The two coolest traditions in sports:
1. If you hit a hole in one, you buy drinks for the house . . .
2. On the last day of the season, if the Yankees have nothing to play for, Joe Torre designates a manager-for-a-day from his crop of veteran players.
I thought awhile ago the obvious choice was Bernie Williams. Turns out I was right.
Never mind the Unit. Go Yanks.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Some kind of day
3 pm: with the Brewers four outs away from defeating the Cardinals, and thus reducing the Cards' lead over the Astros to one, Scott Speizio hits a bases-clearing triple and simultaneously providing all the necessary runs in a 3-2 victory, thus reducing the Cards' magic number to one.
5 pm: University of Houston begins its game against the University of Miami. Miami scores first but Houston scores often, and holds a 13-7 lead throughout most of the game. The problem with 13-7 against a heavy favorite is that you can do the math. Sure enough, Miami scores a touchdown and wins 14-13. But what a showing by the Cougs.
6 pm: The two big games of the day begin: USC-Washington State and Astros-Braves. The 'Stros lead 2-0. Then the Braves work back to a tie, 2-2 (I'm a little hazy on the details, as my attention was drawn more to my Trojans). The 'Stros score, then hang on for a 5-4 victory.
I was thinking of the Rose Bowl . . . when USC went up by twelve with seven minutes to go, and UT knew it had to score two touchdowns in two possessions to win, what left the Trojan D was a sense of urgency. The Longhorns scored the first touchdown with laughable ease, which forced the Trojans into a defensive posture, which led to going for it on fourth-and-two . . . and the rest is history.
Same deal tonight. The fight seemed to drain from the defense when the Trojans went up 28-15; the lack of urgency was apparent when the Cougars scored a touchdown to bring them within six.
Do the math.
All right, they escaped. But Cal, Orego and Notre Dame are on the horizon.
Time to grow up.
5 pm: University of Houston begins its game against the University of Miami. Miami scores first but Houston scores often, and holds a 13-7 lead throughout most of the game. The problem with 13-7 against a heavy favorite is that you can do the math. Sure enough, Miami scores a touchdown and wins 14-13. But what a showing by the Cougs.
6 pm: The two big games of the day begin: USC-Washington State and Astros-Braves. The 'Stros lead 2-0. Then the Braves work back to a tie, 2-2 (I'm a little hazy on the details, as my attention was drawn more to my Trojans). The 'Stros score, then hang on for a 5-4 victory.
I was thinking of the Rose Bowl . . . when USC went up by twelve with seven minutes to go, and UT knew it had to score two touchdowns in two possessions to win, what left the Trojan D was a sense of urgency. The Longhorns scored the first touchdown with laughable ease, which forced the Trojans into a defensive posture, which led to going for it on fourth-and-two . . . and the rest is history.
Same deal tonight. The fight seemed to drain from the defense when the Trojans went up 28-15; the lack of urgency was apparent when the Cougars scored a touchdown to bring them within six.
Do the math.
All right, they escaped. But Cal, Orego and Notre Dame are on the horizon.
Time to grow up.
1 1/2 (Arrrrrgh)
In every pennant race, as Tom Boswell once said, there is always one you want back--always one you know you'd win if they played it again, one you probably lost because you wanted the damn thing so badly.
Such was last night. Rocket's best pitching availed nothing through 5 1/2 innings. Then in the sixth, lead-off man Pete Orr beat a ball off home plate, forcing Rocket to wait helplessly as it hung in the air and Orr flew down the line. When the ball finally returned to earth, Rocket's throw to first beat Orr by half a step--in the view of everyone but first-base ump Alfonso Marquez, who called Orr safe.
Edgar Renteria was next. Orr took off for second, and Adam Everett broke for the bag--and so was a half-step out of position for a line drive he'd have converted for an easy double play. Instead, the ball glanced off Everett's glove and into center field. First and third, no body out. Chipper Jones hit a soft bouncer that, 24 weeks out of the year, Lance Berkman would play for the easy out, conceding the run--but in his zeal to make a fabulous throw out at home, Berkman let the ball bounce under his glove and trickle into right field. Orr scored easily. 1-0.
Then Andrew Jones, batting only because the Braves found themselves in posession of six outs that inning, singled to center. Renteria scored. 2-0. It might as well have been 20-0, so weak were the Astro bats, so resembling the dreary days of June and August, when "back-to-back homers" meant one on Monday and one on Tuesday. The final score (4-1) was almost irrelevant.
St. Louis, given new life, cruised to an easy 10-5 victory in Milwaukee.
Today, back to Sampson.
Sheets goes for Milwaukee.
USC plays Washington State.
University of Houston at Miami.
Texas Tech at A & M.
Ohio State at Iowa.
About it.
Such was last night. Rocket's best pitching availed nothing through 5 1/2 innings. Then in the sixth, lead-off man Pete Orr beat a ball off home plate, forcing Rocket to wait helplessly as it hung in the air and Orr flew down the line. When the ball finally returned to earth, Rocket's throw to first beat Orr by half a step--in the view of everyone but first-base ump Alfonso Marquez, who called Orr safe.
