Another piece from the Jock archives. Here’s Stan Isaacs on Mike Burke.

“Hey Mike Burke…”

Head on over the SB Nation’s Longform page and read Leander Schaerlaecken’s terrific story, “Out of Bounds”, which details the experience of professional soccer player David Testo, who came out of the closet last year and now finds himself unemployed by the game:

In Vancouver a funny thing happened in the locker room. As David got comfortable with himself his teammates became comfortable with him. The less he hid – without ever being openly gay – the more the bubble grew and the easier life got. They stopped asking and he stopped having to pretend.

Midway through 2007, he was traded to the Montreal Impact – still a USL club at the time – in a lop-sided deal for an old favorite of the Whitecaps’ coach. Suddenly finding himself living in a city with the largest gay neighborhood on the continent, he partied like never before and played well when he wasn’t injured. After a few years, his sexuality was an open secret. Everybody on the club knew. Nobody seemed to mind. For the first time, he became close to his teammates. He could talk to them about his boyfriend and find a sympathetic ear. The locker room, to his surprise, became an easier place to be. Rather than pop, the bubbles joined to form a bigger one.

Opponents knew, too, and at first called him every gay slur imaginable. David was furious, but eventually started deflecting their comments, comfortable as he finally was with himself. He’d realized he could fight homophobia on the field by showing himself to be just as much of a man and soccer player as anyone else. He would help his antagonists off the ground after he tackled them. “I saw certain players change their whole perspective,” he says.

This one is a keeper.

[Photo Credit: Jonathan Daniel/Getty Images]

Swell oral history on “Cheers” by Brian Raftery over at GQ. Anyone who ever loved that show, well, you’re in for a treat.

Photo: AP

The Yankees took a break from the chaotic American League playoff race with a leisurely 5-0 loss to the Toronto Blue Jays. In a game played with as much intensity and crowd interest as you’d expect in the early Spring, the Yankees frittered away an opportunity to take a two game lead in the A.L. East.

Considering the lopsided pitching matchup, the Yankees seemed to be playing from behind before the first pitch. Unfortunately, Ivan Nova did little to dispel that impression. The right hander allowed a two-run homer in the third and two-run double in fifth, which not only put his team behind 4-0, but also set a new franchise record for most extra bases hits allowed in a season. The 87 extra base hits allowed by Nova surpassed Andy Hawkins’ previous record of 86, which was set in 1989. Needless to say, that’s not the kind of anchor the Yankees were hoping Nova would become.

To be fair, it probably wouldn’t have mattered whom the Yankees pitched because Brandon Morrow continued his string of dominance over the Bronx Bombers in Toronto by throwing seven shutout innings. In five career starts against the Yankees at Rogers Centre, the hard throwing righty is now 3-0 with a 1.04 ERA in 34 2/3 innings. Maybe by throwing Nova to the wolf, there was a method to Girardi’s madness after all?

Although Morrow was efficient, he wasn’t overpowering. In fact, the Yankees had a base runner in every inning but the second, but could never break through against the right hander. For the most part, Morrow seemed to bear down with runners on base, but in the fourth inning, he needed a great running catch by left fielder Anthony Gose to escape unscathed.  Otherwise, it was lackluster performance by the Yankee bats, who were shutout for the sixth time this season.

With a one game lead and six remaining, the conclusion to this season promises to be memorable. Unfortunately, a very forgettable game got in the way. Then again, if the Yankees lose the division by that game, it could be the one that haunts them.

It’s Ivan Nova vs. a tough customer in Brandon Morrow. I always get bad vibes when the Yanks play in Toronto and with so much riding on this series that hasn’t changed. Sure as hell hope I’m wrong.

Derek Jeter SS
Ichiro Suzuki RF
Alex Rodriguez DH
Robinson Cano 2B
Nick Swisher 1B
Curtis Granderson CF
Russell Martin C
Raul Ibanez LF
Jayson Nix 3B

Another day, another important game. The Orioles are off. Yanks win, they go up by two games; lose, it’s down to one with six left.

