Ben Gazzara died today. He was 81. I was friendly with his daughter Liz for a while in the 1990s when she worked in film editing. She was a smart and funny lady–still is, I expect.

I met the old man on the set of “The Big Lebowski.” It was night and I was on crutches. I hopped from my car down to the set. The Coens filmed  Treehorn’s pad in a fantastic and weird house in the Hollywood Hills (a location that has been used many times in movies and TV commercials). As I approached the house, Gazzara came out, wearing his white suit, and holding a drink. He walked to his trailer, accompanied by two production assistants. There was nothing about the drink that looked like a prop.

Gazarra was the real deal, the original Brick in the Broadway production of “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” and best known for his work with John Cassavetes. He was a New Yorker.

Rest in Peace.

[Featured Image by Jeremy Pollard]

There is a long profile on Nick Nolte by Chris Heath in this month’s issue of GQ magazine.

Nolte is one of my favorite actors. “48 Hours,” “Under Fire,” “Down and Out in Beverly Hills,”  ”Lorenzo’s Oil,” “Life Lessons,” “Q&A,” “Affliction.” He’s been strong is so many movies. I thought he was restrained and gave a moving performance in “Warrior.”

Happiness is…this:

[Collage by Louis Armstrong]

Angelo Dundee passed away yesterday. He was 90.  Robert Lipsyte remembers the legendary trainer today in the New York Times.

Over at Grantland, here’s a terrific piece by Dave Kindred.

And at SI, dig what Richard Hoffer has to say:

Lest you think Dundee was merely a stagehand, a lucky accomplice, somebody fortunate enough to latch onto a rising star, consider the rest of his career. Having taken Ali to the top, in the middle of that ruckus for 21 years, he then joined another Olympic phenom, Sugar Ray Leonard, and helped pilot him to multiple championships. Once more, Dundee adapted himself to the fighter’s natural abilities, allowing Leonard’s stardom to develop. But in at least one fight, just as he had with Ali, it was Dundee who may have saved the day. With Leonard flagging in his back-and-forth fight with Tommy Hearns, Dundee got in Leonard’s face after the 12th round and, in no uncertain terms, called him out. “You’re blowing it, son.” Leonard famously rallied.

There were others as well: De La Hoya for a while, and even George Foreman when the big man regained his heavyweight title in his comeback. There was always somebody, though. Dundee was a boxing man, destined to carry a bucket, happiest when he was swabbing cuts or taping hands. Long after the line of champions had ended, he was still in his gym, his bubbling optimism creating contenders out of anybody who walked through his doors. He was training until the end.

But it was those years with Ali, that incandescent time when boxing was last important, that we remember him for. What a time. What a pair! They would have been an odd couple in any case, the young fighter’s flamboyance and braggadocio in outlandish contrast to Dundee’s puckish demeanor. But they were more simpatico than most would have guessed, sharing their love of boxing, but also a capacity for hijinks. Ali recognized in Dundee a kindred spirit, after all, and was not above rigging the hotel curtains with a long rope, pulling them back and forth in a spectral fashion, until the little trainer exploded from his room in fright. They were a pair.

Would Ali have been The Greatest without Dundee? Maybe, though probably not. Would he have been as much fun without Dundee, certainly an enabler, if not quite a co-conspirator? Absolutely not. Ali’s tendency toward meanness, his inexcusable treatment of men like Floyd Patterson or Frazier, was an innate and probably important part of his personality. But that meanness was alloyed by Dundee’s presence, had to have been. Dundee’s influence, his unabashed sweetness, was its own kind of smelling salt in Ali’s career, the sort of freshener that cleared his head from time to time, restored his goodness, if not his greatness.

Click here for an interview with Dundee at East Side Boxing.

Serious Eats builds an edible stadium in preparation for the big game.

Yikes.

You can’t blame Edwin Jackson for feeling just a little bit self conscious. Despite being widely regarded as a very talented pitcher, the right hander has nonetheless become a journeyman before his age-28 season.