Edgar Renteria was next. Orr took off for second, and Adam Everett broke for the bag--and so was a half-step out of position for a line drive he'd have converted for an easy double play. Instead, the ball glanced off Everett's glove and into center field. First and third, no body out. Chipper Jones hit a soft bouncer that, 24 weeks out of the year, Lance Berkman would play for the easy out, conceding the run--but in his zeal to make a fabulous throw out at home, Berkman let the ball bounce under his glove and trickle into right field. Orr scored easily. 1-0.
Then Andrew Jones, batting only because the Braves found themselves in posession of six outs that inning, singled to center. Renteria scored. 2-0. It might as well have been 20-0, so weak were the Astro bats, so resembling the dreary days of June and August, when "back-to-back homers" meant one on Monday and one on Tuesday. The final score (4-1) was almost irrelevant.
St. Louis, given new life, cruised to an easy 10-5 victory in Milwaukee.
Today, back to Sampson.
Sheets goes for Milwaukee.
USC plays Washington State.
University of Houston at Miami.
Texas Tech at A & M.
Ohio State at Iowa.
About it.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Rocket goes tonight; Weaver for Birds
By my count, there have been six games that people honestly believed might be his farewell as he walked off the field: Game Seven, 2003 ALCS (the Aaron Boone game); Game Four, 2003 World Series (you'll remember the Marlins applauded him from the dugout as he walked from the field); Game Seven, 2004 NLCS (couldn't hold a 2-0 Astro lead, the Cards went to the World Series); and his last two starts at home, when the Astros were either hopelessly (last Wednesday) or patently (last Sunday) out of it.
This guy has more curtain calls than guys who have lots of curtain calls.
And he goes tonight, against the Braves, with Houston's first chance to be in first place since early May.
Weaver, cut loose first from the Yankees, then the Angels, then stinking it up with an 0-3 record at Busch Stadium, goes tonight for the Cardinals against Milwaukee.
So . . . here's for everyone playing true to form, ay?
This guy has more curtain calls than guys who have lots of curtain calls.
And he goes tonight, against the Braves, with Houston's first chance to be in first place since early May.
Weaver, cut loose first from the Yankees, then the Angels, then stinking it up with an 0-3 record at Busch Stadium, goes tonight for the Cardinals against Milwaukee.
So . . . here's for everyone playing true to form, ay?
Thursday, September 28, 2006
1/2
It is for real.
The Brewers jump on Marquis (only the Cards' number three starter), sprint out to a 9-1 lead, and coast to a 9-4 win.
Tomorrow, the Cards' Jeff Weaver (an Angel cast-off) versus the Brewers' passably competent Capuano.
Not happening, right?
The Brewers jump on Marquis (only the Cards' number three starter), sprint out to a 9-1 lead, and coast to a 9-4 win.
Tomorrow, the Cards' Jeff Weaver (an Angel cast-off) versus the Brewers' passably competent Capuano.
Not happening, right?
1
The Scenario lives on.
Over the past three seasons--the last three crazy, wild, drink-too-much-beer, miss-your-bedtime Astro seasons--my favorite player has been Roy Oswalt, whose 90-pitch, two-hour shutouts have been, for the sheer pleasure of watching the game, the best part of being an Astro fan.
As a pitcher, Oswalt harkens back to the 1970s, the time when my love of the game first took hold (it lay dormant through most of the eighties--college, girls, and underachieving Yankees--was re-born in the fall of 1986, and has grown ever since). Oswalt's throwback status (give that man a technicolor jersey!) starts with Rick Miller's four axioms of pitching, honed as Earl Weaver's trusty lieutenant in Baltimore: work fast, throw strikes, keep the ball down, and for God's sake have faith in your fastball.
It is something, for someone raised in four-hour, American League East 12-10 softball games, to watch Oswalt work. Twice last season TFT and I went to Oswalt starts that lasted less than two hours and less than ninety pitches; it is something to go to a 7:05 start and be home in plenty of time for the ten o'clock news.
The second 1970s frisson is provided by Gator, by Louisiana Lightnin', by Rong Guidry, who was a lefthander, but one whose physical dimensions are almost identical to Oswalt's, and whose pitching, like Oswalt's, started with a fastball that seemed to come from parts unknown.
All this was on my mind today, driving around after my afternoon literature class, listening to Oswalt motor through the Pirates like, as has been said, they weren't even standing there. 3-0 lead in the fifth? It is to laugh. Even with some help from Qualls, this qualified as an Oswalt special.
Meanwhile, through seven, 9-1 Brewers. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas . . .
One game down.
Over the past three seasons--the last three crazy, wild, drink-too-much-beer, miss-your-bedtime Astro seasons--my favorite player has been Roy Oswalt, whose 90-pitch, two-hour shutouts have been, for the sheer pleasure of watching the game, the best part of being an Astro fan.
