Here’s the Mrs. taking pictures for her Christmas collection.

Roger Ebert gives us another loving tribute to his old friend, the great take-out writer, Bill Nack. If you’ve never read Nack’s book, “Secretariat: The Making of a Champion”, do yourself a favor–it’s a classic.

Two two chums got together recently and Nack told Ebert stories about perhaps the greatest champion of them all:

Here is Nack’s wonderful story, “Pure Heart,” on the death of Secretariat (Sports Illustrated, 1990):

Just before noon the horse was led haltingly into a van next to the stallion barn, and there a concentrated barbiturate was injected into his jugular. Forty-five seconds later there was a crash as the stallion collapsed. His body was trucked immediately to Lexington, Kentucky, where Dr. Thomas Swerczek, a professor of veterinary science at the University of Kentucky, performed the necropsy. All of the horse’s vital organs were normal in size except for the heart.

“We were all shocked,” Swerczek said. “I’ve seen and done thousands of autopsies on horses, and nothing I’d ever seen compared to it. The heart of the average horse weighs about nine pounds. This was almost twice the average size, and a third larger than any equine heart I’d ever seen. And it wasn’t pathologically enlarged. All the chambers and the valves were normal. It was just larger. I think it told us why he was able to do what he did.”

Picking up on Emma’s challenge to make a call on Ron Washington, I called my old friend, known around these parts as Alan with the 45s. This is what he came up with:

Dude actually remembered this kitty photo from Life Magazine.

Even better, how about this.

The Belz!

Here’s your morning Yankee round-up:

At River Ave Blues, Mike Axisa covers the Joe Girardi deal while Ben Kabak notes that Leo Mazzone has interest in being the Yankees’ next pitching coach.

Over at Yankeeist, Mark Warden asks: Should they stay or should they go?

Jay Jaffe has a good, long post on Joba Chamberlain at the Pinstriped Bible, and Steve Goldman cautions to leave Cliff Lee alone (I’m with Steve on this one):

Even before last night’s Game 1 disappointment, I have been firmly convinced that the Yankees should not do what everyone expects them to do, and throw the gross domestic product of Luxembourg at the left-hander. In the last few years, Lee has become one of the great control artists of all time. And yet, he is also 31. He is at that same dangerous stage of life that so many other Yankees have reached, where the minor aches and pains of one’s 20s become the surgeries of one’s 30s. As with the A.J. Burnett contract, a Lee who is not in peak form will tie the team’s hands for years to come, soaking up dollars and a roster spot that would be better spent on the young.

…As in any casino game, when you bet on a pitcher, the odds are slanted in favor of the house. For teams with no other options, or a team geared up to win it all now and then sink back into the second division, giving a veteran starter a lot of money for too many years is a reasonable plan. That’s what the Mets did with Pedro Martinez, paying for four years when there was only a reasonable expectation that they might get two. In the event, they got one. Cliff Lee is younger than Martinez, and perhaps he’s a better bet health-wise, but there is no way to know for certain. The Yankees have choices, some of whom will be viable big leaguers three years from now, when whichever team signs Lee is trying to figure out the best way to get rid of him. The Yankees aren’t in that position. They have alternatives, choices they’ve spent good money on. Now is the time to test them and find the next Cliff Lee, or even the next Andy Pettitte. He could be lurking somewhere in the pile, and he won’t cost a fraction of what Lee does. If the Yankees leave Lee to others, they might even get to find out who he is.

And it’s up the Rangers to stop the party. Dudes smoking the reefers in the bleachers, the entire city poppin’.

Giants look to make more memories while the Texans aim to go home even.

I’m still blacked out but I’ve got it on the radio, so forget the Fat Cat Schmucks and:

Let’s Go Base-Ball.

Two cool NYC food cats:

Rob Neyer makes the call–David Murphy should play right field tonight for the Rangers, not our boy Vlad:

Is Murphy a great hitter? No. He is adequate. He’s got a career .288/.354/.487 line against right-handed pitchers. Which (again) isn’t great.

It’s not nearly as good as Vladimir Guerrero’s, which shouldn’t be a surprise.

But Guerrero is old. Well, actually he’s middle-aged. It’s his knees that are old. Whichever parts of his body you prefer, he simply isn’t the hitter he once was. Guerrero’s got a .301/.349/.501 line against righties over the past three seasons. Toss in Guerrero’s 35 birthdays (compared to 29 for Murphy), and it’s very, very, very difficult to convincingly argue that Guerrero, right now, is a measurably better hitter than Murphy.

Michael Caine reads. We listen.

Okay, show of hands: How many of you starting singing “Start Spreading the News” when Cliff Lee got pounded last night?

I’m just sayin’…

Looks like Joe Girardi is set to sign a 3-year, $9 million contract to manage the Yankees (Joel Sherman and George King have the scoop in the Post). I can only imagine that this news will be met by mixed reviews from the Banter Crew.

So…have at it.

As Leonard Cohen put it so eloquently:

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded, everybody rolls with their fingers crossed                   

Everybody knows that the war is over, everybody knows the good guys lost

Everybody knows the fight was fixed, the poor stay poor, the rich get rich,

And the Molina gets a World Series ring

That’s how it goes.

That’s not a prediction of a Rangers win, either: it doesn’t matter what happens in the World Series, who wins, or how they do it: Bengie Molina gets a World Series Ring no matter what.

This is (maybe) the last time I’ll mention that I did try to warn everybody.

Yes, having played for the Giants before being traded (about which he is slightly grumpy) to the Rangers, Bengie Molina is set, bling-wise.  Whether that ring will end up emblazoned with rubies in the shape of a drag queen or a diamond-studded cameo of Chuck Norris is the only thing that remains to be decided.

