Sunday Slather, Whirled Serious Style!

I’m pulling for the Giants but I think the Rangers will win again tonight.

So I was down on Broadway looking for a parking space this morning and I couldn’t find one so I had to drive around for a minute. Dig what I found…baseball in New York! The Yankees’ season might be over, but the Whirled Serious is cookin’ down in Texas, and the Kingsbridge Little League is still in full effect.

Ya heard?

The Rangers look to avoid going down 3-0 tonight in Texas. It says here that they get it done.

Let’s Go Base-Ball.

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!

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.

A few innings into last night’s World Series game, the camera focused on Bruce Bochy for a few moments, and I realized he reminded me intensely of… somebody. But I couldn’t figure out who. It was a specific actor, I knew I’d seen him in a movie, it was on the tip of my brain. So I asked the Twitter Hive Mind for help.

Suggestions included, but were not limited to:

• Young Tom Selleck
• James Gammon in Major League
• Jeff Bridges
• J.K. Simmons
• Billy Bob Thornton
• Old Tom Selleck
• William H. Macy
• Tommy Chong
• Tom Selleck
• A young Wilford Brimley
• Charles Bronson
• Charles Bronson (2)
• Everett McGill
• Bruce McGill
• Edward James Olmos
• James Brolin
• Billy Bob Thornton (2)
• “half Dabney Coleman, half Burt Reynolds”
• James Gammon in Major League (2)

Some of these were more accurate than others, but neither was the particular person I was trying to place. It was Derek Jacques who finally nailed it:

Jackie Brown-era Robert Forster! Yep, that was it. I feel much better now.

Who wants to cast Ron Washington? How about Brian Wilson?

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.

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)

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]

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…)

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.

There’s nothing as helpless as watching. The great American Male neurosis–though it isn’t restricted to men–is believing that if you sit in the same position on the couch or wear your lucky jersey you have the power to alter the outcome of a ball game.

Television doesn’t help. Watch enough games on TV and you’ll probably find yourself saying–or thinking–I could have caught that ball, I could have hit that pitch. It’s a natural reaction. It also happens to be horses***.

When Carlos Beltran struck-out looking to end the 2006 NLCS, fans wailed–How could he not swing? I heard a couple of Yankee fans say the same thing about Alex Rodriguez’s final at bat on Friday night (would it have been better if, completely fooled, he waved at the pitch like Derek Jeter did when the Yankee captain whiffed to end the eighth inning?). And this morning, I read a newspaper article where the writer said that Ryan Howard had to go down swinging when he too ended the game looking at a devastating breaking ball on Saturday night.

Can you imagine how difficult it is to adjust from a mid-90s fastball to a perfectly placed breaking ball? Even if you are a professional hitter?

You’ve got to swing at that pitch!

It might be frustrating to watch but how about giving credit to the pitcher?

Baseball is hard. Being an expert is easy.

It’s Wait ‘Til Next Year for the Yanks.

They were a good team in 2010, but they didn’t play well down the stretch and got hammered by the Rangers in the 2010 ALCS.

Were they too old? Did they play tight–a reflection of their manager according to Joel Sherman? Did they just not have heart or character or those championship intangibles?

Nah, they just got their asses kicked, that’s all. Happens, man, even to the best of them.

Well, go figure that. It’s gunna be the San Francisco Giants against the Texas Rangers for all the marbles as 2010 becomes the year of the unexpected.

Say, Hey!

[Photo Credit: Doug Pensinger/Getty Images]

Is it 8 o’clock yet? Long and coherent doesn’t seem to be happening today, so instead, here’s some scattered thoughts from a scattered mind.

*You guys been watching the NLCS? Some excellent games, and I’ve gone from rooting for the Giants because they aren’t the Phillies to genuinely liking them. Lincecum, Kung Fu Panda, Buster Posey, even Brian Wilson who is douchey but at least in an entertaining way. The entire series makes me wish the Yankees would ditch their uptight facial hair regulations already, though. Everything is more fun with beards!

*There’s plenty of time to think about this later and it’s not a surprise anyway, but according to Jon Heyman, the Yanks plan to bring back Joe Girardi. I’m okay with this. Girardi has definitely made his share of mistakes this postseason, but so has every manager. I don’t think there’s been anything fireable. He won the World Series last year and made the ALCS this year (…as of this writing), and although the ghost of George Streinbrenner would disagree, to me, you don’t fire a guy coming off that kind of success unless he does something really crazy/egregious/criminal. Despite what I might end up yelling at the TV during the 8th inning tonight, I think Joe’s been solid.

I wish he’d eat something though. Dude looks gaunt.

*Via LoHud, Robbie Cano hopes Melky Cabrera can rejoin the Yanks next year. I… don’t hope that, but I still have warm feelings for the Melkman and I hope he lands on his feet. He was fun to watch for a while, had some big plays and big hits for the Yanks over the years (remember that catch on a would-be Manny Ramirez homer  just over the left field wall? I do, and I bet Manny does), and I think he could still help some team, at least from the bench.

*It’s easy to overlook in the heat of a white-knuckle eighth-inning playoff relief appearance, but Kerry Wood’s got a pretty great story. Tragic, redemptive, all that stuff.

*It is genuinely kinda depressing how many fans left Yankee Stadium early in Games 3 and 4. I mean, in the ninth of a blowout, I get it. But while it’s still close? In the ALCS? I don’t generally go the fan-police route: I stay til the better end because I’m an obsessive and hate the idea of missing anything — but it’s supposed to be fun, and if you need to leave for work or school or sleep or whatever, you do what you have to do. But the streams of people fleeing before the end warlier this week were pretty embarassing. It’s easy enough for most of the country to hate Yankee fans, no need to load the gun for them.

*Nick Swisher, according to ESPN NY: “If one more guy asks me about Cliff Lee, I’m gonna punch him right in the (bleeping) mouth.” Heh.

Here’s hoping the baseball goes well enough tonight to get us baseball tomorrow night, and cause for Swisher to spaz out some more.

Hard to imagine the Giants beating Roy Halladay twice–and to go to the Whirled Serious? Just don’t see it. But then again, they’ve got the Freak on their side so it’s not out of the question by any stretch. Anything can happen and often does.

I’ll be listening on the radio because I’ve got Cablevision and Fox is blocked-out.

Let’s Go Base-ball.

Straight out the Bay Area…

Phils vs. Giants, Game Three of the NLCS.

Enjoy.

The Braves have released Melky Cabrera.