As a pitcher, Oswalt harkens back to the 1970s, the time when my love of the game first took hold (it lay dormant through most of the eighties--college, girls, and underachieving Yankees--was re-born in the fall of 1986, and has grown ever since). Oswalt's throwback status (give that man a technicolor jersey!) starts with Rick Miller's four axioms of pitching, honed as Earl Weaver's trusty lieutenant in Baltimore: work fast, throw strikes, keep the ball down, and for God's sake have faith in your fastball.
It is something, for someone raised in four-hour, American League East 12-10 softball games, to watch Oswalt work. Twice last season TFT and I went to Oswalt starts that lasted less than two hours and less than ninety pitches; it is something to go to a 7:05 start and be home in plenty of time for the ten o'clock news.
The second 1970s frisson is provided by Gator, by Louisiana Lightnin', by Rong Guidry, who was a lefthander, but one whose physical dimensions are almost identical to Oswalt's, and whose pitching, like Oswalt's, started with a fastball that seemed to come from parts unknown.
All this was on my mind today, driving around after my afternoon literature class, listening to Oswalt motor through the Pirates like, as has been said, they weren't even standing there. 3-0 lead in the fifth? It is to laugh. Even with some help from Qualls, this qualified as an Oswalt special.
Meanwhile, through seven, 9-1 Brewers. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas . . .
One game down.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Son of 1 1/2
So the Padres had to pitch to Pujols too. Will anyone ever learn.
Tomorrow morning, the Wizard goes out to try and cut the lead to one. This may be the 'Stros' last shot: hanging a W on the St. Louis scoreboard before the gates open, putting all the pressure on teh 'Birds to stay abreast.
And, yes, yes, Luke Scott was clutch in tying the game, but sheesh, National League extra-inning games are becoming the most boring creatures on earth. Everybody swings for the moon, everybody strikes out, and the freaking game goes on forever.
Brad Ausmus, who sent his buddy Biggio home with the sac fly in like the 90th inning, was--I'm not kidding--asked about T.O. His not unreasonable response: "T.O.?"
Then Greg Lucas saved him with a baseball question.
Game MVP: Wheeler. Three shutout innings in relief. Rivera-esque.
Tomorrow morning, the Wizard goes out to try and cut the lead to one. This may be the 'Stros' last shot: hanging a W on the St. Louis scoreboard before the gates open, putting all the pressure on teh 'Birds to stay abreast.
And, yes, yes, Luke Scott was clutch in tying the game, but sheesh, National League extra-inning games are becoming the most boring creatures on earth. Everybody swings for the moon, everybody strikes out, and the freaking game goes on forever.
Brad Ausmus, who sent his buddy Biggio home with the sac fly in like the 90th inning, was--I'm not kidding--asked about T.O. His not unreasonable response: "T.O.?"
Then Greg Lucas saved him with a baseball question.
Game MVP: Wheeler. Three shutout innings in relief. Rivera-esque.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
1 1/2
Impossible, but true. By way of a butchered run-down play, a Pujols pop-up on a pitch he usually puts in the Mississippi River, adn some strong Padre relief, the Cardinals have just lost seven in a row.
Meanwhile, an crisp Astro win, 7-3 over the Pirates.
The Scenario lives.
Meanwhile, an crisp Astro win, 7-3 over the Pirates.
The Scenario lives.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Paging Phil Mushnick
After the conclusion of tonight's Falcons-Saints game, Stuart Scott pointed out that this was “the first time we had three consecutive Monday Night match-ups between undefeated teams.”
Counting, um, Week One, when both teams were 0-0.
Thanks for coming.
Counting, um, Week One, when both teams were 0-0.
Thanks for coming.
Saints win; Bush looks good
So the Saints beat the Falcons, 23-3. I suppose that the dreadful nature of the game was, for once, a secondary consideration.
Reggie Bush was good if not great: 52 yards rushing, 19 receiving, and a few effective turns as a decoy opening up half the field for his mate McAllister.
Bush is sure to get better, though never as good as I want him to be, though good enough to shame the Houston Texans for decades.
Reggie Bush was good if not great: 52 yards rushing, 19 receiving, and a few effective turns as a decoy opening up half the field for his mate McAllister.
Bush is sure to get better, though never as good as I want him to be, though good enough to shame the Houston Texans for decades.
Oh, and . . .
This morning, while staring at the baseball standings, TFT had a question:
"Can the magic number go up?"
Alas, it cannot.
"Can the magic number go up?"
Alas, it cannot.
Signs of Life (My Other Favorite Team)
In the Houston Astros' greatest game this season . . .
. . . except maybe last night's, or the one the night before, or the night before that, or maybe last Thursday, when Lance Berkman brought his mates back from a one-run deficit with a two-out, two-run, eighth-inning home run into the Mexican restaurant out beyond the center field fence. . .
. . . the Astros recovered from a seventh-inning, 4-2 deficit to win, 5-4, over the Philadelphia Phillies. The hero of the game was one of the less-sung heroes of the Cardinal sweep, pinch-hitter extraodinaire, Orlando Palmeiro, who tied the game in the seventh with a two-run pinch single. Jason Lane followed with a single to put the 'Stros ahead for good.
