The Subway Serious starts again tonight with a little more juice than usual because both teams are playing well. The Yanks want to avoid getting swept and winning two-of-three would be great, of course.

The boys at SNY break it down:

And Cliff has the preview over at PB:

Since starting the season 5-13, the Mets have gone 36-27 (.571), a winning percentage that, over the full season, would put them in first place in the Central and Western divisions of either league and in second-place in either Wild Card race. Prior to running into Justin Verlander Thursday afternoon, the Mets had won six of their last seven, four of those coming against first-place American League teams, and in the four games prior to facing Verlander they scored 52 runs (an average of 13 per game).

So the Mets, despite recent appearances, are no laughing matter. Jose Reyes is having an MVP-quality season. Carlos Beltran has come all the way back, at least at the plate. Angel Pagan has hit .325/.398/.444 since coming off the disabled list in late May. Ronny Paulino has put up similar numbers in wrestling the catching job away from sophomore Josh Thole. Jason Bay has hit .327/.389/.490 over the last two weeks and has become a Russell Martin-like stealth threat on the bases having stolen eight bases in nine attempts this season, including four in as many tries in those last two weeks. As you’ll see below, the three starting pitchers the Yankees will face in this series, Jonathan Niese, Dillon Gee, and R.A. Dickey, have all been pitching well of late.

Never mind the hub-bub:

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photo Credit: Joseph O. Holmes]

I watched some of the Orioles-Cardinals game last night and saw our old pal Lance Berkman hit two long home runs, one righty, the other lefty. Man, they were both crushed. Made him dream “What If?” for a second. I know there wasn’t a place for him in the Bronx, and he would have cost more than Nick Swisher, who is also younger, so I’m not saying they should have kept him. But I’ve always enjoyed watching “The Big Puma” and wished he could have stayed around longer.

Regardless–or irregardless, as they like to say in the Bronx– I’m happy to see him playing so well.

When I finished reading “Blindsided: The Jerry Joseph Basketball Scandal” by Michael J. Mooney my first thought was how nice it will be to see the piece in the next edition of “The Best American Sports Writing.” The story features good reporting and is well-constructed. It is also written in the kind of clean, succinct prose that I love. Best of all, it took me somewhere unexpected, all without drawing attention to writing style. It is top-notch storytelling. I am a newcomer to Mooney’s work but he’s been around and is accomplished. Check out his website for more, and do yourself a favor: read this story.

[Photo Credit: AP]

With the Milwaukee Brewers having left town after their first visit to the Bronx in 14 years, I can’t help but think of the 1980s. Something about the team’s light blue home pinstripes and cartoonish ball-in-glove logo must have made an indelible mark on a young fan growing up in the decade.

Unfortunately, the 1980s isn’t the best period for a Yankees fan to take a trip down memory lane. After starting off with consecutive division titles and an A.L. pennant, the team began a gradual descent into one of the darkest periods in franchise history. As a result, when the decade ended, the Yankees were without a World Series championship for the first time since moving to the Bronx.

Even though the team failed to win a ring during the 1980s, things really weren’t all that bad. As George Steinbrenner was fond of reminding everyone, the Yankees actually won more games than any other team over those 10 years (the Brewers were the only team against which the Yankees had a losing record). What’s more, the team also played host to Hall of Famers like Reggie Jackson, Goose Gossage, Dave Winfield and Rickey Henderson, not to mention a beloved fan favorite like Don Mattingly. However, each year, there always seemed to be at least one other team that was better.

During the 1980s, 11 of the 14 teams in the American League finished in first place at least once, an impressive level of parity in the two-division format. Perhaps that’s why a sentimental journey back to the era evokes just as many memories about opposing players as heroes in pinstripes. So, in honor of the decade and its many great players, listed below is an all-1980s team selected on the basis of how well they performed against the Yankees (all stats were compiled at the designated positions). I apologize in advance if any of these names cause the 30-somethings among the Yankees’ fan base to cringe a bit.

C – Ernie Whitt, Toronto Blue Jays: 1980-1989

Although one of the more beloved players in Blue Jays history, Whitt was never really a star…except when he played the Yankees. In fact, the only team against which he posted better numbers was the Minnesota Twins.

Honorable Mention: Regardless of what color Sox he was wearing, Carlton Fisk was always productive (.804 OPS with 15 home runs and 48 RBIs) against the Yankees. Perhaps that’s why the Yankees tried to acquire him from Chicago after the 1985 season. Unfortunately for the Bronx Bombers, the heavily rumored trade fell through and Fisk finished the decade hitting .295/.357/.534 against them.

