This past Thursday the wife and I celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary. We got married, just the two of us, in the Bahamas. After the ceremony and the pictures, we returned to our hotel room. It was a Thursday afternoon. The wife went into the bathroom to wash up and I clicked the TV on and saw on the ESPN ticker that the Yankees were losing to the Indians. I turned the TV off and after the wife and I consummated the marriage we later turned the TV back on and saw that the Yanks had won, and that Alex Rodriguez hit a game-ending grand slam.

This afternoon the wife and I went downtown to enjoy massages. I e-mailed a Red Sox pal of mine and predicted one thing–that Freddy Garcia would get his tits lit, which was precisely what happened. I saw that the Sox scored twice in the first on my phone just as we arrived at the spa. Bad enough there was troubling news about Michael Pineda before the game. Dammit. I turned the phone off and didn’t turn it back on until we left a good while later. Score was 9-5. Swisher had just hit a grand slam after the Yanks trailed 9-0. Predictable, I thought. Well, at least they are making it respectable.

Little did I know that the White Sox pitcher Phillip–Don’t Call Me Humbert–Humber was on his way to completing a perfect game against the Mariners in Seattle. The Yanks were down 9-1 in the 7th, with one out and Russell Martin on first when Fox cut away to the White Sox game. By the time Humber had his perfecto and was interviewed for TV and Fox returned to Boston, Swisher’s grand slam got the Yanks back in the game. Runners were on the corners and Mark Teixeira was at the plate. Joe Buck and Tim McCarver were excited. Tex already had a solo homer and now, batting left-handed, he popped a three-run dinger over the Green Monster. Most of the damage was not televised.

The score stood at 9-8 when the wife and I got to the restaurant for dinner. The game was on the TV at the bar and so I stayed at the bar, with the wife’s blessing–she sat in our booth following on the phone–as we waited for our food. That’s where I saw the Yanks take the lead. And then some. The Bombers scored 7 in the 7th and 7 more in the 8th on their way to a ball-busting win that will not soon be forgotten. Games like this, even in April, are memorable. It was a rousing win for the Yanks and a punch-in-the-face loss for the Sox, “rock bottom,” according to Bobby Valentine.

Final Score: Yanks 15, Sox 9.

I couldn’t think of a sweeter anniversary gift from the so-called Baseball Gods.

Thank you. And the wife thanks you, too.

 [Photo Credit: Corey Sipkin/N.Y. Daily News]

The Red Sox look to get even with the Yanks this afternoon. Fab Five Freddy Garcia–flammable so far this season–will pitch for the Bombers. C’mon, Freddy, hold that pill like a fuggin’ egg and throw the crap out of it.

Derek Jeter DH
Nick Swisher RF
Robinson Cano 2B
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Curtis Granderson CF
Andruw Jones LF
Russell Martin C
Eduardo Nunez SS

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

Bliss is Fats.

2-19 Honey Hush

[Photo Credit: :: Kate::]

I know it’s only April but is there anything as sweet as the muted sound of Fenway Park when the Red Sox are losing? The place had a terrific celebration before the game yesterday but for the final three innings it was blissfully quiet. Which can only mean good things. The Yanks hit five solo home runs (including two by Eric Chavez) against Clay Buchholz and Ivan Nova had a nice curveball going as the visiting team spoiled the day for the home nine.

Final Score: Yanks 6, Sox 2.

[Photo Credit: John Tlumacki/Boston Globe; Michael Dwyer/AP]

Yanks and Sox celebrate a big anniversary at Fenway.

Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Alex Rodriguez DH
Robinson Cano 2B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Nick Swisher RF
Raul Ibanez LF
Eric Chavez 3B
Russell Martin C

Nova on the hill.

Never mind the hoopla: Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Featured Image via It’s a Long Season; photo of Zim via Sports Illustrated]

Collage by Robert Motherwell

Noo Yawk Tawk.

Food 52 Contest Winner:  Sho ‘Nuff.

