Short but Red’s still sweet.

It was a dark and dreary night. Suddenly, the bottom fell out…

And that’s as far as I could go with this game before lapsing into headache-inducing ennui as we watched the home team; already missing Jacoby Ellsbury due to a sore hand, bore the peanut gallery with mediocre at-bats and mainly apathetic play.  Oh sure, Teix hit his second homer in two games and was on base more often than not, and sure Solarte continues to be a solid Everywhere Man while leading the team in RBI, and there seemed to be a bit of rally left in them from yesterday in the ninth from what I’ve read, but there just wasn’t overcoming another night where C.C. Sabathia didn’t even break 90 mph with his fastball, making his 80-83 mph change rather hittable and his other pitches treated with indifference by the Mariner bats.  It wasn’t so bad, he struck out 6 given that he was facing one of the weakest lineups in the AL, but that didn’t stop him from giving up four runs and nine hits in five innings, also brushing two.  For the second time in a row, the Yanks’ starting pitcher didn’t have much control., but this time he couldn’t gut it out (and it’s becoming debatable whether or not his missing gut is to blame). Hopefully it will warm up enough so we can see whether it’s just the inconsistent weather messing with everyone’s mechanics or if it’s decidedly the far side of C.C.’s career as an elite pitcher.

But that’s not what most people were concerned with; no, many wanted to know how Robbie was going to be received in his first return home.  I couldn’t really tell; I was listening on the radio (which didn’t help with the headache one bit), but when Robbie came up the first time, I thought I heard more booing than cheering.  Predictably, John and Suzyn thought they heard more cheering, while everyone else in the media thought the whole city of New York was booing.  Regardless, Robbie didn’t get the kind of welcome he was anticipating, striking out on three pitches.  His was a nervous energy that threatened to sabotage him all night, but after he and the Mariners gouged out four runs in the fifth against C.C., he came back in the seventh with an infield single, a stolen base (!) and a run scored on a Dustin Ackley single.  I think it was about this time that I (and apparently a number of others) decided to find something else to do. I tried to hang on, but the combination of Yankees empty at-bats and John & Suzyn on the radio beat me into submission and I popped in a DVD of cartoons.

All-in-all, this was just one of those games I wish I’d skipped; it was not demoralizing, but it was draining.  Like the lineup, I can’t bring myself to exaggerate the finer points of this game; it just left me with a headache and a lot of unanswered questions.

Is on/off what we can expect from C.C. for the rest of this season, never mind his contract? Is the rest of the starting pitching going to be able to hold up to the All-Star break without being decimated with injuries or fatigue/old age? Is carrying three position players on your bench (with one back-up catcher) really the best thing to do, even with the fact that your designated number five pitcher basically screwed your rotation and bullpen and now may have screwed it some more with an injury? Are Ichiro and Solarte really your best hitters right now? Is there a way that this team can break the funk they have against pitchers nobody really gives two spits about? Why can’t the stadium fans understand the word “irony”? And why, why does Yankee pitching seem to be the ambrosia for weak or badly slumping hitters on every team they’ve faced?

Tune in, turn on, drop out. I’m going back to bed…

[Photo Credit: Days of Our Trailer]

It’s C.C. on the hill for Robbie’s return. It’s cold, gray, and rainy in the Bronx.

Brett Gardner CF
Derek Jeter SS
Carlos Beltran RF
Brian McCann C
Alfonso Soriano DH
Mark Teixeira 1B
Yangervis Solarte 3B
Ichiro Suzuki LF
Brian Roberts 2B

Never mind the chill:

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Picture by Bags]

Banned for life. 

[Photo Credit: Felipe Bertarelli via MPD]

[Photo Via: The Inhabitat]

Photograph by Chase Turner.