1B – Darrell Evans, Detroit Tigers: 1984-1988

Evans spent most of his career in the National League with the Braves and Giants, but a resurgent 1983 season made him one of the hottest free agent commodities on the market that off season. Seventeen teams, including the Yankees, put in a claim for Evans in the free agent re-entry draft, but the Tigers came away the winners. Despite being 37 in 1984, Evans continued to produce throughout his time in Detroit, and the Yankees were one of the teams he most enjoyed facing.

Honorable Mention: No first baseman had more plate appearances against the Yankees during the 1980s than Eddie Murray, but despite posting solid numbers, the future Hall of Famer never seemed to really torment the team. For example, despite ranking in the top-10 in all-time RBIs, Murray never knocked in more than three in one game against the Bombers.

2B – Bobby Grich, California Angels: 1980-1986

Continuing a theme, when Bobby Grich became a free agent after the 1976 season, Yankees’ manager Billy Martin implored the team to acquire the second baseman. George Steinbrenner overruled him, however, and the Yankees opted to sign Reggie Jackson. Mr. October contributed to three pennants and two championships during his tenure, so the Yankees had to be happy with that decision. However, throughout the 1980s, Grich reminded the team of what they missed out on.

3B – George Brett, Kansas City Royals: 1980-1989

When you think 1980s and the Yankees, George Brett is one of the first opposition players to come to mind. Just ask Goose Gossage. Their epic battles were a thing of legend, sometimes quite literally, as the Pine Tar Game will attest. Ultimately, however, Brett’s bat is what left the biggest mark on the rivalry between the two teams. With his plate appearances as a first baseman and DH include, Brett ranks third during the decade in home runs (23) and RBIs (75) against the Yankees. His combined OPS of .920 also ranks fourth among players with at least 150 plate appearances.

Honorable Mention: If it seemed like the Yankees never got Wade Boggs out, well, that’s because they rarely did. In over 400 plate appearance, Boggs had an outstanding OBP of .431, not to mention a .503 rate at Fenway Park. Fortunately, most Yankees’ fans now remember Boggs riding atop a horse instead of lining balls off the Green Monster.

SS – Scott Fletcher, Chicago White Sox: 1983-1985, 1989; Texas Rangers: 1986-1989

Considering the caliber of short stops who played in the 1980s, Fletcher’s name might strike some as a surprise, but not if you grew up watching the Yankees during the decade. Whether with Texas or Chicago, the scrappy short stop always seemed to get a hit against the Yankees. Among players with at least 150 appearances, only Boggs topped Fletcher’s batting average of .332.

Honorable Mention: Alan Trammell knocked in 66 runs against the Yankees during the decade, while Cal Ripken Jr. belted 12 home runs. The highest OPS belonged to Robin Yount. Nonetheless, those Hall of Famers (Trammell’s current exclusion notwithstanding) still take a back seat to the unheralded Fletcher.

LF – Jim Rice, Boston Red Sox: 1980-1989

Contrary to popular main stream media opinion, particularly emanating from Boston, Jim Rice wasn’t the most feared hitter in American League…unless you happened to be wearing a Yankee uniform. During the 1980s, when Rice’s skills were in a steady decline, the powerful right handed hitter still managed to haunt the Yankees. Including his games as DH, Rice’s line improves to .324/.392/.607, while his home run and RBI increase to 24 and 82, respectively, totals surpassed only by teammate Dwight Evans (who had over 100 more plate appearances). Without question, Rice was the Yankees’ chief tormenter during the 1980s.

CF – Lloyd Moseby, Toronto Blue Jays: 1980-1989

In the middle of the decade, Lloyd Moseby was often the forgotten man in the Blue Jays heralded outfield that included sluggers Jesse Barfield and George Bell. Perhaps that’s why, of all the players on this list, Moseby’s inclusion surprises me the most. Nonetheless, Moseby’s impressive output in almost 400 plate appearances is undeniable.

Honorable Mention: Had Robin Yount not split the decade between short stop and center field, he would have earned the nod at either position. Combined, Yount’s 141 hits against the Yankees trails only Paul Molitor and Willie Wilson, who each had 142, while his 75 RBIs are tied with Brett for third. In other words, Yount’s honorable mention at two positions is well deserved.

