With first place on the line at Fenway Park, the Yankees and Red Sox played a taut, tense four-hour-plus doozy. Each team had reason to expect victory, and several chances to seize it, but the Yankees handed Mariano Rivera a lead, however slim, and that usually tips the scales. Mariano didn’t hold the lead and the Yankees lost 3-2.

Sometimes your team stumbles into a late lead in a huge game in such a way that you don’t feel the edge is deserved nor secure. Game Seven in 2001 was one of those games. This was one of those games. So when Mariano took the ball and the 2-1 lead into the ninth, I felt nothing but black dread. As is often the case, he didn’t pitch poorly, but he picked the wrong ballpark to let up a deepish fly ball to left. In every other stadium in the league, Marco Scutaro’s lead off double is an out. This fly ball plunked off the Monster before it could fall into Gardner’s glove, and the Red Sox swiftly executed two sacrifices to tie the game.

On Ellsbury’s sacrifice bunt, which set up Pedroia’s sac fly, Mariano plucked the ball off one hop and spun to look at third. Eduardo Nuñez broke in on the bunt and Derek Jeter did not cover the bag. Mariano is an aggressive fielder and we’ve seen him go for the out at third, but with no one there, he had to turn and go to first. I wonder if someone was supposed to be there? Or if Boston’s bunt caught New York off-guard?

With the game tied, the Yankees were out of their “A” relievers, but Boston had Daniel Bard in reserve. He flamed a scoreless tenth and the Joe Girardi turned to Phil Hughes. Phil Hughes has an ERA around 7.00. Mariano Rivera had thrown nine pitches in the ninth. The Red Sox scored quickly off Hughes and won the game.

The epic journey that has been and will be Phil Hughes need not end tonight. But, as I’ve mentioned, I’d sooner change his name, shave his head, and place him in a safe-house in Wyoming before giving him the ball in extra-innings in Fenway Park. Girardi disagrees.

And I lost my wallet today, so I guess that means my vacation is officially over. If you’re not already burying your head in your coffee, there’s four other hours of baseball to peruse below.

The Red Sox sketched out a run in the second. García lost Youkilis for a walk. The Yankees employed their half-assed shift in which Jeter stood right up the middle and Canó played an extra-deep second base. Nuñez stayed somewhat close to third. Ortiz pulled the ball to exactly where Canó would be playing in a full shift and notched the safety. Carl Crawford followed with a 70-foot Baltimore Chop that bounced in all the wrong places and the Sox were set up with loaded bases and no outs. Freddy almost got out of the jam, but Scutaro squirted a grounder between Teix and Canó to push the lead-off walk across the plate.

Unlike other Beckett starts this season, that Yankees had base runners and made bids to tie the score. With Russell Martin on third in the third, Jeter’s two-out liner looked like a hit, but Pedroia didn’t have to move too far to snag it. With Granderson on third in the fourth, Swisher’s two-out smash looked like extra bases, but Ellsbury ran it down with a few feet to spare in that godforsaken triangle.

The Yankees finally found some two-out magic in the fifth. Eduardo Nunez sent a 1-0 cutter high into the sky and just deep enough to dink it off the light tower over the Monster. That was all they would get off Beckett, who made a several big pitches for strike outs with men on base, but at least they made him work for his dinner. He was done after six innings.

Garcia didn’t make it as long. Like Bartolo Colón in the first game of the series, he might have had a few more pitches in his arm when Girardi gave him the hook. But I thought both were about to run into trouble. Boone Logan started the sixth and brought trouble with him. Cory Wade was next in line. He found himself with bases loaded and a 3-0 count on the super-hot Ellsbury. He sucked it up and threw four strikes and got Ellsbury to pop to left to end the inning.

Matt Albers replaced Josh Beckett and got two quick outs. He looked so effective that the Boston faithful struck up a rousing chorus of “Yankees Suck” during Brett Gardner’s at bat. Like Henry V’s St. Crispen’s Day speech, “Yankees Suck” strikes a deep emotional chord in all who hear it. Perhaps Matt Albers was moved to tears and his vision blurred as he delivered a floating meatball that Gardner launched into the Red Sox bullpen. Possibly Albers was still teary when he beaned Jeter. Ah well, wait ’til the tenth, noble souls.

The Yankees had a chance to extend the lead later in that inning with newcomer Franklin Morales walking the bases loaded on nine pitches. He threw a few strikes to Canó and got him to ground out. The bullpens were fully fired up at this point. The Yankees called on Soriano for a 1-2-3 seventh. Dan Wheeler went one better in the eighth and struck out the side.

David Robertson let up a one-out single to Carl Crawford. He struck out Josh Reddick next, but the nasty deuce eluded Martin and Crawford advanced to scoring position. With two strikes on Varitek, another big breaker bounced off Martin and Crawford was 90 feet away from tying the game. I was worried that Robertson would go after Varitek with another unhittable/uncatchable curve and the Red Sox would tie it up on a strike-out-passed-ball. But Martin wisely called for heaters. Overpowered, Varitek popped out.

Papelbon stranded Gardner at second in the ninth and the Yankees asked Mariano to bundle this crude 2-1 scoreline into a victory. You know the rest.

