The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is one of those runaway best-sellers you see everywhere–on the street, in the subway, in airports. It was the first of three books–the third, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, has just been released here in the States–by Stieg Larsson, a Swedish left-winged journalist-turned-novelist. The Millennium Triology have been an international sensation but the story behind the books may be equally as compelling. Larsson died before the books were published and his long-time companion has been in a painful fight against Larsson’s father and younger brother.

Eva Gabrielsson, Larsson’s partner, has been portrayed sympathetically in all the accounts I’ve read of the story; she doesn’t come across as the villain in Charles McGrath’s fine–and fair–piece in yesterday’s Magazine, but Larson’s father and brother are not demonized either:

The Larssons do not strike me as greedy people. They drive small, inexpensive cars and live in modest apartments, and if they wanted to change their lifestyle they would probably have to do it somewhere other than Umea, where conspicuous consumption is frowned upon. I got the impression, in fact, that Stieg’s estate was a burden, a weighty responsibility they weren’t prepared for, perhaps didn’t feel quite up to and are still trying to figure out. Joakim gave me a long explanation, which I couldn’t quite follow, of why the Swedish tax laws make it hard to give money away, and yet slowly they have begun to do so, recently donating five million kronor, or $660,000, to Expo, the magazine Stieg co-founded.

…But ultimately the dispute is really about Stieg Larsson himself, an exceptional young man, idealistic and artistic, who in classic fashion left the boondocks and made something of himself in the wider world. Who was he, really — a Norrlander or a Stockholmer? And who gets to claim him now? The emotional stakes on both sides are huge. No matter how close he was or wasn’t to his family, he was clearly a central figure to them — someone to be admired and cherished — as he was to Gabrielsson. The tragedy is that they can’t figure out a way to share him.

[Photo Credit: Lars Tunbjork for The New York Times]

Meanwhile, at the food court…

Is a Shake Shack worth waiting on line for forty minutes?

You tell me.

Here’s some batting practice shots…

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I stopped by 5 Pointz, the graffiti oasis in Queens, on my way out to Citi Field yesterday. It was incredible. Artists were busy working, a band played, couple of kids were breaking. Good vibes all round.

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Hat Design by Ben DeRosa

This is a collaborative effort of words, numbers (Chris & Jon DeRosa) and original artwork (Ben DeRosa) dedicated to the memory of Joseph DeRosa, our grandfather, who pretty much hated every personnel move his beloved New York Mets ever made.

In Parts 1 and 2, we relived the meat of the Mets championship years. We now revisit the end of the 70s, when the Mets, disco and SkyLab succumbed to the inevitable pull of gravity.

1976 – 2nd Place NL East

Hitters

Hurlers

Anticipation for the first ever Bridge & Tunnel Series ran high as the Mets had their best club since 1973, and Yankees were charged up under new skipper Billy Martin. Each led their divisions into September, but the while Yankees went wire-to-wire by a stride, the Mets couldn’t shake Philadelphia. Rallying behind former Mets fireman Tug McGraw, the “You Gotta Believe” Phils snuck ahead at the finish line. Cincy beat the Phils and then swept the Yanks for their second straight title. The disappointment got the best of M. Donald Grant and, believing the team needed a spark to get back to the top, replaced manager Yogi Berra with veteran third baseman Joe Torre (“Joe Who?” wondered the writers accustomed to the Mets being managed by heroes of ‘50s New York baseball scene). Shocked and hurt to be cast aside despite his successful record, Berra did not return to Shea Stadium for Old Timer’s Day for another ten years.

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Mike Pelfry pitched better than Phil Hughes and the Mets got key outs when they needed them most. The Yanks staged rallies in the seventh, eighth and ninth innings but they couldn’t get over the hump as the Mets survived for a 5-3 win. Yanks first three batters went hitless and the Mets fans will rule the roost on the 7 train back into Manhattan. Most frustrating, for sure.

Nuts.

Yanks, Mets Game Two.

Internet connection is a beaut, once again.

I took a mess o flix before and I’ll post ’em late tonight.

Meanwhile, Let’s Go Yan-Kees!

Here’s some flicks from around the park last night.

This is a collaborative effort of words, numbers (Chris & Jon DeRosa) and original artwork (Ben DeRosa) dedicated to the memory of Joseph DeRosa, our grandfather, who pretty much hated every personnel move his beloved New York Mets ever made.

