Bronx Banter Interview: Joel Sherman

This is a tidy year for baseball anniversaries here in New York: Thirty years ago, the Yanks returned to the playoffs for the first time since 1964; twenty years ago, the Mets enjoyed the best season in their organization’s history and won the World Serious, and ten years ago, of course, Joe Torre managed the Yankees to their first Serious victory since 1978. So it is entirely fitting that Joel Sherman’s first book, “The Birth of a Dynasty”–an insider’s account of the 1996 Yankee team–has just been released. Sherman has been a columnist for the New York Post since ’96 and his book is a must-read for both casual and die-hard Yankee fans. I consumed the book in a few days and was excited about how much I learned (I never heard of a six-tool player before, but Ruben Rivera apparently fit the profile).

Sherman took some time out this week to discuss “The Birth of a Dynasty.” Hope you enjoy our chat.

Bronx Banter: You are a veteran baseball writer–first as a beat reporter, then as a columnist. Both of those jobs require different skills, but in both positions you are still working on a deadline and have only a limited amount of space to get your point across. This is your first book. What challenges did you encounter with the new medium? What was the most difficult transition for you, and what did you learn about yourself as a writer?

Joel Sherman: This is an excellent question. My whole temperament is built to be a newspaperman. I am almost a New York stereotype. I like to work quickly and move on to the next thing. The column feeds that. At the New York Post, you work on three deadlines a day. So you are constantly working all day on the days you write and then, boom, you are done. It is in the paper for various editions and you are on to the next day. When you write a book, there is no instant gratification or negative reaction, at all. It is a long-term process and my Brooklyn mindset had a tough time with that. As for what I learned during the process was more something that was re-established in my own mind, which is how much I love to report. The 1996 Yankees were an extremely well covered team and interviewing folks to try to find new information and new avenues to tell these stories really energized me.

BB: Did you enjoy the process?

JS: Mostly no. It was a difficult time for me to take on this process. My wife and I had our first children, our twins Jake and Nick, and trying to research/write as an extra job during first a pregnancy and then the early months of the lives of my children was straining. Also, a relationship with a publishing house is like a brief, shot-gun marriage. You are forced to deal with people for a very short, intense period that you probably would not associate with at other times.

BB: How long did it take to write?

JS: The research and writing took about 18 months, but there was no continuity to it because of the pregnancy. I went long stretches of doing nothing.

BB: It sounds like it was a humbling experience for you, going from the immediate gratification of newspaper writing, to the grind of a longer project. The scope is so much larger as you mentioned. Also, book writing is often a collaborative situation, which means you don’t have as much control as you have been used to. How important were the contributions of your editor–or colleagues who looked at different versions of the manuscript–in terms of helping you compose a dramatic arc for a book as compared with a column?

JS: The publishing house provided very little guidance. But I am blessed with great, talented friends. Mike Vaccaro, a columnist at the Post, was terrific at encouragement. When he was interested or intrigued by a topic, I knew it was a topic to pursue. I wanted to have moments all over the book where even people who follow the team religiously would go, “wow, I didn’t know that.” Mike was fantastic at helping me with that. Lou Rabito, an editor at the Philadelphia Inquirer, and I went to school at NYU. Among Lou’s many skills is that he is the best line editor I have ever worked with and he is brutally honest. So he not only cleaned up the copy, but he told me frankly when items did or didn’t work. His touch is on nearly every page of the book. Also, Ken Rosenthal, now of Fox Sports, worked at the Baltimore Sun in 1996 as a columnist. He was in fact, a great columnist. The Orioles were the Yankees’ foil in 1996 and I had Ken read passages about the Orioles just to make sure I was getting them right. He was invaluable, as well. I think the key thing all three did was give me confidence. With no instant gratification, I needed people along the way to tell me, you are going right or you are going wrong. They did that.

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PART TWO

(Click here for Part One)

Here more of my conversation with historian Chuck Korr. Enjoy.

BB: Ralph Kiner writes about the early days of the Players Association in his new book. But for the most part, did the older generation of players, who grew up during the depression and who played in the 40s and 50s genuinely believe they should be grateful for playing the game, forget about getting involved with a union?

CK: Yes, they did like both the money and the adulation that came with being a major leaguer, but few bought into the idea that they should be grateful. They knew that ownership would get rid of them when they were no longer useful. We also tend to forget that many of these players had also come through World War II and they knew the importance of fighting for themselves.

BB: When did that attitude start to change?