RF – Larry Parrish, Texas Rangers: 1982-1988; Boston Red Sox: 1988

How many fans during the 1980s confused Larry Parrish with Tigers’ catcher Lance Parrish? When it came time to preparing a scouting report, maybe the Yankees did as well? In his 36 games as a right fielder against the Yankees, Parrish had prolific power and RBI numbers, which look even more impressive (17 and 61 respectively) when combined with his totals from other positions.

Honorable Mention: Dwight Evans had the most home runs (26) and RBIs (90) against the Yankees in the 1980s. However, he also had the most plate appearances, over 100 of which came at a position other than right field. Of all the candidates for this all-decade opposition team, Evans probably has the best case for being promoted to starter, but Parrish’s short-term dominance seemed a better selection. Or, maybe I just didn’t want two Red Sox in the starting lineup.

DH: Harold Baines,Chicago White Sox: 1980-1989; Texas Rangers: 1989

Harold Baines actually had over 300 plate appearances against the Yankees as a right fielder, but he saved his best hitting against them for when he was the DH. Combined, Baines’ 15 home runs and 65 RBIs rank among the top-10 of all Yankees’ opponents during the 1980s.

Honorable Mention: Hal McRae was a Yankees tormenter long before the 1980s, but he continued to do damage (.310/.368/.490) to the Bronx Bombers throughout that decade as well.

Starting Pitcher: Teddy Higuera, Milwaukee Brewers: 1985-1989

The term Yankee killer is often overused, but during the 1980s, no one embodied that moniker more than Brewers’ left hander Teddy Higuera. Whenever the two teams would meet, you can be certain that every Yankees’ hitter scoured the box scores to see if the lefty was on target to pitch in the series. During the decade, Higuera not only tallied the most wins (tied with Floyd Banister, who had nine more starts) against the Bronx Bombers, but he also posted the highest winning percentage and lowest ERA (among all pitchers with at least 65 innings).

Honorable Mention: Despite posting an 8-9 record, Blue Jays’ right hander Dave Steib had a 2.93 ERA in more than 208 innings against the Yankees, including nine complete games and three shutouts. What’s more, on August 4, 1989, Steib almost made history by tossing a perfect game against them, but his attempt at immortality was thwarted by a Roberto Kelly double with two outs in the ninth.

Relief Pitcher: Dan Quisenberry, Kansas City Royals: 1980-1988

Dan Quisenberry was one of the most dominant relievers during the 1980s, and his outings against the Yankees were no exception. During the decade, no other reliever had more saves against the Bronx Bombers than the side-arming righty, who also recorded the lowest ERA among all relievers with at least 35 innings.

Honorable Mention: In 34 1/3 innings covering 17 games in the early 1980s, the Yankees only scored two earned runs off the Angels’ Andy Hassler. However, the Angels only won five of the games in which he pitched.

Randy Wolf walked Brett Gardner in the bottom of the first this afternoon on a full count pitch. Gardner stole second. then Wolf went to 3-2 on Nick Swisher then walked him too. When he got to 3-2 to Mark Teixeira on a foul tip, Gardner had swiped third, with Swisher trailing him to second. The home plate ump threw Wulf a new ball. It went over his glove, so Wolf turned around, walked to the ball and picked it up. Gunna be one of those days, is it? he might have said to himself. Wolf struck Teixeira out but then gave up a line drive double to Robinson Cano. Before the inning was over, he’d thrown over thirty pitches.

Wolf recovered and went seven innings. Gave up another pair of runs in the third and the Yanks had more than enough because C.C. Sabathia was terrific. The Brewers didn’t stand a chance against him as Sabathia pitched into the eighth inning and struck out thirteen, matching a career-high. Mark Teixeira hit a solo homer run (25), career homer number 300, and Francisco Cervelli drove in two runs.

Final Score: Yanks 5, Brewers 0.

Ahhhhh. The Yanks swept the Brewers and will head across town against a hot Mets team feeling good about themselves. The only thing that could halt their good vibes is losing all three in Queens. Here’s hoping that doesn’t happen.

In the meantime, today was a good day. Every day in first place usually is.

It’s C.C. and the Killer B-Squid-id-ad this afternoon at the Stadium:

Brett Gardner CF
Nick Swisher RF
Mark Teixeira 1B
Robinson Cano 2B
Jorge Posada DH
Andruw Jones LF
Eduardo Nunez SS
Francisco Cervelli C
Ramiro Pena 3B

It’s absolutely gorgeous in New York for this Goldbricker’s Delight.