In Part 1: Meet the Amazins, we covered 1966-1971, the infancy of the Mets dynasty, as they consolidated their young talent and took one huge step forward, but two minor steps backwards in seek of their first world championship.

1972 1st Place NL East

Hitters

Hurlers

Patience paid off the next year. Yogi Berra, taking over for the late and lamented Gil Hodges, committed a rotation slot to live-armed but underachieving 25-year-old right-hander Nolan Ryan. Ryan was another one of those great deals-not-made. Rumors at the time had him nearly traded to California Angels for 30-year-old shortstop Jim Fregosi. But with bats like Jackson, Otis, and Singleton’s in the outfield, the Mets decided they could take a chance on a light-hitting infield. The slumping Cleon Jones, who never really was a first baseman, lost playing time to John “The Hammer” Milner. And Ryan broke out with 17 wins and 311 strikeouts. The Mets won 98 games, defeated the talented Reds in the NLCS, and bested the Detroit Tigers in the World Series to bring New York City its first championship in a decade. Reggie was the series MVP.

1973 1st Place NL East

Hitters

Hurlers

Led by four stars they’d nearly traded and one they won in a lottery, the 1973 Mets won 105 games and their second consecutive championship. The only stumbling block to this juggernaut was the spirited fight put up by the Cincinnati Reds in the playoffs—a series made famous by Pete Rose taking out Bud Harrelson at second base in the fifth inning of Game 3, and the fight it sparked. Furious at Rose’s apparent bullying of the smaller Harrelson, Shea fans pelted the Cincy outfielder with barrage of the free Reggie Bars passed out at the gate that day. Sparky Anderson had to pull his team off the field.  Mets players begged their fans to calm down while the grounds crew quickly cleared the field of the familiar orange-and-blue-wrapped confections. The Mets and their wild fans outlasted the Reds in five games, and it was on to the World Series against the game but overmatched Oakland A’s. Reggie added another Series MVP trophy to his regular season NL MVP Award.

Of course, ‘72-73 Mets were not merely a great team. They were the great team that ran the Yankees out of New York. If the Mets had somehow let this star-studded back-to-back championship team get away from them, would George Steinbrenner have gone through with his rumored plan to renovate the original Yankee Stadium? As it was, the prospect of playing second-fiddle in Shea Stadium to the city’s #1 team was distasteful enough, and with Mayor John Lindsay wearing his Mets’ cap everywhere, the Yanks were not in a position to hold up the city for a lot of help in the Bronx. Shortly after the series, Steinbrenner announced that the Yanks would move to a state-of-the-art facility in the Meadowlands in 1976.

1974 – 1st Place NL East (tie)

Hurlers

The Mets seemed to be on cruise control in 1974, winning 88 games to finish in a first-place tie with Pittsburgh. They snapped into crisp form in time, however, to win the special best-of-3 playoff with the Pirates, defeat a powerful Dodger team in the NLCS and finally get their revenge on the Orioles in the World Series. The series against the Pirates, with each team wining in their last at bat at home in all three games, is known as the greatest non-postseason series of all time. The bad blood that had simmered for years of ultra-close competition boiled over as the Pirates instigated a brawl during the Mets champagne celebration. To this day, the Pirates and Mets can’t fit in a three game series without a bench-clearer. By the time the World Series rolled round, the Mets were firing on all cylinders, which many attribute to the brawl. The punchless O’s couldn’t put any rallies together against Ryan, Seaver, and Matlack’s shutdown pitching. The series sweep drew comparisons to the Orioles’ own domination of the Dodgers in ’66.

1975 – 1st Place NL East

Hitters

Hurlers

It seemed as if the Mets could just turn it on when they had to, and the team again edged their division rival Pirates in a close race with 93 wins. But winning on muscle memory wouldn’t work against Cincinnati’s retooled Big Red Machine, who swept New York from the playoffs and from their perch as the best team in baseball. Reggie gave a thoughtful, self-critical interview to Sport magazine taking all the blame for the NLCS collapse. “I’m the straw the stirs the drink,” he ruminated. “When we lose, it’s because I stirred it bad.”  Teammates and reporters praised Reggie for his leadership and he inadvertently coined his own enduring nickname: The Straw.

Coming tomorrow… The icy hand of death gropes the dynasty, but not before one last lurch at victory, in Revising a Miracle, Part 3: Bridge & Tunnel.

