Mike Stobe/Getty Images

Let’s do this backwards.  The Yankees beat the Astros 9-3 on Saturday afternoon.  Saturday was a busy day, what with my daughter’s volleyball game in the morning and a museum trip in the afternoon, so I had to TiVo the game for later, as I often do.  I always try to avoid the score, which isn’t usually difficult considering that I’m in California, not New York City, but it didn’t work today.

Someone put the TV on when we got back from volleyball, and even though I was in the kitchen, I still heard Michael Kay talking about a 6-2 Yankee lead.  And when we stopped for lunch after the museum, our table was facing a giant television tuned to ESPNews, which cycled through the highlights of the win twice during our meal.  No biggie.

As it turns out, it’s incredibly relaxing to sit down and watch a game when you know good things are going to happen.  So while you were all worrying about Javier Vazquez, I sat down at about 10:oo PM California time with supreme confidence in him, and he didn’t disappoint.  Sure, he gave up 852 feet of home runs (to Hunter Pence in the 2nd and Carlos Lee in the 6th), but aside from that Vazquez was good enough — and has been good enough — that A.J. Burnett is starting to look an awful lot like a long reliever come October.

Let’s look at some numbers.  Since being skipped in the rotation back in early May, Vazquez has started six times and produced this stat line: 39.2 IP, 25 H, 13 R, 37 K, 12 BB, 2.95 ERA, 0.93 WHIP.  (This doesn’t include his relief appearance against Boston.)  I know what you’re thinking — he’s been doing this against patsies, and his one bad outing came against the best team he faced last month, the Minnesota Twins.  You’re free to think that.  All I know is that I trust him an awful lot more than Burnett at this point.

But back to the game.  Derek Jeter led off the game with a big home run to left (his 24th lead-off home run, tying Rickey Henderson atop the Yankee list), and after the Astros took the lead back with single runs in the second and third, the Bombers answered back with five runs in the third, highlighted by Jorge Posada’s opposite field grand slam into the bleachers in right.  Much has been made of Posada’s dislike of his current DH role, and some have cited it as a possible reason for his recent struggles, but he looked comfortable enough on Saturday.

Posada’s home run was a milestone of sorts, the 250th of his career, which prompted the obligatory graphic listing the top totals in Yankee history.  Posada sits tied with Graig Nettles at #7, soon to be passed by Alex Rodríguez, who’s four behind in the ninth spot.  What’s surprizing about the list, though, is that Jeter is in tenth place.  He hit his second home run of the game in the sixth, a three-run shot to right, bringing his career total to a respectable 232.  Also of note, Jeter now has 3,001 career base hits — but only if you count the 175 he’s gotten in the postseason.  With 2,826 hits, the Captain is bearing down on hallowed ground.

Finally, a quick look at the team in general.  When I wrote my recap of the pork chop game back in late May, I pointed out that the Yankees were about to start a sixteen-game stretch against a group of mediocre teams.  In my head (but not in print), I was hoping for twelve wins out of those sixteen.  As it stands now, with only Sunday’s game remaining from those sixteen, the Yanks have won eleven of fifteen and sliced their deficit in the East from 4.5 games to only one.  Wouldn’t it be cool if they got that extra win on Sunday and pulled into a tie for the lead?  We can only hope…

Alright, enough is enough. Three runs in twenty-three innings? Roll, Score Truck, roll!

Let’s go, Yan-Kees!

Photo by Robert Beck/Sports Illustrated

When I started coaching middle school basketball nineteen years ago, my knowledge for the game didn’t extend much beyond what I had learned from playing pick-up ball in college — which means that I knew almost nothing.  I haunted the practices of the best local coaches, spent most Friday nights in sweaty high school gyms, and attended coaching clinics whenever and wherever I could find them.  One of the best was at UCLA during the Steve Lavin era.  Lavin spoke for a while, as did Pete Newell and Purdue’s Gene Keady.  The biggest draw, though, was John Wooden.