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

Looks as if Bartolo Colon will be back to pitch against the Mets on Saturday. Phil Hughes will return shortly as well (and for you comedians out there, yep, the Yanks reacquired Serge Meatray and designated the vocal stylings of Buddy Carlyle for assignment). I’m curious, when Hughes comes back, who gets bumped from the rotation? Can’t be Nova, right? That leaves Freddy Garcia and Colon. Freddy won’t take well to losing his spot, and if he does, he may ask for his release. Colon has pitched better but may be more flexible. Whadda ya think?

It’s been bothering me since April. Every single time Russell Martin comes to the plate or pulls off his mask, all I can see is Ray Liotta. It didn’t take me long before I had myself convinced that Martin actually looked more like Ray Liotta than Ray Liotta does, if that’s possible. And then the Brewers came to town this week and I got my first real close-up look at the wunderkind Ryan Braun, and — it’s Encino Man! Braun is a dead ringer for one of the greatest actors of our time, Brendan Fraser. (As it turns out, a quick Google search reveals that I’m not the first person to make either of these connections.)

As if they were playing from a script, both characters had leading roles on Wednesday night in the middle game of this three-game interleague series. Braun struck first, driving in Nyjer Morgan with the first run of the game in the first inning with a single to right. Braun would finish the night three for four with a stolen base, extending his hitting streak to 19 games.

Milwaukee pitcher Shawn Marcum was in control throughout the early innings, setting down the Yankee hitters without much drama or difficulty. In the fourth, though, the Score Truck finally pulled out of the garage. Robinson Canó led off with a triple over Morgan’s head in straightaway center field, and Nick Swisher, who is rapidly putting April and May behind him, laced a clean single to right to score the first Yankee run. Jorge Posada followed with a long single off the wall in right, putting runners on first and third as Ray Liotta strode to the plate. With Michael Kay and John Flaherty talking about how long it had been since his last extra base hit (sixty-nine at bats), Martin caught hold of one and drove it into the left field seats for a three-run homer and a 4-1 lead. As he crossed home plate, the field mics clearly picked up his narration: “As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a home run hitter.”

Speaking of home run hitters, there was an interesting moment in the bottom of the sixth. After having the lead had been cut to 4-2 in the previous inning, Posada came to the plate at launched a laser shot towards the short porch in right. The ball seemed to bounce off the top of the fence and return to the field of play, allowing Corey Hart to field the ball and fire it into Rickie Weeks who applied the tag to a bewildered Posada who stood halfway between first and second, confused as to why he wasn’t being given a home run. Girardi jumped out of the dugout immediately, asking for an official review. The umpires disappeared down the rabbit hole and saw what the instant replays were already showing the television audience: it was indeed a home run, as the ball had bounced off the top of wall, struck a fan’s outstretched hands, and bounded back onto the field of play.

A.J. Burnett was basically in control all night long, and even came out to start the eighth before an Eduardo Nuñez forced Girardi to bring in the increasingly dominant David Robertson. Robertson made things a bit interesting, as usual, but came up with two big strikeouts to end the threat, as usual. How good has Robertson been this year? After the game Girardi was openly campaigning for him to receive an All-Star nod. (Oh, and in case the usual drama surrounding the Subway Series isn’t enough, Francisco Rodríguez seems to want Robertson’s job.)

I don’t think I need to mention what Mr. Rivera did in the ninth inning. You’ve seen it before. Yankees 5, Brewers 2.

It’s warm in New York.

Bombers and Brewha’s at it again tonightski:

Brett Gardner LF
Curtis Granderson CF
Mark Teixeira 1B
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Robinson Cano 2B
Nick Swisher RF
Jorge Posada DH
Russell Martin C
Eduardo Nunez SS

Never mind the letdown:

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photograph by the most talented Robin Cerutti]

THE DEEP END OF THE POOL

By John Schulian

Like every other job candidate at the Post in those days, I had to get the approval of Ben Bradlee, the executive editor who had covered himself in glory with the paper’s Watergate coverage. One of the first things he said to me was that he liked my Jimmy Breslin style. As soon as I heard that, I knew I’d better develop my own style, and do it fast. If I was going to prosper at the Post, I couldn’t be a cheap imitation.

I realized I was in the deep end of the pool the instant I walked into the place. It was crawling with heavy hitters and on-the-make newcomers, intrepid reporters and positively wonderful wordsmiths, all of whom seemed to buy into Bradlee’s theory of creative tension. I’d hate to think of all the intramural treachery that went on there — and that was in addition to going out and bumping heads with the New York Times and L.A. Times and Boston Globe and Wall Street Journal. On top of that, the people at the Post seemed exceedingly full of themselves-–no surprise, I suppose, since I showed up in the wake of Woodward and Bernstein bringing down Nixon and his cronies. In fact, the paper was building its Batman and Robin an office back by the sports department. Nobody thought it was funny when I asked if they were going to take high school football scores on Friday nights. What did I know? I’d just come from Baltimore, where people took their work seriously, but not themselves.

