LL? Special Ed? How best to end a week of Young Emcees?

How ’bout them both?

I never get tired of this one (never could do the running man):

Near the end of Manhattan, Woody Allen lies on a couch and talks into a tape recorder:

Well, all right, why is life worth living? That’s a very good question. Well, there are certain things, I guess, that make it worthwhile.  Like what? OK… for me…Ooh, I would say Groucho Marx, to name one thing. And Willie Mays.And… the second movement of the Jupiter Symphony. And… Louis Armstrong’s recording of Potato Head Blues. Swedish movies, naturally. Sentimental Education by Flaubert. Marlon Brando, Frank Sinatra. Those incredible apples and pears by Cezanne. The crabs at Sam Wo’s. Tracy’s face.

I’ve never sat down and come up with a list myself but last night a friend of mine showed me the folloing Laurel and Hardy clip. Now, I’ve never been enamoured with Laurel and Hardy in the same way I am with Buster Keaton or the Marx Brothers, but this scene brightened my week and reminded me of some things really do make life worth living.

The Super Bowl will have come and gone and in less than two weeks, spring training will begin.

The Yanks are still the champs and this year brings the tension of a possible repeat. Winning consecutive championships is one of the hardest things to accomplish in team sports. Be interesting to see how they react. 

There is no reason not to think that this is gunna be another exciting year…

The spring crop of baseball books is just around the corner and I’m especially eager to read Howard Bryant’s biography of Hank Aaron. Closer to home, there are two baseballish memoirs of interest, The Cardboard Gods: An All-American Tale Told through Baseball Cards, by former Toaster pal, Josh Wilker, and 90% of the Game Is Half Mental: And Other Tales from the Edge of Baseball Fandom, by our own Emma Span. In a baseball round-up from Library Journal, the word is such on Emma’s book:

A warm and funny memoir (casual swearing included) by freelance writer Span, consisting of separate essay-chapters relating to her own experience of baseball, from her father’s nurture over scorecards, through her time (2006–07) as sportswriter for the Voice, to observations of what the game brings out in all of us around this country and beyond—players, writers, and fans included. This will be especially enjoyed by Span’s twenty-something peers who follow the Mets or Yankees. She has a refreshingly unassuming and appealing voice.

Josh and Emma are not only friends but I think they are two of the most interesting and engaging writers to emerge from the baseball blogosphere. I’m so excited for them both and I hope that their books get the attention and praise they deserve. This is just the first you’ve heard about both projects in this space.

Ya Hoid?

[Photo Credit: ckaroli]

I am a bona fide vinegar junkie. Much to the wife’s chagrin, I’ve got over a dozen bottles at a time, and can’t keep any of them neat or clean. I’ll cop to it–I’ve got a sticky problem. I denied it for years, but I’m like Pig Pen, man. Emily is always harumphing, “How come this counter is so damn sticky?!” And I shout back, “I wiped it down twice!” Which isn’t always the case, but I usually try to clean after myself a little bit.

Then, one time when she was out of town for a few days, and I was in the apartment and I’ll discovered it for myself–I am sticky. What the hell, dude? I make a mess. Hey, we all have our flaws.

But back to the finer things in life, namely, vinegar. This here is one of my favorite products of all-time, an aged red wine vinegar from Spain.

It is not nearly as distinct and syrupy as aged Balsamic vinegar, but it is a little sweet and mellow. Anyhow, I think it is the bomb and use it constantly. It isn’t cheap, but for twenty bucks it makes a terrific gift. You can buy it here.

Our two cats, with that certain Bronx attitude.

Ms. October, this is for youski.

New Year, Same Story…

While we’re on the subject of food, check out this article (and video) on a simple fried rice dish from the Times’ Mark Bittman.

[Photo Credit: Evan Sung]

There is nothing as discouraging as a weak pepper mill. Or should I say, there is nothing as satisfying as a good one. The feel in your hands, the sound of a coarse crunch. There are many good pepper mills, of course, but when the good people at Cook’s Illustrated recommended The Magnum as the best of the best, I tried it and was converted. Never mind that it sounds like a vibrator. It is a simple design, efficient and wonderful. I have the bigger model, and if I had to do it again, the small one would do just fine.

Either way, Magnum Force is the way to go.

And yes, that’s what she said.

Last week’s signing of Randy Winn was met with a thud the likes we haven’t heard since the Road Runner was leading Wile E. Coyote off of cliff after cliff. The reaction appeared to have little to do with the clusterf— that proved to be the back-and-forth hearsay between Brian Cashman and Scott Boras regarding Johnny Damon. No, it was more that the Yankees actually committed a seven-figure dollar amount to, well, Randy Winn, and didn’t loosen the waistband for the once Unfrozen Caveman Outfielder.

