This is pretty good. Via Pete Abe:

“I’m going to be reviewing the entire organization,” Hank Steinbrenner told the AP in Tampa today. “We’re going to do everything we can to win next year. We’re not going to wait. Do everything we can that makes sense. We’re going to fix what we have to fix. We’re going to have to look at what has been done wrong over the last five years, which I’ve had one year to try and figure out. Clearly, a lot of mistakes were made.”

At least he didn’t apologize to the city of New York.

Equal parts Frank Thomas, Dick Allen and Babe Herman, Manny Ramirez is profiled today by Jay Jaffe over at Baseball Prospectus.

By Ed Randall

Though I grew up only three-and-a-half miles away, I was never a Yankee fan. Still, I anticipate a profound sadness that the stadium I grew up in is soon to exist never more.

Yet, I might have more of a connection, a predisposition, to the franchise than I ever care to admit. My father’s birthday was September 10th, the same as Roger Maris’; mine is October 20th, the same as Mickey Mantle’s.

The stadium cast a long and continuing shadow on my life.

I went to grammar and high school for 12 years in the same building at All Hallows just three blocks away and took the subway behind the center field fence. I threw snowballs from the platform near pedestrians below while waiting for the northbound train (in making that stark admission, I trust the statute of limitations has expired).

I saw my first game there and have very vague memories of being fascinated by the TV cameras in the outdoor photo box.

Perhaps another sign foreshadowing my career calling.

I recall standing near a ramp leading to the box seats as a child when a door swung open and there stood Johnny Blanchard in all his Yankee pinstriped splendor and his shiny black spikes that clicked when he took a step. It was breathtaking. Today, ironically, Johnny Blanchard, fellow prostate cancer survivor, sits on the Advisory Board of my charity, Ed Randall’s Bat for the Cure.

Back then, patrons in the lower level–which we could rarely afford–exited the park by walking on the field! Imagine slowly making your way along the warning track up the left field line, turning right past the visiting bullpen and auxiliary scoreboard and then, the best part, past the monuments. More than once did I walk out onto River Avenue through the Yankee bullpen where countless home runs came to rest and where everyone from Joe Page onward warmed up. Somehow, even then I knew the importance of what I was experiencing.

That ritual made me want to do one thing: genuflect.

(more…)

Over at WFAN’s website, the intrepid Sweeny Murti gives us his list of the 25 top Yankee Stadium Moments.  Excellent job by Murti here, as he combines research and reporting to provide a lively and entertaining list.  Part of the fun is seeing if you agree with his take.  Personally, I would have the Louis-Schmeling fight in the top Five, if not top Three.  What do you think?  This is oodles of fun from Murti.  Check it out:

25-21, 20-16, 15-11, 10-6, 5-1. 

During the Seventies and Eighties parts of the Upper West Side were tough.  My grandparents lived between Columbus and Central Park West and you had to know which blocks were cool when walking from their place over to Broadway.  Columbus avenue became gentrified first, then, slowly Amsterdam avenue followed.  My old man worked at a hardware store on Amsterdam avenue for a bunch of years in the Eighties (you can see it in a shot from the Pacino movie Sea of Love).  More than anything, I remember hearing music on Amsterdam avenue.  There was always something playing.  Something like this maybe:

Speaking of Willie Bobo, remember this from Pete Nice (I really dug the re-mix):

Serch gets kicked in the grill.

Should the Yanks be concerned about Robinson Cano?  That’s the question I fielded today on New York Baseball Today:

By Steve Lombardi

In terms of having a lasting memory of “this” Yankee Stadium, it’s difficult for me to single out one particular “in-person” game experience and say “That’s the one.” In truth, I’ve been very fortunate when it comes to being at the Stadium for some special games.

I have been there for many Opening Days. In fact, I’ve been to so many of those that I’ve lost count. If I had to guess, I would say that I’ve been to at least a dozen of them. This includes the one in 2003 where Hideki Matsui hit a grand slam against the Twins (in his first home game as a Yankee). That was one of the coldest days I ever spent at the Stadium.

