A little Thanksgiving treat via Hulu. The complete documentary film, The Life and Times of Hank Greenberg.

Enjoy!

My Old Man was certain about a great many things–that he was “second to none,” as a fan of Jackie Robinson, that the United States was the best country in the World, and that New York was the capital of the World but also that the tap water was better on the Upper West Side than it was on the Upper East Side. He was not a boxing fan but when I was a kid I remember asking him who was the greatest fighter of all-time. I figured it had to be Ali, but he didn’t pause when he told me that “Ray Robinson was, pound-for-pound, the greatest fighter that ever lived.”

 The Old Man wasn’t alone in this assessment, yet it wasn’t just Robinson’s accomplishments in the ring that appealed to him: it was his style.

Robinson’s elan is mentioned in  a complimentary review of a new Sugar Ray Robinson biography today in the Times:

The jazz that filled Robinson’s head, and that he loved his entire life, spills over into Mr. Haygood’s book like a buoyant soundtrack. Robinson befriended many jazz players over the years (Miles Davis, Billy Eckstine, Dizzy Gillespie). He loved their style, and they loved his. As Mr. Haygood writes, Sugar Ray was “the first modern prizefighter to take culture — music and grace and dance — into the ring with him.”

It was something to see. Robinson really brought it all: the beautiful smile, the finely chiseled body, the thin mustache and wavy hair, the coiled ease with which he moved. Mr. Haygood captures his grace and power, at many disparate moments, as well as it’s been captured: “At times whirling around the ring — as if moving from rock to rock across a shallow lake — he seemed the epitome of lightness and balance, until he stopped to unload a series of punches that drew gasps from onlookers.”

First, the book on Louis Armstrong, now this–I’ve got some reading to do this winter.

The baseball season never really ends anymore. Not after the last out of the World Serious, or after the awards are handed out. How can it be over with the winter meetings just a few weeks off? While we wait for the trades and rumors there is a lull, and when you get right down to it, spring training can’t come soon enough. Perhaps less so this year for Yankees fans, but you know what I mean.

Yet no season is complete until Roger Angell weighs in with his recap in The New Yorker, which he has been doing for close to fifty years, a truly remarkable run. Angell turned 89 this September and is still at it. The pieces aren’t as long as they once were, but that’s understandable. It’s like wanting another great movie out of Scorsese or another great novel from Pete Dexter–after awhile, you start feeling greedy. There is still something reassuring about Angell being around to tie a bow on what we all just saw that won’t be replaced once he stops writing. It is a part of the season, just like the MVP awards, just like the winter meetings.

Unfortunately, Angell’s latest is not available on-line. It’s funny, since I get a subscription, I printed out a copy a few days ago, but it didn’t feel exactly right until I got the actual magazine last night. The print is bigger in the magazine, and there is just something about the printed word on the page that has more weight than it does on a computer screen, or even a print-out from the computer.

Here are a few highlights:

On Alex Rodriguez:

I think A-Rod will always be a little beyond us. We can used to his money more easily than to his outlandish talent and his physical gifts; standing near him in the dugout at times, I’ve had the impression that I’m within touching distance of a new species. The games this fall set him free, at least for now, and in the process released me from the ranks of sullen doubters. I’ve begun to think that if Alex Rodriguez–A-Rod, of all people–can come such a distance in one season then maybe baseball is coming out of its long funk after all.

On Chase Utley tying Reggie Jackson’s World Series home runs mark with five:

There was passing speculation that Utley would supplant Jackson in legend were he to waft another, but it died of unlikelihood. Reggie, discussing all this with the News columnist Mike Lupica back at the Stadium before the last game, simply murmured, “Come on.” He pointed to the adjacent centerfield stands, with their line of standup drinkers above Monument Park in the new configuration, and said, “My fifth is in the fucking bar.”

On Godzilla Matsui’s performance in Game Six:

I can’t remember a closing performance anything like this, or the feeling, while it was happening, that I quickly needed to thank Hideki Matsui–with a bow or something–not just for tonight but for every game of his seven years of super-pro service with the Yankees. His straight-back, left-handed stance, with that almond-colored bat held still; his broad-shouldered, slashing cuts at anything up in the zone; his slightly tilted vertical style of running; the trim black hair just touching his uniform at the nape; the cracked smile–we knew all this, certainly, but in some oddly formal and removed fashion, because he was Japanese and because he didn’t speak English easily. His silence kept him old-fashioned: a ballplayer from the black-and-white newspaper-photograph days, before our heroes talked.