Some of us are still trying to wrap our brains around the pretzel logic that led to the release of a soon-to-be 36-year-old who, despite his defensive foibles, has a stroke tailor made for the New Yankee Stadium and is a perfect fit for the Yankee lineup, only to sign a soon-to-be 36-year-old who is, um, Randy Winn.

There was a great deal of rancor in the Yankeeland Blogosphere in the days following the Winn deal. Over at the Yankeeist, Larry Koestler, a friend to the Banter (well, this Banterer, anyway) likens the Winn acquisition to that of Tony Womack:

Randy Winn…may have at one time been a reasonable ballplayer, but that was back when Honus Wagner was suiting up for the Buccos. I know he’s coming aboard as the fourth outfielder/platoonmate, but sweet Jesus we’d have been better off flushing the money directly down the toilet. It would’ve taken what — an extra $3-$4 million to get Damon back into the fold? We couldn’t do that, but we could spend a third of the presumed cost of Damon on an absolute and utter complete waste of space like Winn? Better to have let Gardner at least try to hold the position down — I’m not even much of a Gardner fan but I’d still rather Grit in there every day than waste any at-bats on the second coming of Wilson Betemit.

Honestly, Brian Cashman knows better than this. Signing Randy Winn and his sub-.700 OPS in 2009 for any amount is craziness. It doesn’t make any sense nor fit with the Yankees’ work-the-pitcher, high-OBP MO.

Oh, but it gets better. The New Stadium Insider notes that Winn was the last straw in pushing a certain 2009 season ticket holder to the point of canceling his plans to upgrade in 2k10.

Backtracking a bit to Koestler’s item, it’s important to note that earlier in the piece, he shows startling similarities between Winn’s weighted on-base average over the past four seasons, and Womack’s during the last four years of his career. Combining Winn and Brett Gardner, you basically have the same skill set (.325 OBP, .700 OPS, etc.). In other words, two people providing replacement-level numbers. Not good if you’re banking on Curtis Granderson summoning his 2007 self and Nick Swisher repeating his regular-season production of last year.

Maybe left-field should be considered an afterthought. Consider that when the Yankees went on their dynastic tear in the late 1990s and early part of the oughts, left field featured the All-Star cast of Gerald Williams, Tim Raines, Darryl Strawberry, Chad Curtis, Ricky Ledee, Shane Spencer, Ryan Thompson, Chuck Knoblauch, Rondell White, and Juan Rivera. The Yankees made six World Series trips in eight years with that motley crew because the other eight members of the lineup were able to make up for whatever deficiencies existed by the 399 sign. This Yankee team is good, but is it good enough to overcome left field, the unknowns of Granderson and Swisher, and despite their productivity, the ever-increasing age of Jorge Posada, Alex Rodriguez and Derek Jeter?

Perhaps a more apt comparison to this year’s left field situation is the right field situation of 2002, when a noncommittal Joe Torre rolled out a combination of Spencer and the inimitable John Vander Wal on a platoon basis. Spencer, despite his desire to be an everyday player, never recaptured the bottled lightning of September 1998. At least, he never came close enough to putting up numbers worthy enough to merit his everyday presence in the lineup. Vander Wal eventually regressed into what he always was: a pinch hitter. The two of them gave way to Enrique Wilson playing right field against the Mets. Wilson misplayed a couple of balls so badly that within days, the Yankees traded for the ball player formerly known as Raul Mondesi.

If history repeats itself this year, Ramiro Peña will have to make an emergency start in left and bungle it so badly that in a fit of panic, Cash will trade for Milton Bradley by the Fourth of July.

This is all figuring, of course, that Granderson is playing center field and not left. Certain pundits on certain afternoon drive radio shows have already put Granderson in left, and have said that Winn was not a terrible signing, Nick Johnson was an upgrade and a solid No. 2 hitter, and Gardner is not a terrible player, either.

We’ll find out soon enough, right?

Another youngster…this one straight outta Connecticut:

My wife calls me a food snob, which in many ways I am. I like plenty of junk food too, but as I’ve gotten older, my tastes have gotten more refined. “Snooty Ham,” is what the wife calls anything but Virginia Ham, and she takes great pleasure in busting my chops.

I’m more of an enthusiast than an elitest but there are some things that I’ve grown so attached to, it is hard a culinary life without them. First up, salt. I’ve traditionally used kosher salt for just about everything but over the past few years have experimented with a bunch of different sea salts, especially fleur de sel.

Then I saw the light: Maldon Salt. 

It has become my favorite finishing salt or table salt, easy to manipulate. The texture is wonderful and the flavor is sharp. Yeah, it is pricey, but well worth trying.