The win was more impressive as Astro manager Phil Garner went into this evening with an odd handicap: essentially, he had no starting pitcher. With Oswalt, Pettitte, Clemens and Hirsch exhausted by their recent efforts and unavailable for duty, Garner faced the lack of a starter in a unique way.
He didn't use one.
Well, sure, Chris Sampson started the game, and pitched splendidly, shutting the Phillies out for three and two-thirds innings, but was pulled at the first sign of trouble when a favorable match-up was at hand. This was the proper handling of a long reliever. As the game progressed, as the margin for error narrowed, the hooks became faster, until (with Wheeler in waiting to work the ninth) it seemed that individual pitchers were being run in to face individual hitters.
In the end, one corner of the box score was a marvel of symmetry: nine innings, nine pitchers. And another one-run win.
Meanwhile . . .
Bottom of the ninth: Padres 6, Cardinals 5, bottom nine, one man out, runner at first.
Update: Woo-Hoo! Reliever Linebrink strikes out the side (mixed in with a Miles base hit and a wise pitch-around to Pujols) in the bottom of the ninth. 6-5 Padres.
The Cardinals' lead is now 2 1/2 games. Magic number remains at five.
And this:
A week ago, TFT (Tammie, as was) wrote out a detailed analysis of just how the Astros would pull off yet another miracle: pitchers, match-ups, probable wins and losses. She wrote "Magic Number: 5" and magneted it to the refrigerator. I nicknamed her formula "The Scenario" and remembered how I used to compose such mathematic proofs in college, and then graduate school, as each autumn's Yankee charge (think the eighties) failed again and again.
Cute, I thought.
The day The Scenario went up, the Cardinal margin was 8 1/2 games.
As I sit here, the margin is 2 1/2 games.
Six days. Six games.
. . . except maybe last night's, or the one the night before, or the night before that, or maybe last Thursday, when Lance Berkman brought his mates back from a one-run deficit with a two-out, two-run, eighth-inning home run into the Mexican restaurant out beyond the center field fence. . .
. . . the Astros recovered from a seventh-inning, 4-2 deficit to win, 5-4, over the Philadelphia Phillies. The hero of the game was one of the less-sung heroes of the Cardinal sweep, pinch-hitter extraodinaire, Orlando Palmeiro, who tied the game in the seventh with a two-run pinch single. Jason Lane followed with a single to put the 'Stros ahead for good.
The win was more impressive as Astro manager Phil Garner went into this evening with an odd handicap: essentially, he had no starting pitcher. With Oswalt, Pettitte, Clemens and Hirsch exhausted by their recent efforts and unavailable for duty, Garner faced the lack of a starter in a unique way.
He didn't use one.
Well, sure, Chris Sampson started the game, and pitched splendidly, shutting the Phillies out for three and two-thirds innings, but was pulled at the first sign of trouble when a favorable match-up was at hand. This was the proper handling of a long reliever. As the game progressed, as the margin for error narrowed, the hooks became faster, until (with Wheeler in waiting to work the ninth) it seemed that individual pitchers were being run in to face individual hitters.
In the end, one corner of the box score was a marvel of symmetry: nine innings, nine pitchers. And another one-run win.
Meanwhile . . .
Bottom of the ninth: Padres 6, Cardinals 5, bottom nine, one man out, runner at first.
Update: Woo-Hoo! Reliever Linebrink strikes out the side (mixed in with a Miles base hit and a wise pitch-around to Pujols) in the bottom of the ninth. 6-5 Padres.
The Cardinals' lead is now 2 1/2 games. Magic number remains at five.
And this:
A week ago, TFT (Tammie, as was) wrote out a detailed analysis of just how the Astros would pull off yet another miracle: pitchers, match-ups, probable wins and losses. She wrote "Magic Number: 5" and magneted it to the refrigerator. I nicknamed her formula "The Scenario" and remembered how I used to compose such mathematic proofs in college, and then graduate school, as each autumn's Yankee charge (think the eighties) failed again and again.
Cute, I thought.
The day The Scenario went up, the Cardinal margin was 8 1/2 games.
As I sit here, the margin is 2 1/2 games.
Six days. Six games.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Life in Hell
Came home tonight to the Astros-Cardinals on ESPN. The fair Tammie (TFT), the Astros freak for the ages, was in the midst of a baseball fan's personal hell: suffering through Joe Morgan talk for five minutes about your favorite team.
She asked me, "Who is that clown?"
I told her.
She said, "Wow. What an asshole."
In other news, the Astros pulled off an improbable fourth straight victory against the Cardinals. 3 1/2 games with a week to go is probably insurmountable, but meaningful baseball the last week of September is always a rich and wonderful occasion.
She asked me, "Who is that clown?"
I told her.
She said, "Wow. What an asshole."
In other news, the Astros pulled off an improbable fourth straight victory against the Cardinals. 3 1/2 games with a week to go is probably insurmountable, but meaningful baseball the last week of September is always a rich and wonderful occasion.