The Yankees are 2-10 against the Red Sox this year, but this was the only game that meant anything at all to me. I still think the Red Sox will win the division and will be big favorites if they meet in the Postseason. Jon Lester is that much better than anyone the Yanks have to go at him. Winning this game wouldn’t have changed any of that, and it wouldn’t have found my wallet. But I’d be smiling just the same.

 

 

Artwork by Ando Keskküla

 

 

 

 

 

Cool out.

[Picture by Nicholas Seider]

Well, that sucked. C.C. Sabathia got mushed by the Red Sox again, the bats didn’t do dick and there was no joy in the Boogie Down. 10-4 Sox.

The beauty part for me is that I was stuck at a family party and didn’t see a pitch of it. Still, lousy as this was, it’ll feel better if the Yanks return to the favor tomorrow night against that sombitch from Texas.

As Jesse Jackson once said, “Keep Hope Alive.” No time to get un-Dude.

Oh, and C.C. will have his revenge against the Sox. And you can take that to the bank.

The Big Fellas goes today against Large John Lackey. Greed is good, ya hoid?

Here’s the line-up:

Brett Gardner LF
Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Mark Teixeira 1B
Robinson Cano 2B
Nick Swisher RF
Eric Chavez 3B
Jorge Posada DH
Francisco Cervelli C

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Featured image by Joseph Holmes]

Oh, baby.

The Yankees entered the weekend series at Fenway Park hoping to finally earn a win against the Red Sox, but when Joe Girardi made a slow stroll to the mound in the fifth, it seemed like another loss to Boston was inevitable. With the bases loaded and Adrian Gonzalez coming to the plate, Girardi decided to lift Bartolo Colon and bring in the much maligned Boone Logan. The entire Yankees’ Universe held its breath, but three pitches later, it was time to exhale. After getting ahead with a fastball, Logan induced the MVP front runner into swinging through two sliders. The crisis was averted and the Yankees lived to fight another inning.

Perhaps inspired byLogan’s heroics, the Yankees immediately went on the attack against Jon Lester, who entered the sixth inning having allowed only two walks and two hits. Four batters into the inning, however, the Yankees not only had a run, but a bases loaded threat of their own. With the game in the balance, Lester and Robinson Cano engaged in a classic confrontation, and on the ninth pitch, the Red Sox lefty got the double play he needed. Despite tying the game, Cano’s twin killing was a big let down, but before the disappointment could sink in, Nick Swisher lined an RBI double down the left field line that put the Yankees on top 3-2

Over the final four innings of the game, five Yankees’ relievers combined to shutdown the Boston lineup on only two hits. Included in the effort was a clean frame from Rafael Soriano, the third 1-2-3 inning recorded by the enigmatic reliever since returning from the disabled list. How significant was Soriano’s seventh inning performance? Before retiring the Red Sox in order, the right hander had only registered one clean frame in a game in which the Yankees didn’t have a 10-run lead…and it came on Opening Day.

Although the bullpen’s well rounded contribution was certainly a positive, the Yankees were probably hoping they wouldn’t have to use so much of it. Having C.C. Sabathia on the mound tomorrow mitigates some of the concern about a having a depleted relief corps, but the bigger disappointment revolves around Colon. Come October, the Yankees will need the rejuvenated right hander to pull his weight, but after tonight’s abbreviated start against Boston, the lingering questions about his playoff viability will likely persist.

Because both teams enjoy a comfortable lead over the other American League wild card contenders, the focus of this weekend series has been more about determining if the Yankees can beat the Red Sox than who will win the division. By drawing first blood, the Yankees made progress toward both ends, but messages aren’t sent in one game. That’s what the next eight are for.

Yanks vs the Sox. August. First place on the line. What more can I say?

Cliff’s got the preview:

The Yankees enter this series as the underdog, because they’re the road team, because it had been nearly a month since they had been in first place, and because they have gone just 1-8 against Boston thus far this series. However, the Yankees also enter this series hot, having won their last seven games against the Orioles and White Sox. Not that the Red Sox could be considered cold, though they’ve split their first four games in August, they went an astonishing 20-6 (.769) in July.

Leading the Boston charge of late has been Dustin Pedroia, who since the calendar flipped to June has arguably been the best player in baseball, hitting .377/.454/.623 with 11 home runs and 10 stolen bases in 12 attempts over that span in addition to his typically outstanding play in the field. Pedroia’s closest rival over that period has been the man who plays to his left, Adrian Gonzalez, who has hit .384/.457/.593 over that span. Indeed, the Boston lineup is just crushing it right now. Rookie Josh Reddick seems to have solved right field by hitting .333/.382/.581 since being recalled in late June. Their catchers are hitting, with Jarrod Saltalamacchia leading the way with a .290/.358/.574 line with ten home runs dating back to a series between these two teams in mid-April. That leaves Carl Crawford and Marco Scutaro as the only Red Sox regulars who aren’t crushing the ball right now. Indeed, that red-hot July was stoked by the Boston Bats, which pushed across a staggering 6.58 runs per game on the month.

On the season, the Sox lead the majors with 5.47 runs scored per game. The Yankees are second at 5.40. To put that productivity in proper context, third place is 5.02, fourth place is 4.81, and fifth place is 4.68, and the American League average is 4.36 runs per game.

The Sox have beaten the Yanks about the face and neck so far this year. Be nice to see that change starting tonight.

Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Mark Teixeira 1B
Robinson Cano 2B
Nick Swisher RF
Andruw Jones LF
Russell Martin C
Jorge Posada DH
Eduardo Nunez 3B

Go git ’em, boys. We’ll be cheerin’ you on:

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Painting by Ray Ellis]

 

The Yankees and Red Sox enter this weekend’s showdown at Fenway Park neck and neck in the pennant race, but media coverage of each team might lead you to believe Boston is way ahead. Considering consensus expectations before the season, this divergence between perception and reality is understandable.  However, the more you look inside the numbers, the more it seems as if the Yankees are the better team.

Tale of the Tape: Yankees vs. Red Sox

Note: WAR calculations are an average of fangraphs’ and b-r.com’s versions. Data as of August 3, 2011
Source: fangraphs.com and baseball-reference.com

Since their slow start, the Red Sox have been looked upon as an offensive juggernaut. In this case, the perception is dead on. The Boston lineup currently has four members on pace to produce over 6 bWAR, which, if accomplished, would match only the 1902 Pittsburgh Pirates for the most ever. What’s more, the Red Sox dominance extends well beyond their four best hitters. As a group, the offense has scored 5.5 runs per game, which, compared to the American League average of 4.36, represents a historic level of production. If maintained over the final two months of the season, the Red Sox’ current 26.2% run premium over the league average would not only rank as the second highest total in franchise history, but also stand as the 13th best total in the majors since 1901.

Coming into the season, the Yankees were the team most expected to dominate with their offense, and, for the most part, they have. Although the Red Sox offense has rated a notch better by most metrics, the two teams are relatively close in runs scored. As a result, the Yankees can also boast an offense that is outscoring the league at historic levels. The Bronx Bombers’ 23.6% premium over the league ranks seventh in franchise history and just inside the all-time top-30.

Despite the potentcy of the Yankees’ offense, the real strength of the team has, ironically, been its pitching. Entering the season, no one could have (or should have) predicted that the Yankees would enter August leading the league in ERA+, but the team’s current rate easily outdistances the second ranked Rangers. From a historical standpoint, the Yankees’ ERA+ of 123 is also at its highest level since the strike shortened season of 1981.

Yankees Historical ERA+ and OPS+, 1961 to 2011

Source: Baseball-reference.com

Because the Yankees have been extremely good at both scoring and preventing runs, it should be no surprise that the team’s per-game run differential of 1.5 leads all of baseball (the Red Sox are second at 1.3). However, the 2011 Yankees’ ability to outscore their opponents is more than just unrivaled in the present. Since 1901, only 36 other teams have posted a higher per-game run differential, including 12 Yankees clubs from the past (the 1939 team’s 2.7 per-game advantage is the highest total in baseball history).

Yankees Historical Run Differential, 1901 to 2011

Data as of August 3, 2011
Source: Baseball-reference.com

Considering the Yankees’ comparative aggregate advantage over the Red Sox, they, not Boston, should probably be perceived as the favorite in the A.L. East. However, at this to this point, the sum hasn’t been equal to parts. Entering the weekend’s action, the Yankees have underperformed their expected record (also know as the Pythagorean winning percentage) by four games. That might not seem like much, but the Yankees’ current Pythagorean deficit ranks as the eight “highest” in franchise history and within the “top” 10% of all teams since 1901.

Yankees’ Historical Pythagorean Surplus/Deficit, 1901 to 2011

Data as of August 3, 2011
Source: Baseball-reference.com

The Red Sox’ current and expected win totals are in line, so perhaps Boston’s relative efficiency is another reason why it seems like they are having a better season? This dynamic is manifested in the Red Sox’ league-leading winning percentage in games decided by two or fewer runs. Meanwhile, the Yankees are under .500 in these games, which, perhaps more than anything, has left the impression the team has underperformed. However, a more optimistic person might regard this as a positive sign, especially when you consider how infrequently the Yankees find themselves on the wrong side of a lopsided defeat.

A.L. Records in Games Decided by “Two or Fewer” and “Three or More Runs”

Note: Close games defined as those decided by two or fewer runs. Data as of August 3, 2011
Source: Baseball-reference.com

If the season series hadn’t been so one-sided in favor of the Red Sox (for a yearly rivalry breakdown, click here), the Yankees might be marching into Fenway Park with a comfortable lead.  Instead, they’ll have to settle for flat-footed tie. Considering the two teams have been within three games of each other in the standings since May 13, it’s unlikely that the pennant will be decided this weekend. However, if the Yankees hope to turn the tables on Boston, just as they did in 2009, there is no margin for error. In other words, it’s time for the Yankees to give the Red Sox a first hand look at what they’ve been doing to the rest of the league for the entire season.

A.L. East Division Race, Game-by-Game Progression

Note: Negative numbers represent games out of first place; positive numbers represent games ahead.
Source: Baseball-reference.com

Who? Janice. What? New die hard, no scars. Evidence of Delusion? She looked like she was 12, but she was running a burger joint.

The Yanks have had a wonderful two weeks. Ten wins and three losses, under normal circumstances, might have spring boarded them into first place with a few games to spare. But these are not normal circumstances, and the Red Sox have only ceded a small part of their lead during the Yanks hot streak. Nevertheless, Boston fans get sense New York is for real.