Keady and Lavin worked from prepared speeches as they paced back in forth in front of elaborate diagrams to illustrate their points, but in a concession to their advanced ages — both men were in their eighties at the time — Wooden and Newell took their turns seated side-by-side in folding chairs, prepared to take questions from the audience.  What’s the best simple drill to help post players?  Which fast break strategy works best for a small team? The two coaches took turns answering the questions that appealed to one’s strength or the other’s, Newell speaking into a microphone clipped neatly to his lapel, but Wooden holding his stubbornly in his hand after a UCLA staffer had twice failed to attach it properly.

Finally, someone asked a question that truly sparked the Wizard of Westwood’s interest.  How do you teach your players to defend the pick and roll properly? Wooden hopped out of his chair and the cadence of his voice quickened as he begin to explain.  Realizing that  his words weren’t enough, he stepped out onto the court and began pantomiming the defensive steps.  The problem, of course, was the microphone.  He still held it in his hand, so when he thought about it and held it close enough to his mouth, we could hear his lecture.  But when he extended his arms and dropped into a stance, suddenly losing at least three decades from his true age as he slid around or dropped below an imaginary screen, he became almost impossible to hear.

There were several hundred coaches sitting in the stands, but we were absolutely silent.  We heard only half of what he was saying, but those words were still golden.  This wasn’t just a coach.  Somehow, it was more than just a coach who had won ten national championships.  This was Moses coming down from the mountain.  Every coach in that arena, ranging from me to Gene Keady, had quoted John Wooden to young players who couldn’t possibly know who he was.  We had all studied his Pyramid of Success.  I even admonish my own children, “Be quick, but don’t hurry.”  And so when Coach Wooden finished answering the pick and roll question, he sat down to an appreciative round of applause.  We had heard only about half of what he had said, but it didn’t really matter.  We had been in the presence of greatness, and that was enough.

John Wooden passed away on Friday evening, leaving behind hundreds of loyal former players, thousands of devoted coaching protégés, and millions of adoring fans.  This is a national story, certainly, as Wooden’s death will likely dominate the headlines of every sports page outside of Chicago and Philadelphia on Saturday morning, but nowhere has the news hit harder than here in Southern California.  Baseball announcers will likely discuss Wooden throughout their Saturday telecasts, and you can bet that every coach and manager will be asked about John Wooden’s influence.  You’ll hear about how he taught his players the right way to roll their socks and tie their shoes, how he wouldn’t allow Bill Walton to grow a beard, and, inevitably, how he strung together 88 consecutive wins.

I hope they also tell the most important stories, about how he came to UCLA instead of the University of Minnesota because he had made a promise — not signed a contract.  About how he never complained while earning only $32,000 a year while many of his peers were paid six-figure salaries.  Or, most importantly, about how for the past twenty-five years he marked the passing of his wife Nellie by sitting down each month to write her a love letter.

We’ll miss you, Coach, but Nellie is waiting.  Be quick, but don’t hurry.

Our man Hank Waddles has a good interview with Norman Ollestad. Nice job, once again, Hendree.

Dig.

[Photo Credit: Quicksilver]

Okay, let’s start with the good news.  At 28-19, the Yankees have the second-best record in all of baseball, tied with the San Diego Padres, if you can believe it.

Now for the bad news, which will take a bit more than one sentence to describe.  On Wednesday the Yankees made like bullies, calmly taking the Twins’ lunch money yet again as they swept a makeshift double header.  Just a day later, though, things don’t look quite as good.

Problem number one is that this team suddenly can’t score any runs.  Derek Jeter led off the game with a single, then dashed to third on Mark Teixeira’s single two batters later.  You could make the argument that even though we were only ten minutes into the action, this was the biggest moment of the game.  With Javier Vazquez on the mound, a pitcher who has been, shall we say, less than dominant this year, it was probably important to get off to a quick start.  It didn’t even need to be a big inning; just a 1-0 lead would have done wonders.  And with Alex Rodríguez coming up with runners at first and third and only one out, even a lazy sac fly would do.  Instead, A-Rod tapped weakly to short and produced a 6-3 double play to end the inning.

When presented with the exact same scenario in the bottom half of the inning — first and third and one out — Justin Morneau did his job and lofted a fly ball to centerfield, easily scoring Orlando Hudson to give the Twins a 1-0 lead.