I’m probably going to wind up sounding negative about my time at the Post-–it was not the greatest 17 months of my life-–but I want you to know that it was an honor to work there. I was never on a better paper, never kept company with more talented people, never had more of a sense of the glamour of the newspaper business. Bradlee was forever strutting around in his Turnbull & Asser shirts-–the kind with bold stripes and white collars-–and he loved to go slumming in the sports department so he could see what we’d dug up on the Redskins. He was big pals with the team’s owner, Edward Bennett Williams.

One day I get into the elevator to go up to the newsroom and a guy jumps in at the last minute. He’s dressed the same way I am: tan corduroy sport coat, blue button-down collar shirt, Levi’s, cowboy boots. One big difference, though: he was Robert Redford and I wasn’t. They were making “All the President’s Men” then, and Redford must have been hanging around to do research on Bob Woodward, whom he played in the movie. When we got off the elevator, it was like I was invisible.

There was a copy boy at the Post-–the head copy boy, to be specific-–who wore Gucci loafers and was said to have a degree from the University of Virginia. And there was a copy girl who was an absolute babe-–absolute babes are a rarity in the newspaper business–and was said to have a tattoo of a butterfly on her ass.

In the midst of all that whatever-it-was, there was Donnie Graham, son of Katherine, the publisher who stood so tall during the Wategate era. Donnie would be publisher one day, too, but on his way there, he spent time doing every kind of job there was at the paper, from loading trucks to reporting to taking a turn as an editor in the sports department. This in addition to having been a beat cop in D.C. for a year or two. All of which is to say he was as decent and down to earth as he could be. I forget what job he had at the paper when I was there, but he still used to swing by sports to shoot the bull. One day he comes up to me while I’m pounding away on my typewriter and asks what I’m working on. I tell him it’s a feature about a former University of Maryland quarterback who washed out of the NFL and is playing semipro football in Baltimore on Saturday nights. And I mean down-and-dirty semipro football, on a field as hard as an interstate highway. “Oh,” Donnie says. He didn’t need to say anything else. I could tell he thought this one was a loser. But I wrote the hell out of it, and when I came into the office the day after it ran, there was a note from Donnie saying that in the hands of a good writer, anything could be a wonderful story. With the note was a copy of George Orwell’s essays. Memories don’t come much better than that.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the pressmen’s strike a month or so after I started at the Post on Labor Day 1975. The paper was getting ready to change from hot type to cold type and jobs were being lost in the backshop. One night everything went sideways, blood got spilled, the paper didn’t come out, and the next thing I knew, my fellow members of the Newspaper Guild and I were voting on whether to honor the pressmen’s picket line. I thought we should. Many more people thought we should cross it. And so we did. A few people actually left the Post because of that. I wasn’t one of them, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel a sense of shame and betrayal every time I crossed the picket line. I did, and it has stayed with me to this day.

I’m still not sure exactly why the Post came after me, particularly when so many good young sportswriters around the country would have sold their wives/mothers/firstborn for a chance to work there. Nor am I sure whether it was Donnie Graham or George Solomon who spotted me first. Sometimes I heard that it was my SI story on the Baltimore fight promoter that stirred their interest. Other times it was a funny but barbed Evening Sun feature I’d done about students at the school where the Colts trained standing up to the team’s abrasive general manager.

A funny thing about that fight promoter. Well, not funny, because he died in the time between my departure from the Evening Sun and my arrival at the Post. His name was Eli Hanover and he was barely into his 50s, one of those guys who’s so full of piss and vinegar that you figure he’ll outlive everyone. George Solomon told me he tried to get hold of me to write something about Eli, but I was off on an assignment for Sports Illustrated and nobody knew how to reach me. (Ah, those were the days.) The Post had a new sports columnist, a guy named William Barry Furlong who had had a truly distinguished career as a magazine freelancer, and he wound up writing about Eli. But all he did was lift things from my SI story, quotes and paraphrases and anecdotes. I don’t recall his having another source for his column. I hope he did. I hope he made at least one phone call. But if he did, I don’t remember it. Uncharacteristically, I didn’t say anything about it, not to Furlong, not to Solomon, not to anyone. It was one of those things I just filed away and said, Okay, pal, it’s good to know that’s how you play the game.

