My TV is busted. Been without the glow and hum since May 20th, and really, it’s not that bad. But it makes writing a game recap a little more difficult. There’s always the radio though, and I planned on listening to the game and relaying that experience to you. It wasn’t the best laid plan, but damn if it didn’t go astray anyway.

Photo by Greg Stone

What happened is the new public art project in New York called “Key to the City” and it’s unexpected popularity at 5:45pm on Friday night. The project is designed to recreate the experience of receiving a key to the city, but one that actually opens things – 24 locations scattered around the five boroughs. I work right next door to the kiosk where they are handing out the keys, and figured I would surprise my wife and bestow a key upon her, and make it home in plenty of time for the first pitch, natch.

Two hours later, the Yanks were already knee deep in Cecil-induced frustrations and I was finally getting that key. Starving, we headed to Bon Chon on 38th for some fabulously fried chicken wings and plopped down right in front of AJ Burnett and Jose Bautista facing off in the bottom of the second.

We stayed through the bottom of the fourth. As we left, I had a strong suspicion (and trail of garlic-soy) I had seen the five pitches that would be worth writing about. Here they are chronologically:

1) Bottom 2nd, none out, none on, 3-2 count on Jose Bautista. Blammo. A string-straight fastball, crushed appropriately. As he circled the bases, a YES graphic informed me it was his 17th of the year. What the shit?

2) Top 3rd, man on 2nd, 2 out, no count on Derek Jeter. Derek swung at the first pitch and was badly beaten on a change-up. He grounded out weakly to 3rd. I think a large part of why Cecil was so effective was his use of the change-up versus aggressive hitters in big spots. Jeter got totally abused there, as did Cano in the fourth when he struck out on five straight balls, none of them close.

3) Top 4th, man on 1st and 2nd, 0 out, 0-1 count to Arod. Ball in the dirt, scooted through Buck’s legs and he jumped up with no clue where the ball was. Swisher was not ready to take third. Shoulda, woulda, coulda. It immediately occurred to me as important, but that is not because of any prescience, it’s just because I’m a buzzkill.

4)  Top 4th, man on 1st and 2nd, 0 out, 1-1 count to Arod. Somewhat well struck one hop liner turned into a DP with a high degree of difficulty for both the shortstop and the second baseman. The former had to stick with the hard hit ball to his left and the latter had to barehand an errant shovel pass. Not only was this double play made possible by Swisher’s failure to run the bases aggressively, I think it was a base hit if Gonzalez is not playing at double play depth.

5) Bottom 4th, man on 1st, 1 out, 2-0 on Bautista. Hard to believe, but this pitch was even more hittable than the last one, and number 18 went even further than number 17 (or seemed to anyway, I don’t have the distances). To make matters worse, there was a guy on first via one of the cheapest hits you’ll ever see.

And then a nice subway ride home and a check on the score did nothing to inspire me to catch Sterling’s call of the final few futile innings of the 6-1 loss. Not a good game, and the Rays are only down 3 runs in the seventh right now, so that’s probably an 80-20 shot at another victory for them. Glad I waited on line for that key.

…If I stay here I’ll go knuts…

Miles and ‘Trane. ‘Nuff said.

It might be way too early in the season for the good, fresh corn, but it’s never too early to think about Mexican corn on the cob.

Saveur has the recipe.

[Photo Credit: Bionic Bites]

“I don’t want to make it sappy and say it was love,” Jim Joyce said about the reception he got today at Comerica Park. “But the support I got was just … love.”

Baseball brings us together. It’s a truism that can smack of cliche when invoked in a sentimental or nostalgic frame of mind, but it’s true all the same. And sometimes the game chokes up even the tough guys and the cynics. (When I worked as an intern on Ken Burns’ “Baseball,” I discovered how Burns loved to see his audience cry, especially the tough guys.  “We got tears,” he’d say triumphantly.)