The game was essentially over right then and there, but since they played eight more innings, I’ll give you the highlights — or lowlights, as the case may be.  The first thing you need to know is that Javy Vazquez was awful, as you might guess from this line: 5.2 IP, 8H, 5 ER, 3 BB, 2K.  The second thing you need to know is that he was actually worse than that.  Included in those eight hits were four doubles, a triple, and a home run, and there wasn’t a cheapie in the bunch.  It seemed like every ball the Twins hit off Vazquez was a rocket, even the outs.  As shaky as his confidence already seemed to be, it will be interesting to see how he bounces back from this.

Jason Kubel, who had already driven in a run with a second-inning double, led off the sixth inning with a monstrous home run to right, stretching the Minnesota lead to 5-2.  Vazquez lasted another two batters, but he was a dead man walking at that point.  Joe Girardi brought in Chan Ho Park with two outs, and was just as effective as you might think, giving up a harmless single before closing out the sixth but then starting the seventh by walking Joe Mauer and giving up a single to Morneau before Girardi lifted him for Damaso Marte.  Marte got his man (Jim Thome), and Girardi brought in our old friend Chad Gaudin with two on and one out, hoping to keep the game close.

It didn’t work.  After Michael Cuddyer struck out, That Man Kubel came up and rocked a home run into the Land of Pork Chops on Sticks.  8-2, Twins.

So now that it’s all said and done, I’m left with three burning questions, and I’d appreciate some answers.

1. Why is that when I watch televised games from Target Field, it still looks like the games are being played indoors?

2. When will the Yankees start scoring runs again?

3. Exactly how many beers does it take to convince someone that it would be a good idea to sneak up and take a bite out of a pork chop in Kim Jones’s hand while she is using it as a prop during a live shot?

As we wrap this up, let’s end with something positive.  Take a look at the next sixteen games:

4 games vs. Cleveland (17-28)
3 games vs. Baltimore (15-33)
3 games @ Toronto (27-22)
3 games @ Baltimore (15-33)
3 games vs. Houston (16-31)

I see you out there on the ledge.  You watched Thursday night’s game with the Rays right up to the bitter end, then unfolded your life insurance policy, placed it neatly on the kitchen table, and calmly opened the window and took a seat next to the pigeons.  Or maybe I’m wrong; maybe I’m the only one on that ledge.

I put the TV on about five minutes after Andy Pettitte’s first pitch, and the screen came to life just in time to show me Carl Crawford and Ben Zobrist returning to the Tampa dugout, celebrating Zobrist’s home run and the Rays’ early 3-0 lead.  Pettitte followed that with a walk to Evan Longoria, but bounced back by getting a double-play ball and a strikeout to end the frame.  He made it through the second and third without event, but then gave up another home run to B.J. Upton in the fourth.  He clearly wasn’t sharp.

The Yankee hitters did their best to keep up through the early innings, but even when the score was close it was only a mirage.  Juan Miranda cut the lead to 3-2 with a second-deck two-run blast in the second inning, but the next couple runs were gift-wrapped, one unearned and the other undeserved.  In the third, Derek Jeter followed a Randy Winn single by dropping a sacrifice bunt that rolled untouched between the mound and third base.  Brett Gardner followed that with another bunt (natch), but this one produced a run when James Shields fired it over Peña’s head and down the right field line.  With none out, runners on second and third, and Teixeira, A-Rod, and Canó on the way, it really did look like the game was about to change.  As it turned out, Shields could’ve pulled a Satchel Paige and called his fielders in.  He snagged a tapper back to the mound from Teixeira, struck out A-Rod on a change-up that bounced in front of the plate, and fanned Canó on three pitches.  Move along.

If you were following the game on-line, you probably raised your eyebrows in the fourth inning when you read something like, “J Miranda tripled to deep center.”  The truth of the matter was that Miranda lifted a gentle fly ball that center fielder Upton never saw.  Upton immediately stood with both arms outstretched, asking for help that could never get there in time, as Miranda sprinted around second and slid into third.  Two batters later Randy Winn cashed in Upton’s gift with a sacrifice fly, tying the game at four apiece.