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

[Photo Credit: APOD]

Joe Posnanski talked to Glen Perkins and the closer detailed how he retired the Yankees on Tuesday night:

“What was my first thought?” Perkins asks. “I guess it was that he’s got 40 home runs. … I mean, I knew exactly what the Yankees wanted to do. They’re down two, so they want to hit three solo home runs to win the game. That’s the way their team plays. I figured everyone would come to the plate looking to hit one out.

“With Granderson, he’s hit 40 home runs, and I’d bet that just about all 40 were pulled. So I’m thinking, he’s not going to get a pitch that he can pull. It’s fastballs away. But then, I’m not sure he will go chasing fastballs. So I think maybe I need to get in on him a little bit. Most of all, I want to get two strikes on him and then try to get him to hit a breaking ball the other way … or get it so he swings and misses.”

Perkins’ first pitch, a 95-mph two-seam fastball away, misses. “I know he’s not going to just take the first pitch,” Perkins says. “I can’t just get ahead with a first-pitch fastball. I threw a pretty good pitch, he laid off.”

Granderson then took a slider for a strike, and fouled off a 96-mph fastball for strike two. Perkins had his set-up. “I wanted to throw him a good slider, hopefully get him to chase.”

Perkins threw the slider and Granderson grounded out to shortstop for the first out. But Perkins was not happy with the pitch. “I got a little more of the plate than I liked with it,” he says. “I thought he got good wood on it. The ball sounded good coming off the bat. Maybe when you have 40 home runs, everything sounds loud off the bat. Anyway, Pedro [Florimon, the shortstop] made the play. I wouldn’t say I got lucky; Pedro didn’t have to make a great play. But I think I caught too much of the plate.”

[Photo Credit: East Lake Tumblr]

Them again. Thank you, Jerry Seinfeld.

The title of this piece, is by Bronx based baseball and human interest writer Todd Drew and was the name a column he wrote. Todd was a gem of a person and was taken from us far too early. This is my tribute to him and it begins with a big hands/feet fill I call “The Stampede”, to show my anger for his life being way too short. Todd appreciated “heady” music and loved jazz, latin & funk. I did my best to combine a lot of this in his honor.

The A section is an advanced linear version of the “Purdie Shuffle” and each phrase ends in a drum fill. The first half of the melody reminds me of Eric Dolphy (another one taken too early), while the second half strangely reminds me of Fleetwood Mac. Todd would love the dichotomy!
The B section is a latin-jazz groove in the Elvin Jones vein, circa his 1960’s work with the brilliant Wayne Shorter. This leads into a straight latin section, based around an Afro-Cuban 6/8.

I’m proud of the big solo section, which begins with a Tony Williams (who also died too soon…) influenced swing and leads into a long marimba solo, enhanced by vibraphone and supported wholly by the drums.

Dig it:

Shadow Games

Over at ESPN, Jorge Arangure, Jr. profiles Rafael Soriano. And here is a piece Daniel Barbarisi wrote on Soriano in July.

[Photo Credit: Mike Stobe/Getty Images]

I’m a big fan of Michael Mooney’s writing. Head on over to SB Nation’s Longform and check out his piece on a gaming convention in Dallas called QuakeCon:

The next morning the room was full of similarly bleary-eyed, disheveled, computer-toting young people. There were two lines: the one Chris and his friends were in — which was first-come-first-serve — and the Reserved line, for people who’d paid the extra $50 ahead of time. By lunchtime, both lines twisted back through the winding, Kubrickian hotel hallways and nobody seemed to be moving.

