Clown Town.
Whadda bunch of mooks. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the Yanks on Saturday night as they got torched 12-5 in Baltimore. Phil Hughes gave up eight runs and didn’t make it out of the second inning. Homers by Damon, Teixeira, and Swisher made it somewhat more respectable, but the Yanks were never in this one.
Frustrating…
Well, you might as well look at this for some comic relief.
Beautiful stuff from CC Sabathia last night. Alex Rodriguez’s first inning homer was tremendous and it was oh what a feeling fun to see the Yankees win a game.
Phil Hughes makes his third start tonight. Be nice to see the Yanks go on a run here.
Ya heard?
Alternate post titles:
*Catchers? We Don’t Need No Stinking Catchers!
*Carsten Charles in Charge (I was proud of myself for a second there, but yeah, it’s been done).
This afternoon I told Alex that the way things were going, A-Rod return or no A-Rod return, for tonight’s recap I could probably cut and paste one from earlier this week, and just replace “Rays” with “Orioles”. He wrote back: “Dude, CC is gunna toss a gem and Alex is gunna hit a homer.”
Well… yep. That’s the Twitter version (or this is I guess), and the Yankees snapped their five game skid with a fast and clean 4-0 win over the Orioles, thanks to a complete game four-hit shutout courtesy of C.C. Sabathia.
On the first pitch of Rodriguez’s first big-league at-bat of the season, the prodigal 3B knocked a nice parabola of a home run into the left field stands and gave Sabathia a three-run cushion before he even got to the mound, and the way C.C. was throwing tonight that was plenty. Rodriguez took a second to enjoy the moment, not that I can blame him, and the dugout went nuts, which made me think that however much his teammates might dislike him, they seem to like winning more. The first “A-Bomb! From A-Rod” (TM John Sterling) of the ’09 season gave the Yankees their first lead since last Saturday. Yeesh. If the team was trying to set up A-Rod’s big dramatic redemption, they could hardly have come up with better storyboards.
Sabathia was pitching to Francisco Cervelli tonight, because this year “Yankee catcher” is a job title connoting about as much longevity as “Spinal Tap drummer.” They’d never worked together before except for a couple of spring training bullpen sessions, but they sure seemed in synch, at least after a bumpy first inning (which Cervelli helped cut short with a caught stealing). After that Sabathia got scarily efficient, with an eventual total of 8 Ks and one walk with 113 pitches over the nine innings. He looks sloppy on the mound – the crooked brim and baggy uniform, not buttoned all the way – but when he’s on, his pitching is precise. After that first inning he breezed through until the ninth, when he gave everyone heart palpitations with two leadoff hits before snagging three all-business swinging strikeouts in a row to end the game.
The Yankees had a mini-rally in the fourth, but didn’t score after Nick Swisher got picked off third – in fact Swisher got back to the bag in time, but was called out because third base coach Rob Thomson had shoved him in the right direction. I have to admit I had no idea that was against the rules, not that I’d ever really thought about it before. Good thing I’m not a third base coach.
Later in that inning, Cervelli snagged his first hit, and in the seventh he walked and scored the Yankees’ fourth run when Damon doubled him home. I like Cervelli but if you walk him to lead off an inning, like Bob McCrory did, you should probably be fined or something. Still, I’m pulling for the kid, mainly because I don’t know who Kevin Cash is and don’t care to find out. The only thing I want to watch Cash do is star in a Monument Valley western with Cody Ransom.
Anyway, Cervelli, who somehow managed to make it through the game without spontaneously combusting, was pumped when the Orioles’ last batter struck out, as were his teammates. The Yankees lined up to enthusiastically hug Sabathia, which I imagine is what most fans watching at home wanted to do to him, too, after this past week.
Alex Witchel wrote a terrific piece on the Irish novelist Colm Toibin last weekend in the New York Times Magazine. I have not read anything by Toibin but this caught my attention:
It is Toibin’s triumph as a writer that his sympathy for his devils — especially the mothers — is great enough to spread the blame to everyone around them. For him, contradictions are paramount. The unexpected rush of warm feeling he can unleash for a character toward whom you have hardened your heart is one of those luxurious moments of catharsis you rarely experience in real life.