CK: The changes started in the early ’60s. A couple of features are responsible for that. The most important was expansion, since it made even marginal players feel more secure. The corporate entry into baseball (CBS) also showed a lot of players the business dimension of their sport/occupation. Jim Bunning made that point forcefully to me when we talked. Finally, it’s impossible to overestimate the general climate that marked the ’60s–the questioning of authority on previously accepted norms. The idea in baseball of “owner knows best” or someone will “take care of you” was both untrue and was out of step with so much of what was happening in
the country.

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Part One

One of the best books that I’ve come across in my research for the Curt Flood biography for teenagers that I’m currently working on, is a history of the Players Association by Chuck Korr, “The End of Baseball As We Knew It: The Players Union, 1960–1981.” Korr is a professor and sports historian at the University of Missouri-St. Louis. His book on the union is the ideal companion to John Helmer’s “Lords of the Realm” (not to mention the “A Whole Different Ballgame,” by Marvin Miller and “Hardball,” by Bowie Kuhn). Now available in paperback, “The End of Baseball As We Knew It” won the Elysian Fields Quarterly’s Dave Moore Award as the best baseball book published in 2002 and was runner up for SABR Seymour Medal for the North American Society for Sport History’s award best sport history book of the year.

What distinguishes “The End of Baseball As We Knew It” is the fact that Korr had complete access to the Association’s papers and files. It is a remarkably well-documented work, a simply fantastic resource for anyone interested in the history of the union. But Korr wasn’t only interested in the Association’s point-of-view; his interviews with Judge Robert Cannon, who presided over the union before Miller entered the stage, as well as John Gaherin, the owners’ head negotiator during the Miller-Dick Moss years, give the book balance and depth. These two men, along with Frank Scott, who ran the Association on a part-time basis during the Fifties, are often overlooked. But they were key figures in baseball’s labor saga, and Korr makes sure to get their side of the story.

I recently had the opportunity to chat with Korr, who is a generous and engaging guy. Here is the first part of our conversation. Enjoy.

Bronx Banter: How did you manage to get access to the records at the Association and how did that help form your book?

Chuck Korr: Ted Simmons read an article I’d written that analyzed how free agency and large salaries for professional athletes in the U. S. and Britain had changed the relationship between them and the fans. He sent a copy of the article to Don Fehr, who was interested in it. Maryanne Ellison Simmons (Ted’s wife and the founder of a very important magazine for wives in baseball, The Waiting Room) and Ted thought it was important to have a historian write about the union and suggested that I should look into the idea. I contacted Fehr and Marvin Miller and when both of them said they would make the records of the union available to me, I decided to set aside the work I was doing and see if it would be possible to write a history of the union. Fehr, Gene Orza, and Mark Belanger did everything possible to assist my work–they gave me an office space when I needed it and wrote letters to everyone whom I wanted to interview. Everyone involved with the union made a commitment to have no control over the final product. In fact, no one involved with the union saw any of the manuscript until after it had gone to the press for outside peer review.

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I love writing about rooting for the Yankees. That ain’t hard to tell, is it? But yo, one of the most satisfying aspects of hosting this blog is having a community of readers who stop by, time and time again. I can’t tell you how rewarding that is for me. Some of you make yourselves known in the comments section, while others prefer to just read along, keeping your thoughts private. I value both kinds of readers, of course.

Anyhow, I was thinking how I could best say thanks, while offering some small token of my appreciation at the same time. I’ve been absolutely swamped with my 9-5 of late, so the interview I recently conducted will have to wait until early next year (so much transrcibing, so little time). Instead, I contacted a couple of writers and asked if they would be willing to submit a guest article to help celebrate another fine baseball year. Lucky for me–and now you–a bunch of ’em said yes. So over the next week or so, I’m gunna post articles from some of my favorite Internet writers, who I’m also fortunate enough to call friends.

The first piece is by Tim Marchman, who writes for The New York Sun and The New Partisan. Hope you enjoy. Heppy holidaze guys. Thanks for helping make Bronx Banter a lively place to get together and shoot the baseball breeze.

Flawed Heroes: Then and Now

By Tim Marchman

You have to take all the recent talk about the death of the baseball hero in a fair perspective.

There are, apparently, hundreds of sportswriterís sons tearing down Jason Giambi posters from their walls and pronouncing the disgraced slugger a cheat and a fraud. Giambi is both, and deserves in some measure the scorn of his young fans; but I doubt that these children will suffer too greatly from their disillusioning. They may even end up the better for it.

I grew up in Queens following the Davey Johnson Mets, probably the sleaziest team in living memory. Because it was Queens and because the Mets were so great and the Yankees so consistently second-best both in their division and in the city, to be a Yankee fan was usually a matter both of family inheritance and inborn contrarianism, and thus something fiercely clung to, like a threatened faith.

