Perhaps we should call him "Forgotten Figueroa." For most Yankee fans, the 1978 season triggers memories of Ron Guidry’s Cy Young performance, Reggie Jackson’s stirring presence in the lineup and locker room, the mid-season transition from Billy Martin to Bob Lemon, and, of course, the looming specter of "The Boss." Yet, no one ever talks about Ed Figueroa’s contribution to the cause. Pitching in the thin but substantial shadow of Guidry, Figueroa (as seen here on his 1978 Topps card) quietly won 20 games, gobbled up 253 innings, and gave the Yankees a perfect right-handed complement to "Louisiana Lightning." Heck, on most teams, Figueroa would have qualified as a full-fledged ace, a natural to start a one-game playoff tiebreaker or the first game of a World Series. But on the ’78 Yankees, Figueroa was the proverbial second banana—the Vida Blue to the A’s Catfish Hunter, the Dave McNally to the Orioles’ Jim Palmer, the Frank Tanana to the Angels’ Nolan Ryan.

Aside from the obvious Guidry factor, why has Figueroa faded so much in our collective memories? Several factors may be conspiring against Figgy. First, he wasn’t overpowering, lacking the strikeout ability that both mainstream and Sabermetric types seem to favor. By the time that Figueroa traded in his Angels halo for Yankee pinstripes (as part of the Bobby Bonds for Mickey Rivers swap), he had become a four-pitch pitcher: fastball, slider, curve, and change-up. He threw mostly a sinking fastball, which he liked to mix and match with his breaking and off-speed pitches. That didn’t add up to a lot of strikeouts, just a lot of quiet effectiveness during his halcyon days from 1976 to ’78.

Then there was Figueroa’s lack of staying power. As good as he was during the Yankees’ mini-dynasty, topped off by his peak in 1978, he faded quickly from the scene. He threw a lot of innings in the mid-1970s. Over a four-year span, he averaged 248 innings per season, a substantial workload that became exacerbated by an awkward motion. In his wind-up, Figueroa tucked his left leg and left arm in toward his mid-section; by the time he put himself in position to deliver the pitch, he was throwing the ball across his body. It was a fun delivery to imitate (as I know well from hours of throwing a ball up against a boulder outside of my house), but it sure did appear to put extra stress on the arm and shoulder. Figueroa’s arm problems began in 1979; by 1981, he was fully cooked.

Finally, Figueroa’s personality may have soured any hopes of long-term appreciation. Figgy had his share of run-ins with Billy Martin (then again, who didn’t?) and the manager’s enforcment of his own strict set of policies regarding his pitchers and their approach against each batter. Portrayed as surly by some of the New York media (which may or may not be fair, given the treatment of Latino players by some writers), Figueroa came across as dour to a young fan like me. When I think of Figueroa, I envision the "Lieutenant Castillo" character that Edward James Olmos once portrayed on "Miami Vice." Yes, he was highly effective and very good at his job, but not exactly someone you’d send an invitation to amidst hope that he’d enliven the atmosphere at your local block party.

Given Figueroa’s mix of pitching style, longevity (or lack thereof), and personality, we are left with a retired pitcher who often attends Old-Timers’ Day at the Stadium but remains a figure wrapped in obscurity. With that in mind, here are a few things that you may or may not know about Ed Figueroa.

*A veteran of the Vietnam War, Figueroa saw the start of his major league career delayed by military service in 1969. He missed all of that minor league season while in the war, losing a valuable year of development. Figgy didn’t make the major leagues until 1974, when he was already 25 years of age. He probably would have arrived a year or two sooner, if not for Nam.

*By winning 20 games for the ’78 Yankees, Figueroa became the first Puerto Rican pitcher to achieve the milestone, ending a drought that began with Hiram Bithorn’s debut in 1942. Juan Pizarro, a 131-game winner for his career, never won 20. Neither did Ruben Gomez. Today’s winningest Puerto Rican pitcher, former Yankee Javier Vazquez, has never won more than 16 in a single season. Figueroa might have reached the milestone even sooner, had a late-season game in 1976 not been rained out. Figueroa settled for a 19-10 mark that year, emerging as a major factor in securing the Yankees’ first pennant in a dozen years.

