Blog Archives

It was supposed to rain and thunder and carry on this weekend but it turned out nice after all.  Even today, it looks pleasant outside.  The sun is out, a breeze is coming through our living room window. Anyone going to a cook-out?  I’m just coolin at the crib, got some things to take care of, and will check out the game this afternoon.

I like Mark Bittman’s cookbooks–though I’m not fanatical about them like some people–but think he’s a cornball on TV.  However, his shorter video bits for the web are excellent. 

Dig it:

We got the pitcher’s duel that we expected.  Okay, it wasn’t a 1-0 game with both starters going the distance, but it was pretty good.  Cole Hamels allowed two runs over six innings; scattered eight hits, didn’t walk a batter, and struck out six.  CC Sabathia gave up a bunch of hits too, nine, over eight innings.  He didn’t walk anyone either, struck out four, but allowed three runs.  Not bad, but not good enough.

The Phillies scored first.  Carlos Ruiz reached on a two-out single in the top of the third inning and then Jimmy Rollins lifted a fly ball to shallow right-center field.  Brett Gardner raced in and dove for it, but he could not make the catch and the ball rolled behind him.  Ruiz was waved home. Right fielder Melky Cabrera, picked up the ball and made a good throw to the cut-off man, Robinson Cano. Cano dropped the ball and Ruiz scored easily.  It was a careless play on Cano’s part.  I don’t know if he would have nailed Ruiz, but it certainly would have been close. Shane Victorino singled Rollins home to make it 2-0.

(more…)

I remember having a strange but welcoming feeling when Alfonso Soriano replaced Chuck Knoblauch at second base.  Plays that would have previously made me tense suddenly were made with ease.  It’s not that Soriano was any great shakes as a fielder–he wasn’t–it’s just that he wasn’t a mess either.  I don’t think Jason Giambi was a complete disaster at first, but in retropsect he seems like one since Mark Teixeira is in town. The season is still young, but doesn’t it seem like Teixeira is making brilliant plays almost every day? I think he’s the best fielding first baseman the team has had since Mattingly.  Tino was solid, but he wasn’t this good.

Teixeira and the Yanks have their hands full today with Cole Hamels. CC Sabathia, who has pitched well of late, goes for the Yanks.  It’s hazy in the Bronx with rain in the forecast for this afternoon.  Let’s hope they get this one in and here’s hoping the Yanks can win this series.

Let’s Go Yan-Kees.

Apropos of nothing, here’s a bit on Milo Manara, the Italian artist, most famous for his erotic drawings.

 Dude, and I’m one lucky so-and-so.  I’ve still got the original.

Up to Andy to stop the bleeding.  One game losing streak sounds about right.  Still want to win this series. 

I expect the ball to continue jumping out today.  Just hope the Yanks are the ones hitting the dingers.

Not a boy but a Man.

Photo via ESPN.com

Wow.

Bobby V sure is one popular dude in Japan. 

Dig this story.

A major Francis Bacon show has just opened at the MET.  I can’t wait to see it.  I remember seing a major Bacon retrospective at the Modern years ago and being blown away.  I think his pictures are stunning and disturbing, sometimes scary and often beautiful. They are elegantly imagined nightmares. Something to peep if you can bear it.

Over at SI.com, Bill James and Joe Posnanski team-up for a column on the Big Unit, Randy Johnson:

Joe: That gets us to the larger point. Seems to me that Randy Johnson has in some ways been overshadowed in his own generation. It isn’t that people missed the point that the Unit has been a great pitcher — the guy has won five Cy Young Awards — it’s that I’m not sure people realize just HOW great he has been.

Why? It’s funny: I think it’s because while everyone will talk and talk about all the steroids and home runs during the Selig Era, and everyone will talk about how offense dominated the last 15 to 20 years, the truth is that the last 15 to 20 years have given us four of the best pitchers in the history of baseball.

And I just find that richly ironic: I don’t believe there has ever been an era in baseball history that gave us four pitchers as good as Roger Clemens, Greg Maddux, Pedro Martinez and Randy Johnson. So while Johnson has been Nolan Ryan with control (the Unit’s 10.7 strikeouts per nine innings is the best ever), while he had a longer Koufax-like peak, while he’s about to win his 300th game, he’s still widely viewed as the fourth-best pitcher of his time.

Why not more?  Greed is good, haven’t you heard?

I’m starting to really love Joba as a pitcher. He was one thing as a set-up reliever, an overpowering guy–electric, exciting. But he’s far more complete as a starter; throws a change-up and a curve with confidence. He’s not as big or chunky or as plodding as Roger Clemens, but he’s still a power guy who is a bona fide pitcher. He’s walking too many guys but I like the progress he’s made.  Each start is fun to watch.  He’s thinking out there, and he’s got some courage. 

Be interesting to see if he can keep building tonight in another go at the O’s.

Nine would be fine, sunshine.