…“Do you know it has no single words for yes and no [in Gaelic]?” he said to Sam, animatedly. The fact of it delighted him. For someone who has such little use for “good” and “bad,” the very notions of “yes” and “no” are equally prosaic. Why bother with such useless extremes when all the really good stuff is in the middle?
I find myself looking for nice, pat answers too often, looking at the world in black-and-white terms, as a moralist. I don’t like feeling uncomfortable so I look for easy answers to complicated issues. I know this is foolish. Or I know it speaks to my own insecurities and that all of the really good, complicated, messy stuff is in the middle.
When Hideki Matsui stepped into the batter’s box to lead off the bottom of the seventh inning, his team trailing by two runs, YES broadcaster Michael Kay said, “For the last couple of games it’s like the Yankees have been trying to climb a greased pole.” Then Matsui grounded out to second. Groundhog’s Day all over again. Or something like that. It’s as if the Yankees have been playing one long, awful game for a week now.
Andy Pettitte gave up four home runs and the Yanks were in an early 4-0 hole. Robinson Cano is slumping and Mark Teixeira went 0-5 and was booed loudly. But Johnny Damon was on-point, driving home two runs in the sixth and crushing a two-run dinger in the eighth. The home run tied the game. The crowd was pumped.
Mariano Rivera–remember him?–pitched the ninth. He struck out Jason Bartlett, and then had a tough duel with Carl Crawford, who fouled off good pitches and work the count full. Then he turned on a 3-2 cutter and slapped it over the fence in right field, his first regular season homer since last June. Evan Longoria followed and launched a flat-cutter over the wall in left. It was the first time Rivera has ever allowed back-to-back homers in his career. That’s four this year. He allowed four all of last season.
Carlos Pena popped out and then Rivera was pulled, an uncomfortable sight if there ever was one.
That sucked the life out of the building, took the juice out of the team, and put a fitting end to a miserable four-game homestand. The Yanks went down like lambs in the ninth and lost their fifth-straight.
Final score: Rays 8, Yanks 6.
Ga-bige.
I’m serving on the Bronx Grand Jury for the month of May. Four days a week. We had our second day of cases today. There are stretches of boredom, wasted time, and then a flurry of action. The final three cases were so brutally sobering and so emotionally unsettling that big news about Manny Ramirez instantly seemed trivial by comparison. I got the news on my blackberrry earlier in the day, in an e-mail from D Firstman and had the pleasure of breaking it to court room officers, jury members, and security guards. That was much fun.
“Let’s see if people stop picking on A Rod now,” said a man into his phone during his lunch break on the street outside of the courthouse.
It is a big deal of course. This is All the King’s Men Must Fall, that’s what this is. Selig and Fehr are the Kings. Bonds, Clemens and now A Rod and Manny. They’re just the creme de la creme of a grim role call that will be ongoing…It took fifty years for it to come out that the Giants were stealing signals at the Polo Grounds in 1950. We’ll be seeing guys being outed for the rest of our lives.
Meanwhile, I need to unwind. It’s been a long one.
But I’ve got my two great cats, the sun is out, and my wife is on her way home. Life is good.
A Yankee win tonight would be much appreciated.
Until then, chew on this cheese:
Let’s Go Yan-Kees!
A few days ago I received an upsetting e-mail from reader Daniel Laikind:
My good friend Dan Traum, who I met in the 1st grade and have been friends with ever since was a huge Yankees fan. He and I had been to dozens of games over the years sitting in the bleachers during the really bad years of Dent, Green, Merrill et al.
Dan was thrilled about the upcoming season and for the first time in his life bought season tickets, as he wanted to be there to see the Yankees open a new stadium. He finally bought those tix about 10 days before the season started. A few days later, Dan tragically passed away in his sleep of a heart condition at the age of 34. The next day the tickets arrived in the mail. He never got to see the new stadium.