[Photo Credit: Sarah Shatz]

Smooth out the R&B.

Mariano Rivera shredded the Twins last night to seal a thrilling victory. Joe Mauer, one of the greatest batsmen in the game, was the second out. Mauer saw one pitch, an insistent, boring cutter and it destroyed him.

Mariano breaks a lot of bats. And he’s caused a few guys to chuck their bats after missing entirely. But what he did to Mauer, I’ve never seen before. Mauer hit the ball – a dribbler to second base – and still lost his bat into the seats. This wasn’t a guy slipping or getting fooled; Mariano literally knocked the bat out of his hands.

I thought of a good-guy gunslinger shooting the bad guy in the hand, or a fencer twirling the epee out his opponent’s grip. But more powerful than that. Maybe one of these moments captures it best:

[Featured Image: Getty]

Check out this moving story by Josh Wilker.

[Featured Image: David Goldman]

A friend recommended this book to me. I read it last month. It is beautiful.

At the New Yorker blog, The Book Bench, Kelly Stout writes:

At the suggestion of a colleague, I picked up William Maxwell’s “So Long, See You Tomorrow,” which first appeared in The New Yorker in two parts in 1979, and for me, falls into that category one semi-secretly curates: Books I Really Ought To Have Read Already. But no matter; now seems as good a time as any for a novel about nostalgia. Maxwell’s narrator—who is sometimes thought to be a shade of the author himself—remembers a moment in his youth, following the death of his mother, when he “had inadvertently walked through a door that I shouldn’t have gone through and couldn’t get back to the place I hadn’t meant to leave.” The boy develops a habit of dwelling in the skeleton of the house his father and stepmother are building for their new life, when he discovers “I had found a way to get around the way things were.”

Edward Mendelson wrote in The New York Review of Books that “in Maxwell’s realistic fiction no one learns and no one changes,” and indeed, “So Long, See You Tomorrow” is a study in craving the past, even for characters like the narrator’s forward-looking father, who solves the problem of his first wife’s death with a marriage to someone new. The narrator tells this story just about a half-century after it happens, timing that recalls the forty-year cycle of nostalgia that Adam Gopnik writes about in the magazine this week. The novel is a balm for anyone attracted to the half-soothing, half-sinister sense that everything was better just before it got bad. Without earnestly condemning his own impulses toward glancing backward, the narrator laments that, “Between the way things used to be and the way they were now was a void that couldn’t be crossed.”

Here is the Mendelson article cited above:

William Maxwell was a plain-speaking, seemingly realistic novelist who wrote autobiographical stories about middle-class life in small towns and urban neighborhoods. At first he tried to imitate Virginia Woolf’s lyricism, but he soon cleansed his style of ornament and exaggeration. He wrote in taut, laconic rhythms that evoked the spare speech of his native Midwest, and portrayed his characters’ inner and outer lives with economical clarity and nuance. His props and characters were indistinguishable from real settings and persons from Lincoln, Illinois, where he was born in 1908, and Manhattan, where he lived most of his adult life until his death in 2000. Almost every episode in his fiction was reconstructed from events in his life, rearranged for concision and elegance. In a few heightened moments in his novels and stories, he imagined what the furniture and fixtures in a room might say if they could speak among themselves, unheard by human ears, but he presented these moments as metaphors for the sad reality of human moods.

Maxwell had two separate careers as a writer; both overlapped his third career as fiction editor of The New Yorker. His first career, as a writer of realistic novels and stories, began when his first novel appeared in 1934 and continued in such books as The Château (1961) and So Long, See You Tomorrow (1980). In 1946, a year after he married a young painter, he began a second career as a writer of magical folktales in the style of Mother Goose and the Brothers Grimm. In these tales the magic hidden beneath the surface of his realistic fiction emerges with explicit and often comic force, and their world is partly the familiar modern one, partly a timeless fairyland, and wholly his own invention.