Win Shares from Bill James & Jim Henzler, Win Shares (2002); ersatz Met stats derived from Baseball Reference’s cool neutralized stats feature.

To see more of Ben’s artwork, check out inkstink.

Yanks 2, Mets 1

Couple of Gents watching the game from the Caesars Club at Citi Field.

“It’s so cozy and comfy in here it’s easy to forget there’s a Stadium outside,” one said to the other.

Meanwhile, Sam Borden has the latest on Javy Vazquez over at Lo-Hud…

I took the 7 train out to the ball game after work today, a hot Friday in May. Walked through Grand Central, moving through the space where people were coming at me from all angles in that way that always reminds me of human Asteroids. Let a packed 7 go by and skipped the local for an Express that beat the local by plenty.

As we passed the great graffiti monument I was listening to “Fool in the Rain” on my iPod, a song I had not heard in years. And it reminded me of so many high school parties and the kind of girls who loved that song caused it moved them so. And we rolled past the graffiti when the song came to the break and goes all Brazil-Bezerk. A nice moment.

I spotted an Asian kid from across the car wearing a navy blue DiMaggio t-shirt. He had sharp shoulders and was listening to his iPod. The car thinned-out as we got closer to Citifield and I approched the guy and asked him, “Why DiMaggio?” And he said DiMaggio was only rivaled by the Babe as the most famous of the old American ball players. His name is Toshi and he is a student from Toyko, here for a few months working on his English. He’s a TV director and hopes to move to New York.

We got off the train together and joined the cattle throng of jerseys, Mets and Yankees gear everywhere. I told Toshi about New York being the melting pot but that most of the fans here were from the suburbs. We said goodnight and I checked in at the press gate and then waited on line for an elevator to take me to the press box on the fifth floor. There is a bank of two elevators but only one was operating. I waited a turn for their be enough room to get on. When I did, we packed in and a bunch of people got off on the third floor. So many new people got on that the elevator operator asked for volunteers to step off and three people got out.

It isn’t exactly quiet in the press box but it is contained and professional. There are the sounds of joshing around, especially now before the game, but it is muted. I know Matt Cerrone has never watched or blogged a game from the press box nor would it ever appeal to him. He’s too much of a fan, he doesn’t want to repress his desire to root. There are tall windows insulating the press box which makes for a stuffy atmosphere. But then the windows are opened and the sounds of the park, the crowd, filter in. The grounds crew is watering the infield, the organist is playing “Come on Feel the Noise.”

It’s fun to be here as a blogger because I am not on assignment, working on a story or deadline. Instead, it’s a game-cast, Banter-style. The good folks at SNY have encouraged me to do my thing so that’s what I’m gunna do. I figure I’ll walk around the park a whole bunch, see what I see and then dip back and give an update. Y’all will be watching the game so I don’t really need to tell you what’s happening there. Instead, I’ll try to get some of the sights n zounds and get back at you.

As Kid Gleeman likes to say, Happy Baseball.

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I couldn’t resist…

Medici Slot-Machine:Object, By Joseph Cornell (1942)

Queens’ finest…

The good folks at SNY have been kind enough to hook the Banter up with press credentials for the Subway Serious this weekend. I’ll be there tonight and tomorrow and Cliff will be there on Sunday. We’ll be live-blogging all three games. Should be a B-A-Double L.

Y’all swing by now, ya hear?

Original Artwork by Ben DeRosa

This is a collaborative effort of words, numbers (Chris & Jon DeRosa) and original artwork (Ben DeRosa) dedicated to the memory of Joseph DeRosa, our grandfather, who pretty much hated every personnel move his beloved New York Mets ever made.

Over at the Hardball Times, one of our favorite baseball writers, the estimable Steve Treder, does these fascinating roster reconstructions, speculating on what might have happened if this or that team hadn’t gone through with some pivotal personnel decisions. In one piece, he imagined what might have become of the Braves had they not passed on Willie Mays. In another, he asked what if the Giants had sorted out their talent correctly in the 1960s. The “what if” scenario that most tantalizes Yankee fans is, of course, “what if the Yankees had held onto the group of prospects they produced in the mid-90s?”

What if the Yankees hadn’t given up on Andy Pettitte and dealt him off the National League in 1994? Then they might not have been so desperate for left-handed pitching that they were willing to swapfuture all-stars Jorge Posada and Mariano Rivera to Detroit for David Wells. While Mariano has earned a reputation as a postseason choker due to his memorable meltdown in his first and only postseason appearance in 2006, it’s quite possible that with a few more chances he might have sorted things out.

