Blog Archives

The Nets play their final game in New Jersey tonight. Dig this photo gallery of New Jersey Nets hoops over at SI.com.

Monday Morning Mongo:

[Photo Credit: Obsexxed]

I pickled some ramps yesterday. Look at these beauties over at the always gorgeous site, Hungry Ghost Food+Travel.

“View of Notre-Dame,” By Henri Matisse (1914)

From “Here is New York,” by E.B. White:

New York blends the gift of privacy with the excitement of participation; and better than most dense communities it succeeds in insulating the individual (if he wants it, and almost everybody wants or needs it) against all enormous and violent and wonderful events that are taking place every minute. Since I have been sitting in this miasmic air shaft, a good many rather splashy events have occurred in town. A man shot and killed his wife in a fit of jealousy. It caused no stir outside his block and got only small mention in the papers. I did not attend. Since my arrival, the greatest air show ever staged in all the world took place in town. I didn’t attend and neither did most of the eight million other inhabitants, although they say there was quite a crowd. I didn’t even hear any planes except a couple of westbound commercial airliners that habitually use this airshaft to fly over. The biggest ocean-going ships on the North Atlantic arrived and departed. I didn’t notice them and neither did most other New Yorkers. I am told this is the greatest seaport in the world, with six hundred and fifty miles of water front, and ships calling here from many exotic lands, but the only boat I’ve happened to notice since my arrival was a small sloop tacking out of the East River night before last on the ebb tide when I was walking across the Brooklyn Bridge. I heard the Queen Mary blow one midnight, though, and the sound carried the whole history of departure and longing and loss. The Lions have been in convention. I’ve not seen one Lion. A friend of mine saw one and told me about him. (He was lame, and was wearing a bolero.) At the ballgrounds and horse parks the greatest sporting spectacles have been enacted. I saw no ballplayer, no race horse. The governor came to town. I heard the siren scream, but that was all there was to that — an eighteen-inch margin again. A man was killed by a falling cornice. I was not a party to the tragedy, and again the inches counted heavily.

I mention these merely to show that New York is peculiarly constructed to absorb almost anything that comes along (whether a thousand-foot liner out of the East or a twenty-thousand-man convention out of the West) without inflicting the event on its inhabitants; so that ever event is, in a sense, optional, and the inhabitant is in the happy position of being able to choose his spectacle and so conserve his soul. In most metropolises, small and large, the choice is often not with the individual at all. He is thrown to the Lions. The Lions are overwhelming; the event is unavoidable. A cornice falls, and it hits ever citizen on the head, every last man in town. I sometimes think the only event that hits every New Yorker on the head is the annual St. Patrick’s Day parade, which is fairly penetrating — the Irish are a hard race to tune out, and they have the police force right in the family.

If you’ve never read this slim volume, do yourself a favor and cop it, pronto. It’s a keeper.

[Photo Credit: Todd Webb via Kateoplis]

Check out this piece on Satch Paige by Ian Couch over at the New Yorker’s sports blog.

It’s raining again in New York this morning and that’s a good thing–boy, do we ever need the rain. The Yanks are in Texas for three games to start the week. The Rangers are the best team in baseball.

Check out this piece by Marc Carig for the Star-Ledger;  this one by Tyler Kepner on the Rangers’ general managerJon Daniels, while over at River Ave Mike Axisa looks at the Yankees rotation for the series.

[Photo Credit: Elevated Encouragement]

Game got rained out so I’m watching “Spellbound” with the wife. She loves Hitchcock.

She is ascared, stressed, and can’t stop asking questions. “I love this movie,” she says. “Oh, I just love it.”

“How can you be typing at a time like this?” she says.

About the best thing that could have happened to the Red Sox tonight was a rainout. They got it and avoid facing C.C. Sabathia. Too bad.