Click here for the full “From Ali to Xena” archives.

Still fit for magazine covers:

Joe Posnanski has the piece:

No man in the history of American sports—perhaps even in the history of America—has spent a lifetime facing more expectant silences. And it is happening again. Another afternoon. Another silence. Strangers stand at a respectful distance and wait for Lawrence Peter Berra to say something funny and still wise, pithy but quirkily profound, obvious and yet strangely esoteric. A Yogi-ism.

It ain’t over till it’s over.

When you come to a fork in the road, take it.

You can observe a lot by watching.

In this case the strangers waiting in the silence are a mother and son. They had been touring the Yogi Berra Museum in Little Falls, N.J., in anticipation of having the boy’s bar mitzvah here. The family had decided that there is no better place for a boy to become a man than in the museum of the greatest winner in the history of baseball. And when they got word that the legend himself was present, they had to meet him, of course. They found him here, in the museum office, looking for a glass of water.

“I cannot believe it’s really you!” the woman says to Yogi Berra.

“It’s really me,” he says.

Meanwhile, here’s a video from SI:

Mike Ashmore has the latest on Phil Hughes over at his fine blog, Thunder Thoughts.

The New Yorker movie theater (and bookstore), The Regency and the Metro, M.H. Lamston’s,  Morris Brothers, Big Apple Comics, Funny Business, Applause, Shelter, Broadway Bay, The Saloon, Paulson’s, O’Neal’s Ballon. Hell, Tower Records. That’s a quick jog down memory lane of places I used to go to on the Upper West Side when I was growing up. Long gone. And now that H&H Bagels is closed for good, some Upper West Siders feel that the old neighborhood is done, reports Alexandra Schwartz in the Times:

You can find dog accessories and artisanal soaps and Coach handbags, or trawl for oxidized silver pendants and kilt pins at Barney’s Co-op. You can withdraw cash on every corner from the bank branch of your choice. You can load up on chewing gum and razor blades at a host of Duane Reades. You can treat yourself to a perfectly mediocre manicure.

But some of us want more. We want to revel in a neighborhood brunch tradition that has nothing to do with endless waits and haughty hostesses and glasses of orange juice whose prices defy the logic of supply and demand — a tradition that means fresh bagels and whitefish with onions over the newspaper in the living room. When we’re wandering with a hangover down the silent stretch of Broadway at 3 in the morning and the need for an “everything bagel” is stronger even than the need for water and sleep, what are we supposed to do without H & H’s round-the-clock bakery at 80th Street?

Big Nick’s Burger and Pizza Joint, I think of you and your root-beer-stained tables with trepidation. The smell of grease from your nonstop griddles billows out toward 77th Street 24 hours a day, seven days a week — a siren scent taunting gymgoers and health food nuts. You’re an unrepentant West Side institution, and that means that you, bubele, must be in the cross hairs, too.

Of course, it’s only natural for neighborhoods to evolve. My generation of Upper West Siders grew up during the Clinton years in a scrubbed-up iteration of the place our parents knew. Unthreatened by the muggings that were routine a decade earlier, we claimed the identity handed down to us: a certain shabbiness, along with a good dose of brains and a scrappy sense of local pride. Few of us noticed that the neighborhood’s personality had come under assault long before we started to take the subway by ourselves, when Shakespeare & Company and Eeyore’s Books shut their doors after Barnes & Noble took over the old Schrafft’s building at 82nd Street.

I remember when Amsterdam Avenue was a scary place. And parts of Columbus and Broadway too. I knew which sides of the street to walk down and which ones to avoid back in the 1980s. I still have some family on the Upper West Side, but the neighborhood I knew as a kid is a memory. It’s safer now, well-heeled, less shabby. A different place. The old neighborhood has been gone for more than a minute.

[Photo Credit: Monika Graff, Marilyn K Yee, William Sauro, Bob Glass and James Estrin for the New York Times]

When I was a boy the Milwaukee Brewers were Gorman Thomas and Ben Oglivie, Robin Yount and Jim Ganter, Sixto Lezcano and Paul Molitor. It still seems odd to me that they’re a National League team, but I suppose there are fans a generation older than I am for whom it seems odd that Milwaukee ever had an American League franchise.

On Tuesday night they looked like a minor league franchise. Zack Greinke was on the mound for the Brewers, and I was looking forward to watching him pitch. I know what you know about Mr. Greinke — he’s apparently one of the best pitchers in the game — but all day I kept wondering how it was that I had never really seen him pitch. Apparently the schedule usually worked out for the Yankees when Greinke was in Kansas City, and they missed him more often than not. Right about now, I’m guessing Greinke wishes they had missed him again.