I’ve also had the privilege to attend many post-season games at the Stadium. My first was Game Two of the 1977 ALCS – where Hal McRae tried to kill Willie Randolph on a take-out slide during a double-play attempt in the 6th inning. In addition to that one, I was there for Game One of the 1977 World Series, Game Two of the 1981 World Series, Game Six (Get ya’ tokens ready!) of the 2000 ALCS, and Game Five of the 2001 ALCS. All of those were good memories.

Of course, I was also there for some post-season clunkers as well. These include Game Two of the 1997 ALDS, Game One of the 2001 ALDS, Game Three of the 2001 ALCS, and (yikes!) Game Six of the 2004 ALCS.

However, the absolute best post-season experience was witnessing, in-person, Game Seven of the 2003 ALCS. I will never forget being there to see that incredible event. Still, it’s hard for me to say that the Boone-Homer game is my “lasting memory” of Yankee Stadium.

Why? Well, I’ll never forget being there for that game – for sure. But, I’ll also always remember being there on August 22, 1976 – when the Yankees scored 8 runs in the bottom of the 9th inning to tie a game where they were losing, 8-0. And, I’ll never forget being there during the second game of a double-header on September 9, 1981 when Dave LaRoche used “La Lob” to whiff Milwaukee’s Gorman Thomas. And, I’ll never forget being there on July 1, 2004 when Derek Jeter dove into the stands after catching a pop-up.

Heck, I’ll always remember being there for Sam Militello’s first game on August 9, 1992 – because my buddies took me there as part of my bachelor party and Militello pitched so well. And, there are several other “fun” times at Yankee Stadium that I will remember forever – in addition to that ALCS winner against the Red Sox in 2003.

This is why it’s impossible for me to pick “one game” – even a game as legendary as Game Seven of the 2003 ALCS – as my “lasting memory” of Yankee Stadium.

So, then, what is my “lasting memory” of this Yankee Stadium? Well, in the end, I believe that my lasting memory of “the Stadium” will be that “this one” was “my Stadium.”

I did see my first Yankees game on August 8, 1973 at the “old” Stadium. But, that was the only time I was at the “first” Stadium. And, I did see a handful of games at Shea Stadium – when the Yankees played there in 1974 and 1975 (including Billy Martin’s first game as Yankees manager). But, without question, I’ve seen the most of my “in person” Yankees games at this current Yankees Stadium. I have no idea how many, but, to be conservative, I would estimate that it’s been over 150 games (since 1976).

When I start to ponder my current age and life expectancy, the increasing family demands of my time, and the estimated prices for tickets to the “new” Yankee Stadium, I figure that there’s no way that I will ever attend as many games in the “new” Yankee Stadium as I have attended at this “current” Yankee Stadium.

Therefore, “this” Yankee Stadium – the one that opened in 1976 – will forever be “my” Yankee Stadium. And, that’s my lasting memory of “the Stadium.” For the rest of my life, I will always remember the “collective experience” of being at this Stadium.

Hey, if you’re going to have a lasting memory, why not make it a big one?

Steve Lombardi blogs about the Yankees at Was Watching.com

Ben Kabak has the latest in Yankee News Inc. 

Blah.

By Dayn Perry

I’m a to-the-grave Cardinals fan. I’m not a Yankees fan. Never was. I don’t dislike them–in fact, I appreciate what they’ve meant to the sprawling history of this game. Mostly, I’m indifferent to them as a team. What I am not indifferent to, however, is New York City and the Yankees’ indelible place in it.

I grew up in a small town in South Mississippi, which, other than the human elements native to all of us, had little in common with New York. When I was in second grade, however, I read a story about young girl named Frieda who lived in New York. The story told me about her walks to school, her rides on the subway, and her interactions with kinds and colors of people I’d never imagined. Frieda’s life seemed impossibly different from mine, and this place she called home, well, I needed to know more about.