This togetherness is why I chose to write about baseball (and about being a baseball fan) when I started this blog seven-and-a-half years ago. That’s why most of you guys roll through. That’s what we do. Today at work, people that could not care less about baseball were talking about the umpire’s blown call. “WORST CALL EVER” said the headline on the front page of the Daily News. There is nothing like injustice to bring people together, nothing more binding than “He wuz robbed!”

But a funny thing happened on the way to infamy. The two principal characters displayed such authenticity that the moment of greatness prevailed despite Joyce’s terrible mistake. It started with Galarraga, who has been just beautiful. He’s got that vaguely European handsomeness, like his countryman Francisco Cervelli. He looks at people in the eye when he talks to them. I saw a handful of interviews with Galarraga last night and then again this evening and he seemed unfazed by Joyce’s error. He knew what he’d done out there on the field and was still riding the high of that accomplishment. He told the writers that they saw it too.

Everybody knows he got a perfect game. It really doesn’t matter what the record books say. That’s the beauty part. Bud Selig didn’t need to overrule anything.

Galarraga was so at ease with this basic fact that it stripped the drama of a victim. There was no outlet for any outrage. (Now, if the same thing had happened to a jacked-up spaz like Dallas Braden and a hard-nosed blowhard like Joe West it would have been like Wrestlemania and perhaps one of the trashiest scenes since Disco Demolition Night.) But Galarraga didn’t feel persecuted. He felt badly for Joyce. He knew the guy was hurting. After all, it’s got to be every umpire’s worst dream to blow a call of that magnitude. Galarraga didn’t let it ruin anything.

Then of course, Jim Joyce handled himself in such a way that I don’t think it’s an understatement to say that he’s a credit to his profession and to the game. We should all be that forthright, earnest, and professional in face of screwing the pooch. The umpires have been in the news for all the wrong reasons lately, but in what is clearly the biggest mistake by an umpire in years, Joyce was a full-grown man. He didn’t hide. He admitted that he was wrong. He was genuine. I don’t know what more can you ask from a person.

Jim Leyland said as much today. If Joyce had been defiant and arrogant the Tigers’ reaction would have been much different. But Joyce and Galarraga defused a potentially ugly situation and turned it on its head. This isn’t John Hirschbeck and Robbie Alomar patching things up after their dispute; this was unscripted, which is why it is so compelling. The players may be more removed than ever from us these days but this was something we could feel and understand. It was respect and compassion. Joyce and Galarraga will be linked like Ralph Branca and Bobby Thomson, signing autographs together for the rest of their lives.

MLB gave Joyce the option not to work today but he insisted. When the umpires walked onto the field, single-file, Joyce was crying. It was a humbling sight. I shivered trying to imagine myself in a similar spot. Joyce continued to tear-up as the line-up cards were exchanged. The Tigers sent out Galarraga, who stood next to Joyce. They didn’t embrace, but shook hands. Joyce eventually collected himself, and pounded the pitcher in the shoulder. The rest of the umpiring team gave him a bump on the chest and he nodded back, his chin tucked in, eyes still red. Then it was time to go to work.

It was a guy thing and it was a beautiful thing. And it’s why we’ll remember these guys forever. That game last night was transcendent and it brought out the best in these two men. It reminds us that greatness is about much more than being perfect.

[Photo Credit: AP Photo/Paul Sancya]

For Jim Joyce…Bromo, baby.

With the messy explosion of baseball news last night – from Griffey’s retirement to Galarraga’s excruciating blown perfect game – it was a little hard for me to get my head into the Yankees’ 9-1 all expenses included Royal Caribbean cruise of a win over the Orioles (if memory serves, already the 123rd Yanks-O’s game of the season). Not that I’m complaining: watching the New York hitters tee off while Phil Hughes figures it all out is hardly the worst way you could spend a summer night, and you need to store up games like this one to keep yourself warm during the long cold winter.

