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GIVE AND TAKE

I left work early on Friday to accompany Emily to a doctor’s appointment on the Upper East Side. I had some time to kill so I walked up from midtown, and boy let me tell you, the East Side is as weird and as wack as it’s always been. Strange, cadaverous old honkies, poorly-dressed young honkies, and of course, the occasional nut case. On the corner of 68th street and Second Avenue, a toothless chap was standing there handing out business cards of some sort, running an open dialogue with himself.

“No, I’m not happy at all today. I should be in California. The Lakers won, and so did the Celtics. There are three games tonight, and I wish I could be there. Yeah. I don’t like that Busch at all. No sir. Did you see him in that outfit? Who does he think he is, Tom Cruise?”

I told him not to worry: The Lakers will win. I moved on. I actually entertained myself with fantasies of running into Jason Giambi. I don’t fully understand why it is that many of the jocks that choose to live in Manhattan select the Upper East Side, but I forgive them, because they are not from New York, and so they can’t be totally at fault. After all, who said these guys knew anything about taste (watch Cribs lately)?

Still, I was hoping to run into the big lug, so I could tell him to relax, we are behind him and he’ll turn it around before you know it. But wouldn’t you know it? He never did materialize.

I sat in on Em’s appointment ostensibly to take notes; there is so much information to digest, it’s easy for her to forget half of it by the time she walks out the door. I introduced myself to the Doctor as her food-taster. Em’s medical problems are not over, but we were encouraged, that she still had options. Her Doctor was attentive and reassuring, and how rare is that? When we were done, we jumped on a cross-town bus and went to see “A Mighty Wind,” over by Lincoln Center. Brought to you by the same creative team that made “Waiting For Guffman,” and “Best in Show,” this new movie will appeal to those who enjoyed the first two flicks.

It was exactly what the Doctor ordered. Something light and stupid. After the movie, we strolled up Broadway to the best produce-fine-foods emporium in the city, Fairway, and stocked up for dinner. By the time we were done, a thunderstorm broke out, and we happily got soaked on our way to the subway.

The Yankee game was delayed for over an hour, but they eventually got it in. This is how lucky I am: Not only will my girlfriend tolerate me watching a game; she actually enjoys watching a game herself (I know she enjoys watching me watch a game). Hell, she’ll even sit through a rain delay with me.

Ted Lily, looking thinner in the face than he did last year with the Yanks, pitched against Boomer Wells. It was another awful night for Em’s boy, J. Giambi, who struck out three times, including once with the bases-loaded.

Emily was plum tuckered out, and napped on and off during the game. At one point she woke up and exclaimed, “I don’t know if I was dreaming or not, but I think the Yankees have someone named Bubba playing for them. What the fuck is up with that?” She closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

The Yanks won 5-3, and it was a close, tense game. Robin Ventura drew a bases-loaded walk to break the tie, and Nick Johnson later pinch-hit with the bases-juiced again, and guess what? After taking two big hacks and fouling pitches off, he too drew a walk, which extended his streak of games with a base on balls to sixteen. Hooray!
Rivera pitched for the third-straight day, and for the second-straight day, looked sharp.

On Saturday morning, the Gods answered Emily’s prayers and we tackled many messy area’s in my apartment: the refrigerator got a thorough inspection and scouring, my closest took a beating, with old clothes being tossed, and the remaining one’s being folded and put away neatly, and the corner of the room next to my bed, at long last, was straightened-up and organized. Oh, was Ms. Shapiro ever happy. Delicious relations followed all this purging, and then Em was off, and I was left to my own devices for the rest of the afternoon.

It was a cool, but sunny day in the Bronx, and when I was out getting the papers (getting the papers) in the a.m. I thought, Hey Giambi generally strikes me as an optimist. It’s a brand new day. Maybe he can come out and relax a bit today.

Tim Hudson went up against Jeff Weaver in what turned out to be a dandy at the Stadium. Weaver pitched well, but let a couple off two-strike pitches get away from him, and left the game trailing 3-1. Hudson was brilliant. While Hudson may not be as dominating as Pedro Martinez (who pitched his first complete game of the year in Boston yesterday afternoon), he is built in his mold: diminutive, composed, and nasty. Roy Oswalt belongs to the club as well too.

Tim Hudson is the leader of the A’s pitching staff and you can see why. He looks like the leader. On the mound, he has an icy-calm, and seems to be able to maximize his energy on each delivery. He was in full control yesterday, getting ahead of the Yankee hitters and making them hit the ball on the ground with his efficient sinker.

With his cap pulled down over his eyes, he almost looks like a kid’s idea of a badass. Like something out of a comic strip. Hudson has a small mouth that gapes open as he looks to the catcher for the signs, and his scowl reminds me of a young Ray Liotta (though Hudson has a better complexion). He looks like Baby-faced Finster. There is nothing rushed about his demeanor. Calmly, he is in control of the proceedings. He could be a prison guard right out of “Cool Hand Luke,” or maybe he could be Luke himself.

When Jorge Posada flew out to end the 7th inning, third base coach Willie Randolph made jogged by Hudson and made a comment that brought a smile to Hudson’s face. It was no doubt a compliment.

Trailing 3-1 in the ninth, Oakland’s manager gave the Yankees an opportunity by lifting Hudson in favor of closer Keith Foulke. I was preparing a sammich in the kitchen between innings and plotted out the perfect scenario: Nick Johnson leads off with a single; Giambi follows with a homer; Bernie follows that with a homer himself. And if he doesn’t, then better yet, Godzilla does! See how easy it is to be a spoiled-ass Yankee fans?

Johnson did his part, by lining an outside fastball into the left field corner for a leadoff double. Of course, he had drawn a base on balls earlier against Hudson, and tied Willie Randolph for the team record of consecutive games with a walk at 17. Next, Giambi did his part, and got off the schnide, when he blasted a fastball off the faZade of the upper deck in right field to tie the game. I had my mouth full of sammich when he hit it, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. So I just made a loud “MMMMMMM” chant, like Peter Boyle in “Young Frankenstein.” I got up and started stomping around the living room, “MMM-MMM.”

I even called Emily, who had been watching on her own. Needless to say, she was very happy for her boy.

But Bernie and Godzilla must have missed my cosmic memo, and the game went into extra innings. Juan Acevado coughed up the lead when Eric Chavez absolutely creamolished a fastball into the bleachers for a two-run homer. It was enough to give Oakland the “W,” 4-2.

The Red Sox bullpen blew Friday night’s game to drop the Home Nine four behind the Yanks, but they made it up on Saturday and again trail by only three.

The funniest moment in the Yankee game came in the top of the fourth. Eric Chavez popped out to Ventura in foul territory to start the inning. The winds were swirling yesterday and every pop fly became a miniature adventure. Ventura broke back to his right for the ball, and just at the last moment pivoted his shoulders back to the left to make the catch. Ventura slows the game down, and yet always seems in complete control. He had the ball the entire way. The only problem was that Erick Almonte was chasing the pop fly as well. There was no communication between the two, and right as Ventura squeezed the ball into his glove, he bumped into Almonte and the two fell over each other.

Almonte looked like an over-anxious puppy at the dog run. Ventura was nice not to scold him, let alone bite him. After Tejada reached on a single, Durazo sent a pop up to short left field. Ventura and Almonte went after the ball again, and this time Ventura clearly called him off. Almonte still was probably too close to Ventura, but that’s only because puppies always like to hang around the older dogs.