Dan’s family has started a foundation in his name to raise money for a scholarship fund for the high school that we attended together and they are using the tickets to try and raise money for the foundation. They have set up an auction on ebay to sell the tix and we are trying to spread the word to as many people as possible in order to help sell the tickets.
I certainly know how tough times are these days so raising money is tough, and there (unfortunately) are plenty of seats available but if people buy these tickets it will help raise enough money to really make a difference in starting the Daniel Traum Scholarship Fund.
We extend our best wishes to Daniel’s family.
This was the other “Massacre.” Most Yankee fans remember the celebrated “Boston Massacre,” that remarkable four-game sweep of the Red Sox during the heat of the 1978 AL East pennant race. The other massacre took place 35 years ago, had nothing to do with the rival Red Sox, and involved nearly half of the Yankees’ pitching staff in 1974. And it remains a matter of debate to this day.
During the late hours of Friday night, April 26, Yankees president and general manager Gabe Paul agreed to a massive seven-player trade with the Indians. Paul sent four of his pitchers—right-handers Fred Beene, Tom Buskey and Steve Kline, and flaky left-hander Fritz Peterson—to Cleveland for first baseman Chris Chambliss and right-handers Dick Tidrow and Cecil Upshaw.
Considering that the Yankees used a ten-man pitching staff in April of 1974, the idea of giving up four hurlers and receiving back only two did not go over well in the Yankee clubhouse. “I can’t believe this trade,” said outfielder Bobby Murcer, who normally did rock the boat so noisily but was visibly upset with Paul for losing confidence in a team that was a mere half-game out of first place. Other veteran Yankees joined in the chorus of disapproval. “You don’t trade four pitchers,” said senior staff member Mel Stottlemyre. “You just don’t.” The most outspoken of the Yankees, Thurman Munson, offered one of his typically blunt pronouncements in assessing the deal. “They’ve got to be kidding,” said Munson, who now had more work to do in familiarizing himself with two new pitchers.
A majority of Yankee fans seemed to agree with the public opinions expressed by the team’s leaders. Hundreds of angry fans flooded the team’s switchboard with calls of complaint. When Chambliss, Tidrow, and Upshaw made their first appearances at Shea Stadium (the Yankees’ temporary home), they received a barrage of boos from a group of not-so-adoring fans. Clearly, Chambliss’ great mutton chops did not appease the Yankee faithful.
Members of the New York media also joined in the refrain. Why did the Yankees surrender so many pitchers in one trade? Why would they give up Buskey, who had been named the team’s outstanding rookie during spring training? And why did they trade for a first baseman when they really needed a second baseman? The 1974 edition of the Yankees struggled to find a middleman. They had started the season with an aging Horace Clarke but would eventually purchase mediocrities Sandy Alomar and Fernando Gonzalez. Neither would provide an answer at second base; that would have to wait until Willie Randolph’s arrival in 1976.
The all-encompassing criticism of the Chambliss trade did not bother the Yankees’ president and GM. Paul had already achieved a comfort level in making trades with the Indians, the organization that he had previously run. Over the past two seasons, Paul had made direct deals with Cleveland for Graig Nettles and Walt “No-Neck” Williams, while also adding ex-Indians Duke Sims and Sam McDowell. “I think we got an outstanding first baseman in Chambliss,” Paul said proudly. “[He’s] a fellow who could be our first baseman for ten years.”
Chambliss would eventually solidify the Yankees at first base—and clinch the American League pennant with a Championship Series-ending home run in 1976—but he flopped badly in 1974. In 400 at-bats, Chambliss batted only .243 with a mere six home runs. He reached base less than 29 per cent of the time and slugged .343. If anything, Chambliss’ poor performance might have cost the Yankees the AL East title, as they fell just two games short of Earl Weaver’s Orioles.