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I asked several writers for their thoughts or feelings about the ALCS between the Yanks and Sox. Here is what they had to say:

Allen Barra (author of “Brushbacks and Knockdowns”):

Like many of my colleagues, I feel the Yankees are going to win, though no amount of analysis is going to tell me exactly how. That’s because no amount of analysis has given me a satisfactory answer as to how the Yankees came up with the best record in the American League this year and how they are currently just four wins away from the World Series.
After the lost of their best hitter, Giambi, and then the breakdown of the pitching staff, I must have said at least fifteen times during the second half of the season and through the playoffs that “If they don’t win this game, that’s it.” I said it three more times against the Twins, and each time they came back to win. I don’t get it, except to say that this team probably had more heart than anyone has given it credit for.
On the practical side, there is no reason why Mussina pitching at home can’t cancel out Schilling. Or for that matter, Lieber pitching at home can’t beat Pedro — who most certainly did not pitch the game against the Angels that the TV commentators were saying he pitched. (There were at least four times when a single pitch gone the other way could have knocked him out of the box.) By my count that now gives him five unimpressive starts in a row. The big X factors are El Duque’s tired arm and Kevin Brown’s sore back in Boston.
Two things. First, it is absolutely ridiculous the way commentators have taken the loss of Nomar and the acquisition of Cabrera and what’s-his-name at first base as what turned the Red Sox around. A bunch of other guys simply got hot is what happened. The defensive difference at shortstop is slight, to say the least, and there are two holes in the Sox batting order now that can be exploited. Second, I have no idea how Mariano Rivera’s loss will affect his pitching. I suspect not at all. Most professionals tend to hunker down and play better after moments of great tragedy. But that is all rather beside the point. What happened to his family members is of far greater import on any human scale than a baseball game, and I think it’s rather vulgar for all of us to speculate, so I’ll stop.

Howard Bryant (Boston Herald columnist, author of “Shut Out”):

Sox in five. And no, this is not a joke.

Daniel Habib (baseball writer, Sports Illustrated):

OK, deep breath: Predicting the outcome of this series is an exercise in hubris. Over the past two seasons, they’ve been so evenly matched it’s hard to imagine anything other than seven tight games, and seven between these two would be so fraught with potential for luck, happenstance, etc., that honestly, I might as well toss a coin. That’s how closely I feel the Sox and Yanks match up. However: I’m going to hang my hat on Schilling, because he owns the Yankees in October. If he’s healthy, my gut tells me he’ll pitch in at least three games, impacting each one, and that will be the difference.

Pat Jordan (author of “A Nice Tuesday”):

The Twins were intimidated by Yankee glory. Too bad. Now, perennial losers Red Sox will self-destruct, too.

King Kaufman (columnist salon.com):

My gut feeling is that the Red Sox are going to take them this time. I think they’re a much better team with the Twins, especially the way the Twins diluted Johan Santana by using him on short rest. I know Beckett made me look bad for saying it was a mistake to pitch him on short rest in Game 6 last year, but I still think it’s generally bad news to take a guy — particularly a young one — whose spent the whole year, and probably his whole career, pitching on four days’ rest and throw him in on three days’ rest in the most important game of the year. But I digress. I think the Big Two are an advantage, Rivera has lost a little of his invincible sheen, and the Sox can just slug and slug. It’s going to be a tight one, I think, and a Yankees win wouldn’t surprise me — it never does. But I’m picking the Red Sox by a whisker.

Michael Lewis (author of “Moneyball”):

None, except I’ll bet if they [Boston] win the World Series Theo [Epstein] will downplay the role of sabermetrics.

Buster Olney (author of “The Last Night of the Yankee Dynasty):

I have no credibility with predictions at this point. I chose the Cubs to win the World Series before the season started, and I picked Anaheim to win the ALCS at the start of the post-season. So I will qualify everything:

The Red Sox will win if:
1. Pedro is effective against the Yankees.
2. The Boston starters pitch long enough to limit the responsibility of the Red Sox middle relief, which is weak.
3. Kevin Millar doesn’t kill Boston with a series of atrocious screw-ups at first base.

The Yankees will win if:
1. Kevin Brown pitches effectively and doesn’t attack any more walls.
2. They drive up the pitch count of Schilling and Pedro and get into the Boston bullpen during the sixth innings.
3. A-Rod continues to thrive in the spotlight of New York (and so far, even cynics like myself have to give him lots of credit).