"It looks like you're so clever"
The last few weeks have demonstrated two things:
1. Bill Clinton is obsessed with how he is viewed re Al Qaeda and terrorism in general.
2. He sees the second draft of history, and does not like what he sees.
The only thing that ever engages my curiousity in Clinton's behavior is Clinton's response to inquiries about his behavior. I didn't care about his campaign finance irregularities until he began using a definite article to describe drinking coffee--as in, foreigners with piles of cash attended "the coffee." I didn't care about Paula Jones until Clinton claimed that he and Ms. Jones were never "alone in the hotel," whch was something no one had ever claimed. (One would assume, first, that there were other guests in the hotel, plus a staff; and second, that this rhetorical construction was Clinton's rhetorical guy wire.) His sex life was his own business; if his wife could live with it, so could I, and considering who he was married to, I not only suspected he slept around, I rather hoped he did.
Did Clinton drop the ball on Al Qeada in the nineties? Probably. But then everyone did. I don't know that George H.W. Bush or Bob Dole would have behaved any differently. I remember being rather amused after the first World Trade Center bombing, at terrorists so stupid they would return the rental truck for a refund of the deposit. After Kobar Towers, after the Cole, I was reminded of Ronald Reagan's blunders in Beirut, and chalked them up to our status as the last great power. Every punk around the corner was lining up to take a shot from us; we were exhausted from seventy years of Depression, followed by World War, followed by Cold War. We wanted to enjoy, as George Will put it, our holiday from history, and collectively could absorb the blowing up of a warship without becoming too affected.
Sad, but true.
I always wonder: what would have been the response of a Clinton administration, or a Bush administration, had the 9/11 plots been understood in their entirety beforehand? The answer is, relatively speaking, not much. The plotters would have been rounded up. Someone would have gone Sipowicz on them in some Boston or New York police station, and gathered whatever information they could. And that's probably it. Had a President, on the basis of nineteen arrests, proposed invading a country and overthrowing its government, the reaction would have been stupified anger.
What I mean is, it took the reality of the towers falling to bring about an understanding of the conflict we face, as well as the political cache President Bush needed to invade Afghanistan. So all right. So President Clinton lived every day with the same restraints.
Still, then he has to go and answer Chris Wallace's questions like this:
"You've got that little smirk on your face." Brother.
From NRO's The Corner.
1. Bill Clinton is obsessed with how he is viewed re Al Qaeda and terrorism in general.
2. He sees the second draft of history, and does not like what he sees.
The only thing that ever engages my curiousity in Clinton's behavior is Clinton's response to inquiries about his behavior. I didn't care about his campaign finance irregularities until he began using a definite article to describe drinking coffee--as in, foreigners with piles of cash attended "the coffee." I didn't care about Paula Jones until Clinton claimed that he and Ms. Jones were never "alone in the hotel," whch was something no one had ever claimed. (One would assume, first, that there were other guests in the hotel, plus a staff; and second, that this rhetorical construction was Clinton's rhetorical guy wire.) His sex life was his own business; if his wife could live with it, so could I, and considering who he was married to, I not only suspected he slept around, I rather hoped he did.
Did Clinton drop the ball on Al Qeada in the nineties? Probably. But then everyone did. I don't know that George H.W. Bush or Bob Dole would have behaved any differently. I remember being rather amused after the first World Trade Center bombing, at terrorists so stupid they would return the rental truck for a refund of the deposit. After Kobar Towers, after the Cole, I was reminded of Ronald Reagan's blunders in Beirut, and chalked them up to our status as the last great power. Every punk around the corner was lining up to take a shot from us; we were exhausted from seventy years of Depression, followed by World War, followed by Cold War. We wanted to enjoy, as George Will put it, our holiday from history, and collectively could absorb the blowing up of a warship without becoming too affected.
Sad, but true.
I always wonder: what would have been the response of a Clinton administration, or a Bush administration, had the 9/11 plots been understood in their entirety beforehand? The answer is, relatively speaking, not much. The plotters would have been rounded up. Someone would have gone Sipowicz on them in some Boston or New York police station, and gathered whatever information they could. And that's probably it. Had a President, on the basis of nineteen arrests, proposed invading a country and overthrowing its government, the reaction would have been stupified anger.
What I mean is, it took the reality of the towers falling to bring about an understanding of the conflict we face, as well as the political cache President Bush needed to invade Afghanistan. So all right. So President Clinton lived every day with the same restraints.
Still, then he has to go and answer Chris Wallace's questions like this:
I will answer all of those things on the merits but I want to talk about the context of which this arises. I’m being asked this on the Fox network…[note — these ellipses are in the Thinkprogress transcript]. ABC just had a right wing conservative on the 'Path to 9/11' falsely claim that it was based on the 911 commission report with three things asserted against me that are directly contradicted by the 9/11 commission report. I think it’s very interesting that all the conservative Republicans who now say that I didn’t do enough, claimed that I was obsessed with Bin Laden. All of President Bush’s neocons claimed that I was too obsessed with finding Bin Laden when they didn’t have a single meeting about Bin Laden for the nine months after I left office. All the right wingers who now say that I didn’t do enough said that I did too much. Same people….
