The first mitt I remember owning was given to me by my father as a birthday gift. It was a letdown. There was no fingers inside, just a mushy place to put your hand, a strange feature that my father thought was clever. I didn’t agree. He bought himself a glove at the same time that was a traditional glove (a Joe Morgan autograph version). At the time, I wished I had had his glove and felt somehow as if he was telling me that I wasn’t ready for a regular mitt yet.

I don’t know how long I had that mitt, but through high school it seemed as if I lost a mitt each season. Which wasn’t the worst thing because I so thoroughly enjoyed the process of breaking a glove in–oiling it, bending it back and forth, throwing a ball into the web over and over, and then tying up the mitt with a ball in the center at night and putting it under my pillow.

During my second year of high school, my coach gave me his old Wilson A2000, which had been lovingly broken in and used for years. I lost that one too, leaving it behind on the field at an away game. I don’t recall having my own mitt after that, although there were always a couple around the house. Then, about ten years ago, I bought a new one even though my baseball activities had been reduced to the occasional catch. It is a Nokona 12″ second baseman’s glove, a swell mitt, one that was desinged and suited for baseball and really too small for softball.

I got to thinking about the glove after reading Steve Lombardi’s wonderful post featuring some of his mitts–he’s owns seven!

Anyone got any good glove stories? And, do you call it a mitt or a glove?

A few years ago I was heated about something or other concerning the Hall of Fame. I happen to be talking with a noted baseball historian and he just shrugged my complaints off. “This is the institution that elected Tom Yawkey, how can you take them seriously?” Marvin Miller, one of the most important figures in the history of the baseball business, sure doesn’t. According to an article by William Rhoden in today’s New York Times:

In a letter to the Baseball Writers’ Association of America, Miller wrote:

“Paradoxically, I’m writing to thank you and your associates for your part in nominating me for Hall of Fame consideration, and, at the same time, to ask that you not do this again.”

Miller added: “The antiunion bias of the powers who control the hall has consistently prevented recognition of the historic significance of the changes to baseball brought about by collective bargaining. As former executive director (retired since 1983) of the players’ union that negotiated these changes, I find myself unwilling to contemplate one more rigged veterans committee whose members are handpicked to reach a particular outcome while offering the pretense of a democratic vote. It is an insult to baseball fans, historians, sports writers and especially to those baseball players who sacrificed and brought the game into the 21st century. At the age of 91, I can do without farce.”

Miller said he planned to write a separate letter to the Hall of Fame board asking them to withdraw his name from consideration. “I simply want to make sure that they know how I feel,” he said. “I don’t want to be nominated again. By anybody.”

Miller doesn’t need the Hall of Fame to be remembered as the Giant that he is. And neither does Buck O’Neil.

Mike Piazza was arguably the best position player ever to play for the Mets and he certainly was one of my favorites. He retired a few days ago. Over at ESPN, Rob Neyer argues that Piazza was the best-hitting catcher of all-time:

I’m certainly open to suggestion, but I have a hard time figuring how you come with anyone but Piazza when searching for the best-hitting catcher ever. Perhaps there’s a case to be made for Josh Gibson, especially someday when we actually are allowed to look at the Negro Leagues data the Hall of Fame has embargoed. But Gibson died when he was 35, and had for years been suffering the ill effects of drug abuse and a brain tumor. Gibson may have been as talented as any catcher who ever lived, but his performance did not match his talent. In my opinion.

Piazza certainly was the best-hitting major leaguer of them all. Here are some nice tributes to Piazza, from:

Jay Jaffe
Jon Weisman
Joe Posnanski
Tim Marchman
Pete Abraham
and, who else, of course, but
Tommy Lasorda

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a right-handed batter with the ability to blister line drives to right field like Piazza. Heck, one time I saw him line a shot to left, and the left fielder dove two steps to his left for it like he was an infielder and the ball got by him. But his home runs to right were awesome. Yo, remember that moon shot he hit off Ramiro Mendoza, the one that went over the fuggin tent at Shea?

Here is a piece I wrote for Baseball Prospectus when Piazza returned to Shea as a Padre and hit two home runs (and almost hit three) back in August of 2006. So long, Yazzie, thanks for the memories.