Dayn Perry (columnist Fox Sports.com/Baseball Prospectus):

The consensus is that Boston is better equipped to win it. That may be true, but I think it’s too close to call. I think the fact that both teams will use four-man rotations will benefit the Yankees. Schilling and Pedro > Mussina and Lieber, but I like the back end of the Yanks’ rotation, even in disrepair, better than Arroyo and Wakefield. It’ll be critical for the Yanks to show up in Fenway when they have the Brown v. Arroyo and Vazquez v. Wakefield matchups (Or Orlando
Hernandez, if the Yankees decide he’s healthy enough to start Game 4). I think the series will ride on the Yanks’ ability to win Games 3 and 4. If they do that, they’ll win the series, I think.

Alan Schwarz (Baseball America/ESPN columnist and author “The Numbers Game”):

I will offer you the same prediction that Clubber Lang had for his first match up with Rocky: “PAIN.”

Glenn Stout (author of Red Sox, Yankee and most recently Dodger Century):

Everything is lined up for the Red Sox to win. For once, their pitching staff is rested and the starters they want are all in a line. They also seem to have successfully addressed the weaknesses that have long plagued Red Sox teams–not enough pitching, defense, speed and depth, although I think there are still some holes in the defense–itís almost a guarantee that Ramirez will botch at least one routine fly ball and that someone will run on Damon and score a run they shouldnít, but all in all, much improved. On the other hand, the Yankees seem beatable, particularly given the possible loss of Rivera and the unavailability of El Duque. Add it up in any logical fashion and Boston should win, perhaps even easily.

Maybe thatís why I think they wonít. Riveraís loss give the Yankees that cheesy but nevertheless effective jolt of “us against them,” underdog status, A-Rod and Jeter appear to be playing an internal game of “top this,” and vets like Bernie Williams seem determined to give one last demonstration that he can still play. Meanwhile the Red Sox, for the first time, suffer from the “expectation of victory” premise and for a team that over the year has shown a propensity to blow hot and cold, theyíve had to sit around for a few dayshard for hitters to stay in a groove.

Two more things tip the Yankees way. Torre has a big edge over Francona. The Yankees, not the Red Sox, have won an awful lot of games they should have lost this year and Torre is much the reason. Granted, he probably has more tools at his disposal, but he knows how to use them. And the home field advantage of Yankee Stadium is enormous this time of year. Iíve long held to the “big ballpark theory” in the post season. Historically, over the past decade or so, teams that play in larger ballparks not only tend to reach the post season but to defeat those teams that play in smaller parks. I donít know whyperhaps random acts of chaos take place more frequently in smaller parksbut it seems to happen nearly every year.

So while I wouldnít be surprised to see the Red Sox win in about five, a little voice, maybe history, tells me that wonít happen. If NY steals a game pitched by Schilling, it starts to tilt their way. Besides, way too many books are already being written in anticipation of a Boston world championship, and thatís usually the kiss of death. And like last year, I think that whoever wins this Series may be too gassed to win the World Series. So for both the Red Sox and the Yankees, this series may mark the effective end of their season. Thatís what everyone is hoping for everywhere else. Because for the rest of the country, there are two “evil empires.”

I checked in with the baseball journalist Pat Jordan yesterday. Pat lives in Florida with his wife and their dogs. I wondered how theyíve been holding up under all the brutal weather. Pat replied, “Susie and I and the dogs drank a our way through Frances and are going to drink our way through Ivan. The shutters have been up for two weeks now and it’s like living in a cage. Still, a small price to pay for Paradise.” Jordan is a huge fan of Miami football and is still riding high since the Caines beat Florida State last weekend. I can hardly relate since Iím not a college football guy. Instead, I pressed him for his take on whatís wrong with Javier Vazquez. As usual, Pat, a former pitching prospect for Braves, pulled no punches.

Pat Jordan: Vazquez is throwing across his body, like many left-handers do. He’s following through towards third base and not first base. When a righty follows through, his left leg and left shoulder should be pulling toward a left-handed batter, which generates power with his right arm. When a righty follows through towards a right-handed batter, all his power is spent and he’s just flinging the ball with his arm.

BB: Three starts ago Jim Kaat spoke about balance on the broadcast. He said one simple exercise for a pitcher is for him to look at himself in the mirror and balance himself on his back leg for as long as possible. YES then showed a replay of Vazquez who looked like he was leaning about a foot forward off the mound. Are these kind of mechanical problems a result of anything mental? For instance, is Vazquez trying too hard and therefore rushing himself?