Janice was the first person that was offended by my hat. “I’d wish you a nice day, but you wore a Yankee hat into my store,” she said without a trace of ribbing. I gave her a hard stare for a second to make sure I wasn’t misreading her anger. “If I had seen you order, I would have had them spit in it.”

This was the mother load of anti-Yankee sentiment. All rolled up in a cute little college student wearing a paper hat. She wasn’t even alive to see the ball roll through Buckner’s legs. The only would she’s ever taken was fully healed the following year.

With the standings tight and the Yanks coming to Fenway, I thought there would be a lot more of Janice. But most everyone here is just fantastic. Great baseball fans who don’t give a hoot about the Yanks anymore than any first place team should worry about the second place team.

Yankee Snark: “Good luck this weekend, Janice. And by the way, you burgers are lousy.”

Before we get to the usual Yankee-Red Sox excitement, a brief word on A.J. Burnett. Here’s Steven Goldman:

His numbers aren’t that bad,” said Joe Girardi on Wednesday night. “If you look at the numbers of Hughes, I mean, Hughesy made one good start. We look at the whole year, and A.J.’s been decent for us.”

Joe: you’re measuring by the wrong yardstick, the yardstick of hyper-inflated super-offense. We aren’t there this year. The AL is scoring 4.3 runs per game. The last time you could say that was 1992. Burnett hasn’t been the outright disaster that he was last year, but “decent” might be generous. His ERA has risen every month of the season. He has a career-high home-run rate going… And he’s signed through 2013, so no one wants to admit that the higher upside is to be found elsewhere.

Mike Mussina was dropped from the rotation when he struggled in 2007. Ron Guidry was sent to the bullpen a couple of times towards the end of his career. It doesn’t have to be that Phil Hughes ends up in the bullpen, assuming he continues to pitch well (big assumption, I know) or Ivan Nova heads to Triple-A. There are other options, no matter how seemingly disruptive. The point is to win, not to spend four years avoiding the consequences of an ill-considered contract.

Loyal reader, Dina Colarossi, has a fine solution: “I think his new role should be sitting in a dunk tank outside the stadium before every game. Charge people $5 a shot, and they will recoup his contract in no time at all.”

And just think how much better we’d feel.

[Photo Credit: N.J.com]

Twenty-six years ago, on August 4, the Yankees and White Sox played the third game of a four-game set at Yankee Stadium. It was Phil Rizzuto Day at the Stadium, and his number 10 was retired during a pregame ceremony that featured an appearance by a Holy Cow. A few hours later, Rizzuto’s future broadcast partner on WPIX, Tom Seaver, jumped into the arms of Carlton Fisk in celebration of his 300th career victory. Seaver handed the Yankees their fifth loss in six games. They proceeded to win 14 of their next 15 to gain on the Toronto Blue Jays in the AL East standings.

No such historical significance defined the lead-up to Thursday’s Yankees-White Sox tilt at US Cellular Field. Derek Jeter passed Lou Brock on the all-time hits list last night. No member of past White Sox teams was enjoying a number retirement ceremony, although manager Ozzie Guillen was the White Sox’ starting shortstop in the Rizzuto-Seaver game.

The only questions were:

Would the Yankees extend their win streak to seven?

Where would the Yankees stand heading into the Boston series?

Regardless of the outcome, how would Ivan Nova pitch?

The answers were “Yes,” “Tied,” and, “Anything would have been better than Burnett, but in a word, awesome.”

The offense didn’t need to give Nova a 12-run lead and hope he held onto it. He did just fine with a one-run advantage, save for the bizarre hiccup on the pitch-out in the third inning that led to the only run he allowed. He was even better when the game was tied in the middle innings. Nova faced the minimum number of batters in each of those innings, and benefited from great defense.

The White Sox mounted a minor threat with one out in the sixth, shortly after the Yankees regained the lead. Juan Pierre reached base on arguably the cheapest hit ever, which brought Alexei Ramirez at the plate. Nova maintained his aggressiveness throughout the Ramirez at-bat, and also did a good job holding Pierre at first. With the count 2-and-2, Pierre took off for second base. Nova got Ramirez to swing at a high, inside fastball for strike three, and Russell Martin quickly threw to second. Robinson Cano fielded the ball on a short hop at the bag and tagged Pierre first on his left arm and then sweeping up to the brim of his helmet to complete the double play.

That play was the turning point of the game. The Yankees tacked on two more runs in the seventh and three in the ninth. Nova made good on the insurance runs, as did the Yankees’ bullpen. Final score, 7-2.

Martin called Nova’s stuff “electric” in his postgame interview with YES Network’s Kim Jones.

“His fastball, he’s reaching up to 95, 96 when he needs it,” Martin said. “He’s working his slider off his fastball and he’s got a good curveball to go with that.

“He’s got four pitches and they’re all working well for him right now. So when you throw 96 and you’ve got four good pitches, you’re going to be a stud, and he’s exactly that.”

“Electric” has been the adjective of choice to describe AJ Burnett’s stuff through the years, almost as a defense mechanism to explain away his inconsistency. It is Nova, though, who a night after Burnett had an outage, lit up Chicago. His performance was not a statement but an exclamation that he should be in the majors to stay and perhaps be an integral part of the Yankees’ October plans. Nova’s victory means in one night, he has earned more wins in the month of August than Burnett has in two previous Augusts as a Yankee. In his last two starts, Nova has beaten more American League teams than Burnett has since June 1.