Here’s an appealing bit of L.A. Noir fiction by our good pal John Schulian:

The first time I laid eyes on her, I’d just spent twelve hours waiting for an accountant who wasn’t the dognapper his ex-wife made him out to be. It was three in the morning and I was piling up some expenses at the counter of Norm’s, on La Cienega. Between bites of bacon and hard-fried eggs, I thought about all the other nights I’d wasted in a lonely car on a dreary street, waiting for bad news to show up. The memories would have ruined the romance of my life as a private eye if there’d been any romance left. Then she slid onto the stool next to mine the way hot fudge goes on ice cream.

Another Asian mascara junkie, I thought at first. But I changed my mind after taking in the eyes, the arms, the mouth of her, the east, west, north and south of her.
Somewhere in the middle of the tour, she caught me staring. She didn’t bat an eye. Maybe she couldn’t.

“I see you tonight?” she asked.

“Would you remember if you had?” I said.

She laughed self-consciously. I took it as a no. But at least we had the start of something resembling a conversation. That’s how I learned she was a dancer at the Jewel Box, just down the street. “Naked body,” she said. “You better come see my show.”

But Ocho sure sounds sweet, don’t it?

Take that Danny Kaye.

Funk Doc:

Biz Mark:

A good combination.

Here’s a vintage free style from 1990. Biz and Red rhyming over Impeach the President. The recording is bump but the rhymes are tons-o-fun. This was before Redman’s first record dropped. His diss of the Knicks at the end of his first verse is one of my favorite punchlines of all-time. And I like the Knicks.

Too good to be true or too much to take?  I think Larry David is funny but I can’t watch him for more than a few minutes at a time. His comedy is just too intense and makes me too uncomfortable.  I was never a fan of Seinfeld–though I came to appreciate it, especially the actors, when it went to syndication–and Curb Your Enthusiasm is far too astringent for my blood.  Woody, I’m a fan.  At least I used to be.  Of his early funny movies.  I was infatuated by his work when I was growing up, his writing, his stand-up and his movies, right up until Hannah and Her Sisters.  Still, I am amazed at his productivity since.  Even if I’m not wild about the movies themselves, it is impressive that the man keeps making movies, year-in, year-out.

Larry David is the star of Woody’s latest.  Scott Raab thinks it could be a match made in Hebrew Heaven.

S.L. Price has a great piece on Roger Federer and his arch-nemesis Rafael Nadal in last week’s Sports Illustrated:

Federer’s breakdown just before Nadal received the ’09 Australian Open winner’s trophy was the most obvious sign of the shift, but there had been earlier indications. Asked the day before the final whether he relished another shot at his archrival, Federer said, “Honestly, I preferred the days when I didn’t have a rival.” Nadal had exhausted himself in a five-hour, 14-minute semifinal the day before, but as soon as the final began, Federer seemed out of sorts. Worse, unlike Nadal when he was No. 2, Federer didn’t commit himself to attacking his rival, to shaking him out of his comfort zone. Twice Federer ran around his backhand and staggered Nadal with forehand winners, but he never did that again. “Twice in 4½ hours?” Wilander asks. “Why not show Nadal something different?”

The answer lies in the regal language always used to describe Federer. Born to rule, he has never been interested in fighting for power; that’s why in his current exile he looks less like Napoleon plotting on Elba than like the puzzled Czar Nicholas II waiting for the world to right itself and restore his throne.

This attitude perplexes even Federer’s staunchest admirers. Former players, coaches, peers: They all accept that his talent is, as Wilander says, “crazy,” but his passive response to Nadal goes against what they’ve been taught a superstar does when he’s down. Muhammad Ali came up with rope-a-dope, an aging Michael Jordan perfected the fadeaway jumper: The great ones adjust, sending a signal not only to their rivals but also to all the newly emboldened. It’s no shock that following Nadal’s trail, No. 3 Andy Murray has won six of his last seven matches against Federer, and No. 4 Novak Djokovic has won three of their last five. “What makes me scratch my head,” Courier says, “is how Roger doesn’t shift.”

The remedy most often prescribed for Federer’s ailing game is hiring a coach such as Darren Cahill, who once counseled Agassi. Federer toyed with the idea in the off-season, but that he didn’t follow up seemed further proof that he’s not hearing alarm bells. Others suggest that he serve-and-volley more, or play more doubles to replicate the Olympic preparation that helped him win the gold medal in doubles in Beijing and the U.S. Open singles title last September. But if Federer insists on staying back and winning rallies from the baseline, the consensus is that he must shorten points to save energy for the decisive third and fifth sets he has lately been losing: He has to hit more low, short slices to throw off Nadal’s rhythm, and he must put more bite on his flatter strokes.

Federer did that in the Australian Open final, but only when desperate; the instant he felt he had gained the momentum, he went back to the game on which he built his empire—and that Nadal solved long ago. “Roger still feels he’s just better [than Nadal],” Courier says. “And, frankly, he’s not.”