Jordan: Kaat is absolutely right. If a pitcher has proper balance he can stand in that one-legged Flamingo pose all day. Vazquez, can’t because his body is already leaning toward third base or a right handed batter, and he’s rushing to throw the ball before he falls to his right. It took me months when I was coming back to pitch at 56 to be able to stand on one leg without wobbling. Your weight has to be perpendicular, going down from head to toe. If your weight is off, like Vazquezís is, leaning to his right, you can’t sustain your motion and you rush your pitch. These problems are not mental, simple to correct. I’ve done it with l4 year old kids. It’s not a case of trying to hard it’s just bad mechanics obvious to anyone except the Yankee brain trust.

BB: Also, I’ve noticed that Vazquez just can’t put guys away. It seems that he gets hurt–especially with the long ball–when he’s ahead on the count, 0-2, 1-2. Is that a case of him trying to make a perfect pitch or what?

Jordan: The reason Vazquez gets hurt 0-2 is cause he can’t generate best stuff by pulling his upper body to his left, where his shoulder, not arm, generates speed. It’s the shoulder where the power comes from. No one throws hard who uses only the arm. Go look at old photos of Koufax in his motion. As a let, his right shoulder is pulled far to his right and almost touching the ground, which, in turn, elevates his left arm and gives it speed. But what the fuck do I know? I’m only a half-ass writer.

BB: How much influence does Mel Stottlemyre have on his pitching staff? As much of a Yankee icon as Stottlemyre is, heís been criticized for not getting the most out of his pitchers.

Jordan: There, my diagnosis. I could do a better job than Stottlemeyre. If he’s such a great pitching coach why do the Yankees send their troubled pitchers to Tampa to work with Billy Connors? The only reason Bill Connors is not the Yanks pitching coach is because he’s too fat, not the proper Yankee image. Iíve forgotten more about pitching that Stottlemeyre will ever know. I was the one who wanted to raise Weaver’s arm motion about 30 degrees so his fastball would sink more to lefties. The Dodgers did it and he’s having a good year. Why didn’t the Yankees do it? Cause they’re lazy. They buy guys and let them play. The have no concept of teaching or refining talent. They’re stagnating. Torre could let the Paul OíNeill guys just play because they were smart and corrected their flaws themselves. These guys are clueless, and need help. But again, what the fuck do I know?

Paul Molitor and Dennis Eckersley were elected to the Hall of Fame this afternoon. Now that Eckersley–most famous as world-class closer for the Oakland A’s–has reached Cooperstown, perhaps the voters will begin to look more kindly on relief pitchers. Still, Bruce Sutter and Goose Gossage, arguably the two most significant relievers of the free agency era, did not make the cut once again.

Eckersley, a demonstrative and volatile performer, has been a nervous wreck of late as he waited to hear if he made it into the Hall. In a report that was published yesterday, he said:

“It’s killing me is what it’s doing…It’s murdering me. Tell me already, so I can deal with it if I don’t. I feel like a little kid, where you’re dangling something in front of me. I can’t even sleep. I’m like a yo-yo.”

Eckersley is as entertaining off the field as he was on it. Terry Pluto covered the swinging salad days of Eck’s career in “The Curse of Rocky Colavito,” while Mike Bryan had an excellent chapter on Eckersley in his book, “Baseball Lives.” Here is an excerpt from Bryan’s book:

People say baseball players should go out and have fun. No way. To me, baseball is pressure. I always feel it. This is work. The fun is afterwards, when you shake hands.

When I was a rookie I’d tear stuff up. Now I keep it in. What good is smashing a light on the way up the tunnel? But I still can’t sleep at night if I stink. I’ve always tried to change that and act like a normal guy when I got home. “Hi, honey, what’s happening?” I can’t. It’s there. It doesn’t go away. But maybe that’s why I’ve been successful in my career, because I care. I don’t have fun. I pitch scared. That’s what makes me go. Nothing wrong with being scared if you can channel it.

I used to hide behind my cockiness. Don’t let the other team know you’re scared. I got crazy on the mound. Strike a guy out, throw my fist around—“Yeah!” Not real classy, but I was a raw kid. I didn’t care. It wasn’t fake. It was me. This wasn’t taken very kindly by a lot of people. They couldn’t wait to light me up. That’s the price you pay.

I wish I was a little happier in this game. What is so great about this shit? You get the money, and then you’re used to the money. You start making half a million a year, next thing you know you need half a million a year. And the heat is on!

Used to be neat to just be a big-league ballplayer, but that wore off. I’m still proud, but I don’t want people to bother me about it. I wish my personality with people was better. I find myself becoming short with people. Going to the store. Getting gas.

