Yankee game is on TV this afternoon.

Chad Jennings does a nice job of recapping the Andy Pettitte story over at Lo-Hud. And here is more from Ken Rosenthal.

Play Ball.

[Picture by Bags]

Happy St. Patty’s Day…let’s git stoopid with Spike.

[Photo Credit: I am Baker]

Knicks vs. Pacers, Heat vs. Sixers, Spurs vs. OKC, and all the NCAA that you can watch.

Have at it.

[Photo Credit: Felp Flores]

Here’s Cliff,  William Juliano, Craig Calcaterra, Andrew Marchand, and Jack Dickey  on the return of Andy Pettitte.

[Picture by Craig Robinson; featured image by Larry Roibal]

From the indispensable site How to be a Retronaut here is a gallery of photographs by Michael Sean Edwards of the Garment District in 1985.

Here’s a must-read. John Lahr on the new production of “Death of a Salesman”: 

Cast to a T, and beautiful in all its scenic dimensions (with Jo Mielziner’s original, 1949 set design), this staging of “Death of a Salesman” is the best I expect to see in my lifetime.

And Ben Brantley writing in the New York Times:

…The tears that brimmed in my eyes in those initial wordless moments receded almost as soon as the first dialogue was spoken. And at the production’s end I found myself identifying, in a way I never had before, with the woman kneeling by a grave who says, “Forgive me, dear. I can’t cry. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t cry.”

Mr. Nichols has created an immaculate monument to a great American play. It is scrupulous in its attention to all the surface details that define time, place and mood. (Ann Roth’s costumes and Brian MacDevitt’s lighting feel utterly of a piece with Mielziner and North’s original contributions.) And as staged and paced it is perhaps the most lucid “Salesman” I’ve ever seen.

…That Mr. Hoffman is one of the finest actors of his generation is beyond dispute. His screen portraits, whether in starring roles (like his Oscar-winning turn in “Capote”) or supporting ones (“The Talented Mr. Ripley,” “Boogie Nights”), are among the most memorable of recent decades. Though he was brilliant in the 2000 revival of Sam Shepard’s “True West,” his stage work has been more variable.

Certainly his performance here is more fully sustained than those in “The Seagull” (for Mr. Nichols) and “Long Day’s Journey Into Night.” But as a complete flesh-and-blood being, this Willy seems to emerge only fitfully. His voice pitched sonorous and low, his face a moonlike mask of unhappiness, he registers in the opening scenes as an abstract (as well as abstracted) Willy, a ghost who roams through his own life. (And yes, at 44, Mr. Hoffman never seems a credible 62.)

Mind you, there are instances of piercing emotional conviction throughout, moments you want to file and rerun in memory. Mr. Hoffman does terminal uncertainty better than practically anyone, and he’s terrific in showing the doubt that crumples Willy just when he’s trying to sell his own brand of all-American optimism. (His memory scenes with his self-made brother, played by John Glover, are superb.) What he doesn’t give us is the illusion of the younger Willy’s certainty, of the belief in false gods.

According to Jack Curry, Andy Pettitte has signed a 1-year, $2.5 million minor league deal with the Yanks. Was retirement that boring? Is Freddy Garcia that hurt? Maybe Andy’s wife couldn’t stand having him around the house.

Go figure.

More Moebius

May he rest in peace.

One of the best parts about visiting my relatives in Belgium when I was a kid was  eating Frites. They were served in a paper cone and were so much better than fries here in the States. These days you can get Belgium-style fried potatoes in New York, like at Pommes Frites in the East Village.

Serious Eats tries all of the dipping sauces.

Hells yeah.

Walk Tall.

[Photo Credit: Summer Goddess-s]

Here’s Chad Jennings on Michael Pineda’s outing yesterday:

“That’s my baby,” Pineda said. “I threw a very good slider today, but I’m very excited because my changeup was great. I threw a lot of changeups today and felt comfortable. … Last year, I didn’t throw a lot of changeups, so this year, I’m focused a little more on my changeup and making a good pitch all the time. I’m not worried about my fastball. I don’t know how my fastball is right now, but it feels good.”

That’s the progress the Yankees were hoping to see.

“It’s nice to have success when you’re working at something,” Girardi said. “If you’re making a change or you’re trying to learn a new pitch, it’s nice to have success because I think if you don’t, you’re going to get frustrated, and you’re going to question, do I use it or not? But he’s had some success.”

And more, from Russell Martin:

“I think he was like 88-90 in Clearwater, so it’s coming along. I’m not worried about it. I just want to see the guy pitch. He’s a pitcher like anybody else out there. I just wanted to see him execute pitches. His velocity, he has it in him, it’s just a matter of time. As soon as you put on your uniform, you’re in New York and you get the juices flowing, the velocity is going to pick up no matter what.”

…And if you’re looking for more fastball specifics: “(Pineda) was a little inconsistent trying to throw his fastball away to right-handers. It looked like he was pulling off a little bit.” Martin said it’s an easy thing to correct and could be fixed in a single bullpen.

I’m really looking forward to seeing this kid pitch.