The Yankees didn’t just break a four-game losing streak last night, they stomped the Orioles, cruising to a lopsided win for the first time since they beat the Mariners 8-2 on May 4, more than two weeks ago. Darrell Rasner and Joba Chamberlain combined to recorded just the third Yankee shutout of the season and first since April 27, while five Yankees had multi hit games (led by Alex Rodriguez, who went 3 for 4 with two doubles and a solo homer) as the Bombers scored eight runs for just the fifth time all season and first time since that May 4 game against Seattle.

Rasner, who is now 3-0 in as many starts, was nails, retiring the first eight Orioles in order, striking out a career-best six men, and allowing only that many to reach base while using up only 95 pitches in his seven scoreless innings. Rasner has walked two men in his three big-league starts this season, has a 1.89 ERA, 0.84 WHIP, and is averaging 6 1/3 innings per start. What makes that all the more impressive is that he was even better in his five triple-A starts before being called up, going 4-0 with a 0.87 ERA, 0.77 WHIP, and averaging 6 2/3 IP/GS. Darrell Rasner isn’t this good, but I’ve long believed he’s a legitimate back-of-the-rotation starter. At this moment, he’s the Yankees best starter. Not bad for a pitcher who was claimed off waivers while still in double-A two years ago and then slipped through waivers this past offseason and wasn’t even on the 40-man roster until he was called up in early May. Heck, Rasner was skipped the last time through the rotation (I’m still trying to figure that one out).

That’s the great thing about Rasner. He’s so dull, you barely even notice him. He doesn’t have any eye-popping pitches. He dominated the Orioles last night, but never looked dominating. He just mixes his four pitches, throws strikes, and works fast. Before you notice he’s pitching, he’s back in the dugout. Even his post-game interviews are impossible to pay attention to. All of that makes the nickname Shelley Duncan used for him while introducing the Yankee lineup on FOX a couple of Saturday’s ago perfectly inappropriate: “Razzmatazz” it is. Razzle Dazzle ’em, Mister Cellophane.

By the way, that game for which Rasner was called up in early May was that May 4 game against the Mariners. Though he’s needed just seven runs total to win his three starts, Rasner has received an average of seven runs of support per game, making him just about the best thing to happen to the Yankees this year. Last night, the offense in support of Rasner drew five walks and bounced left-handed Baltimore starter Gregg Garrett Olson in the third inning after plating six men and making Olson throw 79 pitches. Queens native Dennis Sarfate, part of the Miguel Tejada booty from Houston, shut things down for a couple of frames after that, but the Yanks pounced on subsequent reliever Lance Cormier for two more tallies in the sixth.

Both of those sixth-inning runs should have come on Alex Rodriguez’s second home run of the game (his third in his two games since returning from the DL), but, in an echo of the botched Carlos Delgado home run call on Sunday, the umpires erroneously ruled Rodriguez’s hit, which bounced off the yellow stairs in front of the right field bleachers, a double. Rodriguez seemed a bit too concerned about the extra two bases with one out in the sixth inning of a 7-0 game, but a passed ball and an RBI groundout from Shelley Duncan got Alex home with the final run of the Yankees 8-0 victory.

So the Yankees got what they’d been desperate for, not just a win, but a clean, crisp victory with errorless play on the bases and in the field and dominating performances on both sides of the ball. What could possibly overshadow a win like that?

(more…)

Mr. Rasner is on the hill for the Bombers tonight who are in desperate need of a win, of something, anything to feel good about.  The Yanks are wearing us out early once again, our legendary calm and patience being put to the test.  But that’s cool, we ain’t going nowhere.  So, nevermind the bollocks…

Let’s Go Yankees!