According to a report by Mark Feinsand and Bill Madden in today’s Daily News, the Red Sox are making a serious push for Roy Halladay.

Gobble, Gobble.

And speakin’ of boids…here’s one of my all-time favorites:

Yo, dig this, courtesy of Gabe Schechter of the Baseball Hall of Fame, via Bruce Brown (a baseball fan who has been formulating imaginary teams on a daily basis for almost a decade).

“To make the team,” writes Schechter, “you had to play in at least seven seasons with the Yankees without winning a World Series title as a player. The lone exception is manager Clark Griffith, who played only five years with them but had the longest tenure (six years) of any manager who never won a title with them. Here they are (with number of seasons as a Yankee in parentheses).”

C: Rick Cerone (7)
1B: Don Mattingly (14)
2B: Horace Clarke (10)
SS: Roger Peckinpaugh (9)
3B: Randy Velarde (10)
LF: Dave Winfield (10)
CF: Bobby Murcer (13)
RF: Willie Keeler (7)
DH: Ron Blomberg (7)
PH: Jason Giambi (7)
PR: Birdie Cree (8)

SP: Mel Stottlemyre (11)
SP: Fritz Peterson (9)
SP: Tommy John (8)
SP: Mike Mussina (8)
SP: Jack Chesbro (7)
RP: Dave Righetti (11)
RP: Steve Hamilton (8)

MGR: Clark Griffith (6)
Owner: CBS (8)

Bench:
1B: Hal Chase (9)
SS: Kid Elberfeld (7)
OF: Oscar Gamble (7)
IF: Gene Michael (7)
P: Ray Caldwell (9)
P: Sterling Hitchcock (7)
P: Rudy May (7)
P: Jack Quinn (7)
P: Jack Warhop (8)

Mgr – Clark Griffith* (6)
GM- Gene Michael (7 as a player, 5 as GM)
Owner – CBS (8)

Bench and Bullpen
Ray Caldwell (9)
Kid Elberfeld (7)
Oscar Gamble (7)
Jack Warhop (8)

*Hall of Fame
ALL CAPS = All-Star
Bold = Inspiration

Albert Pujols, three-time MVP…and counting.

(I couldn’t resist.)

 Mr. Goldman on Mr. Mauer, Mr. Jeter, Mr. Teixeira and the AL MVP:

Mauer had a historic year at catcher, even having missed the first month, and there should be nothing remotely controversial in his winning the award. What is more interesting is the way the rest of the votes fell, and the apparent perception that Teixeira, a first baseman having a very good but by no means great season. Jeter had a season that ranks among the top 25 by a shortstop in the past 60 years. Both were integral to the success the Yankees experienced this season, but there’s a huge difference between a shortstop contributing at the level that Jeter did and a first baseman doing what Teixeira did.

In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter — Jeter has been robbed in previous awards voting. He wasn’t robbed this time. This is more a cri de coeur against misapprehensions about the replacement value of a great shortstop season versus a good season by a first baseman. Before anyone jumps on me for saying Teixeira’s season was “good,” not “great,” it’s not meant as an insult. It’s just that the hitting standards at first base are so ridiculously high that to call Teixeira’s season great would be ludicrous given the existence of Albert Pujols.

The boy in the middle of the photograph is my great uncle Albert, my grandfather’s brother. The picture must have been taken some time in the 1920s, somewhere in Belgium.

I love his expression. He’s really working, boy, forget smiling.

This winter, we hope the Yankees’ live up to their Business-First image. As Jonah Keri mentioned in the Times the other day, they caught lightening in a bottle with productive seasons from their old-timers (Rivera, Posada, Pettitte, Jeter, Damon and Matsui). That is not likely to happen again. So while we wait out this lull, the hope here is that the Yanks go into 2010 younger.

