Blog Archives

Yo, fellow nerdlicks, dig this: 20 essential blogs for the NYC bookworm.

Here’s Kostya Kennedy talking Joe D:

;

Jimmy Breslin’s new book on Branch Rickey was reviewed in the Times a few days ago.

Meanwhile, our boy William asks: Was Rickey the father of sabermetrics?

Last week, the gifted Jeff MacGregor, who has unfortunately been buried somewhere in the ESPN wilderness, offered up this gem about the cage down on West 4th:

There is no inside game at all, except on the putback. Nobody drives, nobody works down low or inside. Sometimes the airball falls straight from the sky, is caught, is lifted back or is lofted downrange. But it is a shooter’s game without shooters.

This is strange, because the game at West 4th is historically tough, all elbows and grunt and hard feelings. The miniature court rewards ruthlessness and body mass, not speed. Games here in August, played by older, angrier men, unfold like long-form fistfights in the heat. Not today.

The Cage is filled instead with city peacocks. Black and white and brown. Dazzling and radiant and useless.

Perfect.

[Photo Credit: NYC Gov Parks]

Over at River Ave Blues, Mike Axisa gathers all the necessary information on how the Yankees’ bench is shaping up.

Brian Costello on the Yankees’ shining star, Robinson Cano:

“He could very easily be as good as anyone in baseball,” said Larry Bowa, the former Yankees coach and now an MLB Network analyst. “The reason I say that is because the position he plays. I’m sure there’s going to be guys that hit more home runs and drive in more runs. I’m talking about the overall position this kid plays — in the middle of the diamond, involved in everything. He could be as good as anybody. He’s got unbelievable talent.”

[Drawing by Walt Simonson]

Check out this Vanity Fair piece on Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor.

[Drawings by Larry Roibal]

I was poking through a book of interviews with Al Pacino and found this:

I don’t go to fights. I saw De La Hoya fight because he invited me. I was put in a seat pole; I kept looking to see it on the monitors. It was weird. It’s easier to see on television. Except when you’re there you really see the craft of a fight, which you don’t see on television. You see the dance. Everybody thinks they’re fighting, but they’re doing something else. They’re thinking, they’re measuring each other, countering. You can see it in the ring, it’s beautiful to see live. I know it’s brutal, and I don’t want to like it the way I do, but it’s a great sport.

I really love Al because as crazy as he is, the man is serious about his craft.

Here’s Peter Gammons writing about Game Six of the 1986 World Series in the ’87 SI Baseball Preview:

“Last year should be remembered not for one inning or one game,” said veteran relief pitcher Joe Sambito, “but what for most of us was the best of times.”

The worst of times, of course, came in the bottom of the 10th inning of Game 6 of the World Series, when the Boston Red Sox turned a 5-3, two-out, bases-empty lead into a 6-5 loss to the New York Mets. In order, Gary Carter singled, Kevin Mitchell singled, Ray Knight singled to score Carter and send Mitchell to third, Mitchell scored on a wild pitch as Knight went to second, and Knight scored the winning run when Mookie Wilson’s grounder went through Buckner’s legs. Though it has been used many times before, the first paragraph of Charles Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities truly does describe Game 6: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way….”

Game 6 has now taken its place with the other great World Series contests: Game 8 in 1912, Game 4 in 1947, Game 7 in 1960 and Game 6 in 1975. But in a way it stands alone as the greatest “bad” game in Series history. The Mets, who in 1986 won more games (116) than all but two teams ever, were facing the Red Sox, who hadn’t won a World Series since Babe Ruth pitched for them. For much of the Series, the two teams bumbled around like a couple of September cellar dwellers. And managers McNamara and Davey Johnson, otherwise sound strategists, often seemed to be off in other worlds.

I was in 10th grade when the Mets beat the Red Sox and was pulling for Boston all the way (I knew more Mets fans at school and even though the Red Sox beat my second favorite team, Reggie’s Angels, in the playoffs, I was an American League man first and foremost). I wasn’t crushed, of course, when the ball went through Buckner’s legs but I was furious thinking of all the mess the Mets fans would be talking at school the next day.

When you leave New York people tend to be more open, easier with saying “hello” or “thank you” if you hold the door open for them. That doesn’t mean that we’re unthinking brutes, even if we are rough around the edges. It’s just that New Yorkers are more measured with their kindness. It doesn’t come automatically, which makes you appreciate it more when you find it. I’ll tell you this, though–I’m a hopeless snob against people who move to New York and are unfriendly. Maybe they are just trying to fit in, but hey, pal, it doesn’t hurt to be nice.

(more…)

Doesn’t matter how cold it is, we’re almost there, Opening Day. This will be the ninth season for me at Bronx Banter and I’m as happy as I’ve ever been as a blogger. Of course, I’ve written more about the arts and New York culture over the past few seasons than I did in the early years and that has helped sustain my passion and focus. But following the Yankees remains central to why we gather round and I’m stoaked to experience another season with you.

Thanks for coming, and coming back.

[Painting by Roger Patrick]

Alex Rodriguez has enjoyed a monstrous spring. Here’s hoping the good times roll into the season.

Kansas v VCU and UNC v Kentucky. Let’s hope for some more hoops goodness this afternoon.

Git up n go-ski…

The Final Four will be set by tomorrow night. Enjoy the games. And in the meantime, dig the realness brought to you by our pal, Repoz:

Yeah, this is pretty wunnerful (thanks to Mr. Cliff for the hook up):

C.C., A.J., Hughes, Nova, Fab Five Freddy. That’s the rotation. The intrepid Chad Jennings has more notes as the Yanks gear up for the regular season.