During and immediately after the War there was precious little work to be found in Belgium, so my mother’s father, a man’s man in the Ted Williams mold (although far more reserved), who had a considerable amount of wanderlust, moved his young family to the Congo, where my ma lived from the time she was three (1947) until she was a teenager.  I learned about my father’s family, from Russia and Poland respectively, mostly through the oral tradition, endless stories, and even some writings.  But I learned about my mother’s family chiefly through photographs and 8 mm home movies, a) because of the language barrier (they speak broken English, I speak broken French), and b) because they took an extraordinary amount of pictures.  You can imagine how exotic it was to me as a kid to see photographs of my mom in Africa.  "You grew up there and you wound up in the suburbs?" I used to kid her when I was a wise-ass teenager.  

As it turns out, my mom and dad met in Addis Ababa, of all places.  1966.  My father was there working as a production manager on a National Geographic Special on Africa.  My mother was there with a group of friends, making a short documentary for graduate school about their trip from Northern Africa down to Ethipia. 

Dig this.  Which one you think is Ma Dooke?

And here’s the old man, in full Elliott Gould mode:

So, where did your folks meet?

Earlier this spring, my wife Emily and I visited her sister in Albuturkey, New Mexico.  Even though the climate was dry and cool I have never experienced such oppresive heat from the sun, which was the hottest in the late afternoon.  The sun was omni-present.  Even when it was slightly overcast you could feel it.  One day, we were at a used bookstore and the guy who ran the place told us that when native New Mexicans leave the state they go into shock because of the lack of sun. 

In New York, you learn to savor the sun because it comes to us as fractured light, in bits and pieces.  Native New Yorkers know where the sun will be, at what time of day, during each time of year.  The sun is more precious here which makes you appreciate it all the more.  But it’s not only the sun.  Being in New York, all you need to do is look up and pay attention and you will see the most stunning sights.  For instance, a few weeks ago, I met Richard Lederer and his son Joe outside of their hotel on 42nd street and 3rd avenue.  As I waited, I happen to look up and saw, through a crack in the awning, a gorgeous view of the Chrysler Building.  Of course, I’d never seen it from that perspective before, and it is likely that I’ll never see it from there again.

I feel the same way going to games at the Stadium.  Although I have sat in the same seats more than once and I’ve been to many sections in the park over the years, I certainly haven’t been to all of them.  Not nearly.  Each seat offers you a distinct perspective that makes the game fresh and new.  Last night, I was at the game, and enjoyed the view from some very cushy seats, about twenty rows deep behind first base.  When hard ground balls skipped foul up the first base line you could hear them woosh along the grass; when Kevin Millar caught a line drive, we heard a loud WHAP, and when Derek Jeter was hit in the hand, a resounding crack. 

(more…)

Mike Mussina’s was the coin that flopped over tonight. After walking just three men in his last five starts, Mussina walked Brian Roberts to start tonight’s game. Moose then gave up two-out singles to Aubrey Huff and Kevin Millar to plate Roberts and put men on first and second. After that, he got of Luke Scott 1-2 and got Scott to ground to shortstop for what appeared to be an inning-ending groundout. Derek Jeter fielded the ball and looked to flip to Robinson Cano at second for the out, but Cano wasn’t on the bag. Instead, Jeter threw to first, but his throw was high and allowed Scott to reach safely, loading the bases for Ramon Hernandez. Mussina walked Hernandez on four pitches to force in a second Oriole run, then failed to retire any of the four men after him, finally being pulled with the score 7-0 Orioles and still just two outs in the first inning.

That thew a wet blanket on Alex Rodriguez’s return to the lineup. Rodriguez came through with a two-run homer into the Yankee bullpen in the sixth, but those were the only runs Baltimore starter Daniel Cabrera allowed on the night as the Orioles cruised to a 12-2 win.

The only other action of note stemmed from a third-inning Cabrera pitch which tailed in on Derek Jeter and hit him on the outside of his left wrist. Jeter left the game immediately, and LaTroy Hawkins cleared the benches by throwing at Luke Scott with none on and two out in the sixth, but Jeter’s x-rays were negative, which means that other than a coming suspension for Hawkins, the lasting effects should be minimal. The lasting effects of the Yankees losing six of their last seven while averaging two runs per game remain the greater concern.

The Orioles have the fourth-best record in the American League, but have been outscored by their opponents on the season. They have won seven of their last nine, but lost nine of 11 before that. They have the third-best ERA+ in the league, but the fifth worst OPS+. They’re having fun, but it won’t last, though given the way the Yankees have been playing recently, it may last a little longer.