*Because of arm troubles, Figueroa’s prime ended by his 28^th birthday. After the 1978 season, he never pitched more than 104 innings and never had another winning season. By the time he was 32, Figueroa had thrown his final major league pitch as a member of the Oakland A’s.

Figueroa will never make the Hall of Fame, never receive the loudest cheers at Old-Timers’ Day, and never have his number retired by the Yankees. But he deserves to be remembered as an essential piece—the right-handed anchor—of the ’78 Yankees. Without him, there would have been no tiebreaker against the Red Sox, no playoff appearance against the Royals, and no World Series date with the Dodgers. It’s long overdue, but we just want to say thanks, Figgy.

Bruce Markusen, an avid fan of the ’78 Yankees, writes "Cooperstown Confidential" for MLBlogs at MLB.com.

 Soul legend Isaac Hayes passed away on Sunday.  He was 65. 

Hayes is most famous for composing the title theme to "Shaft," but he did far more than that.  

Along with David Porter, Hayes was the major creative force behind Stax Records in the Sixties–their most enduring work is the classic, "Soul Man."  His vocal stylings paved the way for Barry White, and years later, Hayes, a Scientologist, had a successful cameo on "South Park."  

Dag, another meaningful loss.   

I love Hayes’ moody rendition of "Walk on By":

 What do you mean we’re all out of spelt muffins?

I’m sure there are a bunch of Yankee fans that would have loved to unload a couple of rounds after yesterday’s loss.  Hopefully, the Yanks pull out a "w" today so we can digest and enjoy our Sunday. 

Go git ’em boys.

* Several years ago, Em was up at her parent’s place in Vermont with her older sister.  One day, they found a large black snake in the garage.  They took a shovel, beat the crap out of the poor bastard and then Em used the side of the shovel to cut its head off.  I listened in horror on the phone when she told me the story.  My ass would have been firmly planted on top of the piano in the living room until the snake was gone.  I likely would have wet myself.  My tough guy wife, my hero.

Of course, Em also freaks out when she sees a city critter–a roach or water bug.  What a wimp.

Couldn’t hoit, no?

The Yanks have been a terrible hitting team with runners in scoring position–Alex Rodriguez and Jason Giambi are the primary offenders given their importance and what they earn.  The pitching staff is a mess…the problems go on and on.  I haven’t had a whole lot of faith that they’d reach October this year, and now, things look as bleak as they have all season.

So, the somber Sunday morning question is: Are they done?

It was all going so smoothily.  Dan Giese was throwing a lovely game, matching John Lackey zero-for-zero.  In fact, nobody scored through the first five innings (not entirely surprising in a day game after a night game in the post-greenie age).  Then Alex Rodriguez and Jason Giambi hit back-to-back solo dingers in the sixth and the Yanks had some hope.  But that promise was soon obliterated by a horrid performance from the bullpen as the Angels wacked, smacked and slapped the Yankees down once again, scoring eight in the eighth and that was that.

Final score: Angels 11, Yanks 4. 

It’s getting late early for our boys.

Let the drinking begin. 

Yanks hoping to avoid another Lost Weekend out in La La Land.  With John Lackey on the mound today they have more than their work cut out for them.  Pardon me if I’m not brimming over with confidence.  If they get smacked around today, Ray Milland’ll have some company and we’ll all be in need of a stiff drink.

Regardless…

Let’s Go Yan-Kees.

Bernie Mac, a very funny fellow, died early this morning from complications due to pneumonia.  He was just 50-years old.  Mac had a blue act, but also had a great vulnerability that made him a success on TV.  He was never afraid to bust on himself.  I thought the first few seasons of The Bernie Mac Show were especially winning.  More than anything he was authentic, true to himself.  He was the real deal.  He made me laugh a lot, and he made me laugh hard.  

Man, this is just lousy news.  Here is the routine that became the basis for his show:

"Don’t touch my old school, my new school, my slow jams, my party jams, my happy rap, and you bet not touch my James Brown…or somebody is really going to get hurt."