I authorized the CIA to get groups together to try to kill him. The CIA was run by George Tenet who President Bush gave the medal of freedom to and said he did a good job.. The country never had a comprehensive anti terror operation until I came to office. If you can criticize me for one thing, you can criticize me for this, after the Cole I had battle plans drawn to go into Afghanistan, overthrow the Taliban, and launch a full scale attack search for Bin Laden. But we needed basing rights in Uzbekistan which we got after 9/11. The CIA and the FBI refused to certify that Bin Laden was responsible while I was there. They refused to certify. So that meant I would have had to send a few hundred special forces in helicopters and refuel at night. Even the 9/11 Commission didn’t do that. Now the 9/11 Commission was a political document too. All I’m asking is if anybody wants to say I didn’t do enough, you read Richard Clarke’s book…
At least I tried. That’s the difference in me and some, including all the right wingers who are attacking me now. They ridiculed me for trying. They had eight months to try and they didn’t….. {ellipses in the Thinkprogress transcript]. I tried. So I tried and failed. When I failed I left a comprehensive anti-terror strategy and the best guy in the country, Dick Clarke… [ellipses in Thinkprogress transcript] So you did Fox's bidding on this show. You did you nice little conservative hit job on me….
I worked hard to try and kill him. I authorized a finding for the CIA to kill him. We contracted with people to kill him. I got closer to killing him than anybody has gotten since. And if I were still president we’d have more than 20,000 troops there trying to kill him. Now I never criticized President Bush and I don’t think this is useful. But you know we do have a government that think Afghanistan is 1/7 as important as Iraq. And you ask me about terror and Al Qaeda with that sort of dismissive theme when all you have to do is read Richard Clarke’s book to look at what we did in a comprehensive systematic way to try to protect the country against terror. And you’ve got that little smirk on your face. It looks like you’re so clever…
"You've got that little smirk on your face." Brother.
From NRO's The Corner.
Farewell to the Beer Dude
The Beer Dude tends his Shiners and Michelob Ultras behind the lower deck along the third base line at Minute Maid Park. I used to go to him for yards of Michelob Ultras before common sense intervened, and I downshifted to pints.
Of all the vendors at Minute Maid, he is the one who has not moved, staying his post during the Miracle Run of '04, which was followed by the Miracle Run of '05, which was followed by one of the most exasperating seasons in memory.
I was wandering around the first deck, a few tiers below my actual seats, when I saw him standing his post.
"Sorry I couldn't give you any business tonight," I said. "Our seats are on the third deck and now I've had enough."
"No problem, man," he said.
We shook hands.
"See you next April," I said.
What else can one say about the Houston Astros, a team which stormed to the World Series last year, came back intact (except for what they added, namely Preston Wilson)--what else, except "monumental disappointment"? Morgan Ensberg and Jason Lane backslid, Preston Wilson did nothing but strike out, Craig Biggio went into a catatonic slump in the second half, and Brad Lidge wandered through the season in a funk, seemingly still stunned by his post-season collapse of a year ago.
The young talent--and Houston is deep here, as deep as any team in baseball--never jelled with the aging veterans. The team's collective batting average with men in scoring position was (I know this without looking) had to be among the three worst in the league, at least among teams with realistic playoff hopes (exclude Pittsburgh). And even the thrill of this weekend (three wins in the teams' last at-bat, capped off by Luke Scott's twisting, walk-off, line-drive three-run homer) only engenders frustration. Where was this clutch hitting, this spirit, in June, July, August?
Tonight the Rocket takes the hill to try and pull them within 3 1/2 games with a week to play. So let's not count them out completely yet. But there was a reason I said goodbye to the Beer Dude last night: Don't know where, don't know when.
Of all the vendors at Minute Maid, he is the one who has not moved, staying his post during the Miracle Run of '04, which was followed by the Miracle Run of '05, which was followed by one of the most exasperating seasons in memory.
I was wandering around the first deck, a few tiers below my actual seats, when I saw him standing his post.
"Sorry I couldn't give you any business tonight," I said. "Our seats are on the third deck and now I've had enough."
"No problem, man," he said.
We shook hands.
"See you next April," I said.
What else can one say about the Houston Astros, a team which stormed to the World Series last year, came back intact (except for what they added, namely Preston Wilson)--what else, except "monumental disappointment"? Morgan Ensberg and Jason Lane backslid, Preston Wilson did nothing but strike out, Craig Biggio went into a catatonic slump in the second half, and Brad Lidge wandered through the season in a funk, seemingly still stunned by his post-season collapse of a year ago.
The young talent--and Houston is deep here, as deep as any team in baseball--never jelled with the aging veterans. The team's collective batting average with men in scoring position was (I know this without looking) had to be among the three worst in the league, at least among teams with realistic playoff hopes (exclude Pittsburgh). And even the thrill of this weekend (three wins in the teams' last at-bat, capped off by Luke Scott's twisting, walk-off, line-drive three-run homer) only engenders frustration. Where was this clutch hitting, this spirit, in June, July, August?
