Blog Archives

Some good games yesterday, huh? My favorite line came in an e-mail from Mark Lamster: “If you happen to be Matt Holliday’s psychiatrist, go out and get that new Volvo–it’s gonna be a big year.”

Supposed to rain this evening. They’ll wait this sucker out as long as they can, you know that.

Here’s one for you guys, a breakdown of Joba Chamberlain’s pitching mechanics over at Baseball-Intellect.

I asked the author if Joba’s move to the bullpen changes anything.

Alex replied:

Fundamentally, it doesn’t really change. But when a pitcher moves to the bullpen, it allows them to air it out more. As a starter, he’s pacing himself and he’s not throwing with the same intent he does out of the bullpen. He’ll dial it up when he needs to, but he has to pick his spots.

Out of the bullpen, he can let it fly on almost every pitch and the intent to throw hard is an extremely important part of generating velocity. I do have an article on intent and it’s importance for anybody interested:

Brad Penny and the Intent to Throw HARD.

I’ll add that I did see a few pitches of his bullpen apppearance in Tampa and I didn’t see anything that would lead me to believe the old Joba is back. He had the typical velocity uptick we normally see from Joba out of the bullpen, but if he was back to his old self, we would see his velocity around 96 or 97. That doesn’t mean he can’t be effective, however.

An open game thread for the Phils-Rocks, Dodgers-Cards, and Angels-Sox.

Carl Pavano has been announced as the Twins’ Game Three starter.

Jay Z was rocking the Geek Chic look last night at the Stadium. And while it’s hip to be a dork these days, remember this one, when Jay was Big Jaz’s wingman?

The fellas:

…and the Fellas:

Great post by Glenn Stout on watching baseball in October:

Goodbye, peace. Hello, anxiety. See you later, common sense. Distraction, my old friend, where you been keeping yourself? The playoffs are here and minute by minute my façade of indifference crumbles. The twenty-fifth man on the roster is more important to my life than anything Barack Obama is going to do. I scour the internet for umpire ball/strike ratios. I forget to let the dogs back in, decide the car can go another month before I fix the muffler, and let God rake the leaves.

Dinners out can wait. We see the neighbors way too often. I never liked the movies that much anyway. Sleep is overrated. So is exercise. Forget supper – I’m running to the corner for a six pack. And some Doritos. And some Tums.

Tick tock tick tock.

Anything going on today?

Got oh, say nine some odd hours to kill?

We’ll be here, as always, today, tonight, through October and beyond.  In the meantime, dig Tyler Kepner’s playoff predictions over at the Times. And chat away.

I was so amped last night I had a hard time calming down. I didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight.

Like most of us, I’m eager for the playoffs to begin. I’m curious and excited to see how CC and AJ and Teix, Mr. Rodriguez and the rest of the ‘something-to-prove’ posse do.

Ain’t the suspense just ripe?

The Twins beat the Tigers 6-5 in 12 innings tonight to win the AL Central. The game was sloppy, infuriating at times, tense and nothing short of thrilling. The reason why we keep coming back. The Metrodome would not go out like a sucker. At least not on this night, a night that baseball fans will not forget for some time. If you root for the Tigers this is as painful as it gets, and for the Twins?  Nirvana.

We have our Cinderella.

The Twins will be spent and riding off high octane adrenaline tomorrow night in the Bronx. They will be feeling even better about themselves if they manage to steal a win in New York. The Yanks are 7-0 against them this year and must to guard against being too confident–thoughts of the 1988 Mets-Dodgers leap to mind. They need to stomp on these sweet Twinkie dreams with the quickness. Let’s hope our boys come out and play with a sense of urgency. 

Momentum thy name is CC!

This is David vs Goliath, [pure and simple. Yanks are the better team and it is not even close. Still, we all know the Twins can pull out a miracle. Stranger things have happened. They’re hot right now.

But before we get back to the Bronx, for one night, the Twins and baseball are flying high like Sly Stone:

Will today be the final baseball game at the Metrodome? Were the Twins smart enough to take Miguel Cabrera out drinking last night?

I say the Tigers pull it out and Cabrera has a big day. But I’m pulling for the Twinkies.

Let’s Go Baseball.

According to Sam Borden, Jose Molina will catch AJ Burnett in the ALDS.