The good news for the Yankees is that they’ll have Alex Rodriguez back in the lineup tonight, which will fill one of the three gaping holes in their lineup. (Man, this sure looks a lot better, don’t it?)

Alex and pals will be facing Daniel Cabrera tonight. Cabrera has turned in seven straight quality starts, posting a 2.50 ERA and 1.07 WHIP over that stretch. Most impressively, his walk rate has been a strong 2.68 BB/9 during those seven starts and he has allowed just four home runs, this after walking nine men and allowing four homers in his first ten innings on the season. Opposing Cabrera is Mike Mussina, who has gone 5-0 with a 2.76 ERA with just three walks and two homers over his last five starts.

There are a lot of coins standing on their sides at the Stadium tonight. The question is which of them will tip over.

(more…)

When I was a kid I received a copy of You Know Me Al from my uncle Sam Plummer, who was not really my uncle, but I thought of him as one all the same. The version I got was a collection of the You Know Me Al comic strips–it wasn’t until years later that I learned it was a book before it was a comic.  I loved the gift, not so much because I was especially taken with the strip, but because it combined comics and baseball and Sam was thoughtful enough to know that (a die-hard Cubs fan, Sam later introduced me to the records of Fats Waller).  Somewhere along the line I lost the book but a few years ago I saw a copy in a used bookstore. My heart skipped a beat and I nabbed it. For those of you who have never seen it, here’s a peak at a strip:

(more…)

Over at BP Unfiltered, David Laurila has a nifty Q&A with Brewers bench coach, Ted Simmons, who was one of the most vital figures in the Players Association back in the 1970s, and a near Hall of Fame catcher to boot.

Dig this:

DL: You played in the 1970s and 1980s. How different is the game now?

TS: The players are far more educated than they were when I first played. When I came up to the Cardinals in 1970, I had spent two years at the University of Michigan. Dal Maxvill had an electrical engineering degree from Washington University. We were really the only two, at least that I can recall, who had spent any time in a four-year institution. Today, almost all of these kids have formal educations — minimally at the junior college level. Almost all come from major educational backgrounds. That is the biggest change that exists in major league baseball with the players themselves. They’re far more educated and far more sophisticated; they’re a far different band of people.

DL: How does the game differ on the field?

TS: I think it has changed dramatically with the statistical analysis that’s come about and applied itself at the major league level and at the minor league level. You have a whole group of people who have identified, and recognized, statistical trends that are directly applicable to the field. Whether it’s offensively, pitching, or defensively, there are applications that exist now because of the ability to convey information quickly — things you can take on a daily basis and apply in a game. There’s no question that’s been the biggest change.

DL: Have you adapted well to the statistical revolution, or do you view yourself as more of an old-school baseball guy?

TS: I think that dinosaurs die hard, and they die fast. If one doesn’t take the best of the objective perspective, and the best of the subjective perspective, and incorporate the two into one place — however one has to do it — if you’re not prepared to do that, you’ll soon be out.

Simmons’ bit about dinosaurs brings to mind something that the Yankees have had me thinking about recently, the classic line from Annie Hall where Woody says, “A relationship, I think, is like a shark. You know? It has to constantly move forward or it dies. And I think what we got on our hands is a dead shark.”

Hank continues to talk.

I won’t deny that the heavy majority of sportswriters, myself included, have been and still are guilty of puffing up the people they write about. I remember one time when Stanley Woodward, my beloved leader, was on the point of sending me a wire during spring training, saying, “Will you stop Godding up those ball players?” I didn’t realize what I had been doing. I thought I had been writing pleasant little spring training columns about ball players.

If we’ve made heroes out of them, and we have, then we must also lay a whole set of false values at the doorsteps of historians and biographers. Not only has the athlete been blown up larger than life, but so have the politicians and celebrities in all fields, including rock singers and movie stars.

When you go through Westminster Abbey you’ll find that excepting for that little Poets’ Corner almost all of the statues and memorials are to killers. To generals and admirals who won battles, whose specialty was human slaughter. I don’t think they’re such glorious heroes.