There’s no decision to make anymore. Nova should be in the rotation. Joe Girardi’s decision may just be which veteran gets bumped come October.

HONORABLE MENTION PLAYER OF THE GAME
J Martin. The Canadian catcher is proving to be one of Brian Cashman’s shrewdest acquisitions last winter. The catch and throw on the double play in the sixth inning preserved the lead in what was then a tight game. He also drove in the last four runs of the game, the capper being a mammoth three-run home run in the top of the ninth. His quiet competitive grit is the perfect balance to Francisco Cervelli’s ebullience. And he’s healthy again.

QUICK RECAP
The Yankees outscored the White Sox 34-11 in the four-game series. They have outscored the opposition 63-19 (average score of 9-3) during the seven-game win streak. … Adam Dunn’s home run in the bottom of the ninth off Hector Noesi was the only run allowed by Yankees’ relievers in the series.

QUICK PREVIEW
The Yankees meet their White Whale in New England starting tomorrow. They’ll send Bartolo Colon, CC Sabathia and Freddy Garcia to the mound against Jon Lester, John Lackey and Josh Beckett. We know the Yankees’ history against Boston this season: 1-8 and perhaps singularly responsible for the Red Sox’ rise. Since getting their first win of the season against the Yankees, the Red Sox have won nearly two thirds of their games.

Two items of note:

1) CC Sabathia continues to stake his claim for a second Cy Young Award, but if he does not pitch well Saturday, or if he loses, he has almost no chance. Sabathia is 0-3 with a 6.16 ERA against the Red Sox this season. He’s averaged slightly more than 6 IP per start, 8 H, 4 ER, has a 1.67 K/BB ratio, and the BoSox are batting .308 against him. In his 21 other starts, Sabathia is 16-2 with a 2.11 ERA, averaging more than 7 IP per start, has a 4.08 K/BB ratio, and holding opposing hitters to a .223 average.

2) Josh Beckett. The Yankees have done next to nothing against him this season. Beckett dominated the Yankees like he did in the 2003 World Series, to the tune of 25 strikeouts in 21 IP, and just 10 hits allowed.

It should be a fun weekend, and a worthy playoff preview.

Yanks look to sweep the White Sox tonight before they travel to Boston for the weekend.

You know the routine:

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

Diane hipped me to this fun list of movie tag lines.

“You are cordially invited to George and Martha’s for an evening of fun and games.”

“You don’t make up for your sins in church. You do it on the streets…”

“In space no one can hear you scream.”

“It’s a Strange World.”

“A Lot Can Happen In The Middle Of Nowhere.”

 

Who? Jack. What? A Golden Retriever out for his morning walk. Evidence of Delusion? None, he’s a dog.

After walking past my boys playing in the yard and receiving a gentle pat on the back and big smiles, Jack sidestepped to the nearest tree and lifted his leg. He looked back over his shoulder to make sure we were watching.

His owner, trailing the scene, stopped next to me. “I think it was your hat.”

Yankee Snark: “Joke’s on Jack. The guy who owns that tree is a Sox fan.”

There is a long profile on Danny Meyer in this weekend’s New York Times Magazine:

New York is a city of rooms. Most of them are tiny, dark, lonely and the wrong temperature. Meyer makes rooms that are exquisite — overlooking, in the case of the Modern, the greatest sculptures of the 20th century — and intimate. You feel at home. His goal, he told me, is for customers to make his restaurants their clubhouses.

Meyer’s track record is near perfect: one closing (Tabla, a 283-seat Indian place that lasted for 12 years), 25 openings and counting. And for most of his career he has expanded without repeating himself. He has created new restaurants as though they were each his first and only — the singularity of a place always as important as the food. His looseness and precision are qualities more reminiscent of an athlete or an artist. Whatever Meyer is engaged in — jaywalking, French-speaking, grease-inhaling — receives his complete attention.

Some of this is hereditary. Meyer’s father, Morton, owned hotels and had a gift for hospitality. As Meyer told me, “My dad gave me the gene to enjoy cooking, and to enjoy consuming good food and wine.”

…It has taken Meyer 26 years to go from the owner-manager of a single place to C.E.O. of a company — Union Square Hospitality Group — that employs 2,200 people and oversees the operations of all his restaurants. His mother calls the company “his business family.” Its core is a tight-knit group of five general partners whom Meyer has known for an aggregate of 102 years. Together they oversee three places that are in the Zagat Guide’s Top 5 (Gramercy Tavern, Eleven Madison Park, Union Square Cafe), plus the Modern, Maialino, Blue Smoke, the two cafes at the Museum of Modern Art, the newly opened restaurant at the Whitney, a jazz club, a handful of seasonal stands including one at Citi Field and a catering and events company. Meyer is on the board of Open Table, the Internet restaurant reservations service that not only allows him to materialize midlunch for a full-body hug but also tracks the eating habits of his 3,500 or so fine-dining customers each day. (Shake Shack feeds more than 12,000 daily.) This has all taken decades. And Meyer might have remained an incrementalist were it not for Shake Shack, which began as a hot-dog cart that he told the staff of Eleven Madison to set up in the park across the street in 2001. The cart was such a sensation that he expanded the menu to include burgers and milkshakes and opened an actual 400-square-foot shack in the park in 2004. Eleven Madison owned Shake Shack from 2004 to 2009, when it became its own company — but the mobbed burger stand provided the capital required to hire the Swiss chef Daniel Humm away from a restaurant in San Francisco, reduce the seats in his new dining room, double his staff and establish a venue so elevated in its pursuits that it’s less a restaurant than a graduate program in taste. Four stars from The Times ultimately followed.