When Jackson toes the rubber as a Washington National in 2011, it will be the seventh different ballpark he has called home since beginning his major league career with the Los Angeles Dodgers in 2003. What makes his frequent travels even more surprising is that unlike the early part of his career when he struggled to live up to his advanced billing, Jackson has been a relatively valuable pitcher over the past five seasons. Considering he has pitched for five teams over that span, it’s no wonder his accomplishments have gone unnoticed.

Most Franchises Played For During a Career

Source: Baseball-reference.com

Even with seven uniforms hanging in his closet, Jackson still has a long way to go to catch Octavio Dotel, who will count 13 different teams on his resume once he throws a pitch for the Detroit Tigers in 2012. Then again, Dotel will be 38 next year, a full decade older than Jackson. Among his own age-class, Jackson’s seven teams rank second to Bruce Chen, Dennys Reyes, Jeff Juden, and Orlando Mercado, who all pitched for eight teams before turning 29.

Besides his relative youth, what also makes Jackson’s nomadic ways somewhat curious is his durability. Over the last five seasons, the Nationals’ right hander ranks 19th with 967 1/3 innings pitched, and over those innings, he posted an ERA+ of 100. There’s nothing special about being league average, but when you can provide baseline performance over 200 innings per season, value starts to accrue. According to fangraph’s valuations, Jackson has been worth approximately $15 million per season over the past three years. Although that amount seems exaggerated (or maybe not when you consider how much money A.J. Burnett and John Lackey make), what seems certain is the Nationals did very well by inking the righy to a one-year deal worth only $10 million. Even if Jackson only performs to that level in 2012, fair-value deals in free agency are, in fact, bargains, and when they only include a one-year commitment, they become absolute steals.

Considering the abundance of young talent on the Nationals, there’s no reason why they can’t contend for a wild card spot in 2012, especially now that the addition of Jackson gives them a rotation that runs four deep. It may not be the Phillies trio of aces, but with Jackson, Stephen Strasburg, Jordan Zimmerman, and Gio Gonzalez, the Nationals’ rotation is pretty flush. Don’t blame Edwin Jackson for not get too excited, however. If he has a standout season in Washington, he might be able to parlay it into a long-term deal as the “veteran leader” of a promising young staff. Then again, if things don’t work out (or, considering his past, even if they do), Jackson could be on the road again next offseason (or sooner).

More Blue Note Covers.

Let’s celebrate with this unlikely meeting of great talents–Astaire and Smith:

A boy and his mom reading a Tintin comic book.

A pair of sisters walked onto the train at 145th st this morning. I pegged them at eight and twelve. They both carried brown paper bags and the younger sister opened her bag and extracted a muffin. She raised it to her mouth with her right hand and took a bite. As she ate, her left hand lost interest in holding the bag and she dropped it to the floor.

Our eyes followed the bag to the floor and then as we reset our viewpoints, we found ourselves staring at each other. There was a fraction of an instant of panic in her eyes as she realized that I witnessed her blatant littering. She recovered quickly and replaced the panic with confidence, perhaps remembering that littering is not a crime and that I was not a cop.

I took her confidence as a challenge, though one I had no desire to take up. I don’t like littering, but I had already spent half an hour trying to get children to listen to me earlier this morning without any hint of success, and those children depend on me to delineate the borders of the DC and Marvel Universes and to unlock the cabinet containing the cereal. This little girl doesn’t need anything from me.

I did not accept her challenge, but I also didn’t want to let her off the hook completely. I searched for a facial expression that could convey disappointment and rejection at the same time. My go-to is a ponderous head shake, eyes closed, with a slight frown. Too engaging for this situation. I thought of an exaggerated frown. But it seemed like that was an admission of defeat rather than a dismissal.

I settled on a quick combo. A heavy eye roll and a weird lip scrunch. I wanted it to say “Whatever. Litterer.”