I saw the Yankees’ lineup yesterday afternoon and thought: now that’s more like it. No Marcus Thames,  Randy Winn, Juan Miranda or Ramiro Pena; the Yankee outfield once again consists of Swisher, Granderson, and Gardner, as God and Brian Cashman intended, and Jorge Posada made it back from the DL faster than he goes from first to third (even if he’s only cleared to DH for now). But it was Robinson Cano, who’s been here all long, who led the way again, hitting early and often: his single in the second began a four-run rally that set the tone for the rest of the game, though ensuing doubles from Granderson, Gardner, and Swisher [contented sigh] did not hurt either. Cano homered in the seventh, too, with the Yankees in tack-on mode, his 12th of the year – and not surprisingly, he’s got more longballs against the O’s than any other team. Granderson, Swisher, and A-Rod all had themselves big games too, and Posada, so far, is moving better than an aging catcher with a fractured foot has any right to move.

Meanwhile, back on the mound, Phil Hughes looked comfortably in charge. After the game, he told reporters that he realized early on that his cutter wasn’t cutting it, and mostly stayed away from it thereafter – the kind of on-the-fly adjustment that, coming from a young developing pitcher like Hughes or, across town, Mike Pelfrey, warms my cold shriveled heart. His only notable stumble came in the sixth, when Ty Wigginton — the Oriole’s best hitter to date, which says quite a bit about the 2010 Orioles — singled in Miguel “Ty Wigginton is hitting how much better than me?” Tejada. (Perhaps in a misguided effort to overcompensate, Tejada would go on to get thrown out at home plate with his team down 8-1 in the eighth inning).

Chad Gaudin pitched the last two innings, allowing a few hits but no runs and lowering his ERA to… uh, 7.43, but hey, it’s a start. Have a good day, Banterers, and if you can’t manage that, at least be glad that you’re not Jim Joyce right now.

Yankees closer Mariano Rivera, after seeing a replay of the call Wednesday night at Yankee Stadium, said of about Joyce, “It happened to the best umpire we have in our game. The best. And a perfect gentleman. Obviously, it was a mistake. It was a perfect game. It’s a shame for both of them, for the pitcher and for the umpire. But I’m telling you he is the best baseball has, and a great guy. It’s just a shame.”
(Verducci, SI.com)

Armando Galarraga made history tonight, tossing the first 28-0ut perfect game. The Tigers beat the Indians, 3-0 and this game will be remembered for a long time for all the wrong reasons.

In the top of the ninth, Mark Grudzielanek hit a deep drive to left center field. The perfect game looked lost. Then Austin Jackson caught up to it and made a terrific catch. Fate was on Galarraga’s side. With two out, Jason McDonald hit a ground ball to the right side. First baseman, Miguel Cabrera, moved to his right, fielded the ball, then waited a fraction of a second before throwing to Galarraga, who was covering first.

Cabrera raised his arms as soon as he threw the ball and the runner was out. But Jim Joyce called him safe. He blew the call. Right in front of him. Blew it. Trevor Crowe grounded out for the 28th and final out.

I felt sick to my stomach watching it on TV. It was like getting kicked in the gut or lower. The fans in Detroit booed. It seemed like half of the Tigers team had to be restrained from jumping Joyce whose professional life may never be the same after one blown call. From what little I know about umpires, they take their mistakes to heart, so I can only assume this is the worst night of Jim Joyce’s life (and I feel for him as I imagine nobody feels worse about this than he does).

After the game, Joyce told reporters, “I just cost that kid a perfect game,” Joyce said. “I thought he beat the throw. I was convinced he beat the throw, until I saw the replay.”

Joyce’s mistake surely spoiled the best night of Galarraga’s life, but instead of letting this sickening feeling overshadow Galarraga’s brilliance, let’s just flip it—this was a wonderful feat. Joyce’s mistake only allowed Galarraga to accomplish something even more unique than a perfect game. A 28-out perfecto.

No matter what the record books say, this was perfection by Galarraga, plus one. An untimely mistake by Jim Joyce can’t spoil what we all saw and know to be true.