Chambliss was the headliner acquired in the “Friday Night Massacre,” but it was another player who would bring more immediate dividends to New York in 1974. Right-hander Dick Tidrow, one of the most versatile pitchers of the seventies, made 33 appearances for the Yankees that summer, including 25 starts. His ERA of 3.87 was not particularly good for that era, but he did log 190 innings, pitched five complete games, and represented an improvement over the fading Fritz Peterson. For what it’s worth, Peterson, Kline, and Beene all flopped for the Indians that summer, leaving Buskey’s good work in relief as the sole salvation of the deal from Cleveland’s standpoint.
While the long-term benefits of adding Chambliss and Tidrow are undeniable—both became important complementary pieces to the Bronx Zoo dynasty—the questions about 1974 lead to a much murkier answer. Would the Yankees have won the AL East in ’74 if they had not executed the “massacre?” Without Chambliss, the Yankees might have given a longer look to top prospect Otto Velez, a power-hitting first baseman-outfielder who was buried at Triple-A Syracuse. As Steven Goldman and other historians have pointed out, Velez may have been more productive than Chambliss in the short term. And with Buskey in the bullpen, the Yankees would have had a set-up reliever just as capable as the sidearming Cecil Upshaw, who helped out Sparky Lyle in the late innings.
It’s a tough call. Maybe Munson, Murcer, and Stottlemyre were right about the Friday Night Massacre. But, then again, they were only right for 1974.
Bruce Markusen writes “Cooperstown Confidential” for MLBlogs at MLB.com.
Hard not to smile when you think of Dom DeLuise.
The man could take a slap and keep laughing. He had a great laugh.
On Tuesday morning I walked up 161st street, away from the two Yankee Stadiums, on my way to jury duty. Once you reach the Grand Concourse, up the hill and four blocks east of River Avenue, you can still look into the upper deck of the old stadium, the blue seats flaking away in the distance.
It was raining, a gray spring morning. I heard a woman curse. Sharply. (I always tense up when I see a parent getting on their kids in public.) She was not far in front of me and she was yelling at her son walking next to her. He could not have been older than five. Wearing a napsack, carrying her purse and holding an umbrella, he struggled to keep up with her. Just as he caught up, she’d pull ahead, he’d fall behind and again and he’d trot ahead.
“Don’t drop my f***ing purse.”
A smaller boy hung from around her neck. The mother adjusted her hands in a tight clasp behind her back to hold him up. I stood next to them as we waited for the light to change on the Concourse. I held my umbrella over her head. She looked up at me and smiled. She was young with a round face and dark, exotic, Spanish good looks, the kind that makes guys do dumb things. Mascara ran down her cheek. She smiled at me and asked if I would put her young son’s jacket hood over his head.
The small boy hanging around her neck smiled at me, his face splattered with rain drops. So did his brother who was holding the umbrella. It never ceases to amaze me how resilient kids are, I thought. Both boys were beautiful, their smiles without open and innocent. I told the older kid that he was a good man. The mother explained that the little one had lost his shoe as they were getting off the subway.
“Fell between the car and the platform, right on the tracks.”
I looked down at his wet sock then back up at his face. He was having a fine time. As we crossed the street she said she was headed for the dollar store to get him a pair of flip flops. The little one’s name is Cassius. The older one is Evander.
“Big boxing fan, huh?” I said.
“Well, when he was going to be born we couldn’t figure a name. I was in the hospital reading an Entertainment Weekly magazine and I see the name Evander and I ask my friends, and they liked it so he’s Evander. Then with the baby I figured to keep it like a theme so he’s Cassius.”
We went our separate ways without saying goodbye as we passed the Concourse Plaza, a block-long building on the east side of the Grand Concourse. It used to be a fancy hotel. Babe Ruth stayed there. Now it is an assisted-living facility. From the top floors, I’m sure there is still a clear view of the upper deck of the vacant Stadium. The thought of old people looking out at empty, paint-chipped seats, waiting for the wrecking ball, brought to mind the the loneliness of an Edward Hopper painting.
