photo Credit: Retro Thing]
At least according to everything I’ve read. Here’s Rafe Bartholomew’s ringside account of the Pacquiao-Bradley fight:
There didn’t seem to be a single reporter on press row who gave the fight to Bradley, and if there was, he or she must have been too ashamed to admit it. I overheard HBO boxing analyst Max Kellerman saying he scored it eight rounds to four for Pacquiao, and that he thought doing so was being generous to Bradley. Ten rounds to two, nine to three, and even 11 to one in favor of Pacquiao were more common spreads among journalists who covered the fight. So when people tried to understand why Pacquiao lost a fight where he landed 82 more power punches than Bradley and 12 more jabs while connecting on a much higher percentage of his blows, it’s no surprise that foul play came immediately to mind. Anyone who searched for a rational explanation for this result was bound to come up empty. After that, what’s left but whatever cloak-and-dagger machinations you care to imagine in a sport controlled by a handful of powerful promoters with varying agendas and overseen by a patchwork of ineffectual state athletic commissions?
Ah, if only George was around to weigh in on this one.
[Photo Credit: Joe Klamar/AFP/Getty Images]
“Zit! Throom! Krrakkk!” by Sharon Moody.
