The trading deadline passes. And it is hard to believe how the last two days could have gone any better for the Yankees.
1. They traded for their three of their four most pressing needs: a fifth starter (Cory Lidle), a bat in the outfield (Bobby Abreu), and some depth at first base (Craig Wilson), with Jason Giambi probably settling in as more or less full-time DH for the balance of his contract. As has been written here and elsewhere, the kids (Guiel, Crosby, Phillips) and the role players (Cairo, Bernie), once pressed into full-time or platoon duty, have performed admirably. But baseball's six-month season is above all an interrogator that drags the truth out of you; it is not like College Football, where a team can load up on non-conference cupcakes, duck a conference power in a good year, finish a cheap 7-4 and get pasted in Mobile, Alabama, in mid-December. It's not the NFL, where a mediocrity is rewarded with games against Arizona and Detroit and fakes its way to a 9-7 playoff birth and a three-touchdown loss on Wild Card Weekend. Basball is proving yourself 27 days a months for six months, over and over, and truth will out. When an inferior team like last year's Padres finds itself in the post-season, it's looked upon as a blemish on the sport. So give the kids credit for holding the fort until the right players could be found. And compare the old batting order with the potential new one, if Cano is healthy soon:
Damon Damon
Jeter Jeter
Giambi Giambi
Rodriguez Rodriguez
Posada Abreu
Williams Posada
Cabrera Wilson
Phillips Cabrera
Cairo Cano
In this scenario, Sheff and Matsui are almost bonuses.
2. The Yanks' fourth need, one more arm in the bullpen, was probably bolstered anyway with Lidle's acquisitio. With their five-man rotation finally set (assuming Wright and Unit stay healthy), and with Lidle there to go six-seven innings and .500 down the stretch--that is all the team is asking, not one inch more--poor Proctor may actually not need to come in every other day, as has been the case.
3. Four of their five most dangerous rivals--Red Sox, White Sox, Twins, and Angels--all made serious runs at Alfonso Soriano, and all came up empty.
Now we have to play. And as if to say Take that, Papi wins for Boston with a walk-off in the ninth.
Sheesh. Time to go to work, guys.
More info here.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
It's happening again
A Jewish man at a Jewish Federation in Seattle are killed by a Muslim; authorities announce themselves puzzled as to the motive.
Listen: I live in Houston, the world headquarters of BushCo, Halliburton, Big Oil and outdoor ice houses. And if I threw a single brick through a single pane of glass in a single window of one of the local mosques, there would be ten police cars on the scene in five minutes. I would be face-down and cuffed on the pavement. And the six o'clock news on all three local stations would lead with a sign behind the anchor's head: "HATE CRIME," in print whose size is reserved for Rockets NBA championships and Roger Clemens signings. Reporters would interrogate every person who ever knew me, hoping against hope that one of them would remember that I once said, "Screw you, towelhead," at the corner of Westheimer and Shepherd.
This blog--currently an amusement for family and friends, and one self-described fan in Pennsylvania, and another in Florida, and some nice people in New York, and the lady in Australia who wrote that sweet note, and Brendan who thought I was funny yesterday, and the one in Gilbert, Arizona; and some people here in Texas, and some others, and my Aunt Peggy, who told my mom she liked my piece on my office space a few months ago--would be pored over by hundreds, if not thousands.
But have a Muslim who says he hates Israel and then goes and shoots Jews at a Jewish center--gee, wonder why that took place?
Again, Mark Steyn states it better than anyone here, in a reprint from four years ago, in response to the El Al shootings (remember those?).
Listen: I live in Houston, the world headquarters of BushCo, Halliburton, Big Oil and outdoor ice houses. And if I threw a single brick through a single pane of glass in a single window of one of the local mosques, there would be ten police cars on the scene in five minutes. I would be face-down and cuffed on the pavement. And the six o'clock news on all three local stations would lead with a sign behind the anchor's head: "HATE CRIME," in print whose size is reserved for Rockets NBA championships and Roger Clemens signings. Reporters would interrogate every person who ever knew me, hoping against hope that one of them would remember that I once said, "Screw you, towelhead," at the corner of Westheimer and Shepherd.
This blog--currently an amusement for family and friends, and one self-described fan in Pennsylvania, and another in Florida, and some nice people in New York, and the lady in Australia who wrote that sweet note, and Brendan who thought I was funny yesterday, and the one in Gilbert, Arizona; and some people here in Texas, and some others, and my Aunt Peggy, who told my mom she liked my piece on my office space a few months ago--would be pored over by hundreds, if not thousands.
But have a Muslim who says he hates Israel and then goes and shoots Jews at a Jewish center--gee, wonder why that took place?
Again, Mark Steyn states it better than anyone here, in a reprint from four years ago, in response to the El Al shootings (remember those?).
Yanks 4, D-Rays 2, and Abreu/Lidle official
What it is about Sunday afternoon games at Yankee stadium . . .
. . . on a day so clear you could see the weave of the fiber on Mike Mussina's cap.