In going through some of correspondence from my Old Man, I found this, the start of a letter he wrote to me when I was 19 and spending the summer visiting my mother’s relatives in Belgium:
 

It is with more than a little glee that I send you these clippings from the several New York papers. It is not often that the good guys get theirs and the bad guys get what’s coming to them but Mr. Vincent would seem to have made the latter portion of that sentence come to pass. I don’t know whether it is the solution that I would have wished for but it ain’ta bad’un. Being required to divest himself of all control of the Yankees, and doing so as publicly as it must be done, must tick in Steinbrenner’s throat and that makes me feel very good indeed. Whether Vincent is aware of it or not, he has done the citizenry a great service which they were powerless to do for themselves.

July 31, 1990

This from the same man who would only consider believing in Hell if only Walter O Malley could burn in it for eternity. Pop hated bullies, which is ironic because he was one himself.

Still, for all that Steinbrenner has contributed to the success of the team–and he has certainly done that–when Fay Vincent punished him in 1990 it was the first glimmer of hope that the Yankees could rebound. At the time, I believed that the Yankees would never be great again until he was gone. That wasn’t the case, of course, though the Dynasty of the ’90s was formed during his second hiatus from the game. It’s hard to imagine a late-bloomer like Bernie Williams being afforded the opportunity to grow during the ’80s.

[Illustration by Lyndon Hayes]

I used to make an effort to get to the theater to see all five Oscar films before the ceremony. Looking back on those years through glasses smudged with the fingerprints of two grabby toddlers, it wasn’t that much of an effort after all. But even if getting to a movie theater these days didn’t involve an absurd symphony of conspirators, bribes and logistics, the Oscar race of 2009 would have marked the end of my quest to watch ’em all.

Ten films to be nominated for Best Picture? I am never one to pine for a golden age of film or ballplayers when they “still told good stories” and “played the right way” but even the most ardent supporter of the current cinema cannot possibly think there are 10 films out there worth nominating for best picture. Can they?

Well, here, I have to leave a wide berth to stand corrected. I haven’t seen one critically acclaimed film in a theater this year and am just getting into the 2009 portion of the Netflix queue, so maybe there are 10 worthy choices out there. But whenever I find there is a great film that is shut out, it’s rarely because it got squeezed by 5 other great ones – it’s because there is some idiotic choice in there. I recently devoured Pictures at a Revolution by Mark Harris. If a truly worthy film gets denied, it’s usually by a “Dr. Dolittle.”

I know we often discuss the futility of debating the MVP and Cy Young awards. The criteria are opaque and the judges are inaccessible. Yet the MVP award is a freshly Windexed pane and the sportswriters are your first cousins compared to Oscar. If debating the MVP is futile, debating the Oscars is masochistic.

But in the same way that Jeter’s 1999 and 2006 MVP robberies will always stick in my craw, Gladiator felling Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon or (insert your big disappointment here) will always feel like a typo in the history book. I want history to reflect – and validate I guess – my interpretation of reality. And when there is some cognitive chasm, I tend to wail about it. So here come this year’s nominations, anything to wail about?

Are the Twins about to sign Joe Mauer to a long-term extension?

The rumors are flying.

[Drawing by Peter Chen]

This week, we’ll hip you to some cool tracks recorded by young uns.

First up, these cats..Fifth graders, y’all.

Just a couple of few things for you.

Ledger beat writer Marc Carig has just started his own blog. Sure to be a regular spot for Yankees fans. Welcome aboard, Marc. Site looks dope. 

Hank Waddles, a regular contributor to the Banter, has just launched a new site for his wonderful series of interviews with writers: Behind the Book.  Check, check it out.

(more…)

Been thinking a lot about the term “recluse” this weekend. There is such a negative association with it. But is it such a bad thing? Anyhow, this caught my eye–a short interview with the “reclusive” creator of the Calvin and Hobbes comic strip, Bill Watterson, in the Cleveland Plain Dealer:

Readers became friends with your characters, so understandably, they grieved — and are still grieving — when the strip ended. What would you like to tell them?

BW: This isn’t as hard to understand as people try to make it. By the end of 10 years, I’d said pretty much everything I had come there to say.

It’s always better to leave the party early. If I had rolled along with the strip’s popularity and repeated myself for another five, 10 or 20 years, the people now “grieving” for “Calvin and Hobbes” would be wishing me dead and cursing newspapers for running tedious, ancient strips like mine instead of acquiring fresher, livelier talent. And I’d be agreeing with them.

I think some of the reason “Calvin and Hobbes” still finds an audience today is because I chose not to run the wheels off it.

I’ve never regretted stopping when I did.

I think this is a rare quality in a writer, columnist, artist, you name it–the ability to leave sooner rather than later, especially when you are a success. I was duly impressed with the visual wonder of Avatar but I would have been that much more impressed if the movie was an hour shorter.