When I got home from school that day, I dragged down the “N” volume of our World Book Encyclopedias and looked up Frieda’s home town. The foldout map of New York was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was sinewed with roads, train lines, expressways, side streets, and all the rest. It was just a map, but you could almost sense the clots of humanity that made the map a real place. And the names in and around New York were just as fascinating–fascinating in their hard sounds and the hard places they evoked. Hoboken. Brooklyn. Bayonne. Canarsie. Nyack. Red Hook. Hell’s Kitchen. Pelham Bay Park. Bensonhurst. Scarsdale. And my favorite name of all: The Bronx. It was the toughest, most perfect word I’d ever heard. It sounded like a punch in the gut. It grabbed you by the collars. Bronx. And what kind of place had “the” in front of it? Whatever it was, there could only be one. After all, it was “A Bronx.”

I don’t remember how old I was when I found out that the Yankees toiled in the Bronx–that place with the unforgettable name–but I do remember that my estimation of them increased dramatically. I was 19 years old when I finally made it to New York City, and I greeted it with wide, mystified eyes. I was 30 when I finally made it to Yankee Stadium (via the 4 Train, of course), and I’ve never paid less attention to a baseball game in all my life. I was too busy taking in the architecture, the perfect weather, the cold beer, and, from my seats in the distant reaches of the upper deck, the view of that perfect word: Bronx.

In the years between the time I first read about Frieda’s New York and first set foot in Yankee Stadium, my fascination with the American urban experience consumed me. As it was for so many people drawn to the stew of the city, New York was it. It was everything, including those guttural names on the map. I’ll always remember Yankee Stadium for bringing together two of my abiding passions, baseball and the city of cities, like no other venue–no other thing–could have. It’s an urban game to me, baseball, despite its apocryphal origins in the countryside. It’s always been about cities and energy and crowds and fathers and sons and those without fathers and without sons. Hell, the ballpark, in some regards is itself a city–people thrown together, haphazardly and at times uncomfortably, to feel and live. Some arrive late; some leave early; and some stay for the full nine innings, never thinking of going anywhere else.

On that day in Yankee Stadium, I didn’t pay much heed to what was a damned fine game. But I stayed all nine innings, and I never thought of going anywhere else.

Dayn Perry writes about baseball for Fox.

My grandmother died twenty years ago this past August. I remember sitting in the first row of the funeral home on the upper west side when my father approached me and said, “There’s somebody here I think you’d like to meet.” I walked outside where Alec Baldwin was signing the condolences book. My father had been friends with him for several years by then–I’m not exactly sure how they met–but I had only become aware of Alec that summer when he was featured in Beetlejuice and then Married to the Mob. Previously, I had been invited me to see him in a production of Joe Orton’s Loot but for reasons I don’t recall, I passed. But by the end of that summer, I was really interested in him because I had an ill crush on Michelle Pfieffer.

Over the next three or four years I saw Baldwin every so often, for coffee with my dad, or at one of the parties the old man threw. I got his phone number and pestered him regularly. I can only imagine that I annoyed the hell out of him but he was good to me. I remember him being extremely charismatic and very funny. He was also serious-minded, smart and driven, very sure of himself, the kind of dynamic personality that can make a huge impression on a young person, especially one who was as insecure as I was at the time. I had no confidence with women. I was good friends with many pretty girls and rejected the ones that showed any interest in me. I was one step away from Duckie, the Jon Cryer character in Pretty in Pink.

Alec gave me advice with women that I was much too timid to do anything with. He also pumped me up when I had tough times with my father. After college, I lost touch with him (he spent more time in California, eventually got married), or, more to the point, I stopped hounding him. Still, I’ll always be greatful for the little time he spent with me. At the time, it made me feel important, like I mattered to somebody who had “made it,” a man who was a success.