On which subject, one of my favorite quotes is from Baltimore manager Earl Weaver: "You take momentum. I'll take Jim Palmer." Today Moose did what staff aces are paid to do, shut down the opposition and wipe away the memory of a previous-day's thumping.
Damon's two home runs were certainly a sight, but this was Moose's day. 13-3, if you need it.
Oh, and Abreu/Lidle now official. Steve Phillips is on ESPN now, saying Abreu should bat third. Why batting third (the province of Ruth, Williams, Mays and DiMaggio) makes sense with a batter with 14 home runs since last year's All-Star break seems a bizarre idea.
. . . on a day so clear you could see the weave of the fiber on Mike Mussina's cap.
On which subject, one of my favorite quotes is from Baltimore manager Earl Weaver: "You take momentum. I'll take Jim Palmer." Today Moose did what staff aces are paid to do, shut down the opposition and wipe away the memory of a previous-day's thumping.
Damon's two home runs were certainly a sight, but this was Moose's day. 13-3, if you need it.
Oh, and Abreu/Lidle now official. Steve Phillips is on ESPN now, saying Abreu should bat third. Why batting third (the province of Ruth, Williams, Mays and DiMaggio) makes sense with a batter with 14 home runs since last year's All-Star break seems a bizarre idea.
Yanks get Abreu, Lidle (maybe)
Reported here. Yanks give up shortstop CJ Henry, their number one draft pick from 2005. This would seem to be a small loss, as the Yankees are rather set at that position for the moment, and apparently for the next 7-8 years, minimum, but remember this was the same logic that allowed the Red Sox, with Hall-of-Famer Wade Boggs at third, to trade a minor-league third-baseman named Jeff Bagwell in 1990.
Abreu would have to waive his no-trade, and would be looking to get paid to do so, but ESPN has reported that Abreu has backed off his position in recent days.
In Lidle, the Yankees get a prototypical "throw-strikes-and-eat-innings" back-of-the-rotation starter, a counterpart to Jared Wright. Someone call Syd Ponson a cab.
Abreu would seem to slide into right field for now, and the outfield, with a maturing Melky Cabrera and (apparently) healthier Johnny Damon, goes from a worry to a asset, on balance. Abreu would seem to bat sixth or seventh, shoring up a weak second half of the order. And as Abreu figures to play every day, now Aaron Guiel, Bubba Crosby and Bernie Williams go from marginal everyday players to pluses off the bench.
A good trade, if all goes through.
Abreu would have to waive his no-trade, and would be looking to get paid to do so, but ESPN has reported that Abreu has backed off his position in recent days.
In Lidle, the Yankees get a prototypical "throw-strikes-and-eat-innings" back-of-the-rotation starter, a counterpart to Jared Wright. Someone call Syd Ponson a cab.
Abreu would seem to slide into right field for now, and the outfield, with a maturing Melky Cabrera and (apparently) healthier Johnny Damon, goes from a worry to a asset, on balance. Abreu would seem to bat sixth or seventh, shoring up a weak second half of the order. And as Abreu figures to play every day, now Aaron Guiel, Bubba Crosby and Bernie Williams go from marginal everyday players to pluses off the bench.
A good trade, if all goes through.
We're all in this together
As usual, Mark Sten is as right as a martini at sunset. This isn't our armed forces' fight; is all of ours:
If you watch the grisly U.S. network coverage of any global sporting event, you've no doubt who your team's meant to be: If there are plucky Belgian hurdlers or Fijian shotputters in the Olympics, you never hear a word of them on ABC and NBC; it's all heartwarming soft-focus profiles of athletes from Indiana and Nebraska. The American media have no problem being ferociously jingoistic when it comes to the two-man luge. Yet, when it's a war, there is no "our" team, not on American TV. Like snotty French ice-dancing judges, the media watch the U.S. skate across the rink and then hand out a succession of snippy 4.3s -- for lack of Miranda rights in Fallujah, insufficient menu options at Gitmo.
Our enemies understand "why we fight" and where the fight is. They know that in the greater scheme of things the mosques of Jakarta and Amsterdam and Toronto and Dearborn are more important territory than the Sunni Triangle. The U.S. military is the best-equipped and best-trained in the world. But it's not enough, it never has been and it never will be.
The latest on Ebert
Doing better, so we hear.
His Great Movies and Movie Answer Man columns have been a small but indispensible part of my Sundays. Today I'll have to content myself with a reprint of his Great Movies review of Days of Heaven, a movie I saw freshman year at USC in the Taper Hall of Humanities and was blown away by the cinematogrpahy alone.
His Great Movies and Movie Answer Man columns have been a small but indispensible part of my Sundays. Today I'll have to content myself with a reprint of his Great Movies review of Days of Heaven, a movie I saw freshman year at USC in the Taper Hall of Humanities and was blown away by the cinematogrpahy alone.
The latest on Harold Reynolds
An article toward the end of the week was published in the New York Post. It reports that the specific charge ESPN levied against Harold Reynolds was sexual harassment, specifically over an incident Reynolds describes as a "hug gone wrong."