I don’t think it worked, and I’m sorry that somebody else to pick up the brat’s garbage, but I’m glad I didn’t get in an argument with a little girl.

[Brown Bag via stelladoll7]

Getting mental, now. Sleep, rest, soup. Better, but still under the weather. I hate missing work. Grrrr.

No posting again today.

[Photo Credit  wolf eyebrows]

The Yankees have won 27 World Series titles, 24 of those teams have featured good hitting catchers. The Yankees have qualified for the postseason 51 times, or would have if not for the season-ending strike of 1994, and 44 of those teams have featured good hitting catchers. (Forgive me, I used OPS+, which I know measures nothing, but is right there on the main stat line of baseball-reference.com’s team pages and tempts the weak.)

When the Yankees have not merely good, but great hitting catchers they really cash in. Yankee teams with starting catchers (again, by baseball-reference’s definition) sporting an OPS+ of 130 or higher won an average of 99.3 games (prorated for a 162 game season where necessary). When their catcher was between 110-129, they won 96.8 games. The average hitting catchers (90-109) played for teams that won 89.9 games and when the catchers could not hit at all, they won 84 games per season.

By no means is this to say that these players are solely responsible for the successes and failures. But I do think their presence on the roster makes a significant contribution. There are other ways to win for sure, but if it ain’t broke… 

Typical offensive output behind the plate is so anemic that when a catcher carries a big stick, it’s an obvious advantage. Factoring in the financial clout of a team like the Yankees, the team does not have to skimp on the rest of the lineup to accomodate a star catcher, cements the gain. The Yankees built dynasty after dynasty on the backs of good hitting catchers.

Dickey, Berra, Howard, Munson and Posada all spring easily to mind. But important platoon guys filled in the cracks. Aaron Robinson helped usher in the Yogi-era; Pat Collins backstopped the legendary late twenties teams. Before them, Wally Schang contrbuted mightily to the first World Series teams by getting on base at a .403 clip from 1921-1923. And as Bruce Markusen pointed out the other day, Mike Stanley helped slug the Yankees out of the misery of the early 90s.

Joe Girardi is the worst hitting catcher on a championship Yankee squad. Most, including me, would forgive him his 75 OPS+ as a Yankee for his triple off Greg Maddux and his graceful yielding of his position to Jorge Posada in 1998.

Now that same light hitting catcher is at the helm as the Yankees try to create their next dynasty. The trade of Jesus Montero means that there is nary a hitting catcher in sight (depending on your squinting abilities). Or if you prefer, the trade of Jesus Montero is probably an admission by the Yankees that he could not be a hitting catcher. Regardless, if the Yankees successfully build a dynasty without one, it’ll be the first time.

But as Yoda might have said, there is another Montero.

Miguel Montero is a good hitting catcher from Arizona who might become a free agent next year. And he can catch it, too. If he does become available, the Yankees could be in the market. Over at RAB, Mike Axisa takes a look at what it might take to get him.

Under normal operating conditions the Yanks would rather have Michael Pineda and Miguel Montero at catcher over Jesus Montero as a non-catcher. But these are not normal times. If the $189 million ceiling for the 2014 team is made of bricks, then signing Miguel Montero to a market-rate deal next offseason makes everything else they have to do that much harder.

Where the Yankees go from here is anybody’s guess. Their minor leagues contain promising catchers, though the hitters are far away from the show. For a team whose championship DNA is riddled with catcher code, if they aspire to another dynasty, I hope a catcher is coming soon and he’ll be bringing a big bat. 

Still out sick. Carry on without me, I hope to feel better soon.

Home under the weather today so the site will be quiet. Back up to speed tomorrow.

Remember?

[Photo Credit: Attimi Rubati]

[Photo Credit: The Quest for the Perfect Ginger Ale]

More Blue Note covers.

The Mills Brothers.

[Photo via Holy Friend]

Dig Ego Trip’s 1997 interview with the God Rakim.

[Drawing by Ben Lamb]