Too much is made about athletes having a game-face, or acting in a specific manner when they lose.  Still, Ian Kennedy’s lack of awareness is troubling.  Remember when Scott Proctor burned his glove after a bad outing?  Maybe he can swing by Anahiem while the Yanks are in town and torch Kennedy’s uniform.

This isn’t the first time Jered Weaver and Ian Kennedy have faced each other.  Rich Lederer saw them during their college days, back in 2004.

The intrepid Pete Abraham has the latest injury reports on Phil Hughes, Joba Chamberlain and Godzilla Matsui.

In other news, Brian Giles will not be a Red Sox.

Feel free to schmooze.

Yanks looking to pimp their ride in L.A. tonight.  Never is easy for them against the Angels, but man, wouldn’t it be nice if they go out and actually win this series?

When it comes to individual achievements, there is nothing that would make me happier than to see Mike Mussina win twenty games this season.  I don’t think his Hall of Fame candidacy should rest on whether he wins twenty or not, though I’m sure some of the voters would disagree.  But regardless of how things pan out–and knowing Mussina’s luck, he’ll end up with eighteen or nineteen wins–it’s been a remarkable comeback season for Moose.  So writes Craig Brown over at The Hardball Times.

By Will Weiss

A few quick hits for the week, as the Yankees head to Anaheim for another big series against the “Whatever You Want To Call Them Tonight” Angels, as Paul O’Neill calls them:

* When the media has placed a skilled player on a pedestal, when said player becomes injured and it could affect a team’s playoff chances, the press makes a point to hammer that possibility. The Joba Chamberlain tendinitis coverage was surprisingly matter-of-fact and not panic-ridden. Even more surprising, Mike Lupica provided excellent analysis in his Wednesday column, proving that when he wants to concentrate on a piece, he can still write very well. Buster Olney was solid as usual, also.

* With Joba out and not much hope on the Chien-Ming Wang front, YES is showing a number of graphics tracing the progress of Phil Hughes and Carl Pavano in the minors. Relying on Pavano as providing any kind of support for the rotation this year is laughable. Hughes could be a wild card. I’d expect to see him soon, particularly if Darrell Rasner continues to pitch his way out of a job. Mike Mussina is the team’s only reliable starter, especially given Andy Pettitte’s situation and the perceived lack of confidence in Ian Kennedy.

* It took Brett Fav-ruh to knock the Joba coverage to the deeper pages of the local sports sections. For all you Jets fans reading this, I hope the Favre era Jets are more Joe Montana leading the Chiefs than Joe Namath as a Ram or Emmitt Smith as a Cardinal. I had to choke at the thought of Chad Pennington potentially becoming a Ram. I may relinquish my fandom if that happened.

* I am a fan of Ken Singleton, as a broadcaster and a person. But sometimes, he drops some weird quotes on us unsuspecting YES viewers. Recounting a conversation he had with someone on the Rangers’ staff regarding the strength of the Texas Rangers’ lineup (I apologize for not recalling the exact person), Singleton said, “They’re not guess hitters. They just see the ball and hit it.” … Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that the definition of a guess hitter?

* Speaking of guess hitters, Alex Rodriguez is becoming more and more disappointing to watch. His 0-for-14 performance in Texas was atrocious. He looked out of balance, out of sync, and completely fooled by even mediocre pitchers. Even when he’s on a tear, I get the sense that opposing managers aren’t afraid to let him beat them, because the pitchers can follow this pattern: fastball up and in; changeup, slider down and away. In three of the last six games I’ve watched, A-Rod struck out looking on fastballs down the middle three different times. If A-Rod had the plate coverage of a Vladimir Guerrero, who is another guess hitter but because he can hit the ball out of the park even if you throw it at his head, he’d be scary. I wish the broadcasters would have the gumption to call A-Rod out on his approach, or even go so far as to say he’s guessing up there.

* Although his Civil War reenactment is over, for the balance of this year, I’m referring to Jason Giambi as “Jason Giambi’s Moustache.” It’s too good to pass up.