[Photo Credit: Hengki Koentjoro]

This was the song I didn’t want to listen to yesterday. Thought it would make me too sad. But then I did listen to it and I played it again and again and marveled at its power. A friend of mine said, “It doesn’t convert you to the Confederacy or anything, but it kinda makes you understand the Confederacy, which is a bold thing.” Amen.

And here is a great version from “The Last Waltz.”

Rest in Peace, Levon.

I’ve always had this image of Yankees’ radio announcer John Sterling working on his game during the off-season. He’s sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, a copy of the latest roster, and a shaky understanding of what listeners might find clever or cool.

“Teixeira… Teixeira… Mark Teixeira… Hmm, what about this? On your Mark, get set… Go Teixeira! No, that’s not gonna work. C’mon, big John! Wait — I got it! You’re on the Mark, Teixeira! That’s gold, baby, gold!”

Some of Sterling’s catch phrases are simply awful, but others are, admittedly, a bit catchy. I’ve always liked the line he usually drops when Curtis Granderson goes deep. “Who can do it? The Grandyman can!” Sure, it’s easy, but I like it.

It’s my guess that Sterling never thought he’d have to go to the well three times in one game for Granderson, so I’ll forgive him his regrettable call of Grandy’s third home run on Thursday night. (Yes, you read that correctly, the Grandyman went deep three times, and I have to believe Sterling is still kicking himself for not coming up with this line instead: “Curtis, you’re once, twice, three tiiiiiimes a Grandy!”)

Ah, but there was a game, so we should get to that.

Aside from Granderson’s historic night, I felt like I had seen this game before. First, a Yankee regular was given half a day off at DH, and Eduardo Núñez was inserted into the lineup. I can understand the urge to rest veterans like Alex Rodríguez and Derek Jeter, but Robinson Canó?

It took only three batters for this decision to blow up. With one out and a runner on first base, Joe Mauer pounded a routine ground ball out to second. Núñez fielded the ball cleanly, but then threw the ball high and wide to first. Teixeira was able to snag the errant toss, but he was pulled away from the bag and Mauer was safe.

Phil Hughes was on the mound, and he responded by striking out Josh Willingham for the second out, then proved he’d been paying attention during the first three game of the series by walking Justin Morneau on four pitches. Hughes could’ve gotten the next batter and no one would’ve thought about Núñez’s error again, but he didn’t. Ryan Doumit singled to left to score two runs, then Danny Valencia followed with a double to score two more, and the Yankees were down 4-0.

There’s a strong temptation to point out that all four of those runs were unearned and lay all the blame at the feet of Mr. Núñez, but Hughes has to shoulder at least half of the responsibility. Games often turn on a single at bat when the pitcher either makes his pitch or doesn’t. Hughes didn’t make his pitch, but as it turned out those mistakes to Doumit and Valencia didn’t determine the game.

Granderson started the climb back with a one-out solo home run in the top of the first, and three batters later Teixeira launched a two-run shot to bring the Yanks to within 4-3. Then a funny thing happened — Hughes started making his pitches.

For a four inning stretch from the second to the fifth inning, Hughes allowed just two hits and never felt much pressure from the Twins.

Meanwhile, the Yankees kept clawing their way back. Núñez did his best to make up for his earlier error by doubling with two outs in the second, then scored when Jeter rifled a single into right field, the 3,110th base hit of Jeter’s career, tying him with his boyhood idol, Dave Winfield. Just as we were digesting this and thinking about all the Hall of Famers Jeter’s likely to pass on the hits list in the next month, Granderson struck again, belting his second homer of the game to grab a 6-4 lead. Two innings later he’d hit his third of the game, another solo shot, and the score was 7-4.

The weight of Hughes’s long first inning finally took its toll in the sixth. After wisely walking Morneau to lead off the inning, Hughes floated a change up to Doumit. Doumit rubbed his eyes in disbelief, licked his chops, and dispatched the ball deep into the night. The lead had shrunk to 7-6 and manager Joe Girardi had no choice but to lift his starter, but it didn’t matter. The bullpen was coming in, so the game was over. Boone Logan, Rafael Soriano, David Robertson, and Mariano Rivera (or, LoSo-RoMo) came in and turned out the lights: 3.2 IP, 4 H, 4 K, zero hope.