Via the wonderful tumblr site Je Suis Perdu…

check

out

these  cool photographs

by Steve Schapiro.

The Cinderella Story is bullshit. It’s just an excuse to laugh and point at the misery of teams and fans with deservedly high expectations. We’re Yankee fans, we should get that.

“Who do you want to win the Series, man on the street?”

“Anyone but the Yankees.”

“Thanks, man on the street. You’re an asshat.”

Whatever. The Yanks are the bullies and the badasses and the rich kids and the guys who get the girls. If anyone deserves that treatment, it’s the Yankees. But the celebration of generic upsets that is March Madness is just cynicism thinly veiled with smile and fist pump.

“Yes, I am really happy really just happy that Bumblefuck U and their 15 fans have won a game and not at all reveling in the tears of that number one or two seed that is obviously a way better team.”

“Man, are you the same asshat that we met on the street earlier?”

The NCAA tournament is one of the great sinkholes. Fall in on a Thursday, emerge on Sunday night. Three days to recharge and reenter on the second Thursday. By the time you climb back out on that second Sunday night, will your job and family still be waiting? Saints, all of them, if they are.

But if your team gets upset on opening night, you’re ripped from the cocoon. Even worse, you’re out, everyone else is in, and you can’t escape the proceedings. You just have to hang at the back of the dance hall, moping, and wait for someone else to join you.

My team has been ousted on opening weekend by lower seeds in its last three appearances and I’m pretty sick of it. One of the matchups featured a good old fashioned soul fucking by the referees and a future NBA star auditioning his supernova in the second half (Davidson and Steph Curry). The other two losses were to teams sprinkled with magical pixie dust – one fast acting (Ohio), the other long lasting (VCU).

Just get to that second weekend. Extend our stay down in the hole. Please. We’ve only got so many more of these tournaments before the NCAA’s blatant corruption and exploitation collapse the enitre eco-system.

This year, the most popular upset pick is Belmont. They didn’t even have to win a game to become this tournament’s darlings. In the past, at least the media would save its slobber for an actual winner. Great for Belmont and all the bullshit offensive fouls they will draw on Friday.

Perhaps it will be mentioned that Ken Pomeroy ranks them as the 23rd best team in the country, and thus likely the best 14th seed in the history of the tournament? Suddenly an upset would not seem so staggering nor suggestive of all that’s right with America. Simply calling it “a fairly likely outcome” wouldn’t even put in dent in Jim Nantz’s hair. But I hope someone at least tells the refs they can call it straight.

I wonder what it does for a big team to be counted out before they even take the floor? What happens when you tell the bad guys the fairy tell ending in advance? I don’t know what follows, but my team copes well with paranoia. So go ahead Belmont. Chuck your threes and and let’s see what happens.

Check out this fun series over at Eater: Bodega Week.

HBO’s series, “Luck,” has been cancelled.

Here are reports by Jon Weisman in Variety, Andrew Cohen in the Atlantic and Matt Zoeller Seitz in New York magazine.

Brings to mind a story Pat Jordan once wrote called “The Horse Lovers.”

Man, just another great shot from the New York Times‘ tumblr site. I remember this Times Square ad well. Actually gave me the chills seeing it again.

I had the King Kong lunch box and thermos when I was in first grade. Dag.

Moebius

Will Leitch on Bryce Harper in the new issue of GQ:

What makes Harper far more anticipated than your typical phenom is a sense that he not only recognizes the vastness of his potential but also feels plenty comfortable telling you about it. One minute he informs me that “baseball needs more superstars.” The next, while discussing Albert Pujols signing with the Angels, he offers thoughtlessly, “Albert and I know each other and respect each other.” In a sport in which “paying your dues” is practically in the job description—an institution that once made Michael Jordan ride around in a bus for five months—Harper seems to have emerged fully formed to piss off the baseball establishment.

On his way up, he didn’t shrink from his sometime moniker, the LeBron of baseball. He poured vats of eye black on his face to make himself look like a professional wrestler. In a minor league game last year, after hitting a home run, he blew a kiss to the opposing pitcher. (Harper tells me, “It was an ‘eff you’ from the mouth.”) That’s the sort of business that will get a major leaguer a fastball in his ear. As Hall of Fame third baseman Mike Schmidt put it: “I would think at some point the game itself, the competition on the field, is going to have to figure out a way to police this young man.”

In other words: Harper is awesome—exactly what baseball needs. He’s essentially a throwback: a cocky, ornery cuss who can back it all up. Ty Cobb minus the racism and chaw, Lenny Dykstra before the bankruptcy. He tells me Pete Rose, a.k.a. Charlie Hustle, is his favorite player and that “I want to play the game hard. I want to ram it down your throat, put you into left field when I’m going into second base.”

[Photo Via The Baseball Analysts]

Over at River Ave, Larry Koestler looks at the 2012 NY Yankees All-Projection Team.

Here’s more on Freddy Garcia from George King in the Post.

[Picture by Bags]

Chris Ballard has a bonus piece on the fall of Antoine Walker in this week’s SI. Worth a read.