The tie score didn’t last long as a couple Tampa hits and a walk led to two more runs in the fifth, and Carlos Peña finally sent Pettitte to the showers when he led off the sixth with a home run.  If you’re looking for a silver lining in all this, it comes to you in the person of David Robertson, who relieved Pettitte and retired all six batters he faced in the sixth and seventh, striking out four of them.  The bad news, though, is that Chan Ho Park followed Robertson and allowed an eighth Tampa run, making the Yankees’ nightly ninth inning comeback attempt just a bit more difficult.  They could only manage two runs, settling for an 8-6 loss.

So the Rays leave town, surely pleased with themselves, and the Yanks are left with questions.  But it’s not as bad as it looks.  The Mets are up next, and they could be just what the doctor ordered.

Photo by Al Bello/Getty Images

I’ve long ago made peace with the fact that I cannot simply brush off Yankee losses, even in April or May. I am invested, so each defeat carries a sting. The good news, though, is that there’s always another game waiting around the corner and the team is usually at or near the top of the standings. I mourn, I recover, I move on.

But every once in a while a game comes along that cuts a bit deeper; Sunday was one of those games. It started out fine, of course, as the Yankees led 3-1 after six. Worked well for me, since my parents were in town and the kids were eagerly showing off their bike-riding skills outside. I could join the fun in the front yard, comfortable knowing that the bullpen would somehow stumble through the seventh before handing off to Joba in the eighth and Mo in the ninth.

But of course, it didn’t work that way. I managed to sneak in just in time to catch Joba walking off the mound after loading the bases, but I was only mildly concerned. Rivera was on the way, and everything would be fine. Soon enough, it wasn’t.

The thing about baseball, is that we get used to failure. Derek Jeter is my favorite player, a player who has come through in big situations an awful lot in his career, but when he came up as the tying run in the ninth inning, I can’t honestly say that I expected victory. I hoped, but I did not assume.

It’s different with Mariano. He might not be favorite player, but he is the one I expect to succeed every single time. Game 4 in Cleveland, Game 7 in Arizona, and Games 4 and 5 in Boston are all burned into my psyche, but even when taken together, those four games can never outweigh all of the other evidence telling me that Rivera is invincible.

So when Rivera is touched for a loss the way he was on Sunday, it amounts to much more than just a loss in the standings. It shakes me to my core, calling into question all that I believe in. The game itself becomes secondary as I struggle to make sense of what I’ve just seen: Mariano has failed.

Greater writers than I have tried to explain the wonders of Mariano Rivera; rather than attempting to improve upon them, I’ll use the words of the greatest writer of all time. Mariano “is an ever-fixed mark that looks upon tempests and is never shaken; [he] is the star to every wandering bark, whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.” Sure, Shakespeare was talking about true love, but when it comes right down to it, is there any greater love than Mo?

Mark J. Terrill/Associated Press

If you’ve been married for any length of time, you know you have to choose your battles.  You rent the romantic comedy instead of the Tarantino flick, you hang the picture in the hallway during halftime of the football game, and you smile when she asks to share your dessert.  You have to draw the line somewhere, though, and it seems like most of us take our stand with the comfort items.  It could be a beat up chair, a worn pair of jeans, or an old pair of shoes.

Andy Pettitte is an old pair of shoes.  He’s been doing this so long that it’s expected and surprising all at the same time.  Sure, the stubble on the jaw is a gun-metal grey now, and his three-year business trip to Houston kind of puts an asterisk on Michael Kay’s constant references to the Core Four, but this is still Andy Pettitte.  So when he rattled off eight effective innings on Sunday afternoon in the Bronx, Pettitte looked just like the guy we saw back in 2009 or 2003 or 1996.

He allowed two runs in the third inning on a single, a sacrifice, a double, and another single, but he was coldly effective the rest of the way.  He walked Ryan Garko with one out in the fourth, then settled in to retire the next twelve Texas hitters, highlighted by the sixth and seventh innings when he needed only fifteen pitches total to record the six outs.

On the other side of the efficiency coin was Texas starter Rich Harden.  Harden’s been on my fantasy team for the past couple seasons, so I’ve seen this game about a thousand times.  His stuff is great, far better than Pettitte’s, so he was able to strike out five hitters in only three and two-thirds innings, but the the problem was that he also gave up six walks and five base hits.  The strikeouts and walks would naturally lead to a high pitch count, but here’s a hidden stat that doomed Harden: Yankee hitters fouled off 22 of his pitches; Ranger batters managed only three foul balls during Pettitte’s eight innings.