If you’re not happy with when you’re doing lousy, then not happy when you’re doing well, when the hell are you going to be happy? This game will humble you in a heartbeat. Soon as you starting getting happy, “Boom.” For the fans—and this is just a guess—they think the money takes out the feeling. I may be wrong but I think they think, “What the hell is he worrying about? He’s still getting’ paid.” There may be a few players who don’t give 100 percent, but I always thought if you were good enough to make that kind of money, you’d have enough pride to play like that, wouldn’t you think? You don’t just turn it on or off.

Eckersley is a good talker. But he’s not as slick as the media-friendly David Cone; he is much closer to Pat Jordan: a straight-shootin’ sombitch. I admire him for his vulnerability and honesty. Bryan’s interview with Eck was conducted during spring training in 1988, with his his greatest years as a relief pitcher ahead of him. But Eckersley was candid about how he felt about life after baseball:

I’ve been very fortunate to pitch for fourteen years in the big leagues. That’s a long time for a pitcher. I’m afraid of life after baseball. Petrified. I’m not ashamed of saying it. I’ll be all right, but nothing will ever compare with this. I will not stay in baseball. I think about commercial real estate and money, big money!

Or maybe I’ll grow up after I get ouf of this fuckin’ game.

Funny that we should be talking about grown-ups with Pete Rose clouding the baseball landscape, but both Mr. Molitor and Mr. Eck are all grown up now, and where they belong: in Cooperstown. Here’s hoping that Blyelven, Ryno, Sutter and the Goose join them soon.

With just one day left in the calendar year of 2003, I’ve been spending some time thinking about how rewarding my first full year of writing Bronx Banter has been. It has become an unbridled passion, and yet for all the work I’ve put in to it, I’ve feel as if I’ve received just as much, if not more, in return. So bear with me as I acknowledge some of the people who have informed, entertained and shared their love of baseball with me in 2003.

First of course, are my contemporaries in the blogging universe. Every page that is linked to the right has been meaningful to me, but I am especially thankful for the relationships I have developed with Edward Cossette, Christian Ruzich, Jay Jaffe, Rich Lederer, Peter Schilling Jr, Tim Marchman, Jon Weisman, and Will Carroll. I also want to shout out some of the writers who have inspired me. They include: David Pinto, Lee Sinins, John Perricone, the Mighty Mike C, Aaron Gleeman, Steve Keane, Cliff Corcoran, Christopher DeRosa, John Bonnes, Travis Nelson, Repoz, Bryan Smith, Avkash Patel, Ben Jacobs, Peter White, Brian Gunn, Derek Zumsteg, Larry Manhken, “Twin Fan Dan,” Seth Stohs and the fellas over at Elephants in Oakland. I’m sure I’m forgetting some names; if I am, please forgive me.

Naturally, there are some fantastic professional writers out there too. Guys like Gordon Edes, Steve Goldman, Rob Neyer, Joe Sheehan, Alan Schwarz, Tom Boswell, Pat Jordan, Roger Angell, Tom Verducci, Peter Gammons, Bruce Markusen, Bill Madden, Doug Pappas, Bob Hohler, Ken Rosenthal, John Harper, Howard Bryant, King Kaufman, Nate Silver, Buster Olney, Joel Sherman, Allen Barra, Jack Curry, Ryan Wilkens, Anthony McCarron, Jim Caple, and Tyler Kepner, just to name some of my favorites.

I don’t know if the level of discourse in the other major sports can compare with what we have in baseball. Baseball Prospectus has certainly raised the level, that’s for sure. And as far as resources go, Retrosheet, Baseball-Reference.com, and Baseball Primer’s “Clutch Hits” have been essential, daily parts of my life.

Naturally, I can’t forget the readers who keep coming back to check out Bronx Banter. Guys like Murray, Harley, Cliff, Rich, Steve, e Double, and my favorite Yankee couple in Boston (who shall remain nameless for their own protection). And they are just the tip of the iceberg.

Not only that, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to show my appreciation to the New York Yankees. To George, Joe Torre, Bernie Williams, Mariano Rivera, Mike Mussina, ‘lil Sori, Jeter, Giambi and the boys. They gave us Yankee fans another wild, and rewarding season. Another trip to the Serious, after the thrilling, knock-down battle with the Red Sox in the ALCS, was almmost too good to be true. Sure, many Yankee fans expect to reach the Serious each year, and that’s OK. We’ve been properly spoiled rotten. But I appreciate every time they make the playoffs. Everyone keeps waiting for them to fall off. Hell, I’ve been expecting it since the middle of the 1998 season, and yet, here they are, still winning and giving us plenty to cheer about.