I know some people in the restaurant business in New York and they all speak highly of Meyer. He’s the Mariano Rivera of the industry.

Over at ESPN, Howard Bryant writes about the unfairness of trading prospects for stars:

In San Diego, one of the great robberies (an inside job, really) in recent baseball history took place in the Gonzalez deal this past offseason. The Padres, who missed the playoffs on the last day of the 2010 season, dealt their best player to the Red Sox even though he was under contract for another year. Instead of selling their fans in 2011 on the optimism of 2010’s great 90-win season, playoff appearances in 2005 and 2006 and a thrilling one-game playoff in 2007, San Diego folded, giving Gonzalez to the Red Sox for first-round picks Casey Kelly (a pitcher) and Reymond Fuentes (an outfielder), along with Anthony Rizzo, a first baseman. Remember, the Padres were an afternoon away from the playoffs, then traded their best player and received nothing in return to help them win this season or probably next. Rizzo has appeared in 35 games for San Diego this season, and he’s hitting .143.

The Red Sox didn’t part with any of their big league players in the deal. Not Jacoby Ellsbury, not Clay Buchholz, not Josh Reddick. Both Kelly and Fuentes have potential–Kelly is 21, Fuentes is 20–but neither is yet in Triple-A. Much space exists between Class A Lake Elsinore and Petco Park.

So as the Red Sox win, the Padres sold their fans a future that is at best cloudy and at worst illusory. Each day the Red Sox benefit from Gonzalez while the Padres wait for Kelly and Fuentes to reach the big leagues underscores the need for San Diego’s front office to have acquired big league talent that, at least, would have sent the message to fans that every year is next year.

 

Rest in Peace, Bubba Smith.

[Photo Credit: N.Y. Daily News]

A.J. Burnett toed the rubber Wednesday night looking to extend the Yankees recent string of good starting pitching.  The Yanks’ current five-game win streak had been fueled by a 5-0, 2.25 ERA run by “CC and the question marks” (Burnett was the last starting pitcher before the streak, and was coming off a horrible, winless July).  They had also jumped out to early leads in most of those games, 23-2 in the first three innings of the last four games.  In Gavin Floyd, the Bombers were facing someone who had gone 3-0 with a 0.81 ERA in his last three starts, and 2-1 with a 3.06 and 32 Ks in 35.3 innings in his last five games versus the Yanks.

Brett Gardner started the game with a perfect bunt on the grass near the third base line and then Derek Jeter followed that up with his own perfect bunt that stayed fair in the dirt portion of the third base line.  (So when is the last time a team has started a game with two bunt singles?  Anyone? Bueller?).  After 90 total feet of singles, Curtis Granderson got badly jammed on a Floyd fastball, but muscled it out into short center, dunking it just in front of Alex Rios to put ducks on the pond.

Hot-hitting Mark Teixeira lofted the first pitch he saw to deep center for a sac fly, and Rios inexplicably tried to nail Jeter going to third.  Jeter made it safely, and Granderson moved to second on the throw.  The White Sox elected to pitch to, and not pitch around Cano with first base open, and he made them pay with a three-run shot to the right-field bleachers on an 88-mph cutter.

So Burnett had a comfy 4-0 lead as he took the mound.  Juan Pierre led off with a line drive down in the right field corner that bounced into the stands for a ground rule double.  Omar Vizquel then offered up his own bunt down the third base line that was moving from foul territory back fair.  Eric Chavez tried to pick it up while it was still foul, but was too late, putting runners on first and third.  Carlos Quentin lofted a sac fly to Gardner, and Burnett escaped the inning still leading 4-1.

The Yanks extended the lead to 6-1 in the second on a Gardner hit-by-pitch, a Jeter single to right and a Granderson double, all coming with two out, as Floyd’s breaking ball was sitting up in the strike zone and being hit hard.   But Burnett was still not comfortable as he yielded consecutive one-out singles (both on 3-1 counts) to Rios and Alejandro de Aza.  But he recovered to get Brent Morel to ground into a force, and Pierre to fly to center to end the threat.

New York decided to put Floyd out of his misery in the third as four of the first five batters reached base, including Chavez’s first homer as a Yankee, a 404-foot shot to right.  Will Ohman came in and was no better, allowing a single to Gardner and a 2-run single to Jeter.  After Granderson struck out, Teixeira lined a shot towards center field.  Rios took a bad route to the ball (even though it was in front of him), and played it off to his left side.  The ball bounced just in front of Rios, and skipped past his glove, rolling all the way to the wall.  It was mysteriously scored a triple for Teixeira, and after Cano singled him in, the Yanks had a seemingly-Burnettproof 13-1 lead.