Two thoughts:
1. Any time new vocabulary is unearthed to describe an event, the event in question is automatically suspect. The best example is the use of the definite article "the" to describe drinking coffee, as in "the coffee" the Clinton's way of describing the fetes of the Chinese moneymen at the White House.
2. Every so often, I really miss the Clintons.
Two thoughts:
1. Any time new vocabulary is unearthed to describe an event, the event in question is automatically suspect. The best example is the use of the definite article "the" to describe drinking coffee, as in "the coffee" the Clinton's way of describing the fetes of the Chinese moneymen at the White House.
2. Every so often, I really miss the Clintons.
Bush signs with Saints
For essentially the same money the Texans are giving Mario Williams.
Read it here.
Nobody.
Say.
A word.
Except this: the Houston Texans have set themselves up as a punchline for the next fifty years, if Bush is even close to what is expected.
And this: Two decades later, the Portland Trailblazers are still hearing about Michael Jordan.
Read it here.
Nobody.
Say.
A word.
Except this: the Houston Texans have set themselves up as a punchline for the next fifty years, if Bush is even close to what is expected.
And this: Two decades later, the Portland Trailblazers are still hearing about Michael Jordan.
Trade Deadline
I don't mind speculation in the media, but Geez. Kevin Kernan in the New York Post writes that the Yankees should enquire after Roger Clemens, since "the Astros aren't going anywhere."
I mean, he was paid to write that sentence. The notion of the Astros giving up Mr. Sellout (in every sense of the word, actually) . . . forget it. It's not worth mentioning.
Reading the articles and tea-leaves, this is how the trade deadline shapes up for the Yanks:
Not a chance: Dontrelle Willis, Clemens
Almost certainly out of reach: Alfonso Soriano (they'll wait for November to back up the Brink's truck)
Long-shot: Barry Zito
Fifty-fifty: Bobby Abreu
There for the taking, if they care enough: Craig Wilson, Salomon Torres, Jon Leiber
The good news is that Yankee minor-league blue-chippers Philip Hughson and Jose Tabata appear to be off-limits.
Now, I'm serious here. There is a real possibility that a Yankee team suffering through injuries to Sheffield, Matsui, Damon, and Cano (that's half the starting line-up, kids) may grind its way to 93-96 wins on the backs of Jeter, Moose, Wang, Giambi, Posada, Rivera, and, yes, A-Rod; plus above-their-heads contributions of Cabrera, Guiel, Crosby (your Yankee outfield many days) and Phillips. They might do all that, and still miss the playoffs.
I would still bet on the Yankees going to the playoffs--where the Tigers would await, another story. But it won't be worth blowing the team up, or trading a Hughson or a Tabata. And GM Brian Cashman's job can't possibly ride on this season alone.
For once, this has to be a Yankee team that is not afraid to fail.
I mean, he was paid to write that sentence. The notion of the Astros giving up Mr. Sellout (in every sense of the word, actually) . . . forget it. It's not worth mentioning.
Reading the articles and tea-leaves, this is how the trade deadline shapes up for the Yanks:
Not a chance: Dontrelle Willis, Clemens
Almost certainly out of reach: Alfonso Soriano (they'll wait for November to back up the Brink's truck)
Long-shot: Barry Zito
Fifty-fifty: Bobby Abreu
There for the taking, if they care enough: Craig Wilson, Salomon Torres, Jon Leiber
The good news is that Yankee minor-league blue-chippers Philip Hughson and Jose Tabata appear to be off-limits.
Now, I'm serious here. There is a real possibility that a Yankee team suffering through injuries to Sheffield, Matsui, Damon, and Cano (that's half the starting line-up, kids) may grind its way to 93-96 wins on the backs of Jeter, Moose, Wang, Giambi, Posada, Rivera, and, yes, A-Rod; plus above-their-heads contributions of Cabrera, Guiel, Crosby (your Yankee outfield many days) and Phillips. They might do all that, and still miss the playoffs.
I would still bet on the Yankees going to the playoffs--where the Tigers would await, another story. But it won't be worth blowing the team up, or trading a Hughson or a Tabata. And GM Brian Cashman's job can't possibly ride on this season alone.
For once, this has to be a Yankee team that is not afraid to fail.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Moose, Unit, Wong--the new big three!
SunDevilJoe reminds me of an article I read this morning in the New York Daily News, one touching what suddenly seems plausible: the notion of Mussine, Johnson and Wang as a trio no one wants to meet in the post-season. SDJ writes that the notion
The whole things is here.
was reenforced by John Harper ...."nobody has talked much about the current Yankee rotation in terms of a Big Three, but maybe it's time."
The whole things is here.
And I say this with all due respect
I had hoped that Match Point would signal a fresh direction in Woody Allen's work.
Guess not, if I'm to believe what's written here and here.
Those of us who enjoyed Match Point had to overlook the fact that its second half was lifted from an earlier Woody Allen film, the superior Crimes and Misdemeanors. Nowadays, it is sounding like Allen is repeating himself again.