Much has been made of the ineffectiveness of the Yankee starters and their paltry total of three quality starts, but the bullpen has been the yin to that yang. If we award starting pitchers a quality start for lasting six or more innings and yielding three or fewer runs, why not give an entire bullpen a Quality Finish for an equally effective closing? (For all I know, this statistic might already exist, but please allow me to continue thinking that I made it up.)

Let’s say that a team will get a quality finish when a game is closed in one of two ways: two innings or less with no runs allowed or three or more innings with one run allowed. Using that definition the bullpen has notched ten quality finishes. The folks at Elias will have to tell you how that compares to the rest of the league. I can tell you that the bullpen ERA sits at 1.83, which is pretty good.

Before we go, here’s an interesting note about Jeter. He’s currently riding a ten-game hitting streak, the 44th double-digit streak of his career, which ties him with Al Simmons for fourth place all-time behind Tris Speaker (47), Hank Aaron (48), and Ty Cobb (66), Hall of Famers all.

A nice win for the Yanks. Here’s hoping they bottled that bit of momentum and took it with them up to Boston.

Yankees 7, Twins 6.

[Photo Credit: Frank Franklin II/AP Photo]

Phil Hughes and the Yanks look for a win and a series split vs. the Twins.

1. Jeter SS
2. Granderson CF
3. A-Rod 3B
4. Cano 2B
5. Teixeira 1B
6. Swisher RF
7. Ibanez LF
8. Martin C
9. Nunez 2B

And if the early results have you down, check out this bit of hilarity from the one and only Ted Berg.

[Image Credit: Clker.com]

Backup catcher can be a thankless job. Off all the bench positions, the second string backstop is arguably the most scrutinized and most criticized, particularly because so many people tend to overlook defense and hone in on their typically meager offensive contributions.

Most Games by a Yankees’ Catcher, Since 1918

Note: Includes games in which the player PH for the existing catcher.
Source: Baseball-reference.com

Over the years, the Yankees have been blessed with several elite catchers. From Bill Dickey to Yogi Berra, Elston Howard, Thurman Munson, and Jorge Posada, the Bronx Bombers have often enjoyed a comparative advantage behind the plate. Combined, that quintet has played 44% of the team’s “catcher games” (based on total games played at catcher, not in each season) and accounted for around 50% of most statistical contributions from the position. However, these all-time greats have had some help along the way.

The Best vs. the Rest: Comparison of Yankees’ Catchers, Since 1918

Note: Includes games in which the player PH for the existing catcher.
Source: Baseball-reference.com

In addition to the All Stars mentioned above, the Yankees have had 114 catchers since 1918, ranging from Billy Shantz, who appeared in only one game but never had an at bat, to Rick Cerone, who played 567 games as a catcher and finished seventh in the 1980 MVP balloting.  This less than stellar group of backstops has compiled a batting line of .254/.326/.367, which, while paling in comparison to the rates posted by the team’s better catchers, still seems respectable (for context, major league catchers hit a combined .245/.313/.389 in 2011). However, those totals include the contributions of several starters, and today, we’re only concerned with the backups.

Most Games as a Yankees’ Backup Catcher, Since 1918

Note: Includes games in which the player PH for the existing catcher. Backup role defined as any catcher but the one with the most games behind the plate in an individual season.
Source: Baseball-reference.com

Norwegian-born Arndt Jorgens ranks as the most prolific backup catcher in Yankees’ history. From 1929 to 1939, Jorgens served as a second stringer to Bill Dickey, joining the likes of Benny Bengough, Buddy Rosar (both of whom also rank among the top five) and Joe Glenn in that role. Interestingly, Dickey’s Hall of Fame successor, Yogi Berra, also ranks as the second most tenured backup. Berra was a second stinger, at least in terms of catching, both at the beginning of his career and the end, when he moved to the outfield to make room for Elston Howard. Turnabout was fair play for Howard, who spent the first five years of his career alternating between the outfield and Berra’s primary backup.

