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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