Guess not, if I'm to believe what's written here and here.
Those of us who enjoyed Match Point had to overlook the fact that its second half was lifted from an earlier Woody Allen film, the superior Crimes and Misdemeanors. Nowadays, it is sounding like Allen is repeating himself again.
Yanks 6, D-Rays 0
Two-hit shutout courtesy of Wang--and speaking of shutout, I was prevented from watching.
I miss the glory days of the late nineties and early aughts, when 38 games combined against the D-Rays and Orioles was a quick 28-10, minimum. Oh well.
I miss the glory days of the late nineties and early aughts, when 38 games combined against the D-Rays and Orioles was a quick 28-10, minimum. Oh well.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Another Friend of Bill
Via Taranto (third item) another nauseating self-congradulatory piece by a former Clinton official--in this case, Warren Christopher.
Regarding the Middle East, I give President Clinton credit for the 2000 Camp David II talks that broke down, because it provided what should have been a moment of clarity for everyone. Yassir Arafat, who not only turned down, but contemptuously turned down, the best possible deal the PLO was ever going to get (all of Gaza, 95% of the West Bank, portions of East Jerusalem) thoroughly discredited himself as an honest broker and gave the Israelis just cause to throw up their hands and walk away.
As Taranto makes clear, everything else about the Clinton administration in that region of the world smacks of kicking the can down the road.
Bill Clinton taking credit for peace in the Middle East is like James Buchanan taking credit for avoiding the Civil War.
Regarding the Middle East, I give President Clinton credit for the 2000 Camp David II talks that broke down, because it provided what should have been a moment of clarity for everyone. Yassir Arafat, who not only turned down, but contemptuously turned down, the best possible deal the PLO was ever going to get (all of Gaza, 95% of the West Bank, portions of East Jerusalem) thoroughly discredited himself as an honest broker and gave the Israelis just cause to throw up their hands and walk away.
As Taranto makes clear, everything else about the Clinton administration in that region of the world smacks of kicking the can down the road.
Bill Clinton taking credit for peace in the Middle East is like James Buchanan taking credit for avoiding the Civil War.
Words
Two of my favorite writers--Victor Davis Hanson and Charles Krauthammer--approach the Israel conundrum from opposite ends today. Hanson approaches the matter rhetorically:
While Krauthammer's take is more historical:
Yes, and again yes. Krathaummer reminds us elsewhere that Jacque Chirac has stated plainly that if Paris were ever attacked, its response might well be nuclear. The double standard in currency these days is appalling.
“Disproportionate” means that the Hezbollah aggressors whose primitive rockets can’t kill very many Israeli civilians are losing, while the Israelis’ sophisticated response is deadly against the combatants themselves. See “excessive.”
Anytime you hear the adjective “excessive,” Hezbollah is losing. Anytime you don’t, it isn’t.
“Eyewitnesses” usually aren’t, and their testimony is cited only against Israel.
“Grave concern” is used by Europeans and Arabs who privately concede there is no future for Lebanon unless Hezbollah is destroyed — and it should preferably be done by the “Zionists” who can then be easily blamed for doing it.
While Krauthammer's take is more historical:
The word that obviates all thinking and magically inverts victim into aggressor is "disproportionate," as in the universally decried "disproportionate Israeli response."
When the United States was attacked at Pearl Harbor, it did not respond with a parallel "proportionate" attack on a Japanese naval base. It launched a four-year campaign that killed millions of Japanese, reduced Tokyo, Hiroshima and Nagasaki to a cinder, and turned the Japanese home islands to rubble and ruin.
Yes, and again yes. Krathaummer reminds us elsewhere that Jacque Chirac has stated plainly that if Paris were ever attacked, its response might well be nuclear. The double standard in currency these days is appalling.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
My other favorite team, part 3
Notice the change to Arabic numerals.
Tonight, at the same time as one of the season's most memorable Yankee games (one of: for all of tonight's fireworks, I'd still put Yankees 2, Bosox 1, with Melky jumping into Monument Park to bring Man-Ram's homer back into the yard, ahead of tonight's 8-7 barroom brawl), there was maybe the 'Stros best inning of the season.
Situation: Reds 5, 'Stros 1, bottom fifth. The Astros have availed nothing since Craig Biggio's lead-off homer. In part because of Cincy's long balls, in part because of Cincy's pesky-ass hitting, in part because of some defensive blunders, the 'Stros simply will not come back. They will not come back because they never come back, and they never come back because they don't score in general. The 'Stros whole season has devolved, offensively anyway, to two precepts: getting as many men on base as possible when Lance Berkman comes to bat, and having enough talent batting behind him that Berkman sees a strike or two.
The last two weeks, the formula has worked atrociously. Tonight? Just how they drew it up in practice.
The bottom of the fifth: single, hit-by-pitch. First and second. Fielder's choice, one out, runners second and third. Single scores a run. 5-2. Single scores two more runs. 5-4. First and third, still one out.