DEAD MAN WALKING

I’ve never been a fan of the Mets GM Steve Phillips, but there is nothing that is entertaining about the Phillips death-watch across town with the Mets. The Mets lost in extra-innings to the Cards yesterday (their fifth straight L), and it feels as if Phillips will not make it through the weekend. Jay Jaffe, the futility infielder, one of the best, if not the best baseball writer in the blogging universe, weighs in with take on the situation. Mike Lupica killed Phillips in the News yesterday, and today Joel Sherman lays some of the blame at the feet of the Wilpons.

According to the Daily News today:

Mets’ chief operating officer Jeff Wilpon left Phillips open for increased scrutiny Wednesday when he told the Daily News: “Fred and I are only as good as the info we get.”

Phillips didn’t try to deflect blame when he was asked about those comments.

“My name is on every move that’s been made here,” Phillips said. “That’s how I look at it.”

If they are going to can him, I say do it and do it now. Don’t draw this out any longer than you have to, fer cryin’ out loud.

Somewhere, Bobby Valentine is enjoying a good laugh.

LE JOIE DE FREAK

Alfonso Soriano continues to confound and amaze. Derek Zumsteg of Baseball Prospectus admits he doesn’t know how he would approach pitching our favorite Martian:

Seeing him take inside pitches and turn on them with those whip-fast hands, I honestly have no idea how I’d pitch to him. I keep thinking of Ball Four: smoke in on the hands. I think I’d ride him way inside on the hands, out of the strike zone, and see–and I know how bad this sounds–if you can either tie him up or hit him for a strike either way, because I haven’t seen him bail out on that pitch.

Filip Bondy has a nice little puff piece on him in the Daily News today. When Soriano connected off of Seattle’s impressive right-hander Joel Pinero in the sixth:

Soriano hesitated a moment at the plate, then rounded the bases. He can never get all the way back home without breaking out in a smile, because this game is so much fun, because there is always a teammate waiting to congratulate him, and because somehow it always feels like the first time for Soriano.

…There is nobody else in New York, and maybe nobody in baseball right now, who plays with this sort of joy and elan. Not Bernie Williams. Not Derek Jeter, even when he’s healthy.

…”I’m waiting for the pitching more,” Soriano said. “They no throw my pitch, and it’s important to be on base for me. I try to be more patient.”

The kid hasn’t let success go to his head. As Kevin Kernan reports in the Post today:

All the players appreciate [manager, Joe] Torre, but no one appreciates him more than Soriano, who has become the best player in the game under Torre.

“He has allowed me to grow, he’s been so patient,” Soriano said of Torre. “If I make a mistake he doesn’t get on me. He’s been like a father to me. He is the perfect manager.”

Speaking of Joe, regardless of the constant mishegas with the Boss, Torre isn’t leaving anytime soon.

EVERY DOG HAS HIS DAY

Every fan has one player on the team he roots for that for one reason or another, serves as your own personal whipping boy. Mine is Jorge Posada, he of the weak chin, big ears and red ass. Whenever I need to vent some frustration, Jorgie is the one who gets it. I can accept all of Bernie Williams’ flaws, his lousy baseball instincts, his flakiness, but it’s just the opposite with Posada. Even when he’s doing okay, I’m usually cursing his ass out. This isn’t rational, but it’s the way it is. Maybe it’s because Posada is such a spaz, maybe it’s just his looks, I don’t know.

Well, I have to give it up for him today, because he played as good a game as I came remember him playing. Especially on the defensive side of things. Posada made three sterling plays—nailing Ichio at second on a bunt attempt by Randy Winn, and then later throwing out both Winn and Ichiro trying to steal second. Jorgie threw Winn out in the sixth with a picture-perfect throw that had some mustard on it; he rushed his throw to get Ichiro later on, but it was on-line and shortstop Enrique Wilson made a nice pick to record the out.

Joe Torre told reporters:

“He’s been terrific,” Torre said. “He seems so much more calm. I’m not sure it’s going to last all year, but right now, he’s developed a lot more confidence, and pitchers are developing more confidence in him. It’s affecting every part of his game.”

Posada was hampered by shoulder problems last year, but he seems to have recovered nicely. Back-up catcher Joe Flaherty added:

“He’s always had that little hop with his feet that made him so quick,” Flaherty said. “And you could see from the beginning of spring training that he’s worked hard on that. His feet right now are as good as anyone’s. He’s so quick.”

Posada also added a solo home run in the Yankees taut 2-1 victory over the Mariners last night. Mike Mussina improved to 6-0, striking out nine in eight innings of work (he has K’d at least eight batters in each one of his starts); Mariano Rivera looked much sharper than he did the night before, and retired the M’s in order in the ninth for his first save of the season.

Jason Giambi’s slump continues, and he looks tense and constipated. Meanwhile Nick Johnson drew another walk, and now has drawn a base-on-balls in fifteen consecutive games. Oh, by the way, Lil’ Sori hit a towering homer to left which proved to be the game winner.

AND THE BAND PLAYED ON

Here is some feedback I received yesterday on the subject of queers in baseball. First up, is Steve Keane from The Eddie Kranepool Society:

I find the whole gay ballplayer discussion fascinating. I feel the lack of tolerance on the part of some people is on their upbringing. I am a born raised and New Yorker. I saw things growing up that most people could live to be 100 and never see. I also work for the City of New York in an office more diverse than the UN. Straight, gay, Black, White Hispanic, Jew, Gentile, Muslim you name it I know someone of any persuasion.

I looked up where Todd Jones was from and I found he was born in Marietta Ga. I’m guessing that Marietta is not as diverse as Boro Park Brooklyn where I was born and raised so I guessing he did not have much interaction with people of diferent backgrounds.

I never understood where many straight males get so angry and defensive about gays. What is ther fear? I just don’t get it.

In a way I feel bad for Jones for he is so ignorant he did not even think before he spoke. He said some very hateful things. It will be interesting to see if the Used Car Salesman takes action against him and if the MLBPA will back Jones if he is disciplined.

Jones has not been disciplined yet (and I don’t think he should be either), but he did issue an apology yesterday.

Here is what my cousin Gabe Fried had to say:

I forgot to tell you, I think, that I saw Take Me Out. It’s not wonderful, but it is striking on a number of levels, among them the implicit suggestion that Jeter and A-Rod are lovers.

It’s dreamy to imagine some big star with $20 million in endorsement contracts coming out with a smirk and a strut. Maybe Jeter (and maybe only Jeter) COULD come out and survive, standing in tact, perhaps even in weird ways enhanced. But I suspect that one aberrant superstar doesn’t change the mores of baseball as much as you’d think. So Jeter comes out, which, in New York, would probably fly okay, at least as well as it would anywhere. But that doesn’t suddenly give Geoff Blum permission to come out, or Denny Hocking, or Michael Tucker. It will take a long time before certain segments of the population stop equating being gay with being weak.

There is a portion of the population who become enraged at the suggestion that there are gay players. (Many of these people are the players themselves.) And there is another portion that thinks that ALL professional athletes are gay. Honestly–and I don’t say this glibly or thoughtlessly–I suspect that if you removed social conditioning, the need for parental approval, and a potent, deeply embedded fear of exclusion, there would be a higher rate of homosexuality among professional athletes than there is among a broader cross-section of the population. Would it be ALL athletes? No. Would it be half? Maybe not. But if you’re a gay man raised to believe that it’s somehow corrupt to be a gay man, there are two vocations you can enter where you can a) prove your manliness and honor, and b) surround yourself with men: sports and the military.