What if the Yankee front office saw the charismatic future star they had in Derek Jeter, and hadn’t traded him to the Reds? Unlikely? Sure. But just pretend for a minute that Tony Fernandez had gotten injured at the outset of the 1996 season, and Jeter had gotten a chance to play in pinstripes.

It is difficult, even in the form of a Marvel Comics “What If?” fantasy, to imagine Bernie Williams starring for the Yanks instead of the Sox—when has George Steinbrenner ever given an unproven outfielder 1300 plate appearances to blossom?—but for the sake of argument, let’s just say that George was somehow suspended from making a premature call on Bernie and he roamed centerfield for an entire decade. What then?

With their actual free-agent signings to buttress this up-the-middle talent core, the Yankees might have had some kind of ballclub in the late 90s-early ‘00s.

To indulge such an exercise, you have to imagine the very same people behaving differently, but even still, it is remarkable that such a thin tissue of attitudes and circumstances means the difference between a great team coming together or not. Go back and check the trade rumors swirling around the NL forty years ago, for instance, and you will see that but for a few key decisions, the Amazin’ Mets dynasty of the 1970s might too have been scattered to the winds.

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Okay, so the next time you are in the area, do yourself a favor and hit Szechuan Gourmet, which is on 39th Street between 5th and 6th. I went last night with my friend Mark who has been several times for lunch. He told me it’s considered “the best Szechuan outside of Flushing.” All I know, is that it was wonderful, whether you are up for adventure (Duck Tongue w/Sich. Pepper Corn-Scallion Pesto, Fish Head w/Napa, Bamboo, Cellophane, Smoky Wok Tossed Frogs) or not.

We had a standard appetizer, Szechuan Pork Dumplings w/Roasted Chilli Soy, and they were far and away the most delicious dumplings I’ve ever had–delicate, flavorful with some kick. They were so good, we didn’t let the waiter remove the extra sauce when the dumplings were gone. They seemed to appreciate that, but I wasn’t kidding. I wasn’t giving up that goodness without a fight.

Most of the customers were Asian, large tables of nine, ten people. The wait staff alternated between being polite and dismissive but they were never rude. I love that unpretentious attitude (you can ignore me some cause I’m a gringo just don’t be a jerk about it). It got me to thinking how wonderful Chinese restaurants can be, what a staple they are of New York Life.

Say word.

[Photo Credit: Parla Food]

I like the journeymen. Most fans, and understandably so, gravitate toward the stars. They like the Derek Jeters, the Mark Teixeiras, and the Mariano Riveras. I like those guys, too. You don’t win world championships without star players who can carry the load for long stretches during the regular season and at critical moments in the postseason.

But I’ve always taken greater interest in the lesser players on a team, those who fill a specific role, either in a platoon or coming off the bench. That’s because those guys have to struggle, in some cases just to stay in the big leagues. Because of that, some of those players work harder than your average player. I identify with those players–whether it’s an Oscar Gamble in the 1970s and eighties, a Luis Sojo in the 1990s, or a Glenallen Hill in 2000. Just like those players, I feel I have to work hard just to keep up, whether it’s teaching, making a speech in front of strangers, or writing one of these columns. It’s a struggle for me, too. I’m no Roger Angell, but I believe I can be a solid contributor by working harder (and perhaps learning more) than the next writer.

Marcus Thames is also one of those guys. I like Marcus Thames, and not just because he sent the Red Sox home with a crushing home run in the bottom of the ninth inning on Monday night. Thames is a journeyman. He started out in the Yankee system, having to overcome the label of being a non-prospect. Somehow, he climbed to the Bronx. He hit a home run in his first major league at-bat against a tall left-hander named Randy Johnson. Still, there were people who didn’t believe in him. Still, he had to prove himself. The Yankees didn’t believe. They traded him to the Rangers for an aging Ruben Sierra. The Rangers didn’t believe either. They granted him free agency, which paved the way for Thames to travel north and sign with the Tigers.

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A New York City Classic:

The Yanks look to avoid a two-game series loss to the first-place Rays tonight. Here’s hoping Andy Pettitte has another good outing, nobody gets hoit, and the Yanks make like Benny Blanco from the Bronx and play like the World Champs they are, walking wounded and all.

Who is coming up? What’s the haps? As usual, the fellas over at Lo-Hud have it covered.