Here’s one of the classic routines of them all:
A real sentence spoken by a scout discussing a former colleague: “His written report was all bullsh*t, and that’s when I knew he was a horsesh*t guy.”
From Dollar Sign on the Muscle by Kevin Kerrane
If April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring?
“Pilgrims” and “Hayfever” are acceptable answers but, also: rainouts. The Yankees and Angels postponed the fourth game of their series today; no makeup date announced yet, and it was the Angels’ only trip to the city this year, so I guess they’ll have to get a little creative. Mets-Phils were rained out too but Boston and Tampa are playing on TBS if you need a fix.
Phil Hughes makes his second start of the year this afternoon as the Yanks go for the series win on a damp day in the Bronx. The talented southpaw Joe Saunders goes for the Angels.
I’m a miss the start of the game on the count of I’m a be eating. A bona fide feast as Spicoli would say.
My mom and step-father are coming into town and along with my siblings we’re headed down to our cousin Julie’s restaurant Little Giant for brunch. Julie is married to our cousin Ben, who also works in the food business, and her restaurant is beyond yummy. It’s comfort food made fancy. Or as Julie once said a “blue-jeans approach to high-end dining.”
Like for instance, at brunch you can get a duck confit BLT on Sullivan Street stecca bread. Or Emily’s favorite, the baked French Toast, which comes with carmelized bananas, banana gelato, toffee sauce, and maple syrup. Did I leave anything out? Oh yeah, the powdered sugar. And a chin strap.
Sides include Grafton Chedder grits, or duck fat roasted herb potatoes. And the “world famous” buttermilk-chive biscuts?
Dag, I say, DAG son.
Two, Three, Four:
Mmm, Mmm Good!
I guess we can call it one of the benefits of living in Cooperstown. The great Henry Aaron visited the Hall of Fame last weekend to commemorate a new exhibit detailing his life and career in baseball. Aaron becomes just the second man to have an entire room dedicated to him at the Hall, joining Babe Ruth in that exclusive club. When a Milwaukee reporter asked Aaron how he felt about being put on the same level as Ruth, he did not opt for a modest answer based on political correctness. “It means I’m supposed to be on the same platform [as Ruth],” Aaron told the reporter. “I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished.”
I can’t disagree with Aaron, who overcame a childhood filled with poverty to become one of the game’s legends. While “Hammerin’ Hank” was not the equal of The Babe—no one is—he is unquestionably one of the all-time greats. Still the major league career leader in RBIs and total bases, Aaron was a phenomenal five-tool talent who excelled in every important area. He also deserves extra credit for breaking Ruth’s home run record under the extraordinary duress of racial hatred. Aaron and his family received horrific threats, both in the form of venomous phone calls and vicious hate mail. His sustained excellence in 1973 and 1974, when he was chasing the record and ultimately breaking it, is impressive enough on the surface; it becomes even more pronounced in view of the emotional distress and genuine concerns for his safety.
Unfortunately, Aaron was subjected to racial torment at various times in his career, especially at the beginning and the end. As a minor leaguer developing in the Milwaukee Braves’ farm system, Aaron received an assignment to report to Jacksonville of the South Atlantic League. He and two of his teammates made history, integrating the previously all-white league while dodging the race baiters. “We had three black players on that team,” Aaron told a capacity crowd in the Hall of Fame’s Grandstand Theater. “I had a very good year. I led the league in everything but hotel accommodations.”
Not only did Aaron and his two black teammates have to endure the embarrassment of staying in separate hotels and eating in different restaurants; they had to endure uncivil behavior at the games. “The problem we had was with spectators. We had a rough time in the South. It got ridiculous. At some ballparks, we could not dress in the clubhouse. If you went 0-for-4, the fans would throw bananas at us.
“We used to talk about how silly people can really be when all we wanted to do was play ball. The thing that made me succeed more was how hateful they were.”