“Everybody thinks, because you make a lot of money, that you have a lock on happiness. It’s not true…. I most fear boredom and loneliness, life after baseball. Life after baseball equals boredom and loneliness. I don’t want to be a 50-year-old guy sitting and drinking beer in some pickup bar with younger people. I’ve seen it. I don’t want to be that.”
—KEITH HERNANDEZ

Ever read Bill Nack’s terrific profile of Mex Hernandez for SI? From 1986.

It’s a good one.

From Michiko Kakutani’s review of the new Louis Armstrong biography:

Louis Armstrong, a k a Satchmo, a k a Pops, was to music what Picasso was to painting, what Joyce was to fiction: an innovator who changed the face of his art form, a fecund and endlessly inventive pioneer whose discovery of his own voice helped remake 20th-century culture.

His determination to entertain and the mass popularity he eventually achieved, coupled with his gregarious, open-hearted personality, would obscure the magnitude of his achievement and win him the disdain of many intellectuals and younger colleagues, who dismissed much of what he did after 1929 as middlebrow slumming, and who even mocked him as a kind of Uncle Tom.

With “Pops,” his eloquent and important new biography of Armstrong, the critic and cultural historian Terry Teachout restores this jazzman to his deserved place in the pantheon of American artists, building upon Gary Giddins’s excellent 1988 study, “Satchmo: The Genius of Louis Armstrong,” and offering a stern rebuttal of James Lincoln Collier’s patronizing 1983 book, “Louis Armstrong: An American Genius.”

You can order the book, here. Man, it sounds terrific. Which makes sense, because Louis Armstrong is the top of the heap, man.

The Greatest. Everything. Ever.

The AL MVP will be announced shortly. Can’t figure it going to anyone but Mr. Mauer, can you? Derek Jeter had one of his best seasons but Mauer won his third batting title as a catcher and, well, without Mauer, the Twins don’t even sniff the playoffs.  

Update: Mauer makes like Special Ed and takes home the hardware. Fitting.

How about some hardcore?

Yeah, we like it raw.

Been a busy weekend, so I haven’t been round much to post anything on the Banter.

It is sunny and crisp in New York. A nice football Sunday.

Hope y’all are enjoying the weekend.  So dream a little dream and I’ll be back in the saddle come mornin.

I find it hard to believe that the Yankees are seriously shopping Nick Swisher, as indicated by a published report this week. Swisher is currently the only outfielder with any kind of power on the 40-man roster—a fact that isn’t likely to change until the free agent situations of Johnny Damon and Hideki Matsui (if we can even consider him an outfielder anymore) are resolved. With the Yankees showing little interest in either Jason Bay or Matt Holliday, the prospects of a Melky Cabrera-Brett Gardner-Austin Jackson outfield would do little to ease the minds of nerve-wracked Yankee fans.

It’s easy to dismiss Swisher because of his poor postseason, which resulted in his benching in Game Two of the World Series, but that would be a short-sighted approach. This is the same Swisher who hit 29 home runs during the regular season, compiled a near .500 slugging percentage, played a far better right field than predecessor Bobby Abreu, and brought some much needed life and verve to a staid and stagnant clubhouse. Furthermore, Swisher seems to be genuinely liked by his Yankee teammates, in contrast to his days in Chicago, where some of the veteran White Sox resented his non-stop talking.

Then there are the matters of Swisher’s relative youth and his contract status. About to turn 29, Swisher is one of just four Yankee regulars who are under 30 (along with Mark Teixeira, Robinson Cano, and Melky Cabrera). Sure, I wish Swisher would have hit more in the postseason, but a 15-game slump should not completely override a productive regular season. I, for one, hope Swisher returns to the Yankee stable in 2010…

A potential trade between the Yankees and Tigers, centered on Curtis Granderson, has me torn. On the one hand, I love Granderson’s combination of power and speed, along with the vast range that he carries in center field. My sources with the Oneonta Tigers also rave about him from his days there; he’s highly intelligent and brings a good attitude to the ballpark. On the other hand, Granderson is older than I initially thought, with his 29th birthday arriving before Opening Day 2010. His on-base percentage also fell off badly this year, dropping from .365 to .327. Even at his best, Granderson is not particularly well-suited for the leadoff role the Tigers have given him; he’d be an ideal No. 6 hitter for a team like the Yankees.

