Robert Altman once said that you could write a movie by listening to snippets of conversation as you walked down the street.

Overheard on my lunch today…

Short woman talking into her cell phone: “Don’t hang up on me, bitch, I’m trying to f***ing talk to you.”

Two young women:

“W’e’re late, it’s already 1:15.”

“I’ve got 1:07.”

“Oh, that’s cause I set my watch ahead so that I freak myself out so that I’m not late in the morning.”

“That’s smart.”

Business guy talking to another business guy: “And I didn’t get in until 2 but I don’t even feel hung over.”

Dude on his cell phone: “C’mon baby, you know I love you. I love you  like cooked food. What? No, for real, I love you like Red Lobsters.”

[Picture by William Gedney]

For some cool New York City flix, check out Nelson George on Tumblr.

Man, it’s hard to believe but I’ve gone the past two seasons without a regular Yankee hat. Yeah, I wore one that I got a cap day last year but it doesn’t fit right so it didn’t become a regular piece of gear. I used to buy the cheap hats with the snaps on the back for five bucks on the street. I’d break ’em in with lots of love then eventually lose ’em (which is why I only bought the cheap ones). But I dig it when you see an old hat, one that someone has had for years like this one that I caught on the train today.

So, what about you guys? How old is your Yankee cap? Do you wear a fitted one? How many do you own?

Whadda ya hear, whadda ya say?

A boy climbed into the seat next to me on the subway this morning and pressed his face against the window. We were underground and he looked into the darkness, yellow and red lights whooshing by. The train went above ground for a stop and then back into the tunnel. The boy didn’t seem to notice the change from dark to light and back again.

I remember staring out of the train window as a kid, fascinated by what was out there in the darkness, beyond the graffiti and the sparks of light and the dirt. It was all so mysterious and exciting, a playground for a young boy’s imagination.

[Photo Credit: Kirstiecat]

My main concern with spring training is that nobody on the Yanks gets seriously hurt. Otherwise, I avoid watching games and I don’t follow the stories out of Florida too closely, because I don’t want to know too much. I crave the element of mystery and surprise and I want to be fresh once the season begins. There are other sports to keep me busy now–it’s hoops galore these days–and other interests, book and movies, that I’ll put aside once the regular season starts.

This is will be the ninth season for me at the Banter and, as you can tell, baseball alone, never mind the Yankees, is not enough to sustain my interest. Writing is hard, even when it is a quick blog post, and it is important for me not to become jaded and bored. Which is why I’m lucky to have a great crew of contributors as well as a cherce group of regular readers.

Here’s hoping this season turns out to be a fun one. I’m counting on it.

Picture of the Day…from the steps of Cooper Union, circa 1945.

Photo taken by Victor Laredo (via the Museum of the City of New York).

According to George King, Joba Chamberlain looks top notch to scouts. Good news, indeed.

Picture of the Night…

[Photo Credit: Larry Fink – Club Cornich, New York City, 1977]

Ted Barron captures Robert Frank taking Tom Waits’ picture…from the New York Times.

Another winter day filled with thoughts of summer…

[Picture by Bags]

“A best friend is someone who gives me a book I’ve never read,” Abraham Lincoln.

It’s still chilly. Boy, is this spring ever gunna be a good one in New York or what?

Say it ain’t so…

[Photo Credit: Radaris, Nabok]

The light continues to change. The Sun is high in the sky now when I get off the subway and walk a few blocks east to my office building. People shield their eyes as they move. It is winter cold today but the spring is near.

Down in Floriday, A.J. Burnett pitched yesterday and showed off his new delivery.

George King on the improved fielding of Jesus Montero:

[David] Robertson’s eyes widened when asked about Montero, who went 0-for-3 and is 1-for-6 in two games.

“I first saw him when I signed here and it’s amazing how much better he has gotten,” Robertson said. “He sets up good, blocks balls in the dirt and stays down. He looks good.”

…“I like Montero, I think he is going to be a big-time player,” a scout said. “I know he is big (6-foot-4, 225 pounds), but he will be fine. All he has to do is just keep on catching.”

Yanks and Phils are on YES again this afternoon.

How about the Meters to start the day? Feel the funk, baby.

[Picture by Bags]

Down in Florida, exhibition games are starting up, and our man Cliff will be on pernt as usual.

The Yanks will be televised on YES this afternoon. Enjoy.

Heads Up

Mildly disturbed or potentially dangerous? This is a calculation every subway rider has to make a few times a week – maybe more. Somebody is going to be preaching, that’s just competition for your headphones. Sometimes it’s Showtime, and you need to make sure you’re out of the dancer’s kick-zone. Somebody is going to begging for money, but those guys never threaten. It’s tricky when someone is muttering indecipherable but unmistakably belligerent things to themselves. I see this a lot.

The clear tipping point is physical proximity. When I see a person going out of their way to occupy other people’s personal space, that’s when I take notice. One time, I was taking the train at an odd time – one or two in the afternoon – and only a handful of people were in my car. Two kids hopped on the train, 15 or 16 years old, obviously geeked up on something. They’re banging on the doors, ceiling windows, making their presence known. I was riding the train with a work buddy and, over a pause in our conversation, we heard them mocking our glasses. Trying to be heard.

There are no stops between 125th and 59th. That’s a long time to contemplate a perceived threat. We pretended we didn’t hear them. They got louder. We kept up the shield of ignorance, but we couldn’t return to our conversation. We were on full alert.

They bounced off at 59th St and, just as I thought the ordeal was over, one of the kids threw a punch at me as he was walking off the train. His hand got stuck in the plexi-glass divider that separates the three-seaters from the doors and his extended fingers ended up about 2 inches from my nose. He pulled his hand out just in time to squeeze through the doors.

I felt really stupid and helpless. These kids were obviously dangerous. I was aware of them the moment they got on the train and was prepared, I thought, for anything. And still if it wasn’t for that divider, I would have gotten punched in the face.

[Photo Credit: John Conn]

New York City picture by our man Bags.