The hatred certainly did not stop Aaron. It did not prevent him from breaking a wide-ranging set of records. Some would say he is the greatest living player. Is he at the top of the list? Maybe, maybe not. Willie Mays has his supporters, as does Barry Bonds. But at the very least, Aaron deserves to be in the argument. For someone who overcame so much racism and poverty, that’s a pretty good legacy to have…
Not only did the Yankees do the right thing in reducing the prices of some of their high-end box seats, they did the smart thing. In this case, let’s refer to the “Empty Seat Syndrome.” Empty seats are the worst thing that can happen to a professional sports team. Empty seats don’t buy concession items. Empty seats don’t buy souvenirs or memorabilia. Empty seats don’t tell their friends about their wonderful experiences at the ballpark. On top of all that, empty seats just look bad, especially when they are located so close to the playing field. When a team is coming off back-to-back seasons of four million fans in paid attendance, there is no excuse for not filling the ballpark—especially a new one that has so many improvements over the old house—on a regular basis. Hopefully, the Yankees have learned their lesson…
As long as Joe Girardi keeps using Jorge Posada as a DH on days when he does not catch, the Yankees will continue to need a third catcher. (Anything would be more useful than a 13th pitcher.) Otherwise, Girardi will find himself strapped in the late innings, unable to pinch-hit or pinch-run for Jose Molina. One potential pickup is Brayan Pena, a switch-hitting catcher who was designated for assignment by the Royals last weekend. The 27-year-old Pena is a rare breed in 2009: a backup catcher who can hit and who carries enough versatility to fill in at third base or first base. As a player who has been DFAed (designated for assignment), Pena will cost almost nothing in a trade, assuming that he is not waived or given his outright release.
Bruce Markusen, who writes “Cooperstown Confidential” for MLBlogs at MLB.com, can be reached via email at bmarkusen@stny.rr.com.
The great blinking slot machine that is the new Yankee Stadium is no friend to weak pitching. Even good pitching is at risk in what has proved thus far to be a carnival for offense. A side show. In fact, it’s a safe bet that we’ll see our fair share of comeback wins and heart-breaking loses at the bandbox in the Bronx this season, the park where no lead is safe.
On a rainy and humid Friday night, the Angels bullpen was worse than the Yankee bullpen for a second-straight game, and the Bombers overcome a five-run hole to win it, 9-8. Jorge Posada’s two-run single with the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth sealed the deal.
Andy Pettitte was fine early on even though the Angels reached base steadily. Once it started to rain, however, Pettitte lost his stride, the Angels began to score, and Pettitte didn’t make it through what turned out to be an unsightly sixth inning. The Yanks kicked the ball around and by the time the third out was made, a 4-0 New York lead became a 6-4 deficit. The Angels, hitting line drives and scooting around the bases are is their wont, held a 9-4 lead going into the eighth.
But the Yanks scrapped back, just as they did last Saturday in Boston. Melky Cabrera had an RBI single, Kid Pena drove in two, and Derek Jeter had an RBI ground out to bring the Yanks to within one in the eighth. Then in the ninth, Mark Teixeira walked against the Angels’ closer Brian Fuentes to start the inning. Hideki Matsui slapped a single to left and Robinson Cano belted one up the middle to load ’em up. Posada’s single to left won it.
Let’s all applaud again, let’s all applaud again.
Nice comeback win for the Bombers.
It’s rainin’ in New York.
Will they get this one in? And if they do, can A. Pettitte and Junior Weaver keep the ball in the park?
Perish the thought.
And Let’s Go Yan-Kees!
Terminator!
Our man in the field Chyll Will brings it:
Wocka, wocka, wocka.
I can hear Will’s uncle Woodrow now, right out of a Cosby routine: “What’s wrong with that boy?”
We interrupt the baseball talk for a New York minute to appreciate the fantastic first round playoff series between the defending champion Boston Celtics and the Chicago Bulls. The series is tied at three games apiece. Four of those six games have gone to overtime. One game went to double overtime and last night, they played a triple OT.
We can only hope Game 7 tomorrow night is not a letdown. No matter who prevails this has been riveting stuff.