I really do think that if you took all professional baseball players and bared each one’s unconscious in a vacuum, free from outside influence, the portion of them who were gay would be somewhere around 30-40%.

I had the opportunity to speak with ESPN’s Rob Neyer—who wrote a column on the Jones situation yesterday, and we got around to talking about homosexuality in baseball. Actually, it came up as we were discussing Curt Flood:

Rob Neyer: I’m not perfectly clear on why Flood did what he did. He wasn’t doing it for the money from what I understand. And whether or not one agrees with the principle, what was admirable about him is that he was willing to chuck his career for the principle. To me, that’s worthwhile. I just wrote a column today that was posted an hour or two ago, in response to what Todd Jones said about having a gay player on his team. What I concluded was that if a gay player came out today he should be considered a hero, because he would be doing it basically to make a point about a principle, which very few baseball players, or anybody really is willing to do. Very few of us are willing to take a big risk in our professional life or our personal life for a cause. To me, anybody who is willing to do that, whatever the cause may be, is in substance a hero. Whether we agree with the cause or not. And I think that is why Flood is relevant. It isn’t because he brought about free agency; I think that has been miscast over the years. I don’t think anybody really knows how much Flood had to do with it. Did he play a small part; did it help speed the movement along? Maybe a little bit. But the fact is, he lost his case. But I think Flood is bigger than baseball in the sense that he was willing to stand up for something he knew was going to cost him an immense amount of money and his career. There are very few people who are willing to do that. To me, that’s what makes Flood interesting, that he was a rare individual. Most professional athletes are trained from an early age, and in fact are admired for not going against the grain. You’re trained from Day One, the day you arrive in a major league clubhouse, to go along, to do what the veterans say, to pay attention to the manager. All of which are probably good if you are trying to get along with the team, but it’s not exactly heroic to do what everybody tells you to do. And Flood went the other way, and that’s what to me, makes him an appealing figure.

BB: I’ve been talking about what kind of player it will take to come out of the closet, and I’ve think, like Jackie Robinson, it will have to be a man of great character as well as great skill.

Neyer: Yeah, I think that’s right. And in fact, I think the comparison is apt. I got some flak from some people today in response to my column. I said the first gay player to come out would be a hero, to me at least, along the lines of Jackie Robinson and Curt Flood. People said, You can’t compare being gay to being black. Okay, fine, so it’s not exactly the same thing, although one could argue that people are born gay, or at least with the propensity toward being gay, just as you are born black. But my point was, though I didn’t make it explicitly, is that the thing that Todd Jones is saying about a gay player is the exact same thing that was being said about a black player in 1947. What he’s saying is, Oh no, I don’t have anything against gays personally, I just don’t want them around here because they’ll be a disruption. It’s the same kind of crap that members of the Dodgers were saying in 1947. It’s a bunch of bullshit. He doesn’t want to have to deal with it, that’s what it comes down to. The point of my column was that Todd Jones should be able to say whatever he wants to, without fear of being fined or suspended.

BB: Or getting killed by the P.C. Police.

Neyer: Exactly. But I also made the point that I think he’s full of shit. It’ll be a great day when a gay player comes out. And eventually—I hope in my lifetime—there will be lots of gay players, and nobody will give a damn.

BB: Buster Olney told me that he thinks the first gay player will probably have to be an established star—although he made the point that Billy Bean was in as good a situation as he’d seen for someone to come out, with the Padres in the early ’90s. Do you feel it would take an established star to be able to get away with it?

Neyer: I do. I think you have to have the combination of being a great player and also having the personality to withstand all the hassle. If you weren’t a good player it would become very awkward for a couple of reasons. One, the other players would not be as accepting if you are the 25 guy on the roster. Now if you are the best player on the team, or close to it, your teammates are going be a little more likely to say, Okay we can live with this guy the way the Dodgers did with Robinson. It would also make it much tougher on management if the player wasn’t great. It’s going to cause a disruption; there is no question about that. The media circus is going to be crazy when it happens. And the team will be put in this really awkward position. What if the guy is the 25th guy, and he really didn’t deserve a spot on the club? But they wanted to send him out. People will say you are only sending him out because he’s gay. And nobody wants to be put in that position, no team wants to be put in that position.

BB: Nobody wants to be the Pumpsie Green of the movement.

Neyer: That’s right. For all parties considered I think it’s going to work better if it’s a great player, or at least a good player. I think having him be the back-up shortstop could be a problem.

BB: One of the questions I have is what would a player stand to gain by coming out? Is it simply a guy saying, “I don’t want to live a lie anymore?”

Neyer: Or again it could be a guy who thinks this is important for other gays. That’s talking about the principle. I don’t know if it’s really our job to distinguish between motivations. It’s certainly more admirable if the player is doing it out of a sense of justice as opposed to a sense of “I just can’t live a lie anymore.” Either one is admirable I suppose, and we should be sympathetic to either position. But if there is something larger involved than just, “I can’t do this anymore unless I tell people I’m gay,” it would be meaningful. It’s not a selfless act in that situation, it’s more of a selfish act, which I can certainly sympathize with, and would cheer for him as well, but it wouldn’t be the same as somebody who would do it because he felt that he had a responsibility to make things better.

BB: I assume that there are gay ballplayers just like there are gay accountants. Do you think that teams and the writers who cover those teams know or suspect that some guys are gay, but just don’t want to deal with it publicly?

Neyer: I do think that’s the case. From what I understand, and I don’t know this to be a fact, because it’s been a while since I read anything about it, but I do think that there were people who knew that Glenn Burke was gay when he played for the Dodgers. I think there are gay ballplayers. I have no doubt about that, whatsoever, and I suspect that some of those players are either known to be gay by their teammates or are suspected to be gay. I think that it’s out there; I just don’t think people want to have to deal with what happens when you make it public. Think about all of the players who really aren’t going like you if you’re gay. They are certainly out there. I honestly believe that if a player came out, for the most part he’d be accepted by his teammates. I really think that. Would it be tough? Sure. Would there be some teammates that wouldn’t talk to the guy? Yeah. But you know what? Every clubhouse has guys that don’t get along now. It would just be a different reason not to get along. But for the most part I think they would be accepted, just like we accept gays that we know in our profession. Just like people grew to accept Jackie Robinson. Some of them didn’t like him, and didn’t go out to dinner with him, but they accepted him as a teammate. I think it would work exactly the same way in baseball with a gay player if someone gave it a chance.

BB: Someone’s going to be the Pee Wee Reese and go out and put his arm around the guy.

Neyer: That’s right. It sort of has a different connotation I suppose.

BB: Maybe he’ll squeeze his ass instead.

The complete interview with Rob will be posted early next week. Stay tuned…

RETURN OF THE SANDMAN

Jamie Moyer was hit was some dumb luck in the first inning, when his fielders couldn’t quite hold onto a couple of shots off Yankee bats (including a grand slam to Raul Mondesi), but he settled down and was his usual vexing self through seven innings. But the Yankees had a 5-0 lead, and received a strong outing from Andy Pettitte, and outlasted the M’s for a 8-5 win. Juan Acevado and Chris Hammond got roughed up in the eight, and the Mariners drew closer, 5-4. (There was a lot of cursing in my crib at this point.) But the Bombers were able to add three insurance runs in bottom of the inning, which gave Mariano Rivera ample wiggle room in his first appearance of the season.