Then there’s the matter of what the Tigers would want in return for Granderson. As much as they want to shed his long-term salary, they’d be crazy to just give him away for a package of Shelley Duncan and Ramiro Pena. The Tigers are probably going to want at least one player (and possibly two) from a group that includes Austin “Ajax” Jackson, Joba Chamberlain, Phil Hughes, and Zach McAllister. That may be too much for the Yankees to swallow. And if the Tigers insist on Jesus Montero, that demand should be a dealbreaker from the New York standpoint…

His passing didn’t create many headlines, but it did strike a chord with this writer. Former Yankee reliever Ron Klimkowski died last Friday at the age of 65, succumbing to heart failure. Initially signed by the Red Sox’ organization, Klimkowski came to the Yankees as one of the players to be named later in the Elston Howard deal. He pitched very well as a middle reliever in 1969 and ‘70, but was then traded to the A’s as part of the deal that brought Felipe Alou to New York. Klimkowski remained in Oakland until May of 1972, when the A’s released him; the Yankees signed him later that day. The timing wasn’t particularly good for Klimkowski, who missed out on Oakland’s world championship and then suffered a knee injury, which essentially ended his career.

(more…)

“Last year, we had close to $100 million coming off the payroll,” General Manager Brian Cashman said Wednesday. “This year, that’s not the case. Last year, we had more to spend. Every year is different. The talent pool available this year is different.”
(Kepner, N.Y.Times)

Okay, so maybe the Yanks won’t net a big fish this winter. Unless, of course, they make some kind of crazy trade. Right, Goldie?

Since new Blue Jays general manager Alex Anthopoulos let it be known that he would not object to trading Roy Halladay within the American League East, there has been much speculation about another Yankees-Red Sox competition for the veteran right-hander’s services. If true, this almost ensures that Halladay will be traded in the division, because these are two teams deep in resources who will be motivated to top each other, thus escalating their offers above and beyond what teams outside the division would be willing to offer.

This news is both exhilarating and depressing. The Yankees just won a World Series by leaning on three starters, and their 2010 rotation is unsettled beyond CC Sabathia and A.J. Burnett. Halladay is one of the best starters in the game and an additional asset in new Yankee Stadium given his groundball tendencies. The depressing part is that Halladay will cost a lot, particularly if the Red Sox and other teams are bidding up the price. It would be sad to see Phil Hughes and Jesus Montero blossom in a Blue Jays uniform. Halladay will be 33 next year, while Montero will be 20, so even if Halladay spends the next five years in pinstripes, Montero will still be in his prime for years after the Doc has checked out.

They will tweak things, for sure. Maybe shake ’em up more than somewhat. If I could just get rid of the peaceful, easy feeling that has engulfed me since the Yanks won the Serious, I’d be more serious about it all.

…There’s still time.

Produced by the amazing Willie Mitchell.

What’s fer lunch?

I caught part of a Hot Stove show on YES last night, featuring Bob Klapisch, Tyler Kepner and Mark Feinsand. It left me feeling how good these kinds of shows could actually be if there was more…banter. It wasn’t terrible by any stretch, just too formal for my taste, each guy guest getting the spotlight to say his piece. That said, I truly enjoyed what I saw.

I love listening to Klap talk about pitching and pitchers and wish that he’d be drawn out even more on that subject.

Tyler looked sharp in a purple shirt and he had an even, calm speaking voice that is refreshing, especially in a medium that values shouting.  He is not a hype-artist and I think his insights, using numbers as well as his first-hand observations, were excellent. Yes, more Tyler, please. (I think he’d benefit from a more conversational atmosphere because he tended to blink a lot when looking directly into the camera and less so when he addressed the other guys.)

And I thought Mark was a natural. Reminded me a little of Jeff Garlin–something about him just immediately puts you at ease. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t agree with everything he said–he’s exceedingly comfortable in that setting and I think has a real future on TV. Very appealing delivery, love his look. Camera loves him. He was terrific.

Hopefully, we’ll see more of these guys throughout the winter. Good job by YES. Now, it they’d just bring Steven Goldman into the mix, they’d really be cooking with gas.

…What is the question?

Tell you this much, as a fair-weather fan, I’ll watch more games if Iverson is around.

Tim Lincecum, in a close one, wins his second Cy Young Award. Adam Wainwright finished third, with the most first-place votes.  Go figure.