All of this is perfect prelude to what comes next: Berkman's titanic, 450-foot home run into the Mexican Restaurant beyond the centerfield fence.
Berkman would homer later, and there'd be some bullpen difficulties. But if the 'Stros make the playoffs again, bottom five tonight will be the inning they point to.
Tonight, at the same time as one of the season's most memorable Yankee games (one of: for all of tonight's fireworks, I'd still put Yankees 2, Bosox 1, with Melky jumping into Monument Park to bring Man-Ram's homer back into the yard, ahead of tonight's 8-7 barroom brawl), there was maybe the 'Stros best inning of the season.
Situation: Reds 5, 'Stros 1, bottom fifth. The Astros have availed nothing since Craig Biggio's lead-off homer. In part because of Cincy's long balls, in part because of Cincy's pesky-ass hitting, in part because of some defensive blunders, the 'Stros simply will not come back. They will not come back because they never come back, and they never come back because they don't score in general. The 'Stros whole season has devolved, offensively anyway, to two precepts: getting as many men on base as possible when Lance Berkman comes to bat, and having enough talent batting behind him that Berkman sees a strike or two.
The last two weeks, the formula has worked atrociously. Tonight? Just how they drew it up in practice.
The bottom of the fifth: single, hit-by-pitch. First and second. Fielder's choice, one out, runners second and third. Single scores a run. 5-2. Single scores two more runs. 5-4. First and third, still one out.
All of this is perfect prelude to what comes next: Berkman's titanic, 450-foot home run into the Mexican Restaurant beyond the centerfield fence.
Berkman would homer later, and there'd be some bullpen difficulties. But if the 'Stros make the playoffs again, bottom five tonight will be the inning they point to.
Yanks 8, Rangers 7
I am sitting here, and I am stunned.
How many times did the game seem to be wrapped up, one way or another? When Giambi came up into the second, 2-0 Yanks, Jeter and Damon aboard, and hit the ball deep into the Texas twilight, bringing us all out of our seats, thinking 5-0, a cinch?
I was thinking double, minimum, with both of those scooters running. 4-0, at least. Then Sarge, Jr. camped under the long fly . . .
And suddenly, millions of Yankee fans were on the same page: the Yanks might let this one get away, after all.
Then? Seventh inning. 4-2 Rangers. Damon on first, nobody out, Jeter up, full count. Once again, all of us, same page: Torre will certainly start Damon.
Four possible scenarios: With a base hit, Damon goes to third, none out, with Giambi and A-Rod up. Ground-out, Damon on second, one out. Strikeout, Damon on second, one out. Walk, first and second, none out, Giambi and A-Rod due up.
Answer: None of the above. Strike out, throw out. Two outs, nobody on. One batter later, inning over. Game over, right?
Not so fast. Next inning, same score. A-Rod leads off. Count goes to 2-1. Pitch on the outside corner, called strike . . .
(And now I'm pissed, because, damnit, Blue didn't give Yankee starter Jared Wright that corner all night against right-handers, never mind how often Wright kept going back to that corner, like a poker player coming back to the table again and again to lose to Madator Everest . . . .)
Next pitch is the same heighth, and, if anything, catches more the plate than the previous pitch . . .
. . . only this pitch is called ball three . . .
(And the Ranger announcers nearly lose it, but I get it . . . it's a make-back, right, for the pitch before? Blue had his zone and knew he blew it.)
And the next pitch goes to Greenville Avenue or whatever the hell they call it out there . . .
4-3, Rangers.
As they use to say on the Notre Dame replays, moving ahead to further action . . .
Two batters later, first and second, nobody out, still 4-3, Rangers, your batter . . .
Melky Cabrera.
Sent up to bunt, fouls off two pitches.
(Digression. It was 28 years ago to about the week when, in a tie game with the Royals, bottom ninth, Thurman Munson reached first with no outs. Reggie Jackson, who had not bunted since Alexander Cartwright first paced off thirty paces from home to first, was asked to bunt by Billy Martin. Reggie fouled off his first bunt attempt. George Brett, not the stupidest third baseman ever, came up on the infield grass to cut off the bunt; it was unlikely that Jackson, a dead pull hitter, would slice the ball past Brett to left. Martin took off the bunt sign; Reggie tried to bunt again. Third base coach Dick Howser called time, came down the line and confronted Reggie.
"Billy wants you to hit," Howser said.
"I'm going to bunt."
"Billy wants you to hit."
"I'm going to bunt."
Howser shrugged his shoulders and returned to third. Reggie attempted a third bunt, fouled out . . . and within twenty-four hours Jackson found himself suspended indefinitely and on a plane back to Oakland . . .
. . . and the Yankees found themselves 14 games behind the Red Sox . . .
. . . and in the week that Jackson was gone, the Yankees began their heroic cavalry charge, making up--in Jackson's absence--five-and-a-half games . . .
. . . and then the week ended with Billy Martin's alcoholic and ill-considered words regarding both Jackson and George Steinbrenner, which led to Martin's forced resignation . . .