Wow.

Pete Dexter will be at Barnes and Noble near Lincoln Center tonight at 7:30. He’ll be talking about his new book Spooner.

I’m so there.

I didn’t pick this cause it’s been sampled, or because I especially like the strings, but simply because there are few sounds in this world that are more beautiful than the sound of Clifford Brown playing the trumpet.

Mr. Leitch on Mr. Jeter:

Jeter is just a magnet for positive energy. Whatever he actually does on the field, fans and teammates believe in Derek Jeter because he believes in himself. When he jogged back to the dugout after his groundout, his pace and cadence were the same as they would have been if he’d knocked the winning run home. He’s always like that. Jeter, above anything else, is a study in the power of human confidence. He has become the hero of the Bronx because he effortlessly exudes the qualities we wish we had ourselves: He is always confident, always composed, always in control. Baseball is an unpredictable game; failure is a constant. But Jeter doesn’t allow himself to absorb it, or even really acknowledge it. He just keeps cruising along, as if playing shortstop for the most scrutinized, glorified sports franchise in the world every day for the past fourteen years is the most natural thing on earth.

…Then Jeter showed up, in 1996. He was a fully formed True Yankee from the get-go. Jeter had been a Yankees fan all his life, which, considering how miserable the team was during much of that time span, showed real commitment for a kid who grew up in Michigan. Jeter was instantly the face of a franchise that, with the retirement of Don Mattingly, desperately needed one. Jeter was everything a marketer or a fan could hope for from a baseball superstar: humble, fresh-faced, energetic, bi-racial, constantly hustling, seemingly innocent, entirely devoted to the game of baseball…he was a new kind of Yankees hero. He was not a hulking slugger or bigmouthed self-promoter. He was the Professional. He was, for a franchise always eager to bulk up its own iconography, the ideal brand, someone willing to play the part as long as you let him play his game. The titles came, and the Yankees were shaped in Jeter’s image, intense competitors devoted to the team at all costs. He was—instantly—the true New York sports hero.

Man, is this ever cool.

And while you are at Zell’s Pinstripe Blog, dig this depressing stuff:

Monday morning commute. IRT. Let me speak in stereotypes.

Skinny white girl about twelve comes on the train. She’s wearing a colorful outfit–purple pants, turquoise cowboy boots. Bends down to put her metro card in her bag. Middle-aged black woman behind her turns around and tells the girl that she has bumped into her three times. The woman’s voice is sharp. The girl, shy, apologizes. Then, the girl’s father, milktoast white guy, steps in and tells the woman that she’s being a little harsh. They exchange words. 

A gay Latin guy, wearing headphones, comes to the black woman’s defense. Calls the little girl a racist. Starts going on about how she shouldn’t be treated any differently because she’s a white girl.  Which reminded me of an old family saying. 

Think Yiddish accent:  It’s not you, mind your own, sit down, shut up.

Then, burly white guy in a business suit tells the gay guy that if he’s such a gentleman, he should stand and give up his seat to one of the women. Next, an older Latin woman starts arguing with the Latin guy in Spanish.

And that’s what you call a New York brush fire. The black woman and the Latin guy got up and exited at the same station, leaving a few parting words on their way out. The white girl, dazed, and her father, relieved, exhale.  A think Dominican mother sitting next to me smiles at the girl and the girl thanks her. I talk to the Dominican mother about the nature of angry people and racism.

Happy Monday, folks.

Alex Rodriguez had already hit a three-run homer in the inning when he came up with the bases loaded. Mark Teixeira was intentionally walked ahead of him. The Rays were not about to let Teixeira hit his 40th home run, which would have given him the American League home run crown (he ended the season tied with Rays’ first baseman Carlos Pena). So Rodriguez lofted a fly ball over the fence in right center field, good for a grand slam.

You know how you can’t leave the court without making your last shot, or leave the hitting cage without squaring one up? Well, talk about a way to end the season. Dag. It was the 30th dinger of the year for Rodriguez, and his 100th RBI. Not bad for mising five weeks, eh?

(more…)

Final game of the year today. AJ Burnett starts, with Joba due to pitch in relief.

Wunnerful season so far. Let’s hope this is just the start.

Go Git ‘Em Boys!