[Photo Credit: AP Photo/Paul Sancya]

Here is Joe Posnanski’s take; and here is audio from Joyce. Listening to Joyce, I got choked-up. You can hear how badly he felt, that he knew it wasn’t just a call, it was a “historic” call. Man, oh, man.

After a couple of poor outings, Phil Hughes pitched well against the Indians over the weekend and looks to continue his excellent first-half against the O’s tonight in the Bronx.

Go git ’em, Hoss and…

Let’s Go Yan-Kees.

[Photo Credit: N.Y. Daily News]

I don’t have a lot of movie memories before Star Wars which came out a few days before I turned six. My grandmother took me to see a Lassie movie at Radio City, but otherwise, Star Wars is the first movie I remember seeing in the theater. I went with my brother and my Old Man. A few years later, The Empire Strikes Back was a seminal summer movie–I saw it seven times in the theater, still a record for me–followed by summer blockbusters like Raiders, E.T., Ghostbusters, and later, Back to the Future.

Summer blockbusters. Which ones were your favorites as a kid (even as a grown kid)?

Yo, so dig this: our very own scrabble-lovin’ Diane Firstman will participate in ESPN Zone’s 3rd Annual Sports Spelling Bee. The Spelling Bee will take place at ESPN Zone in Times Square tomorrow, June 3rd at 7:00pm. ESPN Zone is located at 1472 Broadway on the corner of 42nd Street. If you around, head on over and provide some BRONX CHEER for our gal!

Say WERD! (That’s w-e-r-d, you n-e-r-d)

[Photo Credit: The Baltimore Sun]

Crying Tiger Pork

Yesterday, my pal Jon DeRosa hipped me to Jonathan Gold, a famous food writer from L.A. who won a Pulitzer Prize for his work a few years back. I’d never heard of Gold before but a quick goodle search of his columns for the L.A. Weekly was enough to hook me.

I went back into the New Yorker archives and checked out a profile on Gold by Dana Goodyear. Here is Gold at a Thai joint called Jitlada in a strip mall in Hollywood:

Gold started to reminisce about the spiciness of the species kua kling that Jazz had ever served him, the first day they met. “It was glowing, practically incandescent,” he said. “You bite into it and every alarm in your body goes off at once. it’s an overload on your pain receptors, and then the flavors just come through. It’s not that the hotness overwhelms the dish, which is what people who don’t understand Thai cooking always say, but that the dish is revealed for the first time–its flavor–as you taste details of fruit and tumeric and spices that you didn’t taste when it was merely extremely hot. It’s like a hallucination.”

I like spicy food but am a rank amateur when it comes to real spice. I’ve never tried anything as intense as kua kling but agree that beyond the initial shock of hotness, the flavors in Thai cuisine really develop and it is an incredible experience.

I also thought this was interesting:

Eating in the San Gabriel Valley, Gold has observed that, unlike in New York, where immigrants quickly broaden and assimilate their cooking styles to reflect the city’s collective idea of “Chinese food,” the insular nature of Los Angeles allows imported regional cuisines to remain intact, traceable almost to the the restaurant owners’ villages of origins. “The difference is that in New York they’re cooking for us,” Gold told me. “Here they’re cooking for themselves.”

I’m sure there are plenty of restaurants in New York that cook for themselves but I think regional cooking as a reflection of L.A.’s “I vant to be alone” sensibility makes all the sense in the world.

Here is Gold’s 99 Essential L.A. restaurants. Dig ’em, smack.

[Photo Credit: Jitlada.com]

Our friend Todd Drew passed away almost a year-and-a-half ago. In the days after his death, I coped with the sadness by staying busy. I didn’t want to sit with the pain. We talked about Todd on the site as the Banter sat shiva. What can we do? The rest of the Banter writers and I talked about it. What about a compilation of Todd’s work, from his blog Yankees for Justice, and his Shadow Games columns here at the Banter?

