Well, I’ve had a gnawing feeling about this weekend for a few days now. The Red Sox lose Kevin Youkilis for the season, the team is reeling, trailing the Yanks by six games coming into the series, and yet, all these signs did nothing to soothe me. In fact, they only encouraged my irritation. Which is how it goes for the true baseball neurotic, doesn’t matter that I root for the Yankees, doesn’t matter that they’ve got the best record in the baseball. Nuts is Knuts and I plead guilty.

Right on cue, Javier Vazquez came up small, serving up a 3-2 cookie to David Ortiz in the first inning that Ortiz promptly deposited over the center field fence. In the second, Vazquez and Francisco Cervelli let a harmless pop-up drop (Cervelli dropped it but Vazquez didn’t help matters any–they looked like a Benny Hill routine minus the laughs). Then Vazquez walked the ninth place hitter and the struggling Jacoby Ellsbury and when the smoke cleared the Sox had scored three more runs.

And Yankee Stadium was virtually silent–a mausoleum.

Mark Teixiera stayed back and waited on a curve ball in the bottom of the first and hit a two-run home run. After that, Clay Buchholz settled into a groove. Thanks to a throwing error by Marco Scutaro, the Yanks put runners on first and second with nobody out in the bottom of the fourth. Curtis Granderson, whose entire season appears to be fouling good pitches off and then bouncing out to second or popping out to center, smacked a line drive, hit in on the screws, right at Mike Lowell at first. Double play.

Alex Rodriguez fisted an RBI single to left the following inning, pulling the Yanks to within one run, but Vazquez, again, seemingly on cue, gave up a two-run home run to Ryan Kalish, who will later drink his first beer and pop his cherry with a 12th Avenue Jackie.

Vazquez pitched good enough to lose; Buchholz, good enough to win. Yankee fans sat on their hands. With AJ “Putting Out the Fire with Gasoline” Burnett and Dustin Mosley set to pitch two of the next three games, CC Sabathia cannot afford to lose  tomorrow. This could be a long, frustrating weekend at the bright, shinny mallpark in the Bronx.

Final Score: Red Sox 6, Yanks 3. The Sox now trail the Yanks by five games.

The good news? I get to feel righteous about being right, at least for one night. Wait, that’s not good news. The Rays lost, right, that was the good news.

Back tomorrow for more fun–especially since the game will be televised on FOX. Get ready for another four-and-a-half-hour affair to remember.

I say my piece on the Yankees three deadline acquisitions on the latest episode of SNY.tv’s “Baseball Show.” Dig it:

Joe D, By Bart Forbes

Got a cousin who does well for himself in the food distribution business here in New York. A few months ago I ran into him on the street. He was with an older gentleman with white hair and a white beard. Goes, “Let me introduce you to Henry Fudge: best pork in the country.” I’ve had Fudge Farms bacon and pork chops. I don’t know enough to make any grand proclamations but I know that it sure am good.

Guest Writer: Ted Berg

I might be the wrong guy for this assignment because I don’t harbor any guilt over any of the movies I enjoy. Movies are made for entertainment, and pleasure is pleasure. Sure, a thought-provoking film might hold my attention after the credits stop rolling — entertaining me over a longer period of time — but a good blockbuster full of high-speed chases and tremendous explosions can provide a thorough and enrapturing aesthetic experience like few others.

I know a lot of European cinema supposedly developed in reaction to the escapism of Hollywood, but I don’t really understand the beef with escapism. I’ve seen a bunch of Italian Neorealist films, and nearly all of them bored me to sleep and not one featured a giant ape wrestling dinosaurs. Sure, Peter Jackson’s King Kong was a bit heavy-handed and hardly provoked introspection, but it held me in a vice grip throughout because, well, apes wrestling dinosaurs. And yeah, it might have lacked the subtleties of L’Avventura, but subtlety is for suckers. Give me movies that fully exploit the medium.

xXx opens with a suave dude in a tuxedo doing some spy stuff at an obvious bad-guy party featuring a Rammstein performance. His presence is too obvious and inexplicable in a mosh pit full off tattooed and pierced fire-breathers, and the leader-guy bad guys spot him swiftly and kill him handily. Then they light some drinks on fire to celebrate.

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For all of the Yankees’ success since purchasing George Herman Ruth in 1920, the franchise has yet to place one of its owners in the Hall of Fame. Now I suppose you could bring up the case of Larry MacPhail, but he was a part owner for only three seasons and his Yankee ownership has little to do with his Hall of Fame membership. So let’s count him out of this equation. Jacob Ruppert, despite an impressive run of success that lasted nearly two decades and totaled ten world championships, is not a member of the Hall of Fame. Dan Topping and Del Webb aren’t enshrined in the Cooperstown fraternity, either. Nor are the infamous Bill Devery and Frank Farrell. CBS certainly doesn’t have a place in the Hall, not after its reign of mediocrity from 1964 to 1973.