I got to thinking about Alec over the weekend when I read Ian Parker’s profile on him in The New Yorker. It is a good piece but one that left me feeling sad. Maybe that has more to do with me, how I once looked up to him saw him as something not exactly human, but as someone who had the world licked, had it all figured out. He doesn’t, of course. Which makes him just another man, struggling with his mistakes and his achievements. In the article, Alec comes across as not only being restless but unhappy in spite of his recent success. That’s not entirely surprising. Still, I admire his ability to look at his work in a critical manner:

“Do you want to know the truth?” Baldwin said to me not long ago. “I don’t think I really have a talent for movie acting. I’m not bad at it, but I don’t think I really have a talent for it.” He described the film actor’s need to project strength and weakness simultaneously. “Nicholson’s my idol this way. Pacino. There’s a mix you have to have where the character is vulnerable, the character is up against it, but there’s still a glimmer of resourcefulness in his eye—you look at him and the character is telegraphing to you this is not going to last very long. ‘I’m down’—Randle McMurphy, Serpico, whatever it is—’but it’s not going to last, I’m still going to figure my way out of this.’ ” In contrast, he referred to Orson Welles. “Welles was a powerful actor, but he wasn’t always a great actor,” Baldwin said, with, perhaps, a faint nod to his own career. “Even when Welles was lost, he was arrogant.”

I think Baldwin has a great leading role in him. Whether or not the stars ever align to give him that shot is anybody’s guess. But I hope it happens.

There is a nice little post on Derek Jeter over at YFSF reminding us to appreciate what we’ve got, to ac-cen-tuate the positive. Durability sure is a major part in a great career–Jetes, Rivera, Rodriguez. That could go at any moment, and not necessarily in a dramatic Ken Griffey Jr way, but in a nagging Chipper Jones way. Shame to see Tom Brady go down for the season, and it’s too bad about Billy Wagner as well.

There are three weeks of baseball left in the regular season. The Yankees start the day in fourth place and we are left hoping for small victories–Mussina winning twenty, Abreu and Rodriguez reaching 100 RBI, Rivera keeping his ERA under 1.50. Since the Yanks are all but out of it there will be plenty of time to get sentimental about the final days of Yankee Stadium.

In the spirit of saying a proper goodbye, I’ve asked a group of writers and baseball enthusiasts for their take on a lasting Stadium memory. Most entries are short, just a few hundred words, but I’ve left the length up to their discretion.

I’ll be posting one guest post per day for the rest of the season. But I’d also love to hear from you guys as well. So if you’ve got a favorite memory, a funny scene or incident from the old place, please send it to me at alexbelth@aol.com (Don’t leave just leave your thoughts in the comments section, cause I’d like to cut-and-paste a group of them in a series of posts, The Banterites Remember Yankee Stadium, or something to that effect.)

Thanks and enjoy.

Lasting Stadium Memory #1

By Anthony McCarron

It’s strange, but most everything else about that night is a blur, dissolved into a torrent of deadline writing, scrambling around the clubhouse for quotes and later, in the Stadium press box, for the words to detail the looming Subway Series – this time, for real – that was coming between the Yankees and Mets.

All that furious effort, I don’t remember any of it, not even hitting the computer button that would send my final story to the editors and signal the end of my workday. That the Yankees rallied from a 4-0 deficit, that the Mariners scored three times in the eighth to make it close again and October pariah Alex Rodriguez was incredible for Seattle with four hits, including a homer and two doubles? Forgotten until I looked at the boxscore recently.

But what I’ll never forget is what happened after David Justice’s Game 6 home run in the seventh inning of the 2000 ALCS against Seattle, the shot that essentially put the Yankees in the World Series yet again.

My God, the press box of the old place was shaking. Swaying. There were 56,598 souls in the stands that night, Oct. 17, 2000, and all of them must have been stomping as Justice rounded the bases, as they begged him to come out of the dugout for a curtain call.

Frankly, it was unsettling and for more than just a single moment. I stopped re-working my running game story – the one that has to be to editors as quickly as possible once the outcome is decided – and put my hand next to the computer sitting in front of me to feel the vibrations. Yikes.

I was in my first season on the beat. I had worked the 1999 World Series and knew that the Stadium could get raucous, but this was something else, scary and amazing at the same time.

Afterward, Justice, an affable fellow who mostly enjoyed dealing with the press, talked about the indescribable – what it’s like to hit a huge home run in an important spot with the baseball world watching. “I wish y’all could feel it,” he said.