The first sign that the night might not go Greinke’s way came with the first batter he faced, as his normally pinpoint control deserted him and he hit leadoff man Brett Gardner. (Greinke would walk a season-high three batters on the night; he had only walked nine batters in his previous 60.1 innings.) Curtis Granderson then hit a sky-high fly ball to straightaway center field. It should’ve been the first out of the game, but instead center fielder Nyjer Morgan inexplicably fell over while attempting to field the ball, which skipped away untouched and allowed Gardner to scamper home on Granderson’s standup triple. (Later in the game Rickie Weeks would inexplicably fall over in the middle of what should’ve been an inning-ending double play.) Mark Teixeira then grounded out to second, scoring Granderson and opening a 2-0 Yankee lead.

Two more Yankees reached base that inning, forcing Greinke to expend 27 pitches to get three outs, and after Yankee starter Freddy García needed just nine pitches to retire the Brewers in the top of the second, Greinke was back on the mound again after only a few minutes rest. The Yankees took advantage. After Eduardo Nuñez and Gardner opened the inning with a single and a walk, then eventually advanced to second and third on a double steal, Teixeira picked up another ground out RBI for the Yankees’ third run. There were two outs, and it looked like Greinke might be able to get out of the inning with minimal damage, but he walked Alex Rodríguez, allowed a run-scoring single to Robinson Canó, and then served up fairly large (left-handed) home run to Nick Swisher. Suddenly it was 7-0. Greinke would finish the inning, but the Yanks had finished him. The second inning was his last.

From there, García put it on cruise control as he pitched to the scoreboard. He allowed base runners in each inning and two runs in the fourth, but he never let the Brewers get a look at the game. After his six effective innings, the Yankees piled on a few more runs to make things more comfortable for the bullpen. Teixeira hit his major-league-leading 24th home run in the bottom of the sixth, scoring two; Jorge Posada singled in a run; and Russell Martin plated another with a ground out, and the score was 11-2 when Hector Noesi took over in the seventh.

Noesi made it through the seventh and eighth, and Cory Wade handled the ninth, and the game was over. Yankees 12, Brewers 2.

If I had told you back in March that Rafael Soriano and Joba Chamberlain would be lost for the season, Phil Hughes would miss almost the entire first half, Bartolo Colón would emerge as the #2 starter before following Hughes onto the DL, they would insert a former minor league outfielder into the starting rotation, Jorge Posada’s batting average wouldn’t climb above the Mendoza line until June 9, Derek Jeter would spend almost three weeks on the disabled list, and the team would go 1-8 against the Red Sox, you surely wouldn’t have believed me. And if you did believe me, you’d expect that the team would be teetering on the brink of implosion.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. These Yankees sit a game and a half in front of those pesky BoSox, they’ve scored more runs than any team in baseball, they have the largest run differential by a wide margin, and they’re sporting the best record in the American League. What might this team do when all the missing pieces return in the second half?

[Photo Credit: Nick Laham/Getty Images]

Brett Gardner LF
Curtis Granderson CF
Mark Teixeira 1B
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Robinson Cano 2B
Nick Swisher RF
Jorge Posada DH
Russell Martin C
Eduardo Nunez SS

Bombers vs. Brewers. Cliff has the Preview. Bottom’s Up.

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

Over at Pitchers and Poets, Ted Walker has a long piece on Joba Chamberlain called “Private Anxiety Made Public in Baseball’s Age of Potential”:

Joba Chamberlain elicits a negative response from the average baseball fan that far outweighs his time spent as a big league pitcher. For a few years, Chamberlain was the lightning rod for Yankee-hating, embodying what outsiders disliked about the team.

The Yankees fan base, meanwhile, accustomed to a team that develops its own foundational members, asked too much of the kid. The Yankees called him up to the big leagues after just a year in the minors. In the hustle to nudge him, with Robinson Cano and Phil Hughes, up onto the Yankees pedestal once occupied by the four horsemen, Yankee fans made him Joba before he was Chamberlain. In the rest of the country, his unique first name became a slight, and a shorthand term for a long-held distaste for the Yankees. Soon, the name Joba came to symbolize a fatigue not only for the team’s ruthless big money practices, but also for the media’s clear favoritism towards East Coast franchises.