Meanwhile, the Yankees cobbled together five runs with a sacrifice fly here, a bloop single there, and a couple of home runs, only one of which is interesting enough to talk about here.  The struggling Mark Teixeira hit his first home run of the season, and as he rounded the bases in his usual high-stepping trot, looking like a man running through three feet of snow, I wondered if he might finally be coming around.  I know we all know that Teixeira starts slowly, but just as a reminder, I looked it up.  Take a look at where he was on the morning of April 19th in each the past several years.  (And to make you feel better, I’ve included his finishing slash stats as well.)

2003: .149/.216/.298 — .259/.331/.480
2004: Injured in April — .281/.370/.560
2005: .224/.308/.397 — .301/.379/.575
2006: .321/.410/.528 — .282/.371/.514
2007: .204/.339/.224 — .306/.400/.563
2008: .203/.282/.375 — .308/.410/.552
2009: .194/.333/.548 — .292/.383/.565
2010: .114/.291/.205 — ????/????/????

The numbers don’t lie.  Sooner or later, he’ll be fine.  The hitters say that sometimes one swing is all it takes to find what’s been missing; here’s hoping that Big Tex has found it.  But back to our game…

Everything ended when another pair of comfortable shoes, Mariano Rivera, trotted in from the dugout and closed things out with a spotless ninth inning. Yankees 5, Rangers 2.  As noted everywhere, the Yanks have won their first four series, the first time that’s happened since 1926, and all is happy in the Bronx.

AP Photo/Mike Carlson

You know how they always tell us that cycles are just as rare as no-hitters and should be appreciated as such?  Nonsense.  Cycles are nice, but they’re really just gimmicks.  A no-hitter, though, is history, and CC Sabathia was chasing history on Saturday afternoon against the Tampa Bay Rays.

I’m an optimist in all things, especially when it comes to no-hitters, so after CC set down his twelfth straight batter, striking out Ben Zobrist to close out the fourth inning, I started thinking seriously about it and ignoring everything else in my life in favor of the outs piling up in Tampa.  One of those things was my wife, who made the mistake of asking me a question in the bottom of the sixth inning just as Jason Bartlett smoked a line drive that looked ticketed for right field.  Our conversation went like this:

Wife: Do you think we have time to stop at the camera store?

Me: Look at Big Tex!!!

What I probably should’ve said was, “Sure, we can definitely swing by the camera shop, but did you happen to notice the play that Mark Teixeira just made there?  That ball surely looked to be a base hit, but he really showed his Gold Glove form as he laid out to snare that liner.  Jason Giambi, by the way, wouldn’t even have been able to turn his head fast enough to follow the flight of the ball.”  But that’s not what I said.

Only an inning later, we had a similar conversation:

Wife: I’m worried about Alison’s fever.  Do you think we should take her to urgent care?

Me (standing and pumping fist): A-Rod!!!!

The smarter thing would’ve been for me to take my daughter’s temperature, discuss possible treatment options, and then explain that A-Rod’s play was the type of play that every no-hitter seems to have.  B.J. Upton had smashed a one-hop liner that looked to be headed to the left field corner, but A-Rod had dived to his right, hopped nimbly to his feet, and fired across the diamond to nab the speedy Upton by a step and a half.  With only six outs to go and Sabathia looking as strong as the defense behind him, the no-hitter looked extremely possible.

The best part of all this was that the game wasn’t really in doubt, because the Yankee hitters had arrived at the park with the urgency of an innocent man accused.  Robinson Canó can’t hit with runners on base?  He came up with two outs and Teixeira on first and answered that question by launching a home run to deep right, putting the Bombers up 2-0.  Teixeira can’t hit in April?  Tex rapped out his first three hits of the season, including an RBI double in the fourth that stretched the lead to 4-0.  Brett Gardner is an offensive liability?  He faced a team-high 27 pitches, reached base all five times, drove in two, scored twice, and stole a base.  (Some might disagree, but I’d love it if Girardi would send him out there every day for a few weeks, just to see what happens.)