Guest Post by Cameron Anderson:

3 Reasons to be excited about the Fargo TV Series

So the new 10-episode limited TV series Fargo, based on the Coen Brothers’ 1996 classic of the same name, premiered recently on FX. Produced by the brothers, the show stars Billy Bob Thorton and Martin Freeman. As word got out in 2012 about plans to adapt the film, many were uneasy with the concept, worried that a mediocre rendition would spoil one of the crown jewels of the Coen catalogue. But after watching the first few episodes, I’ve put my own knee-jerk skepticism to rest, harnessed my enthusiasm, and distilled it into a top-3 list of reasons to not only embrace, but celebrate the new series.

1) Bob Odenkirk

Odenkirk has sloughed off his sleazy lawyer persona from Breaking Bad and adopted the role of police deputy for this series, a character he describes as the “polar opposite” of Saul Goodman. Even Odenkirk, a huge fan of Fargo, had trepidation about signing on, but has expressed approval for what he believes to be a faithful love letter to the original film. Anyone who gets Bob Odenkirk’s buy-in has got to be doing something right.

2) Coens Give Their Blessing

Joel and Ethan Coen are credited as producers for the show, but this seems more symbolic than anything: a nod of approval to the project. It’s important to know that the show is not a remake, but an extrapolation; the characters are akin to their cinematic counterparts, but inhabit a universe parallel to the one depicted in the film. All this to say that the Coens are justified in giving their blessing, for the show, created by Noah Hawley, preserves the same mood and biting wit of its forerunner without simply aping its signature tropes.

3) It’s an Ensemble Effort

We’re treated in this series to a whole new roster of characters, each skillfully cast by the show’s creators. As described above, they inhabit the archetypes set down in original movie, but are given new life by even more A-list performances. Martin Freeman’s answer to Jerry Lundegaard —the pathetic car salesman portrayed by William H. Macy in the film— occupies a similar position in the plot, but his interplay with Thorton’s Lorne Malvo gives the hokey, embattled milquetoast mold new life.

I’m just here to whet your appetite, especially all you wary Coen Brothers fans. Fear not: this is not a derivative imitation of the hallowed film. With eight episodes to go in the series, I can’t wait to see how they continue to improve and expand upon the original.

Ooooooh. 

Swiped from Biblioklept, dig this bit of goodness from Steve Earle:

[Picture by Bags]

Robbie Cano, one of the great Yankees of his time–and arguably the greatest second baseman in team history–returns to the Bronx tonight.

Be nice to see him again, though odd to watch him playing against the Yanks.

[Photo Credit: Greg M. Cooper/USA TODAY Sports]

Monday Night open thread.

NBA and NHL playoffs, a few baseball games. Have at it.

Tomorrow, Robbie Cano returns.

Picture by Bags.  

Through August 24, dig Martin Wong’s impressive collection of street art over at the Museum of the City of New York. This 1988 painting is by Lee Quiñones. 

Yes. Yes.

[Photo Credit: Rob Patronite]

Monday, man.

[Painting by David Imlay]

“Ocean Park 70” by Richard Diebenkorn.

Over at Grantland, Charlie Pierce weighs in on the many problems with Donald Sterling:

But there is one problem that never can be solved. This is because what is a problem for you might not be a problem for the good old boy network of plutocrats that actually own the games into which you pour your devotion and your money. And, even if you decide to stop spending the latter to satisfy the former, it may not really matter. The odds are that, through the largesse of television and the legerdemain of modern accounting, you can’t solve it that way, either. There never has been anything you can do about a bad owner. That one is out of your hands.

Which is where we find ourselves today in the case of Donald Sterling, the alleged racist slumlord owner of the Los Angeles Clippers, who was an alleged racist slumlord, and a confirmed terrible owner, for three decades before audio surfaced of a conversation that was reportedly between him and a woman named V. Stiviano, who appears to have James O’Keefe’d him. (Is there more? Of course there is.)