Understandably, Mo looked a bit tentative. You could even see it in his face. The icy calm wasn’t there. He didn’t look nervous, simply atrophied. Randy Winn battled him to start the inning, and it took 10 pitches for Rivera to retire him. Mo tapped his front foot before each pitch as if he was trying to gain his footing, or calm himself down, or both. He struck out Winn on a tailing fastball that I thought was a two-seamer, but has been called a sinker as too. That pitch was something new from Rivera. Brett Boone followed with a walk, and after falling behind 3-0 to Edgar Martinez, Mel Stottlemyre came out to talk with his closer. Mo then retired Edgar—who absolutely owns him—on three straight fastballs. Mike Cameron followed with a RBI double off the center field wall, before John Mabry popped out to Godzilla Matsui to end the game.

Nick Johnson walked again (which makes it fourteen games in a row), but he’s hitting as well. The same cannot be said for J. Giambi, who heard the boo’s from the ever-understanding and patient Yankee faithful.

Meanwhile, the Royals continue to shit the bed against the Sox in Beantown. The Home Nine rallied for three runs in the ninth and continue to trail the Yanks by a scant three games.

FATTY

My brother Benny Eggs used to frequent the 2nd Avenue Deli regularly with my old man. This is before pop had quadruple bypass surgery a couple of years ago. Although the old man still indulges in the occasional steak–sometimes it’s not so occasional–his eating habits certainly don’t approach the unbridled excess of the old days. One night Eggs and the old man were sitting in a booth at the 2nd Avenue Deli, waiting to order. My dad was furiously stuffing down the complimentary cole slaw when the waiter arrived, so my brother order two pastrami sammiches. Just then pop started choking on the cole slaw. He slammed down a glass of water and held up a hand for the waiter to stay. Before he could fully recover, let alone draw a breath—his eyes now bloodshot, and tearing, he simply reminded the waiter: “Fatty.”

I was reminded of this story on my train ride home yesterday evening. The Times had a great article on Pastrami on the front page of the Dining In section. Here is a classic New York scene:

I want a pastrami on rye, fatty, not too lean,” said the middle-age man in line at Katz’s, on the Lower East Side, practically wagging his finger at the counterman. “Pastrami shouldn’t be lean. And I want coleslaw on the sandwich, but put it on the side, because I got to drive my truck to Jersey and I don’t want it to get soggy. Put the mustard on the side for the same reason.”
A pause. The counterman gave a world-weary shrug and continued to put together the sandwich, laying the slices of juicy meat onto the bread.

“And don’t give me any of those half-sour pickles,” the customer added. “Give me some really good sour pickles.”

This scene might have taken place in 1946. Or ’67. In 1980, even, it would have starred two Jewish men of a certain age and demeanor. On this recent day, however, the customer was black, and the counterman, Dominican

These kind of stories are dangerous to read with an empty stomach, and I got so worked up that I had to stop by Loeser’s Deli on 231rst street and pick up a couple of dogs and a knish (as well as a couple of half-sour pickels and yes, a container of cole-slaw to boot). Okay, it wasn’t a fat-ass Pastrami sammich, but they are foods that go well with mustard all the same. And it was delish, and terrif. About the only drawback is the awful bellyache I’s got this morning. Hell, it was worth it.

BACK TO BASICS

Jose Contreras had an impressive start yesterday for the Columbus Clippers, throwing five scoreless innings, allowing three hits and striking out eight. Apparently, the big Cuban’s heater was clocked at 98mph, a far cry from what we saw from him when he was with the Yankees. To be fair, Contreras is a starter, and was regulated to the bullpen in New York.

Mariano Rivera is ready to go for the Yanks, and Derek Jeter was back with the team last night, shit-eating-grin and all. Jeter was goofing around on the bench, certainly a sight for sore eyes for us Yankee fans. He expects to be activated in a couple of weeks.

With a base on balls last night, Nick Johnson has now walked in thirteen consecutive games. He leads the AL in that category too.

Not for nothing, but I’m glad that Suzyn Waldman is not calling the games for YES any longer. He strength is doing the pre and post game shows, and I think she does that fine (although she’s better suited for the radio, and I used to like her coverage of the Knicks as well as the Yanks). But I’ve noticed that she has become so breathy, that I’m going to start calling her ol’ Iron Lungs. Each breath she draws sounds dramatically like it will be her last. Not only that, but she’s looking more and more like Karl Malden with each passing day.

The Yanks face ol’ man Moyer in the Bronx tonight. Moyer has an even better Bugs Bunny change than Chris Hammond. I don’t know what his numbers are against the Yankees, but I always feel like he kills us. And it’s a slow, painful death at that. I practically feel like jumping out of my shoes at home. My cousin Gabe said it would be good for baseball if the Yanks lost tonight (making it three in a row). “Then they can win 44 straight of whatever.”

FORBIDDEN FRUITS

The subject of homosexuality in baseball is a touchy one indeed. After all, who really wants to talk about it? We’re not Gay. Well, Christian Ruzich, The Cub Reporter, and I do, and we’ve exchanged e-mails on the topic, and I thought I would share them with you. First, here is what New York Times reporter Buster Olney had to say about it when we spoke several weeks ago:

BB: Do you think baseball is ready for a gay player to come out?

Buster: No. It’s interesting cause when I covered the Padres Billy Bean was on the that team [that’s Billy Bean, the gay ballplayer, who came out publicly a few years ago, not Billy Beane the Oakland GM]. I really believe that if any team would have been able to handle that situation, it would have been that team. Because the best player, Tony Gwynn, is a very tolerant person, he’s very broad-minded. It was a very young team, that had stripped it down and they had all these young players, and Billy was very well liked. Some of the other leaders on the team like [Brad] Ausmus, were very bright guys. Trevor Hoffman, very accepting personality. If it was going to work, it would’ve worked on that team. But there is no doubt veteran teams like the Yankees I covered, or the Mets now: no chance. There is no chance.

BB: Because of the hoopla that would surround it?

Buster: Well, not only that, but the anticipation of it would prevent the front office from even making the move. Saying that, if the greatest pitcher in the game came out and said he was gay, they’d probably bend the rules. But it would have to be a great player. If you think about how they did it with Jackie Robinson, part of the reason why it worked was because he was a great player.

BB: And they chose him for his personality as much as his ability as a ballplayer.

Buster: Exactly. Billy Bean said that it’s basically unworkable, and I agree with him. It would have to be a player who is established. A player who won three Cy Young awards and then came out. Right. And even at that point, he would never be accepted by half of the players. No matter what he did or what he said.

Here is the first letter I received from Christian:

I’m interested to know what you think about what he has to say about a gay player coming out. Do you think it’s as impossible as he does? I go back and forth — on the one hand it seems like a baseball clubhouse is probably one of the most homophobic places on Earth, but on the other hand I imagine if a player came out while playing in a more liberal city (San Francisco jumps to mind, but Chicago or Minneapolis are other possibilities) he might be accepted, or even embraced, by the city. Of course it would matter quite a bit who the player was, if he was already beloved, etc. I mean, if Kirby Puckett had come out, I don’t think it would have been a big deal, but Carl Everett might have run into some problems.