Then Diane Firstman suggested that we compile the Yankee Stadium Memories series into a book. It would have a broader appeal. Made sense to me. So when Skyhorse approached me about doing just that, I knew we had the perfect farewell to Todd.

I’m proud to announce that Skyhorse will release Bronx Banter Presents: Lasting Yankee Stadium Memories this October. The collection features 60 essays including 25 entirely new pieces (the Amazon link above has some errors that will be corrected shortly). And none other than Yogi Berra penned the foreword. The book features original work from the likes of Richard Ben Cramer, Tony Kornheiser, Tom Boswell, Leigh Montville, Pete Hamill, Charles Pierce, John Schulian, William Nack, Steve Rushin and Alan Schwarz.

Marilyn Johnson, Tyler Kepner, Neil DeMause, Ted Berg and I have essays on the new Stadium. Todd’s wife, Marsha, collaborated with me on the final piece in the book, a bittersweet memory of her view from the season-ticket seats in the new place that Todd didn’t live to see. It is the perfect ending. The book is introduced by Todd’s wonderful Stadium memory.

I lost a battle with the publisher in an effort to get all of the Stadium Memories that appeared on-line into the book. I was left to make some painful choices (and the writers whose work didn’t make the final cut were gracious and professional when they didn’t need to be and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that).  Of the essays that first appeared here on the Banter, close to two-thirds have been revised–condensed, mostly to make room for as many as possible–and I think vastly improved.

I’m exceedingly proud of the book. The entire Banter staff had a hand in putting it together and making it as strong as possible. I think this collection stands out for its depth and diversity. There are pieces from Yankee fans and Yankee-haters, New York beat writers and columnists, novelists and actors, New Yorkers and out-of-towners, transplants and visitors. The essays are, at turns, touching and sentimental, vulgar and hilarious, thoughtful and and irreverent, almost always intelligent—a true reflection of Bronx Banter.

I think Todd would dig it and I hope that you do too.

[Photo Credit: Baseball-Fever.com, N.Y. Daily News]

For all the passionate Banterites out there…

Ocean Park #83, By Richard Diebenkorn (1975)

Cliff checks in on the MVP races over at SI.com. Leading the AL? That man Morneau:

Last year, Joe Mauer led the American League in all three slash-stat categories (batting average/on-base percentage/slugging), led the majors in the first two and was a nearly unanimous selection for AL MVP. On Sunday morning, Mauer’s teammate Morneau was leading the AL in all three slash stats and the majors in the first two (Miguel Cabrera passed Morneau in slugging on Sunday). Morneau plays a position with a much higher average level of production and isn’t as highly regarded defensively as Mauer even there, but the slash-stat triple crown should be enough to guarantee a hitter the MVP award. To put the accomplishment in context: Mauer was the first American Leaguer to accomplish the feat since George Brett in 1980; only four NL hitters have pulled it off since Stan Musial did it in 1948, the most recent being Barry Bonds in 2004. I’d be surprised to see Morneau regain and maintain the lead in all three categories, but given how close he is to that accomplishment at this point in the season, he has to be the favorite for AL MVP.

I’m with a guy who thinks Wyoming is a country. You think you got problems?

John Cazale (left) apparently ad-libbed that line in Dog Day Afternoon. Cazale was in five movies: Godfather I, Godfather II, The Conversation, Dog Day Afternoon and The Deer Hunter. Pound-for-pound perhaps the greatest movie career in history. And he was terrific in all of them.

Cazale, who died of bone cancer before The Deer Hunter was released, is the subject of a documentary tonight on HBO.

I’m so there.

The Silver Moon Bakery on 105th street and Broadway is: expensive, friendly, just a little bit pretentious, but most certainly delicious. I had an apricot brioche the other day. Cost me three bucks and it was so worth it. Worth waiting on line for and worth going back for that alone.

Ya heard?

[Photo Credit: The Wandering Eater]