They are a great team to follow as a fan, and an even better team to follow as a writer. And that’s a comforting thought, because no matter what happens in 2004, you can bet your bottom dollar that the Bronx Bombers won’t be dull.

For all of this, I am thankful. I’ve learned more about baseball in the past year than almost any year of my life. The beauty part is that I’ve been saying the same thing for the past seven or eight years. Here is looking forward to another great year in 2004.

I hope everyone has a safe and happy New Year’s Eve.

THE DIRTY DOZEN

I was able to conduct twelve lenghty interviews this past year, and I can only hope to be able to do more of the same in 2004. In case anyone wants to go back and revisit some of them, here is a full list of the Bronx Banter Interviews:

Ken Burns Part One

Ken Burns Part Two
Buck O’Neil

Marvin Miller

Buster Olney

Rob Neyer Part One

Rob Neyer Part Two
Ethan Coen
Allen Barra

Michael Lewis

Jim Bouton

Jane Leavy

Pat Jordan

Tom Verducci

STRONG MEN ALSO CRY, SIR

When I first went to work for the Coen brothers in the fall of 1996, they had already cast Jeff Bridges as “The Dude” for their next movie, “The Big Lebowski.” For the first couple of weeks I was with them, they agonized over who would play “Lebowski.” The trouble was, most of the actors on their wish list were dead: Fredy Gywnne, Raymond Burr, Orson Welles. Ultimately, it came down to two actors, one of whom was British. I thought the Brit was the better choice, but for Joel and Ethan it was important that the actor was American, preferably of the midwest variety.

Thinking back on it, George Steinbrenner would have been an ideal choice. I was reminded of this after reading that Boss George got all choked up in front of a group of stunned reporters after yesterday’s exciting win over the Red Sox. As Lebowski would say, “Strong men also cry.” Veteran New York reporters Bill Madden and Joel Sherman were genuinely surprised at Steinbrenner’s reaction. That is saying something. Jack Curry reports in the Times:

The tears were visible beneath his sunglasses soon after Pride delivered for the second straight game. Steinbrenner depicts himself as a tough guy and a tough owner, a man who has avoided tears after winning some World Series titles. But on this emotional day in an emotional rivalry, when two of his best players wound up at a hospital for X-rays, Steinbrenner turned softer than pudding.

“I’m just proud of the way Mussina pitched,” Steinbrenner said. “You know, I’m getting older. As you get older, you do this more.”

According to Madden:

With a security guard behind him looking on in astonishment, Steinbrenner briefly excused himself from the group of reporters that had surrounded him in the press box as the Yankees were loading the bases against the new Red Sox closer, Byung Hyun Kim, with none out in the ninth. Moments later, as jubilation reigned from the 55,000 fans exiting the Stadium and Sinatra was kicking into “New York, New York,” Steinbrenner came back, still teary-eyed, only this time with a tone of defiance to his voice.

“Did you think Martinez was deliberately throwing at your guys?” he was asked.

“I have no idea what’s going on in his head,” Steinbrenner said, “except that it didn’t look too good to me. Two hitters? One of whom, Soriano, is on his way to the All-Star Game. … If he did deliver a message, he delivered the wrong — message!”

The postgame interviews featured relatively tame he-said/she-said accounts of Martinez’s drillings.

Naturally, the Sox left town vexed that they couldn’t win the series. Bob Ryan has a terrific summary of the game in the Globe this morning:

…Of course the Yankees found a way to win by a 2-1 score, and when it was over Niagara Falls took up residence on Steinbrenner’s face. The Boss bawled some serious tears of joy. Seriously. He was really crying. When it comes to this rivalry, there is never any need to make things up. Fact has been kicking Fiction’s butt now for nigh onto nine decades.

Ryan points out how the Red Sox wasted a great opportunity to take the series with Martinez pitching and the Yankees fielding their B (or C?) team.

The journalistic temptation is to get melodramatic when discussing the ceaseless Red Sox fan frustration against the Yankees, but how can you not when you see games like this? Losing this game, and falling back to the same situation the team was in when it arrived here in the wee smalls Friday (i.e. four games behind), on a day when they were playing the junior varsity and your team was suiting up the full varsity is, what? Galling? Humiliating? Exasperating? Oh, God forbid, and worst of all, predictable? Was there a seasoned Red Sox fan out there who didn’t know with 1 trillion percent certainty in his or her heart of hearts that as soon as Giambi’s single tied the game off Martinez that this game was a lost cause and more than likely would end in some messy fashion?