Whaddya think? Also, was Buster’s reference to a “three-time Cy Young award winner” purely hypothetical?

To which I responded:

I’m sorry to say that I do think it would be pretty tough for a player to come out of the closet in the pro game today. It’s not that he wouldn’t be excepted, or even lauded by some fans in certain cities, but I’m not sure if his supporters would out-number his detractors.
Think about the constant taunting the player would receive. Not only would some unruly fans call him a faggot when he’s batting, but the ump could be thinking the same thing, and so could the catcher, and even the guy on deck.
I think his problem would lie in the locker room. It’s like Olney was saying about women in the locker rooms: there is a sizable percentage of the players that would never accept them.
Yes, I think Olney was being hypothetical when he said that player would have to win 3 Cy Young awards to get away with it, but his point is well-taken. It would probably take a player who is an established star to get away with something so bold as coming out of the closet.
I think that for a queer player to come out publicly, he would have to be a man of tremendous character, strength and confidence. The Jackie Robinson analogy applies here, especially in that the player in question would have to be a stronger man than he is a player.
Of course there are gay ballplayers out there. Perhaps they are comfortable being private about their sexual orientation. I don’t know. What I mean is that even if there was a triumphent example of a gay ballplayer coming out, I don’t know that it would lead to others following suit. I could be wrong.
The question is: What does a gay ballplayer have to gain by coming out? We certainly know he’d have a lot to lose. Do I think this is a sad commentary on our culture as well as our favorite game? You bet. But what are you going to do?

Here is Christian’s reply:

I think it’s a damn shame that there isn’t an out major league player. I love sports, but I hate the macho bullshit that often comes along with it. For so many people, sports is wrapped up in some weird belief system where success in sports equates with success as a man, and too often an adjunct of that is homophobia. Athletes talk about how trust is one of the most important factors in making a team, and how they could “never trust” someone who was gay, and it just makes me mad. And then I read Todd Jones go off on this very subject, and it just makes me madder:
I suppose it’s just a reflection of the beliefs of the majority of America, and living in San Francisco and Oakland for the last six years has skewed my concept of what “everyone” thinks, but basically I can’t wait for someone to be brave/stupid enough to come out while still active. It’ll be a shitstorm to rival what Jackie Robinson went through, but I think (most) people will get over it relatively quickly and ultimately it will be good for baseball and America as a whole. We’ll see, I guess.

Todd Jones is quoted in an article by Denver Post theater critic, John Moore, on Richard Greenberg’s play “Take Me Out.” The piece is an indepth and insightful examination of the deep-rooted homophobia that exists in pro sports. Greeenberg told Moore:

"I think it would be an enormously difficult thing to do," said Greenberg, "and I think it will probably be hellish for whoever does it, no matter who he is. There is nothing but disincentive...You can imagine what a gay player would be up against," said Greenberg, an openly gay man. "You're endangering his life."

The only incentive for doing it anyway, he said, “is if the player just can’t stand it anymore. When living the lie becomes impossible.”

Colorado pitcher Todd Jones probably speaks for the majority of ballplayers when he said:

“I wouldn’t want a gay guy being around me,” Jones said. “It’s got nothing to do with me being scared. That’s the problem: All these people say he’s got all these rights. Yeah, he’s got rights or whatever, but he shouldn’t walk around proud. It’s like he’s rubbing it in our face. ‘See me, hear me roar.’ We’re not trying to be close-minded, but then again, why be confrontational when you don’t really have to be?”

That kind of attitude “speaks volumes about America,” said actor Daniel Sunjata, a Jeter lookalike who plays Lemming in “Take Me Out.” “Sports are the last bastion of sanctioned homophobia in this country. The fact that something like sexual preference can so adversely affect your career and your income is depressing. If I were a pro baseball player, and I was gay, I might not come out, either, for those exact reasons.”

All-around good guy, Mark Grace had a more enlightened take:

“I’ve played for 16 years, and I’m sure I’ve had homosexual teammates that I didn’t know about,” he said. “If one out of six or seven men are homosexual – do the math.”

“I think the perception in the clubhouse would be one of, for lack of a better word – fear,” Grace said. “Fear that they’d be stared at or (that a gay player might fall) in love with them. But I think if you’re intelligent at all, you’d understand that homosexuals are just like us. They don’t think everybody’s attractive. Just because this guy’s homosexual doesn’t mean he’s attracted to me.”

I’d like to think that there are more guys like Mark Grace than Todd Jones out there, but I’d also like for money to grow on trees. Still, I think this is a fascinating subject and I’ll continue to write about it as long as there is something to add to the discussion. Anyone with thoughts or comments, please send them in. I’m curious to know what the readers are thinking. Are you saying, “Enough already with the Fruits, let’s get back to boxscores and pitch-count?” Let me know.

GIL, A REAL MECHE

Seattle right hander Gil Meche overshadowed Roger Clemens and the hoopla surrounding Ichiro and Godzilla at the Stadium last night, as the Mariners shut out the Bombers, 6-0. Meche, winner of the Audie Murphy award, looks like he just jumped out of an old WWII movie; he has the innocent good looks of the boy next door. (“He’s attractive,” my girlfriend Emily remarked, “but he could use a hair cut.” For what it’s worth so could Matsui. “Godzilla needs to get his ass to Barbazon.”) He pitched quickly, and had the Yankee batters out of synch all evening.

After the game, Meche told reporters:

“Probably the biggest night of my baseball career,” said Meche, who scattered six singles and walked two. “How could it not be? Beating a Hall of Famer and this lineup? It’s unbelievable.”

Clemens wasn’t terrible (he did strike out eight), but he did give up 3 dingers (Boone, Davis and Edgar).

I was reminded just how much strong the rivalry with the M’s has been over the past few years last night. Damn, I hate losing to those guys. But honestly, with the exception of Brett Boone, there is hardly anyone to dislike on Seattle. I don’t even hate Boone, it’s just that his cockines is easy to root against. Sheeet, what’s not to love about Olerud, Edgar and Ichiro? And Bob Melvin appears to be a good guy as well.

No, the worst part about last night was that the Sox just keep coming and coming.

But fug it, I shouldn’t be riffing. The Yankees will probably not be shut-out too many times this year. It could be worse,after all: I could be a Mets fan.

Speaking of which, my cousin Gabe called me in the middle of the Card-Mets game last night. I had caught Ty Wiggenton’s at-bat with the bases-loaded in the first. He battled Matt Morris to a full-count and then smacked a grounder deep in the hole at short, which Edgar Renteria fielded and then threw a seed to first to record the out. Typical Mets I thought. About 20 minutes later, I saw on the ticker that the Cardinals had scored three in their half of the first. Ugh.

Gabe, who is anything but an alarmist, calls and says, “I’m not trying to be pessimistic, but this could be the season right here. They could be done. And I don’t mean that as a judgement, but as an observation.”

That just may be the case. Hey Steve Phillips, remember what ol’ Satch said: “Don’t look back, something may be gaining on you.”

YANKEE BENCHES

By Guest Columnist: Chris DeRosa

Hello, Bronx Banterers. Alex asked me to come off the bench with a Yankee-related feature, so I thought I would take substitution as my theme and discuss Yankee benches: the best benches the team has had in the past and those of the current dynasty.