That Joba Chamberlain was the symbol of this sentiment is misguided and unfortunate, and more a result of bad timing than anything that Joba did. Because, generally speaking, Joba Chamberlain is the opposite of what people don’t like about the Yankees.

[Photo Credit: NJ.com]

Over at SI, Joe Pos has a piece about Adam Dunn, “The Least Exciting Player Ever.” In it, he mentions former Yankee, Bobby Abreu:

I’m not talking about winning and losing here. I’m not talking about value. I’m talking about excitement. And that’s something different. I’ve often written that Bobby Abreu is the MBGPIBH — Most Boring Good Player In Baseball History. I have immense respect for what he has accomplished as a player, what he continues to accomplish. The guy has a lifetime .400 on-base percentage (and a .400 on-base percentage this year). He’s had two 30-30 seasons. He’s won a Gold Glove, and he really seemed to be an excellent fielder in his younger days. He has scored and driven in 100 five times. I’m assuming he has 21 more home runs in him (though his power has dwindled to almost nothing) and that will make him only the eighth member of the 300-homer, 300-stolen base club. I don’t want to get into it here because this post is already drifting, but it seems every couple of weeks I have a discussion with a friend about Abreu’s Hall of Fame case. I think he’s making a case. I also think he’s headed for the Hall of Not Famous Enough.

Abreu, though, is an agonizing player to watch, at least for me. His at-bats feel like audits. They just go on and on, an endless stream of near strikes called for balls, good pitches spoiled, swings and misses, more near pitches called for balls — he’s doing exactly what he SHOULD be doing. Abreu controls the batter’s box as few ever have. He is an artist at the plate, but an artist in the way that a good auto mechanic is an artist. I admire what he does. I appreciate the value of it. But I wish they would give me a magazine or something to read while he does it.

Excellence and excitement don’t always mix. In Abreu’s case, his lack of flair or visceral artistry will hurt his case for greatness. His artistry is there, as Pos notes, but it is not dynamic. He is a fine player, better than fine, a winning player, but he never put the asses in the seats. But I liked watching him more than Pos does. What makes him different than Hideki Matsui? That Godzilla hit more home runs?

There are thrilling players who have style to burn who aren’t nearly as accomplished as a guy like Abreu or Matsui. Sometimes, you can’t have it all. At least Bobby’s got good teeth and a nice smile.

When I think of the Brewers in the American League I remember the 1981 playoffs and names like Gorman, Cecil, Oglivie, and Robin Yount. Reggie hit a big home run in that series. Of course they were in the league for a long time after that but when I picture the Brewers I think of Harvey’s Wallbangers.

The Brewers still have a decent team with some pop, led by Prince Fielder. I’m sure the balls will be sailing through the Bronx sky tonight.

In less than a month, there will be a tasty Sidney Lumet Retrospective at the Walter Reade Theater in Lincoln Center. Put it on your calendar. Netflix is fine but doesn’t replace seeing a movie on the big screen.

Here’s the line-up:

The Film Society of Lincoln Center – Walter Reade Theater
165 West 65 Street, between Broadway & Amsterdam (upper level)

Tuesday, July 19
1:30PM FAIL-SAFE (111min)
3:50PM THE VERDICT (129min)
6:30PM 12 ANGRY MEN (95min)
8:35PM THE PAWNBROKER (116min)

Wednesday, July 20
1:00PM SERPICO (130min)
3:45PM NETWORK (121min)
6:15PM FAIL-SAFE (111min)
8:45PM THE OFFENCE (112min)

Thursday, July 21
No Sidney Lumet screenings

Friday, July 22
1:15PM 12 ANGRY MEN (95min)
3:45PM THE PAWNBROKER (116min)
6:15PM NETWORK (121min)
8:45PM THE VERDICT (129min)

Saturday, July 23
10:30AM THE WIZ (133min) **Movies for Kids
1:15PM THE SEA GULL (141min)
4:00PM RUNNING ON EMPTY (116min)
6:30PM DOG DAY AFTERNOON (130min)
9:00PM SERPICO (130min)

Sunday, July 24
12:30PM LONG DAY’S JOURNEY INTO NIGHT (174min)
4:00PM Q&A (132min)
7:00PM PRINCE OF THE CITY (167min)

Monday, July 25
1:00PM DOG DAY AFTERNOON (130min)
3:30PM THE OFFENCE (112min)
6:00PM FIND ME GUILTY (124min)
8:30PM BEFORE THE DEVIL KNOWS YOU’RE DEAD (116min)

Over at ESPN, Mark Simon looks at the fielding of Robinson Cano and Mark Teixeira.