Bud Selig and the Player’s Association can blather on all they want about steroid testing and expanded playoffs, but when are they going to something about the terrible Molina imbalance that makes an even playing field truly impossible? What will happen when the fans of Molina-less teams eventually realize they have no real chance of success as MLB is currently structured? It’s a disgrace.

While you enjoy the World Series tonight, please take a few moments to write a strongly-worded letter to your congressperson.

(Photo by Harry How/Getty Images)

Eh, Sacramento is close enough to the Bay Area for me…

Bonus Beats…

Feel the vibe.

Thanks to these two pussycats:

Mr. Murdoch and Mr. Dolan…

…looks like I will be one of many who won’t be watching the Whirled Serious.

[Drawing by Larry Roibal]

I’ve had these at Ssam and one cold day this winter I’m a try ’em at home.

Dig the recipe. I love that he uses cilantro stems. Why not, right? And the mint really makes it sing.

Peace to Think Factory for pointing out this most cool Life Magazine photo gallery of the 1955 Whirled Serious.

There isn’t that much in today’s papers on Bill Shannon, the New York Press Box Legend who died yesterday at the age of 69 in a house fire. Disappointing, sure, but not a surprise–it is the eve of the World Serious, after all.

Still, there is plenty on-line, including pieces by Howie Karpin, Roger Angell, Keith Olbermann, Joel Sherman, Wallace Matthews, Pete Abraham, Joe McDonald, and most notably, Marty Noble. Noble writes:

The AP, which employed Shannon on a part-time basis for years, reported that a neighbor had placed a ladder up to the second floor to reach him, but the neighbor later said Shannon was unable to break the window and disappeared into thick smoke. Shannon had an apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan for years, but had moved back to live with his mother after she developed problems about five years ago.

For all he did professionally — and there was much — he become a tad anonymous and borderline invisible in recent years when his primary responsibilities had included official scoring and his tireless work with the New York Sports Hall of Fame. If he were recognized at all, it was while working when a television camera focused on him in the press box at Citi Field or Yankee Stadium after he made a scoring decision the announcers thought to be wrong. But Shannon knew the scoring rules as well as Billy Martin, Tony La Russa, Joe Torre or any umpire knew the rulebook.

Shannon took pride in the reputation that he helped create — that New York had “tough” official scorers.

“He was a hard scorer, but hard is fair,” said Jack O’Connell, the New York-based secretary-treasurer of the BBWAA. “No homers here.”

Those who disagreed with Shannon’s decision to charge a fielder with an error often heard these words from OS Shannon: “This is the big leagues, sir. That play is supposed to be made.” He was objective to the Nth degree, but he did allow his absolute disdain for the sacrifice-fly rule to show through. Shannon was certain hitters didn’t deserve “free outs” for sacrifice flies and made his opposition apparent by his tone when he properly credited one.

Here are a few more thoughts on Shannon…

Ed Alstrom:

I thought he was a great guy. He was always cordial to me in the booth. My one lasting story of him is not much, but here it is: when I was asked to play ‘Goodnight Sweetheart’ at the end of the last home game in YS2, he was the only one that knew the song and the history of Layton playing it there (not surprising, I guess). I remember him singing it to me outside the stadium.

Sweeny Murti:

We should all hope that we are as good at our jobs and as respected for the jobs we do as Bill Shannon was.

I’ve covered games in nearly every ballpark around the league and in many of them reporters turn around and stare at each other after a bad call by the official scorer. “How is that a hit?” we usually say with disdain. I can tell you that never happened in Yankee Stadium when Bill Shannon was scoring, not by us and not by any of the out-of-town reporters either. Bill took his job as seriously as anyone I’ve ever known. That’s probably what made him so good at it.

Bill’s delivery of a pitching line was as unique as Bob Sheppard’s introduction of a batter. He was the voice of the press box in the same way that Sheppard was the voice of Yankee Stadium. If you cover enough games, Bill’s style of delivery is ingrained in your memory. It begins to feel as if Bill’s way is the only way to read a pitching line:

“The line on CC Sabathia…7 innings pitched. 5 hits. 2 runs. Both earned. 1 walk. 8 strikeouts. 1 home run.”

Then a pause, followed by a repeat, this time read at light speed as one long run-on sentence until a final pause before the last item.

“Sabathia, 7 innings5hits2runsbothearned1walk8strikeouts…and 1…home run.”

Unique is an overused word. It describes Bill Shannon perfectly.

(more…)

According to the New York Post:

CC Sabathia was diagnosed with a minor meniscus tear of the right knee that will require surgery, The Post has learned.

Sabathia was diagnosed yesterday at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital and is expected to undergo surgery in the coming days. The Yankees do not consider the procedure significant and expect Sabathia to recover within three weeks and be fully ready for spring training.

My favorite part about sitting in the Yankee Stadium press box is getting the chance to watch Bill Shannon, the official scorer, in action. Shannon, who for years was the head of public relations at MSG, was ripped out of the pages of Damon Runyon. He sounded like Will Ferrell doing Harry Carey and looked as if he’d been drawn by Walt Kelly. He was a bona fide gem.

I was shocked and saddened to learn that Shannon died in a house fire. According to an AP report:

William Shannon was unable to escape the flames that consumed the West Caldwell home where he lived with his elderly mother Tuesday.

Neighbors tell News 12-New Jersey they were able to rescue the mother through the front door.

One neighbor placed a ladder up to the second floor to reach Shannon. But a neighbor says the 69-year-old told them he couldn’t break the window and he disappeared into the thick smoke.

What a horrible twist of fate. I spoke to Shannon a few times but didn’t know him. I hope that the New York papers are filled with stories over the coming days.

At least Mr. Sheppard has good company.

Deconstruction fun.

By Marina Ekroos.

Peace to Saveur for the link.