The league is investigating the audio, but by now, half the world has already weighed in, including the coach of his team, the commissioner of the National Basketball Association, LeBron James, and the president of the United States. All of them agree — as does any advanced carbon-based life form — that if the recording is authentic, the comments show that Sterling is undeniably racist, undeniably revolting, and undeniably rooted in the mind of a man who would have to yield his moral pride of place to algae. There have been a number of calls for the league to strip Sterling of his franchise. This, I confess, makes me more than a little nervous. Taking someone’s assets because of what they think and say, no matter how grotesque it is, sets off all kinds of alarm bells in my First Amendment conscience. The league certainly is within its rights to suspend him, for as long as it wants to suspend him. There were also calls for the Clippers players to make some kind of public statement. Before Sunday’s Game 4 against the Golden State Warriors, they did just that, when they removed their shooting shirts at center court and turned their red warm-ups inside out.

Check out this clever and appealing new book by my cousin, Dinah Fried.

Buzzfeed has a gallery; now, go buy the book.

And then dig this interview with her over at NPR.

To Die For is a favorite.

Cool obit in the Times:

Connie Marrero, a chunky right-hander from Cuba with a windmill delivery and a wicked curveball, was nearly 39 years old when he reached the major leagues with the 1950 Washington Senators.

He went on to become an All-Star in his second season, when he threw a one-hitter against the Philadelphia Athletics, and he won 39 games in five seasons with lackluster Senator teams.

When he died on Wednesday in Havana at 102, two days short of his 103rd birthday, Marrero was the oldest former major leaguer. But his time with the Senators was only one chapter of a long career in which he became a cherished figure in Cuban baseball.

[Photo Credit: Al Fenn/Time Life Pictures via Getty Images]

People.com http://greatideas.people.com/2014/03/31/crazy-baseball-stadium-concession-snacks/

I don’t know about you, but I was getting tired of alternating beat-downs with the other team; teams like the Red Sox and then the Angels beating and then being beaten by football scores, it just makes for bad Feng Shui.  So for the second and third game of this series, the Angels and Yankees agreed to rehearse a couple of taught dramas for the Broadway crowd, hijacking the fricken Rally Monkey with some fancy organ grinding of their own.  And grinding would be an apropos description of what The Notorious Tanaka did during the game; it was strange, yet gratifying how he managed to do his thing for 6-1/3 innings while the Yanks continued to struggle against unheralded pitchers.

Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t bad. In the first inning all his outs were by strikeouts, all swinging; an impressive feat considering whom he was facing.  Sure, Trout continued to show his Professional Hitter side with a first pitch single after the leadoff strikeout, but then Pujols struck out behind him, and following a Howie Kendricks walk, Aybar struck out.  But the Yanks for their part decided to make Garret Richards almost equally intriguing by striking out or otherwise doing practically nothing against him.  Richards, who was averaging five walks per nine innings was giving nothing away to Tanaka, who by the second time through the lineup was now starting to get hit. When he wasn’t getting hit, he was doing something that by now could be considered very odd: he was giving up walks. Seriously, up until tonight he’d only given up two walks in total. The fourth inning was especially troublesome because he loaded the bases after a leadoff double with a HBP and a walk before the Angels pushed a run across with a fielder’s choice. Tanaka was still striking people out, but it seemed different; a lot of pitches and a lot of foul balls added to the feeling that he wasn’t dominating. Nervous business, what with G. Richards looking more like vintage J.R. Richards.

But then we learned something else about Tanaka in the process: he really doesn’t give up.  He must have realized that his other stuff wasn’t working as well as we’ve quickly grown accustomed to, so he did something subtle that I can’t get my finger on, but whatever he did, he was getting outs.  He was still striking batters out, but those seemed like an afterthought to the fact that he was getting batters out at the right time. The defense came to back him up too, turning in routine ground-outs and fly-outs (or at least making them look routine). If he gave up a triple, he struck out the next batter to end the inning. Tanaka’s control was kinda iffy, he threw a lot more in fewer innings, but he somehow got the outs when he needed them. The lineup managed to push across a run with a walk to Teixiera, who came around to score after a Brian Roberts double and a Ichiro ground-out.