The Anatole is a four-star convention hotel, two separate towers decorated in an oriental theme — not the kind of place you’d expect to see thousands of greasy-faced videogame enthusiasts. While the gamers gathered on the west side of the hotel, there was a Mary Kay convention going on at the other end. On the walls in the wing where QuakeCon was held are large paintings of faceless Chinese masses and various deceased Chinese leaders. There’s an 8-foot Buddha in repose right next to the bar. A glass case near the concierge desk houses wooden figures from the Han Dynasty, which ended in 220 A.D., and glazed pottery from the Tang Dynasty, which ran from 618 to 907. And greeting QuakeCon guests just inside the front door were two immaculate life-size wooden elephants, hand-carved in Thailand from a pair of 12-foot Monkey Pod trees. The elephants were donated by a local real estate developer for the 1984 Republican National Convention, when the Anatole hosted both President Reagan and Vice-President Bush (in opposite towers).

In line, some people were laying down, with a lucky, exhausted few managing to sleep through the all-night rumblings of strangers. Some played drinking games. Two separate groups, hundreds of feet apart in line, were both playing intense games of flip cup — a pastime that requires not only chugging skills, but also post-consumption dexterity. Plenty of people were eating the $15 large pepperoni pizzas Pizza Hut was selling in the parking lot — and when the line got long enough, someone turned a discarded box into a sign reading WAIT-CON. There were lots of blankets, pillows, sleeping bags. A few people brought consoles and televisions and set them up along the walls to help pass the time. Some people did card tricks on top of the over-sized boxes and dollies carrying their computers, while others marched around showing off their matching clan T-shirts. One guy offered strangers passing him “free high-fives.” Another guy argued that, if they were forced to fight by some sort of evil overlord, the Hulk could easily do away with Thor.

Check out this short movie by Pablo Korona.

Or mostly dead. Last week I had lunch with a guy who is from New York but now lives in L.A. He wanted to pick up a paper one morning and had to walk three blocks to find one. I thought of him when I was on Lexington Avenue last weekend and saw this–a rare site, for sure.

The Yanks washed away last night’s loss with a swift ass-whippin’ of the Twins this afternoon. They scored six runs in the third inning, highlighted by a bases loaded double from Robinson Cano and a two-run triple by Curtis Granderson. Chris Dickerson later jacked a two-run bomb well over the high wall in right field. CC did his thing, allowing just a couple of runs over eight innings. Cody Eppley pitched a scoreless ninth and the Yanks head to Toronto sporting a two-game lead over the Orioles.

Final Score: Yanks 8, Twins 2.

Today was a good day.

[Photo Credit: SP Photos; Hannah Foslien/Getty Images]

CC and nothing fancy, boys: Just win.

Ichiro Suzuki RF
Derek Jeter SS
Robinson Cano 2B
Nick Swisher 1B
Curtis Granderson CF
Eric Chavez 3B
Raul Ibanez DH
Chris Stewart C
Chris Dickerson LF

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photo Credit: Film is God; Andy Brannan]

Over at Time, Cormac McCarthy talks movies with the Coens.

Head on over to Flavorwire for these pearls of wisdom from William Faulkner…

“Read, read, read. Read everything —trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You’ll absorb it. Then write. If it is good, you’ll find out. If it’s not, throw it out the window.” – Statement at the University of Mississippi, 1947

“All of us failed to match our dream of perfection. So I rate us on the basis of our splendid failure to do the impossible. In my opinion, if I could write all my work again, I am convinced that I would do it better, which is the healthiest condition for an artist. That’s why he keeps on working, trying again; he believes each time that this time he will do it, bring it off. Of course he won’t, which is why this condition is healthy.” – Interview with The Paris Review, 1956

[Image Via: The Economist]

Baaaaah.

The Yankees weren’t hitting much but Phil Hughes was cruising through the Twins’ line-up. The Orioles had lost to the Blue Jays by the time Russell Martin hit a lead off home run in the seventh inning giving the Yanks a 3-1 lead. It was difficult not to start thinking ahead, calculating, fantasizing, but that was the last moment of pleasure for the Yankees on this night.