Yankee fans of a sabermetric bent tend to ignore the slew of coffee table books about the team, and therefore may have missed the fact that Bill James wrote three parts of the latest entry in the genre, The New York Yankees: One Hundred Years, The Official Retrospective. He writes short essays on each of the 25 greatest Yankees as selected by a group of sportswriters, five of the most famous Yankee teams, and six of the club’s greatest managers. It is a pricey book, but it is fun to have James’s always intriguing perspective and to have him take on greatest- (NY)-team-ever debate, even in abbreviated form. Besides, what other coffee table book is going to diss the ’61 club and poke fun at Bobby Meacham?

Anyway, one thing James mentions in talking about Casey Stengel was how frequently his teams led in “Bench Value Percentage,” a measure of the percentage the non-starters contribute to a team’s success. Stengel’s Yankees led three times, 1949, 1951, and 1954. I looked them up. Not surprisingly, these three also had the three highest win shares totals that any of Stengel’s Yankee benches amassed. Might one of those clubs, I wondered, be identified as the best bench in team history?

Choosing one is harder than I thought. First of all, who should count as being a bench player?

If someone is acquired in the last third of the season to be part of the starting lineup, is his contribution really “off the bench”?

If a bench player plays himself into the starting lineup halfway through, score one for the bench? Or count him as a regular?

If you’re half of a strict platoon, are you a semi-regular, or riding the pines?

Chili Davis is supposed to be your regular DH, but he gets hurt. Darryl Strawberry steps in and leads the team in homers much of the way. Strawberry gets sick and Davis makes it back late in the year. Strength in depth for sure, but which one counts for the bench?

The easiest thing to do is to define the bench as the contributions of everybody beyond the eight (or nine with DH) players who got the most playing time. Even then, you’ve got to make some common sense adjustments. Joe DiMaggio shouldn’t count as a bench player for the 1949 Yankees even if he got less playing time than Cliff Mapes. Clearly, what matters in discussing the bench is the contribution of Mapes and other players who stepped in when DiMaggio was injured.

The question of injuries raises a further complication. The 1949 team was famously riddled with injuries. Is a reserve squad that is called on more often for this reason better than another that is equally ready and able, but kept on the bench by a healthy lineup? Maybe not better, but probably “greater.” It’s like when they rank the presidents. You have overcome a major crisis or two in order to rate with the greatest ever. Here are the total win shares claimed by some of the most active Yankee benches and their top not-ready-for-full-time-players:

1949 59 Mapes 12, Johnson 9, Lindell 6, Silvera 6, Stirnweiss 6, Keller 5, Kryhoski 4, Phillips 4
1951 51 Brown 13, Mantle 13, Collins 11, Jensen 9, Hopp 2, Johnson 2, Silvera 2
1954 48 Skowron 13, Coleman 6, Robinson 5, Slaughter 5, Miranda 4, Woodling, Cerv 3
1955 44 Howard 11, Collins 9, Robinson 7, Rizzuto 6, Cerv 5, Martin 2
1980 46 Gamble 11, Murcer 9, Piniella 7, Spencer 7, Lefebvre 4, Werth 3
1997 47 Curtis 11, Boggs 10, Posada 6, Sanchez 5, Whiten 5, Stanley 4, Duncan 3, Kelly 2

Another reason the total doesn’t tell the whole story is that it is difficult to measure the crucial bench quality of versatility. The variety of problems a team can solve off the bench is important along with the overarching measure of their contribution offered by win shares.
Comments on Some Great Yankee Benches

All of which goes to say that it may be too hard to identify the one best bench in team history. Here are some of the excellent ones, though. The bench didn’t figure much until Casey Stengel came along, and he always had a deep and talented roster. There is an extensive literature on Stengel’s use of reserves, so I won’t rehash all that here. In 1949, he did most of his rotating in the outfield and at first base. I think it was his 103-win 1954 club that best exemplified his concept of the roster as 16 players who were all worthy, with the batter-by-batter circumstances dictating which eight were playing and which were licking their chops.

1954: Only Mantle and Berra, the two best players in the league, batted 500 times on this team. The rest of the team was like a giant awesome bench. Charlie Silvera hit well in a handful of at bats backing up Berra, as he always did. At first base was Joe Collins (343 ab), Moose Skowron (215), and Eddie Robinson (142) combining for 22 homers and 89 walks. In the infield were Andy Carey (411), Gil McDougal (394), Phil Rizzuto (307), Jerry Coleman (300), and Willie Miranda (116). The outfielders after Mantle in descending order of playing time were Irv Noren (426), Hank Bauer (377), and Gene Woodling (304), Enos Slaughter (125) and Bob Cerv (100). All these players, with the arguable exception of Miranda, were important contributors to the Yankee dynasty, although not all played well in 1954. James’s Guide to the Baseball Managers reports the 1954 Yanks set a record for pinch hitters, 262, who hit .292 and set a record with 7 dingers.

1977: An example of a fine bench that didn’t get to strut its stuff the way Stengel’s did is that of the 1977 World Champions. Billy Martin got over 500 at bats for seven regulars, but he had in reserve plenty of offensive punch and a couple of glove men who didn’t hurt the team at the plate. Despite the signing of Reggie Jackson, Lou Piniella managed to get over 300 at bats again in a platoon outfielder-DH role, and he hit the snot out of the ball: .330 and slugging .510. Cliff Johnson hit .296 and slugged .606 in 142 at bats, in 56 games at 1B, DH, and catcher. Infielder Fred Stanley (.261) and outfielder Paul Blair (.262) came bearing gloves. George Zeber and Dell Alston both hit .320 in limited trials, and subsequently appeared on those four-head-shot Topps rookie cards in 1978. Klutts’ also had Alan Trammell and Paul Molitor, so that turned out to be a pretty good card.

1980: Like 1954, a 103-win team that didn’t go all the way and had few regulars. Only Reggie, Randolph, and Rick Cerone batted 500 times, Cerone actually led the team with 147 games. The bench was deep in bats. Switch-hitting outfielder Bobby Brown got a big break in center when Ruppert Jones got hurt and played pretty well, hitting 14 homers and swiping 27 bases in 137 games. From the right, Lou Piniella again had a good 300+ at bats, hitting .287 and slugging .462. When Graig Nettles went down, Semi-regular DH Eric Soderholm hit .287, slugged .462, and subbed at the hot corner when Nettles got hurt (though they later added Aurelio Rodriquez to play third and he didn’t do much

THIS DATE IN ROCKET HISTORY

On this day in 1986, Roger Clemens struck out 20 Seattle Mariners. Tonight, he is gunning for career victory number 298.

WILLIE MAKES SURE SORI DOESN’T GET A SWELL HEAD

While Alfonso Soriano continues to defy the laws of probability with his battery-operated bat, he has steadily improved with the glove as well. But his mentor, third base coach, Willie Randolph isn’t blowing smoke up lil’ Sori’s ass:

“I still think he’s got a ways to go,” Randolph said. “Being an All-Star is a nice thing, but an All-Star to me is doing it offensively and defensively. When you start talking about the whole package, that’s when you see the confidence get to a new level. That’s when you start saying: ‘I enjoy doing this. I can be an All-Star hitter and an All-Star second baseman, too.’ ”

…From third base, Robin Ventura has noticed the footwork. That is a change from last season, when Soriano led major league second basemen with 23 errors. Ventura said Soriano used to wait for balls to come to him, but now he moves toward them to receive better hops.