Then he gave up a homer to David Freese, the hero of the 2011 St. Louis Cardinals Champeenchip, who was until then mired in an ugly slump with intermittent playing time. The way the Yanks were not hitting at that moment, you may have gotten the sense that this might be the moment Tanaka experiences his first loss in more or less two years.  Yes, it has to happen, but why against Mike Scioscia and the Angels? Ugh.. after Tanaka retired the side, the Yanks failed to score, leaving Tanaka set up for a loss. Perhaps Girardi felt bad and wanted to give Tanaka another chance to win by sending him out for the seventh, but by this time he was already hovering near 100 pitches, so after Collin Cowgill struck out, Joe took him right back out in favor of Adam Warren. Masahiro Tanaka: 6.1 innings, 5 hits (though it seemed like more), 4 walks (hmm…), 2 earned runs (huh…), and 11 strikeouts (how about that), leaving down one run.

Yet, all was apparently not lost and Warren picked up a little magic from somewhere, because after giving up another single to Trout, he got Pujols to ground into a double play and hold the line.  Next thing you know, bang, zoom! Teix hit one out and the score was tied.  Yay Tanaka wasn’t gonna lose! if nothing else, you had to feel good about that. Back in the game, now let’s get some more uhp, fergeddit, fly-outs and a pop-out and no more runs.  But you did get the sense that Richards was returning to norm, so strikeouts could soon turn into striking a hot iron.  Warren, now tasked with holding the line and perhaps getting a win, did his part in retiring the side in order, so the Yanks tried again in the eighth…

Then the funniest thing happened: Scioscia trotted out a reliever. Soon he trotted out another. Then another.  Then another and another… no, not really, but it was bad enough. See, what Scioscia already knew and hoped wouldn’t happen, and what we came to realize was that his bullpen was not very good at holding leads. Not very good at all, which was another oddity with the pitching tonight.  I’m not used to seeing a bad Angels bullpen, so I was surprised when the first reliever Michael Kohn walked Ellsbury , because yunnow, he’s Ellsbury and walking him is like giving up a double.  Kohn might’ve thought the same thing, because he spent more time stepping off and/or throwing to first than he did pitching to Jeter, who eventually struck out. But then he walked Beltran, which made Scioscia nervous and he brought in Nick Morande, who managed to throw the ball to everyone sitting behind home plate except catcher Chris Iannetta (though one was called a passed ball and Iannetta really wasn’t having a good game anyway); first Ellsbury and Beltran moved up, then Ellsbury scored, giving the Yanks the lead.  Brian McCann then gave a nifty solo scene with a HBP that was more by than hit; so convincing that the umps took a whole intermission to review the play and ultimately put him on first. Welp, time to send in the understudy, and that was Kevin Jepsen, who managed to secure a double play from our Soriano with an ug… well, sub-optimal at bat.

That brought us to what was potentially the last act, and the our new divo David The Hamma’ Roberston came to close out the show. Down went Stewart, in keeping with the theme of the night with the ubiquitous strikeout. But Iannetta walked, and his understudy John McDonald replaced him at first. J.B. Shuck managed to jive him over to second, and then… duh-duh-duhhhh our old friend Raul Ibañez came up for Cowgill.  Raul, though his average was quite low, was certainly capable of driving in a run or two as he had done 15 times beforehand.  This was indeed a scary moment, because if you lost him, you had to face the Deadly Duo, starring Mike Trout and Albert Pujols.  Robertson threw and Raul looked at strike one.  Another pitch and it was called a ball??? WTF BLUE!!!  You might also be thinking at this point, “nail him down… please!” The pitch, and Raul fouled it off.  Do it for Warren, he held it down and deserved to win it.  Do it Tanaka, he wasn’t himself tonight or what we’ve already come to expect of him, but dammit he deserved something for it. Do it because you can’t stand the Angels and particularly you can’t stand Mike Scioscia. And do it for the ones who stuck it out this long to see the win.  The Yanks haven’t had a lot of luck with close games like this over the past few years, so yeah… nail it down. The pitch… a half-swing. Did he go?

It wasn’t pretty. It didn’t look right, didn’t feel right, just didn’t seem right. But yunnow what? It tasted like chicken. Yanks win 3-2.