. . . and Bob Lemon's hiring . . . and the greatest pennant race in American League history, consisting of both the Boston Massacre--the Yankees sweep at Fenway in September, where Bosox fans leaning over the dugout and screaming at Sox manager Don Zimmer were dragged away by security--and the Greatest Game Ever Played, courtesy of Bucky (bleeping) Dent. Okay, just what I was thinking tonight.)
Okay. So Melky Cabrera comes up, 4-3 Rangers, first and second. Melky attempts to bunt, fouls off twice. Third pitch, makes to bunt, pulls it back for ball one . . .
. . . and here comes Larry Bowa up the line, much like Howser so many years before him . . .
. . . And this time the kid listens, take one more pitch, then shoots one in the gap. Both runners score. 5-4 Yanks. Sal Fasano, new catcher (and thank God) bunts Melky over. Then, wild pitch. 6-4 . . .
. . . and so, out for the bottom of the eighth, out comes Scott Pro . . .
No.
. . . Kyle Farnsw . . .
No.
Out comes some kid who apparently won a "Pitch for the Yankees" drawing. By the time Proctor is actually summoned, it is clear that Torre and Gator have determined that the bullpen is in tatters and must be rested at almost, but not all, costs.
Well now. Proctor comes in anyway. And?
And by the time Shawn Chacon is summoned from the bullpen, the score reads: Rangers 7, Yankees 6. Bases loaded, nobody out.
Oh, Gueneviere, this is where I came in.
Because the major difference between the Yankees of last year and the Yankees of this year can be measured not in the loss of Matsui and Sheffield but in the diffrence between '05 Chacon and '06 Chacon. So?
So: Strikeout. Liner back to the mound, flip to first, double play. We go to the ninth. 7-6 it remains . . .
. . . Jeter lines the first pitch to center.
And then.
Giambi.
Rest the bullpen? In a game like this? Rivera was stretching before Giambi's ball landed in the stands.
Four up, three down. 8-7 your final score. Winning pitcher . . . Chacon?
I'm going to bed.
How many times did the game seem to be wrapped up, one way or another? When Giambi came up into the second, 2-0 Yanks, Jeter and Damon aboard, and hit the ball deep into the Texas twilight, bringing us all out of our seats, thinking 5-0, a cinch?
I was thinking double, minimum, with both of those scooters running. 4-0, at least. Then Sarge, Jr. camped under the long fly . . .
And suddenly, millions of Yankee fans were on the same page: the Yanks might let this one get away, after all.
Then? Seventh inning. 4-2 Rangers. Damon on first, nobody out, Jeter up, full count. Once again, all of us, same page: Torre will certainly start Damon.
Four possible scenarios: With a base hit, Damon goes to third, none out, with Giambi and A-Rod up. Ground-out, Damon on second, one out. Strikeout, Damon on second, one out. Walk, first and second, none out, Giambi and A-Rod due up.
Answer: None of the above. Strike out, throw out. Two outs, nobody on. One batter later, inning over. Game over, right?
Not so fast. Next inning, same score. A-Rod leads off. Count goes to 2-1. Pitch on the outside corner, called strike . . .
(And now I'm pissed, because, damnit, Blue didn't give Yankee starter Jared Wright that corner all night against right-handers, never mind how often Wright kept going back to that corner, like a poker player coming back to the table again and again to lose to Madator Everest . . . .)
Next pitch is the same heighth, and, if anything, catches more the plate than the previous pitch . . .
. . . only this pitch is called ball three . . .
(And the Ranger announcers nearly lose it, but I get it . . . it's a make-back, right, for the pitch before? Blue had his zone and knew he blew it.)
And the next pitch goes to Greenville Avenue or whatever the hell they call it out there . . .
4-3, Rangers.
As they use to say on the Notre Dame replays, moving ahead to further action . . .
Two batters later, first and second, nobody out, still 4-3, Rangers, your batter . . .
Melky Cabrera.
Sent up to bunt, fouls off two pitches.
(Digression. It was 28 years ago to about the week when, in a tie game with the Royals, bottom ninth, Thurman Munson reached first with no outs. Reggie Jackson, who had not bunted since Alexander Cartwright first paced off thirty paces from home to first, was asked to bunt by Billy Martin. Reggie fouled off his first bunt attempt. George Brett, not the stupidest third baseman ever, came up on the infield grass to cut off the bunt; it was unlikely that Jackson, a dead pull hitter, would slice the ball past Brett to left. Martin took off the bunt sign; Reggie tried to bunt again. Third base coach Dick Howser called time, came down the line and confronted Reggie.
"Billy wants you to hit," Howser said.
"I'm going to bunt."
"Billy wants you to hit."
"I'm going to bunt."
Howser shrugged his shoulders and returned to third. Reggie attempted a third bunt, fouled out . . . and within twenty-four hours Jackson found himself suspended indefinitely and on a plane back to Oakland . . .
. . . and the Yankees found themselves 14 games behind the Red Sox . . .