We can’t, of course. For a moment, I had my own feeling in its wake, though, just as memorable for me.

I have been at most of the epic events at the Stadium of the last 10 years or so, from dirty chapters of the Yankee-Red Sox saga to late-night, story-busting home runs in the 2001 World Series. But no memory has endured the same way. It is still the first thing I think of when people ask about working so often at Yankee Stadium.

Anthony McCarron is a reporter for the New York Daily News.

Over at New York magazine, Chris Smith profiles the Yankees at the start of the post-George Era (I caught the link from Steve Lombardi at Was Watching):

In his prime he was an imperious bully. But George Steinbrenner was also a bully with a vision, and his impatience and his money revived a moribund franchise and propelled the team to six world championships. Steinbrenner did a lot of mean-spirited and dumb things, but his sense of urgency permeated the organization. And not coincidentally, Steinbrenner took the Yankees from a threadbare castoff valued at $10 million to a thriving behemoth worth more than a billion dollars. The TV network he created, called YES, has become a bonanza, and next year, another Steinbrenner dream will come true—a state-of-the-art, cash-minting, $1.3 billion new stadium.

The official line is that George Steinbrenner remains deeply involved in decision-making. But he had become a less forceful presence even before he got sick. And now that he’s almost completely offstage, his children have been forced into running the show. The two sons, Hank and Hal, are divided by their twelve years and their very different personalities. More threatening to the long-term success of the team, however, is the heirs’ ambivalence about actually taking charge of the franchise. So a question that for 30 years had a laughably simple answer—who’s running the Yankees?— is instead more complicated than it was seven months ago, at the start of the season. What’s clear is that life after George is going to be very different for the Yankees—and, in some ways, far more difficult.

Torre’s gone, the Stadium is going, George no longer runs the team. It’s a brand new era for the Yanks.

Ken Arneson hipped me to this. Thought it was nifty. Dig.

[A 24 Hour Trip to New York] from M. Ward on Vimeo.

A few days ago, Pete Abraham ran an item on how the Yankees have handled “The Final Year of Yankee Stadium.” Previously, he suggested that it’d sure be nice to see Bernie Williams show up in some capacity. I couldn’t agree more. It was a drag that Bernie wasn’t there for Old Timer’s Day. But nevermind about that, so long as he shows up before the final curtain drops two weeks from yesterday.

According to a post over at the Bats blog, Tyler Kepner has this from Steve Fortunato, Bernie Williams’ marketing rep:

Asked if Williams would visit Yankee Stadium during the final home stand, Fortunato seemed to indicate that he would. Williams has not returned in public to the Stadium since his last game there as a player in 2006.

“Those details are all being worked out as we speak,” Fortunato said. “As soon as there’s something official or final, we will work on that. All that stuff is being worked on right now. I think it’s going to be a good day.”

Work it out, bro. We miss ya.

Derek Jeter turned on a fastball in the first inning and lined a home run to left field. The sound was true, a resounding crack. You don’t see Jeter hit many dingers like this and it felt like a good sign. (It was Jeter’s 1000th career RBI; he later singled to tied Babe Ruth on the all-time Yankee hit list.) The Mariner’s scheduled starter, Carlos Silva, scratched with pain in his back, was replaced by Ryan Feierabend, who came into the game with just one career big league victory to his name. Xavier Nady added a solo homer in the second and it felt like the Yanks would be able to give Mike Mussina plenty of run support.

But it wasn’t to be. Feierabend mixed in a decent fastball with a good change up and pitched seven fine innings. The Yanks did not score again. They had a couple of chances. In the fourth, the Bombers had runners on second and third with one man out. But Robinson Cano had a sloppy at bat at struck out swining; Jose Molina ended the inning with a fly ball to center. The next inning, with two men out, Jeter on second and Alex Rodriguez on first, Feierabend, on a timing play, threw to first, and had Rodriguez nailed. The M’s caught Jeter to end the threat.