I’ve tried not to exaggerate the glory of athletes. I’d rather, if I could, preserve a sense of proportion, to write about them as excellent ball players, first-rate players. But I’m sure I have contributed to false values—as Stanley Woodward said, “Godding up those ball players.”

Red Smith

That said, the back cover of today’s New York Post screams: “HERE COMES A-GOD! Alex returns tonight to save inept Yanks.”

(more…)

For those of you who live in the tri-state area, consider these upcoming dates at the Yogi Berra Museum and Learning Center:

Bobby Murcer: Thursday, May 29th. 7:00-9:00 pm.

Graig Nettles, Ron Guidry and Don Mattingly: Sunday, June 8th. 3:00-5:00 pm.

Yogi himself: Thursday, June 12th. 6:00-8:00 pm.

Here’s another reason to be sore today if you are a Yankee fan. Um, the prices next year at the new Stadium…well, check this out from Soxfan over at YFSF. It ain’t pretty.

Portrait of the Blogger as a Young Boy with Baseball on the Brain:

Put me in coach…  

(more…)

I was upset to read the news about Doc Ellis over the weekend. Ellis is critically ill. He was a lively character as a player and a good, hard-ass pitcher. After battling addiction for years, he’s spent most of his post-baseball career as a counselor. I can only hope he receives the treatment he needs before it is too late.

In the meantime, here is a great story of just how tough he was in his prime. The following excerpt is from “In the Country of Baseball,” written by Donald Hall.

In spring training 1974, Dock Ellis, felt that his Pirates had begun to loss some aggressiveness.

“You are scared of Cincinnati. That’s what I told my teammates. Every time we play Cincinnati, the hitters are on their ass.”

In 1970, ’71, and ’72, he says, the rest of the league was afraid of the Pirates. “They say, ‘Here come the big bad Pirates. They’re going to kick our ass!’ Like they give up. That’s what our team was starting to do. Cincinatti will bullshit with us and kick our ass and laugh at us. They’re the only team that talk about us like a dog. Whenever we play that team, everybody socializes with them.” In the past the roles had been revered. “When they ran over to us, we knew they were afraid of us. When I saw our team doing it, right then I say, ‘We gunna get down. We gonna do the do. I’m going to hit these motherfuckers.'”

(more…)

"Come to bed, honey."

My wife’s voice was weak.  She was almost asleep.  I turned the TV off, picked up my cat and went to the bedroom.  I let out a big sigh and Em told me that she was sorry that the Yankees are causing me so much agita.  "Try and let it go, babe, it’s going to do you no good to stay upset about something you’ve got no control over.  You need your energy for the week." 

I’ve heard that line before and know it to be true.  This time, I didn’t fight it for too long and soon enough I was asleep.  It is more than slightly ridiculous to get furious over a ball club, right?

It was sunny and crisp this morning on my way to work.  I read the morning papers on the subway.  Johnny Damon said the game was "embarrassing."  I shoved the papers into my napsack and put on my headphones.  A young Spanish girl, all of six years old was sitting across from me, next to her mother.  The girls’ feet were three or four inches off the ground.  She wore pink sneakers, a power blue sweat suit and had a barette in her hair.  An i pod nano was in her little palm, little white plug headphones in her ears.  She had the most serious expression on her face and she mouthed the words to whatever she was listening to, nodding her head in an exaggerated motion.  I couldn’t help but laugh.  Not only because she was so intent, so committed to her schtick but because she reminded me of how preposterous I must look at times, snapping my neck to the beat, wearing my super-sized dorky headphones.  

Yeah, the Yankees are awful right now.  Let them be embarrassed by how poorly they are playing.  We don’t need to be embarrassed about anything.  Hey, we weren’t embarrassed to root for them when they were winning.  Doesn’t mean we have to be happy about what’s going on, but in the end, their performance doesn’t have much to do with us at all, does it?