. . . and in the week that Jackson was gone, the Yankees began their heroic cavalry charge, making up--in Jackson's absence--five-and-a-half games . . .
. . . and then the week ended with Billy Martin's alcoholic and ill-considered words regarding both Jackson and George Steinbrenner, which led to Martin's forced resignation . . .
. . . and Bob Lemon's hiring . . . and the greatest pennant race in American League history, consisting of both the Boston Massacre--the Yankees sweep at Fenway in September, where Bosox fans leaning over the dugout and screaming at Sox manager Don Zimmer were dragged away by security--and the Greatest Game Ever Played, courtesy of Bucky (bleeping) Dent. Okay, just what I was thinking tonight.)
Okay. So Melky Cabrera comes up, 4-3 Rangers, first and second. Melky attempts to bunt, fouls off twice. Third pitch, makes to bunt, pulls it back for ball one . . .
. . . and here comes Larry Bowa up the line, much like Howser so many years before him . . .
. . . And this time the kid listens, take one more pitch, then shoots one in the gap. Both runners score. 5-4 Yanks. Sal Fasano, new catcher (and thank God) bunts Melky over. Then, wild pitch. 6-4 . . .
. . . and so, out for the bottom of the eighth, out comes Scott Pro . . .
No.
. . . Kyle Farnsw . . .
No.
Out comes some kid who apparently won a "Pitch for the Yankees" drawing. By the time Proctor is actually summoned, it is clear that Torre and Gator have determined that the bullpen is in tatters and must be rested at almost, but not all, costs.
Well now. Proctor comes in anyway. And?
And by the time Shawn Chacon is summoned from the bullpen, the score reads: Rangers 7, Yankees 6. Bases loaded, nobody out.
Oh, Gueneviere, this is where I came in.
Because the major difference between the Yankees of last year and the Yankees of this year can be measured not in the loss of Matsui and Sheffield but in the diffrence between '05 Chacon and '06 Chacon. So?
So: Strikeout. Liner back to the mound, flip to first, double play. We go to the ninth. 7-6 it remains . . .
. . . Jeter lines the first pitch to center.
And then.
Giambi.
Rest the bullpen? In a game like this? Rivera was stretching before Giambi's ball landed in the stands.
Four up, three down. 8-7 your final score. Winning pitcher . . . Chacon?
I'm going to bed.
Wow
ESPN baseball analyst Harold Reynolds has been fired. The New York Daily News has the details--what few are extant.
The article makes clear that only three offenses are grounds for immediate dismissal at ESPN: fighting with a co-worker, e-mailing internet porn, and sexual harassment. Right now, nobody's talking.
Speaking strictly as a viewer, I will miss Reynolds at ESPN. He was coherent and intelligent, and never bought into the more clownish aspects of the network (COUGHchrisbermanCOUGH). Among ex-players, only Jeff Brantley challenged Reynolds for listenability and depth of knowledge (and, just thinking out loud here, Reynolds' departure may be good news for Brantley). Reynolds has stated that his side of the story will come out. It may make for interesting reading.
The article makes clear that only three offenses are grounds for immediate dismissal at ESPN: fighting with a co-worker, e-mailing internet porn, and sexual harassment. Right now, nobody's talking.
Speaking strictly as a viewer, I will miss Reynolds at ESPN. He was coherent and intelligent, and never bought into the more clownish aspects of the network (COUGHchrisbermanCOUGH). Among ex-players, only Jeff Brantley challenged Reynolds for listenability and depth of knowledge (and, just thinking out loud here, Reynolds' departure may be good news for Brantley). Reynolds has stated that his side of the story will come out. It may make for interesting reading.
Plamegate: The must-see movie of the summer!
You know the old joke, where the film critic writes, "This film could have been sensational. Unfortunately, it's a pile of crap," and the studio quotes the critic as believing the film " . . . Sensational! . . ." in a newspaper ad? Apparently the same nonsense is at work in the Plame-Wilson case. Byron York has the details. One example:
Heh.
But it appears that the Wilsons and their legal team are basing their claim of a “concerted effort” not so much on the statements of Patrick Fitzgerald but on a Washington Post report on the statements of Fitzgerald. In a front-page story published April 9, the Post reported that Fitzgerald had “for the first time described a ‘concerted action’ by ‘multiple people in the White House’ — using classified information — to ‘discredit, punish or seek revenge against’ a critic of President Bush’s war in Iraq.” The quotes came from a government court filing, dated April 5, in the Libby perjury case. But a look at the actual document shows that Fitzgerald’s statements are less definitive than the Post, or the Plame/Wilson legal team, suggest.
Fitzgerald used the phrase “concerted action” once, in a footnote on page 30, in which he made the point that whatever the White House did or did not do in the CIA-leak matter would not affect the question of whether Libby lied to a grand jury. “The existence vel non of concerted action by White House officials is not dispositive of whether defendant committed perjury…” Fitzgerald wrote.