What did we have in the ninth? We had two singles on two-strike pitches, a hit batsman to load the bases with none out, and a botched grounder that had inning-ending 4-2-3 written all over it.

And then we had George opening up the facial faucet.

When the subject matter is the Red Sox and their ongoing battle to slay the big, bad dragon from the Bronx, no mere sportswriter is equal to the task. But Homer is dead, and we are all you’ve got.

Weep on, George. History remains on your side.

Hall of Fame Watch

JOE, HO, HO

Joe Torre is on the list of 26 former ballplayers who are up for Hall of Fame consideration by the newly revamped Veterans Committee (Rob Neyer has a good article regarding the recent changes in his most recent column). In his book, “Whatever Happened to the Hall of Fame” Bill James listed Joe Torre as one of the two most qualified catchers who are not in the Hall (Ted Simmons was the other). But even if Torre is not elected by the Veterans Committee for his accomplishments as a player, there is little doubt that his success as a manager will eventually place him in Cooperstown.

The following excerpt is from Pat Jordan’s acutely observed memoir, “A False Spring”. While it doesn’t necessarily prove that Torre should be in the Hall of Fame, it does provide a revealing portrait of a young man at the start of what has turned out to be quite an impressive baseball career.

It is spring training, 1960 and Pat Jordan is struggling to make an impression as a pitcher in the Milwaukee Braves organization…

‘I was determined to impress…There was no task too menial or unpleasant (carrying the bats to and from the diamond) for which I did not volunteer. And when I suffered a minor yet painful sore arm, I told no one. I knew it wasn’t serious, was just a spring training sore arm that would heal with a few day’s rest, and so, when Billy asked for a batting practice pitcer one day, I couldn’t resist offering myself. My arm was so sore my pitches barely reached the plate. The batters, thrown off their timing by my lobs, swung so far ahead as to hit them foul or miss them entirely. They complained to my catcther, Joe Torre. He fired the ball back to me and said, “Put something on the damn ball!”

“Mind your own business,” I replied. I lobbed another pitch, and the batter swung and missed. He said something to Torre. Joe stepped in front of the plate. He held the ball up in front of his eyes and said, “If you can’t put something on this,” and then he fired it back to me, “get the hell off the mound.” He turned around and I threw the ball at the back of his head. I missed and the ball bounced off the screen. Joe flung down his glove and his mask and started toward me. We’d certainly have come to blows if [skipper] Billy Smith had not come between us. With a hand against each of our chests, he told us to cool off, forget it. I remember being suprised by the look on Billy’s face as he separated us. His eyes were wide and there was a tremor in his voice.

I was glad Billy stopped us. I had no desire to fight Joe Torre, who at 19 already had the looks and attitude of a 30-year old veteran. Joe was fat then, over 220 pounds, and his unbelievably dark skin and black brows were frightening. He looked like a fierce Bedouin tribesman whose distrust for everything could be read in the shifting whites of his eyes. Like myself, he too, was earnest that spring. Joe’s earnestness was genuine, however, not recently picked off the rack like mine. He was unwavering in his dedication to baseball. He tolerated no lapses of desire or effort from either himself or his teammates. Billy Smith called him a “hard-nosed sunuvabitch.” It was a term of endearment. Joe viewed my feeble lobs during batting practice as “unprofessional.” He was right. I should have either confessed a sore arm and not pitched, or else ignored the pain and thrown at good speed. My weak compromise hurt my teammates.

Yet this was Torre’s first spring training, too. He had acquired his professionalism from his brother Frank, then a star with Milwaukee; from his desire to prove he expected no favors from the Braves because of Frank of his own $30,000 bonus; from his Roman Catholic, Italian working-class upbringing in Brooklyn; and from his own nature. At 19 Joe was simply a mature and serious youth. He took everythying seriously—his baseball, his family, his religion, his brother’s career and even the Playboy bunny he would one day marry.

The night of our dispute in Waycross, I lay on my cot thinking that Billy Smith would admire for standing up to Joe. At that moment the scouts and managers and executives were assembling to pick tomorrow’s teams. I could almost hear Billy’s high voice as he picked me: “That’s my kinda player. Won’t take shit from no one.” But the following morning when I passed the bulletin board my name was under that of Travis Jackson, managaer of Davenport of the Class D Midwest League. Later that afternoon, I discovereed that what Billy Smith had actually said the night before was, “I won’t have no red-ass guinea on my club.” Surely he meant Torre, I thought. But his name was still under Billy’s, while mine remained under Travis’s for the rest of the spring. Why? How had Billy decided that I was the red-ass geinea?’