Mostly Dead…

The Yankees have not been getting hits with men are in scoring position.  They have not been scoring many runs, one of the telling differences between last year’s early-season slump and this year’s version.  When their ace pitcher is not on his game–Chien-Ming Wang was knocked around to the tune of seven runs–there is no way for them to win, even with the umpires helping them out with a huge missed call, negating a three-run home run by Carlos Delgado (who singled in a run instead).  The game was actually close enough until the eighth when the Mets busted it open, but given the way the Yankee offense has been going it didn’t feel close at all.  On consecutive plays in the top of the eighth, Bobby Abreu made poor throws to the plate and a 5-2 lead quickly became 7-2.  Jose Reyes’ three-run shot into the right-centerfield bleachers sealed it.  Oliver Perez, the Mets’ inconsistent left-hander, allowed only three hits in 7. 2/3 innings, the only damage coming from a two run-homer by Hideki Matsui.

Final Score: Mets 11, Yanks 2.     

So the Yanks are the winners of an abbreviated scrubway series–right now, they are worse than the Mets.  Their offense is worse, their record is worse, and, of course, they are in last place.  I wish I had something positive to say, but I don’t.  Okay, how about this?  At least we don’t have to watch this team play on Monday.  They’ve got the day off.  Alex Rodriguez is scheduled to rejoin the team on Tuesday night.  But even Rodriguez, the reigning AL MVP, won’t be enough to help save these pinestriped suckas all by himself.

It’s going to be a long season, boy.         

They say, in baseball, momentum is only as good the next day’s starting pitcher. The Yankees sure hope that’s true, as they have their ace, Chien-Ming Wang, on the hill tonight against lefty Oliver Perez, who has done his best to mimic Andy Pettitte’s season by posting a 2.49 ERA in his first four starts and a 6.98 ERA in his last four.

The Yankees seemed to have the momentum early in yesterday’s game. Andy Pettitte got his first six outs on five Ks and a pickoff, stranding a David Wright infield single in the process, then had a 1-2-3 third inning. Johnny Damon led of the bottom of the first against Johan Santana with a walk and came around to score on a towering home run down the left field line by Derek Jeter. With the Yanks up 2-0, Damon led off the bottom of the third with a single which was followed by a Bobby Abreu double into the gap in right field.

Yankee third-base coach Bobby Meacham waved Damon home on Abreu’s hit. With no outs and the heart of the order due up, starting with Jeter who had already homered, it was a questionable send at best and one that betrayed the Yankees’ desperate need for runs. Still, it took a perfect play to nail Damon at the plate. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened. Ryan Church cut the ball off before it reached the warning track, spun, and fired to Luis Castillo, who relayed home to Brian Schneider. As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Schneider, in one motion, caught Castillo’s throw on a hop in front of the plate, turned, stuck out his left leg, and kicked Johnny Damon’s foot away just as Damon was sliding into the plate. An overhead replay showed that Schneider’s foot guided Damon’s around the tip of the plate. Damon never touched home, and Schneider applied the tag to the back of Damon’s leg as he slid by.

With that one play, the entire game changed. Abreu was stranded at second, and the Mets took the lead in the top of the fourth by scoring three runs against Pettitte on a series of dinks, dunks, and walks. It was only 3-2 Mets at that point, but the momentum had swung, and it never swung back. Pettitte gutted out six innings, throwing 116 pitches and coming away with a quality start and seven strikeouts, but Kyle Farnsworth came on in seventh to face the top of the Met order and gave up a home run to Jose Reyes, walked Church, and then gave up two-run jack to David Wright to make it 6-2 Mets. Farnsworth’s home run rate now stands at an eye-popping 2.7 HR/9.

Jason Giambi answered that outburst by leading off the bottom of the inning with a solo homer off Santana and Abreu added another solo shot off the Mets’ ace (whose 1.65 HR/9 this inning is ugly in and of itself) in the eighth, but Joba Chamberlain gave one of those runs back in the ninth following a Carlos Beltran triple, and the game ended with the Mets leading 7-4.

So, yeah, let’s hope momentum is only as good as the next day’s starting pitcher. Let’s also hope that the 8:00 start time for tonight’s ESPN game will allow the predicted showers to blow through before game time.