So by the time the Rays came up in the 8th they were already down 8-0, and the only drama revolved around Sabathia and the final six outs.  Willy Aybar led off with a grounder that ricocheted off CC’s pitching hand (gasp!) to Canó who fired to Teixeira for the first out.  Pat Burrell then lofted a fly ball to Curtis Granderson in center, and Sabathia was four outs away; alas, that was as close as he’d get.

His former Cleveland teammate Kelly Shoppach roped a clean single to left, and that was that.  Joe Girardi sprinted out of the dugout immediately, and I imagined that he must’ve spent the entire half-inning crouched in starting blocks, poised to pull Sabathia as soon as possible.  (More on that later.)  The Yankees tacked on a couple more runs in the top of the ninth and David Robertson struck out two while nailing down the final four outs to close out what was almost an historic afternoon.  Yankees 10, Rays 0.

That Shoppach single was about as disappointing as a meaningless April base hit can be.  Even before the ball had been returned to the infield, I found myself wondering about what might’ve been.  I imagined Sabathia setting down Carl Crawford with a letter-high fastball and the celebration that would ensue.  Francisco Cervelli would leap Yogi-style into Sabathia’s arms, the rest of the team would mob them, and A-Rod and Teixeira would struggle to hoist CC’s 290 pounds onto their shoulders.

Post-game interviews, however, would reveal that if Shoppach hadn’t spoiled the no-no, Girardi would have.  As dominant as the big horse had been, umpire Wally Bell’s postage stamp strike zone had helped drive Sabathia’s pitch count up to 109 heading into the Shoppach at bat.  “Watching that pitch count go up and up and up, that was what was on my mind the most.  Shoppach was his last hitter no matter what.”

Sabathia jokingly responded that Girardi would’ve had a fight on his hands had he tried to prevent him from going back out to work the ninth, and if I had been in Tampa, I would have been fighting right alongside him.

Bronx Banter Interview

By Hank Waddles

For Yankee fans, Roger Clemens is a difficult case — even before all his recent steroid trouble. If you’re of my generation, you grew up despising him. Even though he pitched for Boston during an era when we all knew the Red Sox would never win anything, he was still a fearsome enemy. He was the gunslinger who stole your girlfriend before shooting the sheriff right between the eyes on his way out of town. There was some pleasure to be had when his skills began to decline during his twilight years in Boston, but it wasn’t too much of a surprise when he became great again — if irrelevant — during his time in Toronto. And when he came to New York in 1999, if all wasn’t forgotten, at least it was put aside. First of all, the Yanks were adding the best pitcher in the game; second, they were twisting the knife in the heart of Red Sox Nation. It was a win-win.

Roger helped the Yankees to a couple more championships, won his 300th game, endeared himself to the Boss and legions of fans, and said all the right things about wearing a Yankee cap into the Hall of Fame. But then came the defection to Houston, the self-serving Stadium announcement of his return to New York, and, finally, the steroid allegations. There was an embarrassment that we had once embraced him, and the ashes in our mouths were there to remind us that we had gotten exactly what we deserved.

But there is more to Roger Clemens. Sure, he cut corners, but he also worked harder than any of his teammates. Yes, he is hopelessly selfish and egotistical, but he’d be the first player to volunteer for visits to children’s hospitals. Whether you loved him once or never at all, whether you think he deserves a plaque in Cooperstown or a spot in Dante’s Ninth Circle of Hell, you have to admit that Roger Clemens matters. In Jeff Pearlman’s latest book, The Rocket That Fell to Earth: Roger Clemens and the Rage for Baseball Immortality, he does his typically thorough job of cutting through the Roger Clemens mythology and getting to the heart of the man who was once considered one of the five greatest pitchers of all time. A few weeks ago Jeff was generous enough to spend part of his morning talking with me about the book, the steroid era, and a few other topics. Enjoy…

BronxBanter:  You’ve said that you love writing books, but when I spoke to you a while back while you were deep in this one, you described it as hell. How do those two things go together?