The absence of Yankee ownership in Cooperstown could end later this year. Although the news fell well under the radar, the Hall of Fame recently announced radical changes to its Veterans’ Committee procedures. Gone is the old system in which executives and managers were considered in odd-numbered years (2011, 2013, 2015), while old-time players were voted upon in even-numbered years (2010, 2012, 2014). Under the new system, the Vets’ Committee will consider ballots based on eras: Pre-Integration (1871 to 1946), the Golden Era (1947 to 1972), and the Expansion Era (1973 on). Golden Era candidates will be considered next year (2011) and Pre-Expansion candidates will be looked at the following year (2012).

That leaves Expansion Era candidates for this winter. So who exactly will qualify under the category of the Expansion Era? According to the Hall of Fame, Expansion Era candidates will be classified as players or executives who put forth the “greatest contributions” of their careers from 1973 on. Obviously, the late George Steinbrenner, who purchased the Yankees in 1973, would fall under the umbrella of the Expansion Era. That means that Steinbrenner would not have to wait until next winter, but could be elected to the Hall of Fame this December, with his posthumous induction potentially taking place in July of 2011. That could make for an interesting scene next summer in Cooperstown, which is a relatively short four-hour car ride from the Bronx.

Several ex-Yankee players will also be eligible for election in December. The list includes three particularly strong candidates in Graig Nettles, Tommy John, and Luis Tiant, along with an enormous longshot in Bobby Bonds. Under the new rules, the living Hall of Famers, who have been notoriously stingy in their balloting (to the point of putting in exactly ZERO players over the past decade), will no longer vote on retired players. The vote has instead been given to a 16-member committee that will be divided between writers, historians, executives, and a select few Hall of Famers. Given the new composition of the Veterans’ Committee, we can expect it to become much easier for some of the retired players to achieve the 75 per cent of the vote needed for election. Who knows, perhaps The Boss will be joined by John and Tiant in next summer’s induction class. And if the committee puts in one of my old favorites like Nettles, I might just have to buy a round at Cooley’s on Pioneer Street…

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Dig this short piece on the strange grace of players trading places by an Astros fan over at the most excellent blog, Pitchers and Poets:

Today, I’ve got my Berkman t-shirt on. It’s clean, and fits me well. And I look forward to see him wear Yankee pinstripes, odd as that may be to say. Great players should play on big stages, and though he’s past his greatest days, his swing is still pretty and he does well what the Yankees like in their players: getting on base and playing well calmly. Same, too, for Roy Oswalt, though he’ll be in the same league. He’ll show some new fans what he does well, and that’s something.

There is pleasure to be had in seeing something well-known and beloved in a different setting. You can’t stand still, after all. You’ve got to move forward.

[Photo Credit: Boston.com]

Over at the Baseball Analysts, Jeremy Greenhouse takes a look at three pitchers who possess another gear.

Breakfast with Bob.

From the stellar 1966 Playboy Interview:

PLAYBOY: Some of your old fans would agree with you – and not in a complimentary vein – since your debut with the rock-‘n’-roll combo at last year’s Newport Folk Festival, where many of them booed you loudly for “selling out” to commercial pop tastes. The early Bob Dylan, they felt, was the “pure” Bob Dylan. How do you feel about it?

DYLAN: I was kind of stunned. But I can’t put anybody down for coming and booing: after all, they paid to get in. They could have been maybe a little guieter and not so persistent, though. There were a lot of old people there, too; lots of whole families had driven down from Vermont, lots of nurses and their parents, and well, like they just came to hear some relaxing hoedowns, you know, maybe an Indian polka or two. And just when everything’s going all right, here I come on, and the whole place turns into a beer factory. There were a lot of people there who were very pleased that I got booed. I saw them afterward. I do resent somewhat, though, that everybody that booed said they did it because they were old fans.

PLAYBOY: What about their charge that you vulgarized your natural gifts?

DYLAN: What can I say? I’d like to see one of these so-called fans. I’d like to have him blindfolded and brought to me. It’s like going out to the desert and screaming and then having little kids throw their sandbox at you. I’m only 24. These people that said this – were they Americans?

The great Ted Berg talks Red Sox:

;

Bad break for the Sox today, as they’ve lost Kevin Youkilis for the rest of the season.

Steve Lombardi thinks the Red Sox might thrive despite the loss because Josh Beckett is back; over at the Boston Globe, however, Bob Ryan says there is no way the Sox can overcome this one:

The Twins beat the Rays this afternoon, putting the Yanks back in first by a half-a-game.

[Picture by Bags]

The Beat Conductor vs Metal Face:

David Lebovitz, you’re a good man.

Here, he hips us to RUB barbeque. Many thanks. Looks like one is worth a try.

IF YOU’RE NOT KNIEVEL, YOU’RE NOT #1

It was the 1970s, and the bewildered youth of America needed a hero. Instead, we got Evel Knievel. Knievel, the self-proclaimed world’s greatest daredevil, roared out of Butte, Montana sometime in the 1960s with a unique flair for self-promotion, a collection of red, white and blue capes and a willingness to put himself in harm’s way by jumping over things on a motorcycle. Cars, Greyhound buses, a shark tank – Knievel revved up his motorcycle and flew over them. Sometimes he landed safely, sometimes he’d crash or careen out of control, his body thrown across the tarmac like an unwanted rag doll, leaving Wide World Of Sports announcers to ask each other “Will this be Evel’s final jump?”