Top-10 Career OPS by a Yankees’ Backup Catcher, Since 1918

Note: Includes games in which the player PH for the existing catcher. Backup role defined as any catcher but the one with the most games behind the plate in an individual season. Totals above exclude years in which the player led the team in games behind the plate. Minimum of 150 career plate appearances.
Source: Baseball-reference.com

Older Yankees’ fans probably remember Ron Hassey very well. In 1985 and 1986, the plodding catcher posted a prolific OPS of .846, while serving as Butch Wynegar’s primary backup. In the process, he also earned the nickname “Babe” because his lefty swing and titanic homeruns resembled the Bambino. In the 1990s, Mike Stanley was a similar-styled player. Before ascending to the starting job in 1993, his bat made him a fan favorite when he was Matt Nokes’ backup in 1992. After becoming the lead man, Stanley turned the role over to Jim Leyritz, who provided steady offense behind the plate in nine seasons as a second stringer for the Yankees. However, Leyritz greatest notoriety came in the postseason, during which he authored two of the most dramatic home runs in franchise history.

10 Best/Worst OPS Seasons by a Yankees’ Backup Catchers, Since 1918

Note: Includes games in which the player PH for the existing catcher. Backup role defined as any catcher but the one with the most games behind the plate in an individual season. Minimum of 75 plate appearances and seasons by Yogi Berra and Jorge Posada excluded.
Source: Baseball-reference.com

Considering the relatively limited playing time of a backup catcher, their offensive performance is difficult to predict. For every Benny Bengough who surprises with an exemplary season, there’s a Joel Skinner who consistently makes fans groan every time they see his name penciled into the lineup. Although the Yankees have recently had some success getting offense from their backup catcher, Jose Molina (2007) and John Flaherty (2003-2004), for the most part, the team’s second stringers have been light with the bat. Luckily, there is organization depth at catcher because as frustrating as it is to have a backup who can’t it, it’s much worse when the same is true about the starter.

“Taxi” by Saul Leiter (1957)

Pat Jordan plays golf with Justin Verlander:

Verlander stops the cart, and we go into the woods to look for his ball. Two egrets, each standing on one leg, point it out. He drives it out of the woods and into a sand trap. We get back into the cart. Frankie ambles by and says, “There’s some pretty flowers in the woods, huh?” I say, “Yeah, Justin’s showing me the whole course — woods, rough, water hazards.” Verlander replies, “I’m just trying to be a good host, show you all aspects of the course.” I say, “Then why don’t ya show me one of the greens?” I pause, and then say, “With your ball near the pin.” Verlander glares at me, and then laughs. “People in real life don’t get ballplayers’ humor, the way we talk in the clubhouse,” he says. In “real life,” people say things they don’t mean. Ballplayers do the opposite. Verlander says, “I’m always hurting someone’s feelings.”

He sprays sand out of the trap, his ball barely reaching the green. Three shots later, we head off toward the next hole. His fastball topped out at 86 mph his senior year of high school, and scouts weren’t interested. So he went to Old Dominion University in Virginia and spent the winter lifting weights. He gained 20 pounds, and by the end of his freshman year, his fastball had been clocked at 96 mph. “All 20 pounds of muscle went to my legs,” he says, which helped him drive toward the batter with his fastball. “Blessed, I guess,” he says. “I was born to be a pitcher.”

[Photo Credit: Ben Walkter/AP]

At the barber shop uptown we talk baseball and listen to music and sometimes nobody says anything and that’s okay, too.

There is an excerpt from Frank Deford’s new memoir in SI this week: “When the NBA Was Young.” 

Fun read. For more on Deford, check out this fine podcast with Richard Deitsch.