Pearlman:  The only thing I can really compare it to is running marathons. I run a lot of marathons. When I first start running a marathon, I’m really excited, and I love the first thirteen miles, and then the next four miles I sort of start feeling it, and then once you hit the twenties you start thinking, “I’m never gonna do this again. I’m neeeever doing this again.” And when you cross the finish line your first thought is, “Thank god this is over so I never have to do it again.” And then ten minutes later you’re thinking about the next marathon. And that’s how I feel about writing books. It’s nightmarish. It’s hellish. You’re solely focused — usually for a year and a half or two years — on one person, one subject, for all that time. You’re looking for these little details that seem insignificant to someone who doesn’t do it for a living, I would guess, but they become these gold nuggets for you. Finding out what someone used to drink for breakfast in the morning, silly little things like that that you think mean nothing, but they mean everything when you’re working on a book. Detail is what counts. When I was a kid I read every book imaginable, every sports book I could find, and I didn’t really differentiate between the good ones and the bad ones and the mediocre ones because I didn’t know any better. But now, when I’m reading someone else’s book, I really am looking for the details. If you’re writing a book about Reggie Jackson, everybody knows all there is to know about his three home run game in the World Series, but when you learn what sort of glasses he was wearing or where he got his hair cut or what he was saying to Mickey Rivers right before the game, that’s interesting.

BB:  How does that compare to writing feature articles? You used the marathon analogy; are these just sprints if you’re writing a piece for SI or some other magazine?

JP:  One of the best pieces of advice I got for writing a book was when I was doing my first book, which was about the Mets. Jon Wertheim, who is a friend of mine and writes for SI, said to me, the best thing you can do is think of each chapter as an article, as a lengthy article. So I would compare an article, if it’s long, to writing a chapter. And a book is just like a big monsoon.

BB:  I heard David Maraniss say once that it was much easier to write about dead people. If he was writing a biography about a living subject – and I think he was referring to his Clinton book – he would just pretend that the person was dead. Did you seek out Clemens at all, or did you pretend he was dead?

JP:  Well, I did reach out, and it was made clear he wouldn’t talk. Hence, it really was as if he was dead to me. I didn’t think of it in Maraniss’s terms, but he’s 100% right. And it’s definitely easier to write about a deceased person, because:
A. He won’t come back and say, “That’s not right.”
B. You don’t waste all that time trying to get him to talk.
C. People are more open when they know the person won’t get mad.
D. He can’t sue you for anything.

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By Hank Waddles

Imagine that it’s the spring of, say 1931, and you’re starting to think that Babe Ruth just might end up being one of the best players ever to grip a bat. The recent downturn in the economy has left you without a job, so you figure, hey, why not spend the year following the Babe – every game, every at bat, every swing. You drive to places like Boston and Philadelphia, take the train to Washington, and ride busses to Detroit and Chicago. Along the way, you make friends in the bleachers in Cleveland, catch a series with a cousin in St. Louis, and sleep on couches in all corners of the American League. Your bank account feels the bite of your mission, your wife and children become strangers, and close friends question your sanity, but somehow it’s still worth it. I mean, this is Babe Ruth we’re talking about, right? If you could, you’d go back in time and do it in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you?

Now flash forward to 2008 and the Babe Ruth of this generation, Tiger Woods. Writer Bob Smiley shadowed Tiger for every swing of every hole of every tournament in places like San Diego, Augusta, and Dubai, and the result is an extremely engaging book, Follow the Roar: Tailing Tiger for All 604 Holes of His Most Spectacular Season. Last week Bob was kind enough to spend some time talking about his journey. Check it out…

BronxBanter: One of my favorite aspects of the book was that it wasn’t just about Tiger Woods, it was secretly about you, so I thought we might start with Bob Smiley. How important was golf to you when you were growing up?

Bob Smiley: It was really important. It was the first and really only sport I could every really play with my dad. I mean, I played little league and basketball, but golf was something that he taught me how to do when I was eight years old. We would go out and he would try to teach me the point of the game, but I would purposely hit it in the sand trap so I could play in the sand. He really wanted me to embrace the fact that golf is fun and when you get older you’ll appreciate the challenge of it. So for me it was always just a great place, and I had so many memories with my father as I was growing up. When my parents split up when I was a teenager that sort of remained the one spot, even to this day, where he and I still see each other is on the golf course.

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