The Latin phrase vel non means “or not.” A legal dictionary defines it as “a term used by the courts in reference to the existence or nonexistence of an issue for determination.” So rather than making a straight assertion of fact, Fitzgerald was saying, in effect, “The existence, or not, of concerted action” by the White House would not affect the question of Libby’s truthfulness. (Wilson’s lawyers undoubtedly know what vel non means; they use the phrase, in another context, in the Plame complaint itself.)
Heh.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
My other favorite team, part II.
No runs for Clemens. Big surprise. 2-0 Reds.
Today on Cold Pizza, Woody Paige posited that Clemens would rather be back in Boston or New York, in the middle of a pennant race. My God. It depresses me to think how many no-nothings are floating around cable TV, reading something on the internet and repeating it or--even worse--pulling something out their butts. The plain truth--to anyone with the scantest knowledge of the Astros, or the Rocket, or baseball--knew plainly that Clemens was coming back to the Astros or retiring. The Yankees would have exceeded the Astros' offer, slid Clemens into Jared Wright's spot, slid Wright to fifth starter, put Sydney Ponson back in a cab, and started printing playoff tickets. The problem is that neither Joe Torre nor Brian Cashman would ever stand for a Clemens' accomodation deal, whereby Clemens would be allowed to skip road trips when he wasn't pitching, and some home games as well. That isn't how the Yankees do business, and that was that. And Clemens wouldn't come back otherwise. And he wouldn't go to Boston, and certainly not the Rangers.
This isn't to say that Torre's way is necessarily better: the Astros made the World Series last year giving Clemens all his accomodations, while the Yankees didn't make it out of the first round. The point is that Torre's way is Torre's way, and Torre has won enough to run his nine how he sees fit. Besides, the Boss probably wouldn't allow for special treatment for Clemens even if Torre lobbied for it, which he wouldn't.
Bottom line: For Clemens, it was the Astros or nothing.
Lately, I'm driven nuts by glib sports commentators who spout nonsense they know nothing about about teams they don't really watch. Really, why do they even bother? I see maybe 100 Astros and 80 Yankee games a year, and what I hear on ESPN often has no bearing on reality. Right around the All-Star break everyone on cable was going on and on about how well Astros reliever Chad Qualls was pitching, whereas anyone who had actually watched the Astros actually play for any length of time this season would know that Qualls has been barely competent, if that, and often disastrous.
This the Lupica effect--scanning the box scores and saying, Hey! Qualls! Low ERA! Never mind the nine thousand inherited runners Qualls allowed to score, the runs he walked in, the walks to number eight hitters gave up to start an inning, the bases-loaded jams from which either Dan Wheeler or Ron Villone or Russ Springer saved him. Never mind how Garner had to appear before the Astros' beat writers and say, in essense, Never mind it all, I'm sticking with the lad. Never mind any of that. Qualls rules!
Today on Cold Pizza, Woody Paige posited that Clemens would rather be back in Boston or New York, in the middle of a pennant race. My God. It depresses me to think how many no-nothings are floating around cable TV, reading something on the internet and repeating it or--even worse--pulling something out their butts. The plain truth--to anyone with the scantest knowledge of the Astros, or the Rocket, or baseball--knew plainly that Clemens was coming back to the Astros or retiring. The Yankees would have exceeded the Astros' offer, slid Clemens into Jared Wright's spot, slid Wright to fifth starter, put Sydney Ponson back in a cab, and started printing playoff tickets. The problem is that neither Joe Torre nor Brian Cashman would ever stand for a Clemens' accomodation deal, whereby Clemens would be allowed to skip road trips when he wasn't pitching, and some home games as well. That isn't how the Yankees do business, and that was that. And Clemens wouldn't come back otherwise. And he wouldn't go to Boston, and certainly not the Rangers.
This isn't to say that Torre's way is necessarily better: the Astros made the World Series last year giving Clemens all his accomodations, while the Yankees didn't make it out of the first round. The point is that Torre's way is Torre's way, and Torre has won enough to run his nine how he sees fit. Besides, the Boss probably wouldn't allow for special treatment for Clemens even if Torre lobbied for it, which he wouldn't.
Bottom line: For Clemens, it was the Astros or nothing.
Lately, I'm driven nuts by glib sports commentators who spout nonsense they know nothing about about teams they don't really watch. Really, why do they even bother? I see maybe 100 Astros and 80 Yankee games a year, and what I hear on ESPN often has no bearing on reality. Right around the All-Star break everyone on cable was going on and on about how well Astros reliever Chad Qualls was pitching, whereas anyone who had actually watched the Astros actually play for any length of time this season would know that Qualls has been barely competent, if that, and often disastrous.
This the Lupica effect--scanning the box scores and saying, Hey! Qualls! Low ERA! Never mind the nine thousand inherited runners Qualls allowed to score, the runs he walked in, the walks to number eight hitters gave up to start an inning, the bases-loaded jams from which either Dan Wheeler or Ron Villone or Russ Springer saved him. Never mind how Garner had to appear before the Astros' beat writers and say, in essense, Never mind it all, I'm sticking with the lad. Never mind any of that. Qualls rules!
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