Tonight the Rocket takes the hill to try and pull them within 3 1/2 games with a week to play. So let's not count them out completely yet. But there was a reason I said goodbye to the Beer Dude last night: Don't know where, don't know when.
What we think we know . . .
. . . a month into college football:
1. No super teams. No Texas and USC of last year, nor USC of a year previous. The BCS works--and works splendidly, give it that--only when there are two squads head-and-shoulders above the rest of the nation: USC and Texas last year, Miami and Ohio State in 2002. This year, we are headed for a train wreck in which as many as five or six teams could plausibly claim they belong in Glendale come January.
The motto of those who would tear apart the BCS, root and branch, resembles that of Marxists in the 1930s: "The worse, the better." That is, the more chaotic, the more unfair, the more biased (toward the Big Six confrences, the East Coast, Notre Dame, Notre Dame, Notre Dame), the sooner a reform (and thus a playoff) will occur. This is fantasy. It matters not that a college playoff would run to the billions in rights fees and make March Madness money look like a tip jar. The Big Six (plus, as always, Notre Dame) knows that anything resembling a playoff cedes power to the NCAA, and at all costs that must be avoided.
This, too: the one danger to the BCS comes neither from public clamour, nor from the NCAA but from Congress, whose presumptive hearings and anti-trust legislation could be the ruin of this closed shop. This spectre, by itself, was enough to prompt the four-plus-one formula, a strategy that would allow the odd Louisville or TCU a run at the big cash and placate everyone.
I'm remembering probably the best moment in the history of ESPN's "Game Day": the trek by Fowler and the guys, in 2004, to undefeated mid-major Utah. This was when the Fiesta Bowl was lusting hard after Utah, and Utah knew it; Corso and Herbstreit donned sombreros for the show's final segment, and Tostitos were frisbeed across the set. The new formulation will allow for a few more of those moments--but that's it.
2. One month in, Ohio State, USC, Michigan, Louisville, Auburn, and West Virginia have--the best way to put it?--at least not disappointed.
3. Arizona State. Next subject.
4. USC? A passably competent win in a hostile stadium that has known its share of upsets (my brother went to Arizona State, so I should know).
I’m wondering, though, if USC’s defense is that good, or if they’ve been lucky in their opponents.
One other thing:
Half the yahoos in the country (Lee Corso, take a bow) said that of course USC would lose one of its first three games: hostile Arkansas, Nebraska on the road back, Arizona . . . well, once a year, at home, in a game against a huge favorite, Arizona forces seven turnovers and scores six touchdowns on special teams and four touchdowns on tipped-pass interceptions and seventeen atrocious calls go Arizona’s way . . . and since USC was a nineteen-point favorite, it only figured, right? Right?
4. Notre Dame. Some nights you just go, “Holy crap!” I hit Buffalo Wild Wings (the sports bar that is the epicenter of the Houston sports scene)a half-hour after standing at Minute Maid Park to watch Luke Scott drill a walk-off three-run homer over the wagon gate to keep the Astros’ slim-just-left-town playoff hopes alive. USC was finishing up its efficient win over Arizona, and I was settling in to watch what apparently, for the night’s clientele, passed for the main attraction (Ultimate Fighting) when a lad in a Longhorn golf shirt said, “Switch to Notre Dame! Switch to Notre Dame!”
I asked him, “Christ, aren’t they out of it?”
He said, “They’re about to be three points out of it.”
And then the extra point was missed.
And then, the interception.
And then, THE INTERCEPTION.
Look, this game was the Ultimate Fighting Conference or whatever. In other words, it was a bar fight: nothing but offense. ND had better figure out how to stop someone; scoring 40 points a game and endeavoring to hold the opposition to 39 (or 38, or 37) won’t cut it.
College football. It's corrupt. The championship is a closed-shop. The officiating is terrible. And I love it to death.
1. No super teams. No Texas and USC of last year, nor USC of a year previous. The BCS works--and works splendidly, give it that--only when there are two squads head-and-shoulders above the rest of the nation: USC and Texas last year, Miami and Ohio State in 2002. This year, we are headed for a train wreck in which as many as five or six teams could plausibly claim they belong in Glendale come January.
The motto of those who would tear apart the BCS, root and branch, resembles that of Marxists in the 1930s: "The worse, the better." That is, the more chaotic, the more unfair, the more biased (toward the Big Six confrences, the East Coast, Notre Dame, Notre Dame, Notre Dame), the sooner a reform (and thus a playoff) will occur. This is fantasy. It matters not that a college playoff would run to the billions in rights fees and make March Madness money look like a tip jar. The Big Six (plus, as always, Notre Dame) knows that anything resembling a playoff cedes power to the NCAA, and at all costs that must be avoided.
This, too: the one danger to the BCS comes neither from public clamour, nor from the NCAA but from Congress, whose presumptive hearings and anti-trust legislation could be the ruin of this closed shop. This spectre, by itself, was enough to prompt the four-plus-one formula, a strategy that would allow the odd Louisville or TCU a run at the big cash and placate everyone.