But the enigmatic and frustrating Burnett yielded five runs on five hits in the bottom of the fourth, capped by a Carlos Quentin three-run shot on a hanging curve.  So the Jets led the Bears 13-6.  Chicago drove down the field again the next inning, knocking Burnett out of the game after a single, a double and a hustling double by de Aza pared the lead down to 13-7.  Joe Girardi walked to the mound, Burnett shoved the ball in Girardi’s hand, and A.J. then tore off his uniform top as he descended the dugout steps into the tunnel.  Cory Wade put out the fire without any more runs scoring.  Burnett’s final line: 4.1 IP, 13 H, 7 R.

Wade kept things quiet in the sixth, and the Yanks pounded former teammate Brian Bruney, and then Matt Thornton, for four more runs on five hits in the 7th to take the pressure back off.  Jeter collected his fifth hit (and fourth run) of the night in the 8th as the Bombers tacked on another run, and the Yanks had an 18-7 win.

But the big question remains, “what to do with Burnett?”

 

 

 

 

 

A.J. Burnett has to be a stud if the Yankees are going to win the World Serious this year. Maybe not an ace, but damn close to one. He should be as nasty as Erwin Santana has been of late. I’m not confident that he will be but you never know.

We’ll be pulling for the big lug.

Meanwhile: Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Picture by Michael Shapcott]

The Job, Chicago Style 

By John Schulian

The best advice I ever got about business came from my old baseball coach, Pete Radulovich: “Nobody plays for free.” My lawyer passed Pete’s wisdom along to the brass at the Sun-Times when the New York Times was courting me, and the next thing I knew, I got a raise and a deal with Universal Press Syndicate, which had made a fortune with “Doonesbury” and a host of other wildly successful comic strips. Funny how a little leverage works, isn’t it?

Close to 100 papers bought my column at one point, some because they actually used it, like the Atlanta Journal and Miami News. The talent-rich Boston Globe, on the other hand, bought it just to keep it out of the Boston Herald’s hands. Whatever their motivation, those big city papers all paid a decent buck. It was the small papers, however, the ones in Iowa and Louisiana, that relied on me most heavily for a national voice, even though they paid only a couple of dollars a week. But I stopped worrying about the price when John Ed Bradley, that most poetic of sports writers, told me his father used to cut my column out of his hometown paper and mail it to him at LSU.

With syndication, I was traveling the same road that Red Smith, Jimmy Cannon, and Jim Murray had before me. That was an honor in itself, but Universal Press made things even better by publishing my first book, “Writers’ Fighters and Other Sweet Scientists.” It’s a collection of my boxing writing that came out in 1983 and has achieved what is best described as cult status. God knows it was never a big seller, but there are still people who speak of it fondly, not just old goats of my vintage but young writers and fight fans who stumble upon it. I’m not sure it deserves to be mentioned in the same breath with any book by Hugh McIlvanney, the superb British boxing writer, but I’m still grateful that people haven’t used it for kindling.

For all this talk about the fruits of being a columnist, it’s high time I said a something about the job itself. At the Sun-Times I wrote four a week–Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, Friday. They ran 1,000 words apiece, which was standard for my generation but looks like literary abuse compared to the three that today’s columnists get by with. Of course the old-timers thought guys like me were pansies because they had written as many as seven a week. Red Smith, when he worked for the Philadelphia Record, even covered a beat in addition to writing his column. And then there was Arthur Daley of the New York Times, who was writing seven when his editor cut his load to six. Instead of celebrating, Daley thought his boss didn’t like him anymore.

Whether you’re doing seven columns a week or three, it’s still tough to do them right. Anybody can fill space, whether it’s an overmatched kid or an old hack running on Jack Daniels fumes. But if you really care about the craft right down to the last syllable, you inevitably wind up feeling like you’re married to a nymphomaniac: as soon as you’re finished, you’ve got to start again. For all the joy that attends a column you get right, whether it’s funny or sad or angry, you’re still staring into a black hole when you wonder what you’re going to do for an encore. There were times I started worrying before I finished the column I was working on. Other than that, it was the best job on the paper.

I’ve always felt lucky that I worked in Chicago, which, in addition to being a great city, overflowed with sports to write about, professional and college. The National League was on the North Side, the American on the South. I could write about the Bears any time of year. I could have done the same with Michael Jordan, but I was gone by the time he arrived. The best I could do in basketball was DePaul, which had a great run in the late ’70s and early ’80s. Talk about an embarrassment of riches. Better yet, most of the time I was there, the teams were terrible-–and terrible teams are a hell of a lot more fun to write about than good teams. When a team is good or, worse, great, most everybody connected with it turns secretive. They don’t want to run their mouths for fear the fates smite them. But when a team is bad, the fear is gone. Players start to reveal their true selves, whether they’re hilarious or soulful or complete assholes. There’s always something going on, always somebody running his mouth, always somebody begging to have his ears pinned back.

There isn’t a more reliable bunch of losers in all of sports than the Cubs. And yet, in my Chicago years, they had a world-class right-hander in Rick Reuschel and a great reliever in Bruce Sutter and a batting champion in Bill Buckner, whose bad legs should have qualified him for handicapped parking and who was the bravest player I ever covered. Each was a good guy in his own way. Not the life of the party, by any stretch of the imagination, but honest and insightful and professional in surroundings that would have turned lesser men into drooling loonies. There was one year when, miraculously, the Cubs were still in the pennant race on September 1 and Buckner came to Wrigley all fired up for a game he thought would sell the old joint out. Instead, it was almost empty. “It’s like they turn the lights out every August 31st,” he said. He deserved better. They all did.