In any era, a self-made celebrity like Knievel is bound to wind up on the silver screen. Knievel’s story was told in an eponymously titled 1971 film starring George Hamilton as Knievel, who famously described himself as “the last gladiator.” However, after his infamous Snake River Canyon jump, his line of toy cycles and dolls and another 5 years of jumps and crashes, the time was right to try to make a movie star out of Evel himself.

Thus, in 1977, movie audiences around the world were treated to Viva Knievel!, starring Evel Knievel as…Evel Knievel.  Could he act? Would it matter?  Not to kids like me, who could barely put down our Stunt Cycles or put away our Tour Vans long enough to sit through one of the greatest bad movies of all time.

As a film, Viva Knievel! is much like watching one of Knievel’s crashes. It’s an unholy mess, and yet we can’t look away, and it contains one of the strangest casts in movie history. Gordon Douglas directed the film, and one wonders if he got the job due to his rapport with Frank Sinatra. Douglas directed Sinatra in five films in the 1960s and was known as one of the few directors who could control Sinatra or at least get along with him. Warner Brothers may have felt he’d be the man to ride rein on Knievel.  The problem with that thinking is that Frank Sinatra may have been difficult, but he could actually act and pretty damned well when he wanted to.

The film opens with Knievel sneaking into an orphanage at night to bring children the uplifting gift of Evel Knievel action figures. One child is so moved by Knievel’s presence, he throws away his crutches and tells Knievel he’s the reason he can walk again. That’s right folks – Knievel might have inspired your children to shatter their own bones emulating his crazy stunts, but don’t worry – his inspiration will have them out of their hospital beds in no time at all.

Soon enough, Knievel’s setting up his next jump with his alcoholic mechanic sidekick Will, played by Gene Kelly. GENE KELLY? Yes, that Gene Kelly. The cinematic icon, beloved the world over, now inexplicably reduced to playing Evel Knievel’s second banana. (What’s worse is that Kelly is genuinely bad in the role.) We also meet Evel’s unscrupulous promoter, played by Red Buttons. Apparently Warner Brothers was under the impression that the best way to make Knievel a movie star was to surround him with people who were really current and hip in 1977, you know, like Red Buttons and Gene Kelly.  We’re treated to a great scene of Kelly threatening Buttons because he feels Evel’s last jump hadn’t been safe enough.

“What’s the matter with you? Evel is my pal too!” is Buttons’ meek response.

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Short schedule here at the Banter this morning with an afternoon game on the schedule. Man, I’m still cranky about the past few days. Two hits last night? Got to be kidding me, man.

Feelin’ just ornery enough for some Cube–what up Loc?:

Let’s hope this ain’t no real skid here, and just an old-fashioned two-game losing streak. Either way, the Boss would not be pleased…

Time for the Yanks answer last night’s ass-whuppin’ with one of their own.

Never mind the formalities: Let’s Go Yan-Kees!

(I was fool enough to call Alex Rodriguez’s 600th last week so what do I know; don’t know if he’ll get it tonight but it says here the Big Puma will have a big game.)

[Drawing by Larry Roibal]

Sorry I forgot to pass this along when it came out. The Times’ review of David Chang’s new midtown spot:

It is a strange feeling, sitting in Má Pêche on a Friday night, well underneath Midtown in the basement of the Chambers Hotel, Modest Mouse playing at half volume on the stereo system as people drink wine and talk and stab at sticky pork ribs with chopsticks. The seats at the restaurant have backs to them. They are comfortable. There is plenty of space.

There is nothing like this at the other restaurants in David Chang’s four-restaurant Momofuku confederation — of which Má Pêche is the newest, the largest and the first not located in the East Village. There is no extra space in the other Momofuku restaurants at all, no real creature comforts beyond the food and the service. There are just counters, nooks, sharp corners and little chance for intimate conversation, even at Momofuku Ko, which flies the standard of excellence for them all. (There, you just stare at the chefs and wait for the magic.)

Got to be a worth a try, no?

[Photo Credit: Oyster Locals]

It’s gunna be a slow day, bloggin’ at the Banter. So here’s some stuff to look at…

Flix by Bags.

The Rays have pulled even with the Yanks in first place in the AL East. It was a long, clammy night in the Bronx. AJ Burnett looked okay through the first four innings. Then it all went to hell in the fifth and when the dust cleared Burnett was headed to the showers and the Jays had eight runs on the board.

The Yanks were not out of it, though; two-run homers by Nick Swisher and Mark Teixiera, kept them alive. Derek Jeter had a couple of hits, and Lance Berkman collected his first RBI in pinstripes. But pinch-hitter Austin Kearns, representing the tying run, struck-out looking to end the eighth. Swisher hit a long solo homer in the ninth and Alex Rodriguez came up for the fifth time, now truly swallowed-up in a slump (soft ground balls, swinging through pitches). He grounded out to end the game and you could hear some fans groan.

The Yankees’ bullpen was good but the offense didn’t have enough to survive Burnett.

Yeah, not a happy night.

Final Score: Jays 8, Yanks 6.

[Photo Credit: Kathy Willens/AP]