Hughes had a low pitch count but loaded the bases in the bottom of the inning. Still, he got two men out before he was pulled in place of Boone Logan despite having handled the batter Denard Span all night. Logan threw the first pitch in the dirt. It got away from Martin and a run scored. Span then dumped a fly ball into center, good for a double and Joe Mauer followed that with a single and just like that, the Twins were ahead 5-3. Logan’s sliders were flat and that, as they say, was that.

Well, almost. Andruw Jones, who hasn’t had a hit since Christ was a Cowboy, cranked a solo home run with two outs in the ninth. But Jayson Nix whiffed to end the game, end of report, good night.

Final Score: Twins 5, Yanks 4.

You want to nominate this one for worst loss of the year, go right ahead. Other games have been more brutal but given the circumstances, a chance to take a two-and-a-half game lead on the Orioles, and this one really smarts.

The Orioles have the day off tomorrow. It’ll be CC to try and push the Yankees’ lead to two. If they lose, it’s down to one game with seven left.

[Featured Image Via It’s a Long Season]

There are nine games left in the season and nothing is resolved. The Yanks could win the AL East or they could miss the playoffs entirely.

It’s one-day-at-a-time and today gives Phil Hughes.

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

[Photo Credit: C.F. B.]

Cool piece in the Times by Dave Waldstein on Ichiro:

During a game for the Orix Blue Wave in Japan in 1999, Ichiro Suzuki struck out and returned to the dugout unusually frustrated. In a fit of anger, he destroyed his black Mizuno bat. Embarrassed, Suzuki wrote a letter of apology to the craftsman who had made his bats by hand from Tamo wood, grown on the Japanese island of Hokkaido. Such was the respect that Suzuki felt for the process that created the bats, which he wielded with such skill.

Today, after a decade in the major leagues, Suzuki still displays that same reverence on a daily basis, caring for his bats like Stradivarius violins. While most players dump their bats in cylindrical canvas bags when they are not using them, Suzuki neatly stacks his best eight bats inside a shockproof, moisture-free black case that he keeps close by his locker at home and on the road.

“He dresses like a rock star and he carries his bats around in a case like a rock musician with a guitar,” Yankees pitcher Boone Logan said. “It fits his style perfectly.”

[Photo Credit: N.Y. Daily News]

Dig Chris Jones’ profile of Teller in the latest issue of Esquire.

Teller is sixty-four years old; he has been a full-time magician since 1975, but he first began performing magic tricks when he was five and had nearly died. The only child of Philadelphia artists Joe and Irene Teller, he had contracted a viral infection that blossomed into a heart ailment called myocarditis. After a long stay in the hospital, he had to spend more time recuperating at home. Luckily there was a relatively new marvel called TV to occupy him, and he watched Howdy Doody, from which he ordered the Howdy Doody Magic Kit. It included a trick with a box and two lids. When Teller opened the box on one side and showed its contents to his indulgent parents, there were six tiny Mars bars; after he’d theatrically rattled it and spun it so that he could open the opposite lid, there were only three. “This is an absolute miracle I can do with my own hands,” he says today in the present tense, as though no time has passed.

Because Teller performs almost entirely without speaking, his voice, strong and certain, comes as a surprise. He speaks in prose, in long, languid paragraphs peppered with literary and historical references. (He once taught high school Latin; dissatisfied with the prescribed textbook, he wrote his own.) But his round face, particularly his eyes and mouth, continue to do much of the talking for him. He is capable of great expression with just a turn of his lips, and his eyes are big and shining. They are also quick to brim with tears. “I’m more apt to cry at something beautiful than at something sad,” he says.

My twin sister and I spotted Teller on the Metro North train to Manhattan in the late ’80s (I think he lived in Irvington at the time). He was sitting behind us and we introduced ourselves–we’d loved him in Long Gone–and he was a great guy. We talked for the rest of the trip and then walked him to the theater where he was performing.

[Photo Credit: Carlos Serrao…and here’s more on Teller.]