Until next week …

The latest on Joba…

So maybe I owe Sidney Ponson an ap– … an apol– …nope, can’t make myself write it. But to be fair, I might’ve been a little hard on Sir Sidney. After all, I’ve been mocking Ponson ever since the Rangers released him (or, okay, technically, I’ve been mocking him since about 2005), but he’s managed to be mostly on the right side of mediocre for the Yankees this year, and that’s a lot more than I expected. He was solid again last night as the Yankees beat the Rangers 5-3.

With that said… we all know Ponson’s been lucky this year, but did you know just how lucky? Really, really lucky: Ponson has gotten more run support than any other Major Leaguer with 60+ innings pitched this season, 7.34 runs per game. There’s really no such thing as karma, is there?

Anyway, when Ponson loaded the bases with nobody out in the second inning last night, I suspect I wasn’t alone in assuming an implosion was imminent. Two runs scored on Chris Davis’ single, but with two outs, David Murphy tried to score on an Ian Kinsler singler and was called out at home thanks to a vintage block by Pudge Rodriguez. Catchers block home plate all the time, of course, but Rodriguez really BLOCKED home plate, setting up several feet in front of it just as the ball arrived, and he took the full brunt of Murphy’s weight. Both players lay stunned for a couple of minutes; Murphy was pulled an inning later, while Rodriguez came out immediately with a bruised knee.

(more…)

The Yanks beat the Rangers 5-3 tonight, a game that featured a memorable collison at the plate.  Derek Jeter came up big; Mo looked good in the 9th and got the save.  We’ll have more on the game in the a.m.  And more on the good news from Dr. James Andrews.  Looks like Joba’s injury isn’t dire.  Chamberlain was placed on the 15-day DL.

In the meantime, Brett Favre has been traded to the J-E-T-S, JetsJetsJets.  That’s enough to make you go, Whoa. 

This is so Cool.  My autumn just got a whole lot more entertaining.    

Tonight’s game thread is up early today–and my apologies for the malfunction last night.  Man, the season is slowly getting away from our Bombers.  They’ll need to salvage a split in Texas to stay afloat.

Let’s Go Yan-Kees!

If you love inning-ending double plays, this was definitely the game for you. Otherwise it pretty much blew. Though — trying to accentuate the positive here — the cold remains of Richie Sexson were, for one night at least, reanimated. Maybe tomorrow he’ll eat Tommy Hunter’s brains.

Josh Hamilton, in his first-ever at-bat against Andy Pettitte, hit a two-run homer in the first inning, and that pretty much set the tone: the Rangers led the rest of the way, eventually beating the Yankees 8-6. Hey, remember when Hamilton put on that great show during the Home Run Derby at Yankee Stadium, and everyone was awed by his swing and his story and you just couldn’t help rooting for the guy?… I’m starting to get over that.

The game was fairly close much of the way, but it never really felt close. Pettitte didn’t collapse, but his five innings were a steady bleed: five hits, three walks, five runs. Rangers starter Matt Harrison pitched the game of his young and pretmaturely balding career, giving up just two runs in six and a third innings, thanks in large part to New York’s 1,213* double plays.

The Yankees fought back from 4-0 to make it 4-1, then 5-2. In the top of the seventh they loaded the bases with one out, but got only one run home, when Johnny Damon walked to force in Cano. (I could swear that when Joe Girardi pinch hit Melky Cabrera for Justin Christian with the tying runs on base, while sending Pudge Rodriguez in as a pinch runner, I could actually hear the distant anguished howls of Banter commenters several states away). In the bottom of that inning Brian Bruney gave up a three-run double to Chris Davis, giving the Rangers a six-run lead — but New York turned around in the eighth and closed the gap to 8-6, on Sexson’s grand slam.

So about the best thing you can say about last night was that the Yankees didn’t give up… but, still, they really looked like a stumbling team. (Probably it doesn’t matter much: Robison Cano walked three times last night, which means the apocalypse is nigh and this will all be moot). I don’t know if they’re shaken up by Joba Chamberlain’s unnerving and still-ambiguous injury, but if so you can’t really blame them – the fans sure are.

But hey, turn those frowns upside down, guys: Sidney Ponson is starting tonight! If anybody needs me I’ll just be under my desk, in the fetal position.

*guesstimate.