“From where I’m at, I see the ball bouncing at him and what kind of hop he’s going to get,” Ventura said. “Last year you could see it happen before it got there. It was like watching a car wreck, watching the hops come at him. He was making it tougher on himself, but he’s got it now. You can tell his confidence just by watching him.”

ICHIRO, GODZILLA IN THE PLACE TO BE

Big happenings in the Bronx tonight as the Mariners come into town for a three-game series, which features Seattle’s star Ichiro, and the Yankees’ left fielder Godzilla.

Mariano Rivera will join the team for the first time this year, and Yankee fans will hold their collective breath until we see him pitch.

There should be a terrific crowd buzzing at the Stadium tonight, and I have a feeling the next week will provide a tense, playoff-like atmosphere in the House that Ruth Built.

Check out this scouting report on the Yankees from Seattle native Shane O’Neill.

Also, don’t sleep on U.S.S. Mariner, for comprehensive blog coverage of the series.

DOGPILE ON THE METSIES

Buster Olney has an article that appeared on the front page of The New York Times this morning about the state of the Mets. As well all know, it isn’t a pretty picture.

They are a bad defensive team. Among the league’s best defensive teams a few years ago, the Mets are tied for second in the major leagues in errors. They strike out constantly, ranking fifth in that category, while compiling one of the major leagues’ lowest on-base percentages.

…A general manager for another team said: “I can’t believe a team that spends that much money is that bad. There’s nobody who really scares you when you look at their lineup, on paper. The only starter who might scare you is Al Leiter. They don’t look real good.”

Mike Lupica, the King of the tabliod columnists in New York, weighs in on the ugliness that is the Mets, and characteristically doesn’t pull any punches:

The Mets have to make some kind of move over the next month or so, or get ready to make some moves, and big ones, moves that even might involve Mike Piazza. If that is the way things work out, if they are falling out of another race and out of another season in June, the first move has to be with Steve Phillips, the general manager. Who can’t be allowed to make any more moves himself at that point.

A LITTLE OF THIS AND A LITTLE OF THAT

The Yankees return home to New York today, where it is a clear, sunny and brilliant spring day. It’s the perfect day to talk a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. The Bombers start a six-game homestand tomorrow, and will face the Mariners and the A’s. (Meanwhile the Red Sox will host the Royals and the Twins at the Fens.) Next week they fly out west to play in Seattle and Oakland. The next two weeks will be a good test of how the Yankees stack up against two of the best teams in the league.

Heavyweight Tom Boswell gives his take on the always-interesting/never-boring New York Yankees in The Washington Post:

They may be truly great this year, but, if you look closely, they’re also old and flawed. They’re admirable individually yet unpalatable collectively. They’re off to the best start in their history. Which just sets ’em up for a big fall. Yes, right now, the Yanks have all their classic themes roiling at once.

…Never have George Steinbrenner’s men been so brazenly greedy relative to the rest of the money-strapped sport. The Boss, luxury tax be damned, has topped all past buying frenzies. So his team has never been easier to hate. Feel the injustice of that $164 million payroll, a dozen times Tampa Bay’s size. Let it burn. Doesn’t it feel good? If your heart has a stitch or a seam in it, and you’ve never lived within the five boroughs, you have to root against them.

Yet, in this era, the Yankees define conflicted emotions. They’re the team that’s so exemplary they drag you, kicking, into their camp.

Gordon Edes reports on the Yankees early-season success in The Boston Globe, while Anthony McCarron delineates the power structure of the Yankees front office.

Lastly,John Sickels, ESPN’s minor-league guru, has this to say about Derek Jeter’s temporary replacement, Erick Almonte:

His strikeout rates are high, while his walk rates are all over the place, low at times but not so bad at other times. He is 25 years old, so he doesn’t have a lot of development time left and is close to being as good now as he’ll ever be.

Looking at the minor-league numbers, Almonte projects to hit between .230 and .260 in the major leagues, with touches of power and an erratic on-base percentage. What he’s doing now is about what he should be expected to do, maybe a little better. He has no star potential that I can see, but certainly does enough to be useful as a middle infield reserve.

MONEY-BOSS PLAYER

The hot baseball book of the spring is clearly “Moneyball, The Art of Winning an Unfair Game,” Michael Lewis’ study of Billy Beane and the Oakland A’s. Christian Ruzich, The Cub Reporter and Will Carroll of Baseball Prospectus received reviewer’s copies and are enjoying the book immensely, and quite frankly, I can’t wait to get my hands on it too. The New York Times Magazine published an excerpt from the book last month, and Billy Beane comes across as a charming, slick, and danergous operator—like a shark from a David Mamet play. (Kevin Spacey should play him in the movie version).

Joel Sherman has a column on the book today in the New York Post. Needless to say, former Oakland skipper, and current Mets manager Art Howe, who was famously at odds with Beane, is not portrayed in a favorable light. Howe refused to comment on the book, but as Sherman reports:

Yesterday before his team was swept by Arizona while setting a double-header record with 27 strikeouts and committing an error at every position except third base, Howe described this discouraging first month of boos and boots as a “piece of cake compared to what I’ve been through in the past.” When asked later if that meant his time under Beane, Howe would only say, “I had my moments.”

As depicted in “Moneyball,” the A’s would not have been all that different if managed by a cardboard cutout of Howe. Unlike other GMs, Beane dictated (among other things) lineups, bullpen usage and strategy – specifically no steals or sacrifices. Howe would confirm with players who stole on their own that it was indeed their decision, so Beane would be furious with them and not him. Most unflattering of all was that Beane even ordered where and how Howe stood in the dugout – on the top step with his chin raised to project leadership to his players below, though Howe preferred to sit on the bench.

Considering the way the Mets played yesterday, Howe could have used cardboard cutouts of his players which may have at least cut down on all the errors.

TEXAS 2-STEP

I’m happy to report that my girlfriend Emily returned from her recovery-hiatus in the hills of Vermont this past weekend. She was down at my place in the Boogie Down Bronx on Saturday, and it was nothing short of great to be with her again. Em was even excited to watch the Yankee game on Saturday night, even though she was so beat by the time the game started, she didn’t make it past the third inning. She was awake long enough to see her boy Giambi hit a first-inning home run. I had told her that Giambi—her favorite Bronx Bomber, had been slumping, so not to expect much. So naturally he hits a homer.

“Now that I’m back, he’s going to be fine,” said Emily.

David Wells didn’t pitch particularly well, but he did go eight innings. The game irritated the hell out of me, for some reason. You know how there are some games that just drive you nuts? This was one of them. I figured the Yankees were going to be blown out. Boomer whiffed A Rod in his first two at-bats, but then Rodriguez jumped all over a 2-0 fastball his next time up, and tied the game with a solo shot to center. I turned in with the ol’ girl during the seventh inning stretch figuring I had better things to do than dick around watching the game.

But I couldn’t get to sleep, so against my better instincts, I got up to check the score about 45 mintues later, just in time to watch Juan Acevado K A Rod on three pitches (all looking), in the 10th inning to give the Yanks a 7-5 win. The Freak Soriano had 3 hits and collected the game-winning RBI off of Ugie Urbina.