No, let me amend that. There were exceptions. There were those Cubs who were such chowderheads that they were like batting-practice fastballs for a columnist. The biggest one of all was Dave Kingman. Of course you couldn’t say much bad about him the year he hit 48 homers, but he showed what a wasted blob of protoplasm he was when he spent most of the next season lolling on the disabled list. He’d come in early in the morning for treatment on whatever his injury was, but he wouldn’t hang around to watch the game, ever. One day, one of the team’s good guys pulled me aside and told me Kingman was hustling jet skis at a big summer blowout called ChicagoFest when he should have been at the ballpark. I did my due diligence as a reporter and then ripped him as a feckless, narcissistic slug. I thought he’d try to strangle me the next time our paths crossed, but he didn’t say a thing. He just looked scary, the way he always did: 6-foot-6, with a permanent Charles Whitman stare.

Herman Franks did two tours as the Cubs’ manager while I worked in Chicago. It’s hard to believe a bigger lout ever darkened baseball. Some days his greatest joy in life seemed to be throwing his dirty laundry at the clubhouse man and telling him, “Get the brown out, Jap.” The clubhouse man was, as you probably guessed, Japanese.

To say Herman was an uninspired manager would be understatement. He consistently made a bad team worse, and when I kept calling him on it in print, he whined to friends back home in Salt Lake City. That’s right. We came from the same town. We even went to the same high school, albeit 30 years apart. “Get this goddamned Schulian off my back,” Herman begged a friend with whom he had played CYO ball. Not a chance. Herman was just too much fun to write about. There was, for instance, the day he said the difference between Jose Cardenal, who’d been traded from the Cubs, and Greg Luzinski was the difference between ice cream and horseshit. I seized the moment and wrote that the difference between Cardenal and Herman was the difference between ice cream and, taking my readers’ sensitivities into consideration, horse manure. The next time I was beside the batting cage at Wrigley, Herman challenged me to a fight. When he saw that I couldn’t stop laughing, he stomped away.

I wasn’t wild about George Halas, either. Forget the Monsters of the Midway and the Decatur Staleys and the running board of the car that he and the NFL’s other original owner posed beside. All of that was real, but it became part of a mythology that served Halas as a protective shield. He was about 1,000 years old when I worked in Chicago, and he could give you an E.T. smile that was supposed to pass for charm, but underneath it all, he was still a tightwad and a mean SOB. For years he employed a team physician who did nothing but screw up players’ knees. Big name players like Gale Sayers and Dick Butkus. I always wondered about Halas’s feelings about race, too. He was, if I recall correctly, the next-to-last NFL owner to integrate his team. And even at the end of his reign, he publicly tortured Neil Armstrong, an eminently decent man who happened to be a less than wonderful head coach. I’m not sure Halas a word of what I said about him, but it still felt good to tee off on the old bastard.

All things considered, I’d rather be remembered for the work I did that wasn’t the product of outrage–the magazine pieces about Josh Gibson and Chuck Bednarik and the old Pacific Coast League, the newspaper columns about Muhammad Ali and Pete Maravich and a high school basketball star named Ben Wilson whose dreams were canceled by a stranger with a gun. But raising hell was part of the job, too, and I did my share of it. Maybe I even liked it too much. I remember Mike Royko telling me there’s no sense in peeling a grape with an ax. Sometimes I forgot to heed his advice. But other times the grape deserved the ax.

Unquestionably the toughest column I ever wrote was about Quentin Dailey, a basketball player the Bulls shouldn’t have drafted. He’d terrorized a student nurse at the University of San Francisco. Didn’t rape her, mind you. But left her with bad dreams that still may not have gone away. The Bulls drafted him No. 1 in 1982, and I went to the press conference where they introduced him. I was the only one there who asked if he had had any regrets, was getting any counseling, was doing anything positive to make amends for the harm he had done. And he turned out to be utterly unrepentant. I went back to the paper and wrote the harshest column I could. It might be the harshest column I’ve ever seen by anyone. Then I waited to see what would happen.

There were calls and letters that accused me of being a racist, lots of them. But there was also an invitation to appear on Oprah Winfrey’s show as a defender of women. I accepted, of course. NOW thanked me and started making plans to picket the Bulls’ games. Reggie Jackson called and said he’d paid for Dailey’s lawyer because his niece had been going out with Dailey. Bill Veeck called and said he wanted me to know he was in my corner. Best of all, my wife said she was proud of me.

Still, it felt like I was breathing thin air, maybe having an out-of-body experience. I felt terribly self-conscious. It wasn’t like seeing my face in an ad on the side of a bus, and it wasn’t like my wife nudging me in a restaurant and saying, “Those people over there recognize you.” It was disconcerting. When I walked to a courthouse a few blocks from the Sun-Times to take care of a ticket-–I’d raced a stoplight and lost-–I couldn’t help wondering if some cop was going to get in my face and call me a racist motherfucker. And if I would have the stones to hold my ground and say that race had nothing to do with what I wrote. It never happened, though. Life went on, the way it usually does.

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