I'm remembering probably the best moment in the history of ESPN's "Game Day": the trek by Fowler and the guys, in 2004, to undefeated mid-major Utah. This was when the Fiesta Bowl was lusting hard after Utah, and Utah knew it; Corso and Herbstreit donned sombreros for the show's final segment, and Tostitos were frisbeed across the set. The new formulation will allow for a few more of those moments--but that's it.
2. One month in, Ohio State, USC, Michigan, Louisville, Auburn, and West Virginia have--the best way to put it?--at least not disappointed.
3. Arizona State. Next subject.
4. USC? A passably competent win in a hostile stadium that has known its share of upsets (my brother went to Arizona State, so I should know).
I’m wondering, though, if USC’s defense is that good, or if they’ve been lucky in their opponents.
One other thing:
Half the yahoos in the country (Lee Corso, take a bow) said that of course USC would lose one of its first three games: hostile Arkansas, Nebraska on the road back, Arizona . . . well, once a year, at home, in a game against a huge favorite, Arizona forces seven turnovers and scores six touchdowns on special teams and four touchdowns on tipped-pass interceptions and seventeen atrocious calls go Arizona’s way . . . and since USC was a nineteen-point favorite, it only figured, right? Right?
4. Notre Dame. Some nights you just go, “Holy crap!” I hit Buffalo Wild Wings (the sports bar that is the epicenter of the Houston sports scene)a half-hour after standing at Minute Maid Park to watch Luke Scott drill a walk-off three-run homer over the wagon gate to keep the Astros’ slim-just-left-town playoff hopes alive. USC was finishing up its efficient win over Arizona, and I was settling in to watch what apparently, for the night’s clientele, passed for the main attraction (Ultimate Fighting) when a lad in a Longhorn golf shirt said, “Switch to Notre Dame! Switch to Notre Dame!”
I asked him, “Christ, aren’t they out of it?”
He said, “They’re about to be three points out of it.”
And then the extra point was missed.
And then, the interception.
And then, THE INTERCEPTION.
Look, this game was the Ultimate Fighting Conference or whatever. In other words, it was a bar fight: nothing but offense. ND had better figure out how to stop someone; scoring 40 points a game and endeavoring to hold the opposition to 39 (or 38, or 37) won’t cut it.
College football. It's corrupt. The championship is a closed-shop. The officiating is terrible. And I love it to death.
Chavez? Uh, who?
Dean Barnett, the sainted Soxblog, now posting at Hugh Hewitt, gives probably the best commentary on Kos's reaction to Chavez.
This is wonderfully wonderful. Chavez's remarks hurt Democrats, and the Democrats are wise enough to notice.
Kos, in the meantime, has suddenly decided Chavez does not exist.
This is wonderfully wonderful. Chavez's remarks hurt Democrats, and the Democrats are wise enough to notice.
Kos, in the meantime, has suddenly decided Chavez does not exist.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
If Rivera and Sheffield are both healthy . . .
Look the hell out.
Then the remaining concern is Giambi.
Envision this batting order:
Damon cf
Jeter ss
Abreu rf
Giambi dh
A-Rod 3b
Posada c
Sheffield 1b
Matsui lf
Cano 2b
With Craig Wilson, Melky Cabrera, Bernie Williams, Andy Phillips, and Sal Fansano off the bench.
Scary.
Then the remaining concern is Giambi.
Envision this batting order:
Damon cf
Jeter ss
Abreu rf
Giambi dh
A-Rod 3b
Posada c
Sheffield 1b
Matsui lf
Cano 2b
With Craig Wilson, Melky Cabrera, Bernie Williams, Andy Phillips, and Sal Fansano off the bench.
Scary.
Whither Libby
One of the best websites in existence is Donald Luskin's Conspiracy to Keep You Poor and Stupid. One of the best features: the running tally from Tradesports, an overseas futures market, in which "shares" of future events happening are sold. The spectator's pleasure (and only spectating is advised; there's been some controversy as to payoffs), is achieving a rough consenus by people with enough confidence in their predictions to back them up with cash.
The first item on the list is "Libby convicted," which--since its first posting, a month ago--has gone from 48 percent down to 18 percent, a fair assessment of Prosecutor Fitzgerald's recent fortune.
Chances of a GOP House in 2007: 58 percent, up from the mid-thirties.
GOP Senate: 82 percent, mostly holding steady.
Just sayin'.
The first item on the list is "Libby convicted," which--since its first posting, a month ago--has gone from 48 percent down to 18 percent, a fair assessment of Prosecutor Fitzgerald's recent fortune.
Chances of a GOP House in 2007: 58 percent, up from the mid-thirties.
GOP Senate: 82 percent, mostly holding steady.
Just sayin'.
As another college football Saturday gets underway . . .
One must look back on last Saturday's dreadful officiating in the Oklahoma Sooner-Oregon Duck game.
And consider these words by John Scarborough, editor of True Orange, an (of course) University of Texas journal. His response to last week's game:
"So what. 'Sooner' means 'cheater.'"
And consider these words by John Scarborough, editor of True Orange, an (of course) University of Texas journal. His response to last week's game:
"So what. 'Sooner' means 'cheater.'"
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