Rodriguez, and The Rangers exacted a measure of revenge on Sunday, pounding the Yanks 10-6 to avoid being swept. A Rod went 5-5 and had 6 RBI, including a bases-loaded double that had Joe Torre second-guessing his decision to leave lefty Randy Choate in to face the King of Swing.

Sunday’s game was the ugliest game of the series, but I didn’t mind so much. Sometimes you gotta get spanked, right? Jeff Weaver didn’t have much and when Joe Torre came to get him, he looked like he was trying to suppress a smile. Hey skip, I sucked pretty bad today, huh? The Yanks ended their longest road trip of the year at 8-2, so what’s not to like about that?

I flipped back and forth between the game, and the Hoopskaball playoffs. As badly as the Yankees played, Jason Giambi pinch-hit in the ninth and represented the tying run. Even though the Yanks got smacked around, they still had a chance to win the game.

The Yanks are now 20-5, and the only drag is that the Red Sox are only 4 games back. Boston pulled out a 14-inning win over the Angels last night in Anahiem (incredibly, the Cardinals beat the Marlins in a 20-inning game yesterday too). Naturally, Pedro Martinez didn’t get the win, although he looked fine, striking out ten in seven innings of work and leaving with a 4-2 lead.

I was talking with Ed Cossette of Bambino’s Curse yesterday, and he expressed to me the constant anxiety Red Sox fans live with regarding Pedro’s health. I was thinking about it later, and I have a question for the reader: Who was the last great pitcher who was as vunerable while he was in his prime as Martinez? I don’t think the Koufax analogy works, because according to Jane Leavy’s book, Koufax knew going into the 1965 season that his days were numbered. I don’t get that sense with Pedro at all. Has there ever been as dominant a pitcher who was as frail as Pedro Martinez seems to be?

Inquiring minds want to know. (Like me.)

DEEP IN THE HEART OF TEXAS

The Yankees won the opening game of a three-game series in Arlington last night, beating the Rangers 3-2. Mike Mussina improved to 5-0, struck out nine, and allowed one run in eight innings of work. Mussina seemed to get better, working quickly, as the game went on. After striking out the side in the eighth inning, I was a disapointed that he didn’t return for the ninth. Not only was Mussina spotting his fastball, and using his over-the-top knuckle-cuve effectively, but he added a three-quarter-arm breaking ball which had the mighty Texas bats stumped all night.

Juan Acevado pitched the ninth instead and made things interesting. With one out, Juan Gonzalez swung at a shoulder-high fastball and lofted the ball towards the seats down the third-base line. Robin Ventura followed the high pop fly, and carefully stepped onto the tarp, stood up, leaned over slightly and recorded the second out of the inning, before he fell gently over into the stands. Almost everything about Ventura appears laconic, and this play was no different. It was a sure-footed play, but it seemed as if it was happening in slow motion. YES broadcaster, Ken Singleton commented that Ventura, “Looks like one of those loggers, doesn’t he?”

Carl Everett then reached on what looked like Alfonso Soriano’s first error of the season (a difficult grounder to his left that he booted), and scored on Ruben Seirra’s double to right (Raul Mondesi, showing off his powerful arm, almost nabbed Sierra at second to end the game). The second baseman, Michael Young was next, and he smacked Acevado’s first pitch off the glove of first baseman Nick Johnson. The ball bounced to his right, and lil’ Sori scooped it up and flipped it under-hand to Acevado to end the game. It was a long way to toss a ball under-hand, and Acevado practically snow-coned it in his glove, and they narrowly beat the streaking Young by a half-a-step, to seal the win.

Boy, the Rangers are a strange team. They are a motely crew of muscle-headed sluggers, managed by one straight-laced strategist in Buck Showalter. This is the first time Buck has managed against the Yankees since he left the Bronx in the October of 1995. Orel Hirshiser is his pitching coach, and the two of them look prim and studious.

Showalter and Orel each have their own, sleek little table-stand in the dugout. Hirshiser dilligently charted each pitch thrown by his staff. He has just the kind of business-like efficiency that makes him a perfect fit with Buck.

YES broadcaster Michael Kay said that he had asked A Rod before the game how he liked Showalter, and A Rod looked at him in the eye and said, “I love him. You know wanna know why? Because I crave discipline and he provides it.”

It’s not often that you hear your superstar saying he craves more order, and structure and accountability. Kay reported that Showalter compared Rodriguez with Mattingly, in terms of his love for the game and his work ethic. According to Kay, that is not a comparison Buck throws around lightly.

But the Rangers roster isn’t just weird, it feels perverse. They have some youth of course, even though Mark Teixeira didn’t play. The kid Hank Blalock did, and boy is he milk-fed, bro. “Good-looking ballplayer,” as Buck O’Neil would say. He looks like a ballplayer. Or he looks like a jock, California-style, ala Shane Spencer. I would find it hard not to call him “meat.” Mussina duped him into grounding into a weak ground out his first time out by throwing him an offspeed pitch on a full count; the next time up, he wacked a hanging curve ball up the middle for an RBI single; the last two times up, Mussina set him down on three pitches.

It was good to see Mr. Universe himself, Alex Rodriguez, and although I’ve never cared for him too tough, it was nice to see the smooth fielding, sweet-swinging future Hall-of-Famer Rafie Palmero too. But in the second inning, when Mussina faced Juan Gonzalez, Carl Everett and Ruben Seirra, I felt like I was watching a bad reality-TV show where they get a group of former celebrities and force them to live together. Or some ill espisode of the Rikki Lake show.

What a collection of Bone-heads, man.

My favorite Martian, Alfonso Soriano had a mutliple hit game again. As Steve Goldman noted in his Pinstriped Bible column this week, Nick Johnson is serving as a terrific counter-point to Sori. He is as patient as Sori is aggresive. Johnson collected a base on balls for the tenth consectuctive game. He flew out deep to left in his first at-bat, and hit a two-run homer to left in the sixth.

Jason Giambi put together a solid at-bat in the third, and drove a full count pitch up the middle to drive in the Yankees first run. Colby Lewis started for Texas, and he pitched well, mixing a good curve ball in with mid-90s gas.

LE FREAK, C’EST CHIC

I’m not the only one calling Alfonso Soriano “The Freak,” these days. Aaron Gleeman simply prefers “Freak of Nature,” which is the same difference, really (Initially, I started calling Sori “Superfreak,” but he’s still too young for that title, which I think fits Vlad Guerrero better at this stage of the game). Gleeman, who has a real gift for statistical analysis, covers lil’ Sori, and his freaky-ass self in his column today:

I will admit to being one of the people who thought that there was just no way Soriano could continue to hit like he did last season while never walking and striking out in bunches. And while I will gladly admit I am wrong, I do so while still in complete and utter disbelief of what he is doing.

…Since Soriano will basically swing at and hit anything that is thrown close to the strike zone (and by “close” I mean within 5 feet on either side and from the tops of his shoes to his helmet), many people have wondered “why pitchers ever throw him strikes.” I have also wondered this, particularly after seeing this stat last season…

Alfonso Soriano putting the first pitch of an at bat in play in 2002:
97 at bats
45 hits
.464 batting average
.825 slugging %
6 homers
15 doubles

Those are just about the freakiest freak numbers that ever freaked the earth.

Freakin A, bro.