Yanks have a challenging week ahead in Texas and then back in the Bronx against the Tiger.s

[Photo Credit: Arthur Brower via the Lively Morgue]

Mr. Evans:

08 My Funny Valentine

[Photo Credit: Traysaun/ballie]

This past Thursday the wife and I celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary. We got married, just the two of us, in the Bahamas. After the ceremony and the pictures, we returned to our hotel room. It was a Thursday afternoon. The wife went into the bathroom to wash up and I clicked the TV on and saw on the ESPN ticker that the Yankees were losing to the Indians. I turned the TV off and after the wife and I consummated the marriage we later turned the TV back on and saw that the Yanks had won, and that Alex Rodriguez hit a game-ending grand slam.

This afternoon the wife and I went downtown to enjoy massages. I e-mailed a Red Sox pal of mine and predicted one thing–that Freddy Garcia would get his tits lit, which was precisely what happened. I saw that the Sox scored twice in the first on my phone just as we arrived at the spa. Bad enough there was troubling news about Michael Pineda before the game. Dammit. I turned the phone off and didn’t turn it back on until we left a good while later. Score was 9-5. Swisher had just hit a grand slam after the Yanks trailed 9-0. Predictable, I thought. Well, at least they are making it respectable.

Little did I know that the White Sox pitcher Phillip–Don’t Call Me Humbert–Humber was on his way to completing a perfect game against the Mariners in Seattle. The Yanks were down 9-1 in the 7th, with one out and Russell Martin on first when Fox cut away to the White Sox game. By the time Humber had his perfecto and was interviewed for TV and Fox returned to Boston, Swisher’s grand slam got the Yanks back in the game. Runners were on the corners and Mark Teixeira was at the plate. Joe Buck and Tim McCarver were excited. Tex already had a solo homer and now, batting left-handed, he popped a three-run dinger over the Green Monster. Most of the damage was not televised.

The score stood at 9-8 when the wife and I got to the restaurant for dinner. The game was on the TV at the bar and so I stayed at the bar, with the wife’s blessing–she sat in our booth following on the phone–as we waited for our food. That’s where I saw the Yanks take the lead. And then some. The Bombers scored 7 in the 7th and 7 more in the 8th on their way to a ball-busting win that will not soon be forgotten. Games like this, even in April, are memorable. It was a rousing win for the Yanks and a punch-in-the-face loss for the Sox, “rock bottom,” according to Bobby Valentine.

Final Score: Yanks 15, Sox 9.

I couldn’t think of a sweeter anniversary gift from the so-called Baseball Gods.

Thank you. And the wife thanks you, too.

 [Photo Credit: Corey Sipkin/N.Y. Daily News]

The Red Sox look to get even with the Yanks this afternoon. Fab Five Freddy Garcia–flammable so far this season–will pitch for the Bombers. C’mon, Freddy, hold that pill like a fuggin’ egg and throw the crap out of it.

Derek Jeter DH
Nick Swisher RF
Robinson Cano 2B
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Curtis Granderson CF
Andruw Jones LF
Russell Martin C
Eduardo Nunez SS

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

Bliss is Fats.

2-19 Honey Hush

[Photo Credit: :: Kate::]

I know it’s only April but is there anything as sweet as the muted sound of Fenway Park when the Red Sox are losing? The place had a terrific celebration before the game yesterday but for the final three innings it was blissfully quiet. Which can only mean good things. The Yanks hit five solo home runs (including two by Eric Chavez) against Clay Buchholz and Ivan Nova had a nice curveball going as the visiting team spoiled the day for the home nine.

Final Score: Yanks 6, Sox 2.

[Photo Credit: John Tlumacki/Boston Globe; Michael Dwyer/AP]

Yanks and Sox celebrate a big anniversary at Fenway.

Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Alex Rodriguez DH
Robinson Cano 2B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Nick Swisher RF
Raul Ibanez LF
Eric Chavez 3B
Russell Martin C

Nova on the hill.

Never mind the hoopla: Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Featured Image via It’s a Long Season; photo of Zim via Sports Illustrated]

Collage by Robert Motherwell

Noo Yawk Tawk.

Food 52 Contest Winner:  Sho ‘Nuff.

[Photo Credit: Sarah Shatz]

Smooth out the R&B.

Check out this moving story by Josh Wilker.

[Featured Image: David Goldman]