I like Nadal but I root for Federer. It will be fascinating to see if he can recover and get those three more grand slams to set the all-time mark. What once seemed inevitable is very much in question now. Can you remember a champion, seemingly still in his prime, get taken out like this?  Bjorg, maybe.  But he just walked away from the game.  I wonder if Federer has it in him to get back on top?  It would be a dream if he could ever win the French.  This is could become a great rivalry if Federer finds a way to respond.

CC Sabathia pitched another fine game and the Yankees scored seven runs in the seventh inning to win their seventh game in a row. 

Final score: Yanks 9, Orioles 1. 

It was a close game again until just after Kate Smith sung God Bless America.*  Sabathia allowed a first-inning run but Alex Rodriguez crushed a two-run homer in the bottom of the inning to give the Yanks the lead for good.  With a man on, Rodriguez quickly fell behind Brad Bergesen 0-2.  He fouled off a couple of tough pitches, laid off a couple of breaking balls out-of-the-zone and worked the count full.  Then a back-door fastball that darted across the plate but too high was struck for the homer. 

It made that sound, that true, uncompromising sound of a ball being hit on the sweet spot.  The kind of that makes you weak in the knees, the kind you dreamed about as a kid, the sound that makes you sit up like a dog bolting awake by a noise just outside the front door.  (They never get the sound right in the movies, have you ever noticed that?) 

Rodriguez took his textbook-fluid swing–the ball came to the bat as if drawn by a magnet, and then shot off deep into the night.  Rodriguez just missed two more homers later in the game.  Missed ’em by that much.  But he didn’t miss the first one and it was a thing of beauty. 

So was Sabathia, who nursed the one-run lead through seven.  The Orioles didn’t stand a chance, collecting three hits and a walk against Poppa Large, who struck out seven and lowered his ERA to 3.43.  The big man was brilliant.  Bergesen, who also pitched well, getting a boat load of ground balls early on, left the game with a couple of runners on and one out in the bottom of the seventh.  Chris Ray relieved him and got torched.  Derek Jeter got the big hit, a three-run double with the bases loaded and Mark Teixeira hit his 11th of the season, a shot into the second deck in right field, to put the cherry on top of what turned out to be a laugher.

Brian Bruney, just activated off the DL, pitched a scoreless inning and the Yanks gained a game in the east as the Red Sox beat the Blue Jays, 2-1 in Boston.

*Do you know I ran into two Yankee fans today who complained that while yes, the Yankees are winning lately, they are only winning by the slimmest of margins, so…as if winning the close ones don’t count as much.  I’m dead serious.

My nephew turned five last week.  For his birthday he watched Star Wars for the first time. (Star Wars was the first movie I remember seeing in the movie theater as a kid; it was released a few days before I turned six.) There was a Jedi training session in Inwood Park and then there was the screening.  My nephew has been talking about the movie for weeks.  He even had a favorite character–Chewy. But his friends were more interested in his toys so they didn’t actually watch much of the movie.  The real screening took place the next day and I arrived minutes before the Death Star was blown to smithereens.

A few days earlier, I stopped by the electric circus known as Toys R Us in Times Square to pick up a present.  I headed to the Star Wars area and was dismayed; I could hardly find anything that had to do with the original movie (though I did eventually find one box that contained small figurines of Obi Wan, Luke and the two droids).  When I got home and told my wife Emily how shocked I was at the lack of toys from the original movie, she turned to me, and in her best Alice Kramden said, “Sweetheart, that movie came out over thirty years ago.”

I looked at her blankly.  Blinked.  Then I unpacked the toys, took out my teeth, changed my diaper and went to bed.  It was four in the afternoon.

From his blog, Baseball Nerd, Keith Olbermann on how Vin Scully almost became the Yankees’ announcer…According to Olbermann, here is Scully’s story (thanks to Baseball Think Factory for the link):

“When the Yankees let Mel Allen go in 1964, I got a phone call from the man who they had brought in to run their broadcasting operation, Craig Smith,” Vin began. “He had been in charge of the World Series broadcasts forever, so I’d known him about ten years by then. And he asked me if I’d like to come home to New York and become the lead announcer. He offered a very handsome salary, and a long contract.

“Well, I was amazed, as you can imagine. I’d found a wonderful home here in Los Angeles, but remember, this was only seven years after the Dodgers left Brooklyn. I was still a New Yorker through and through. Plus, here was a chance to work again with Red Barber. And recall, too, that this was just before the Yankee dynasty collapsed. As much as Mr. O’Malley had done here and in Brooklyn, the Yankees were still the marquee name in sports. If it had been 1958 or 1959, when I still missed New York so, I would’ve said yes before he hung up the phone.”

“So, I thought long and hard about that one. But I had a young family, and I think we had all just truly adjusted to living here – takes just about seven years, I think – and in the end I turned it down.”