Meanwhile, Mike Mussina started off well but gave up a two-run homer to Adrian Beltre in the third and a solo shot to Jose Lopez in the fourth. The M’s scrapped another run in the fifth and without any hitting, Mussina’s bid for his eighteenth win fell flat. Lopez added another solo homer in the eighth, this one against Jose Veras.

The Yanks put two runners on in the ninth against J.J. Putz. Giambi was hit by a pitch and Hideki Matsui singled, the Yankees’ first base hit since the fourth inning. With two out, Wilson Betemit pinch hit for Molina, and got ahead in the count, 2-0. He swung through a fastball and took another pitch out of the zone and then fouled a fastball back. He was just a touch late. It was a good hack. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the fielders. The hitter, catcher and ump were in the shadows at home plate. Putz poured another heater over the plate, Betemit waved at it and the game was over.

Final Score: M’s 5, Yanks 2.

So after beating the Tigers last Monday and then taking two-of-three in Tampa, the Yanks lost a weekend series to the worst team in the American League. The Jays beat the Rays again on Sunday and Toronto moved a half-game ahead of the Yankees into third place.

Yup, your fourth place Yankees. No win for Moose, no win for the Yanks. No nuthin but a whole lot more of the same. Good grief.

Yes, You Can.

Moose goes for his 18th win today in Seattle.

Let’s Go Yanks.

And just cause, here’s a shot of my favorite sneakers of all-time.  They came out in the early Nineties.  Nike re-issued them a few years ago, but the second version are more rugged, more of a sturdy, hiking shoe.  I prefer the original.

There are two interesting pieces in the Times sports section today: The first, by Tyler Kepner, offers a peek inside Carl Pavano’s misbegotten Yankee career; the second story, by Michael Schmidt, profiles Dontrelle Willis who has been pitching in the low minors this season. According to Schmidt’s article, Willis is still an upbeat personality, picking up the tab for post-game meals. But the photograph that accompanies the article shows Willis sitting off to the side, looking lonesome. Both articles are a reminder of not only how difficult it is to sustain a big league career but also just how lonely and isolating the game can be.

I’ve never been to Safeco Park, as I mentioned yesterday, but it is an easy ball park to romanticize. More than anything, it’s the sound of the train that gets me. From my apartment in the Bronx I can both see and hear the subway in the disance. It is not an imposing sound, it is faint, but it is always there and I find it comforting.

In the first inning last night, Bobby Abreu hit a line drive over the fence in center field. The sun had left the field but there were two patches on the outfield wall, just to the right of center. Jeremy Reed, the Mariner’s center fielder chased the ball to the wall before turning back to the field. But you could see his shadow against the wall, and for a moment the image was hypnotizing. It was a brief moment. Just as I noticed it, Reed’s shadow–of him turning back towards the field–was gone.

The game moved along at a brisk pace for the first five innings. Ryan-Rowland Smith worked especially fast, and Sidney Ponson threw strikes and had some help from his fielders. The Yanks were up 2-0 in the sixth–Jason Giambi added solo homer of his own–and Ponson got the first two men out. But then he gave up back-to-back singles followed by a line drive home run (Raul Ibanez) and the Yanks were playing the same-old-song again.

Fortunately, the Mariners are even worse than the Yankees. Smith was relieved in the seventh (he allowed a lead-off single to Ivan Rodriguez), and three Seattle relievers later, the Yanks had a 7-3 lead. Abreu had the big hit, a two-run triple, and Giambi added an RBI double.

Joba Chamberlain gave up a run in the eighth and Mariano Rivera was brought into the game to get the final out of the inning, which he did. Our man Mo–nice to see him in a game again–sent the M’s down in order in the ninth, lowering his season ERA to 1.43 and giving the Yanks a 7-4 win.

A nice win. Yes, it doesn’t mean much at this pernt, but as Nuke LaLoosh once said about winning, “you know, it’s better than losing.”

Most of the Banter Crew have their hopes pinned on Mike Mussina picking up win number 18 today. Let’s hope he’s in good form and that the bats are blazin.