And so, it is over. It has officially been terminated. Yankee Stadium, aka The House That Ruth Built, aka The Big Ballpark (in the Bronx), aka The Stadium, lives to house the National Past Time no more. A Mickey Mantle monster shot away, the "New" Yankee Stadium, The Boss's billion dollar "gift" to The City and to future generations of Yankee fans and realistically, to the very core of the Major League Baseball industry, sits next to The Stadium waiting for its finishing touches and Opening day 2009.
They will arrive in hoards in the coming year or two - the curious, the front runners, and the faithful. And they will need to be wealthy, or at least have some room left on their credit cards, that is if they haven't been confiscated by then.
For a family of four to attend this new and improved "Yankee Stadium", it will cost you a car payment and that would be on a Lexus. Formerly, it 'only' cost you a Ford.
You read it here first: Steinbrenner Yankees, Inc., like the the U.S. Federal Government, will eventually have priced themselves out of the market. Oh, they will fill up the new Fake Yankee Stadium the next year or two on the hype alone. It certainly won't be because the Yankees are competitve. Sad for this old Pinstriper to say, but as long as the New York American League Baseball Club employs Alex Rodriquez for 27 plus million per annum, they have no chance of winning. (This has been my prediction since 2005.) And eventually, even in the best of economic times (which are hardly around the corner), it is only the winning that keeps the turnstiles cranking to the happy tune of 4 million warm overpaying bodies a year.
But what of the Pinstripe Tradition and the Bronx Bomber History? Will it not all just fly across the street like some baseball army of ghosts? Murderers' Row...Five O'clock Lightning...Ruth, Gehrig, Dimaggio, Mantle, Maris, even Reggie...all the winning from Miller Huggins to Joe McCarthy to Casey Stengel to Ralph Houk to Billy Martin to the unmentionable two words, Joe Torre...the southpaw pitching from Pennock to Gomez to Ford to Guidry to Pettite and their righthanded counterparts, Ruffing, Reynolds, Raschi, Stottlemyre and Catfish...Munson and Chamblis and Murcer...and Mel Allen and Red Barber and the Scooter and Bill White and Frank Messer, and on and on and on...what will happen to it all?
Will it majically transfer across the street as wished for and hoped for and urged by Captain Jeter in his post - 'last game ever' plea and gracious thank you to the financially extended but faithful fans?
If you want the answer to this, someday or evening or night take a ride down to the Bowery, which the New York City P.C. call the 'West Village', and step inside McSorleys Ale House, a quaint little drinking emporium that has stood the test of time. On the walls you will see what some may term as "memorabilia," photographs and pictures and artifacts that have accumulated in there over many years, going back to, believe it or not, 1854. The signage outside the pub claims "We were here before you were born." Tip a mug or two of the cheap foamy brew, look around, take a deep breath in and feel the essence of the place, look at the picture of The Bambino on the wall since the Twenties or maybe the early Thirties as he looks back at you and ask yourself, "Is McSorley's like TGIF or a dozen other memorabilia contrived cookie-cutter pub-eateries that serve the same-lame-commercialized-homogenized over-priced entrees?"
It is not.
The New Improved Fake Yankee Stadium might as well be called Fuddrucker's Park. It is not Yankee Stadium. The upper deck will not quake in a late inning rally celebration. The haunting voluminous calls of Pedro...Pedro...Pedro will not echo from the New Stadium's bowels. The 1980's Bleacher Creatures and their "roll call" will not have evolved into the infamous entity they are today. And when you looked out upon the Steinbrenner Era fornicaton of what used to be a great expanse of seemingly endless outfield green, the older of us can still imagine Joe D or The Mick, even a young Bobby Murcer making a running backhanded catch out by the monuments 461 feet from home plate.
But no more.
As Yogi said in ESPN's melacholy memorium finale, Yankee Stadium, The House that Ruth Built, will always be inside us...our minds, our hearts, our youth, our souls.
Goodbye Big Ballpark in the Bronx. You were one of a kind.
Everything is fake. Baseball, Wall Street, and the U.S. Government lead the way.
Fences in, bats corked, balls juiced, and still HGH "enhanced", MLB is one step ahead of Roller Derby and just a step behind the latest video game which it aspires to be. The Yankees are a sham, and that is a shame. A-Rod is the most overpriced choke artist in the history of the world, Joe Girardi should demote himself to Triple A and stick to working with prospects and rookies, and Hank Steinbrenner should end his misery and throw himself off the EL because he doesn't have a clue.
The Fed prints fake money (fiat currency) the way Bud Selig's (also a fake) office has historically issued press releases concerning the sanctity of The Game. Too much. And now Wall Streets 'Game' is coming to an end. Too little.
Fast forward one year: The ol' U.S.of A., now totally a nation of 'commrades' thanks to the socialist fiscal stupidities of Clinton, Bush, and either Obama or McCain, is one step away from Third World-ism. The ballparks are empty because a 2008 overpriced ticket is now the price of a month's worth of groceries which are now the price of a monthly mortgage payment which is now the price of an annual property tax bill which is now the price of a new Lexus which is now the price of a new home which has finally returned to its true value which nobody can now afford. Too late.
Just as certain as A-Rod's 27 mil per annum choking the life out of the Yankees' ridiculous payroll and the Material Guy choking in the clutch again and again and again, you can bet your last bottom dollar that runaway inflation and economic recession (stagflation) is on its way. Fake money.
What to do? Buy and hoard physical gold and silver and get a piece of land that you can grow your own veggies on. Arm yourself responsibly because 'desperation' will be upon us. Then ask yourself, "What am I doing watching fake billionaires play sports and other better looking fake billionaires pretend to be someone they aren't (Hollywood)?
Take a good look in the mirror America...except for your faith in a Higher Power and the person staring back at you, all else is just a bit of fluff.
He hails from South Carolina and he hits fastballs into the stratosphere for the Texas Rangers. But in less than one hour, Josh Hamilton, Baseball's prodigal son, accomplished something that Home Run Derby no-show/coward Alex Rodriquez can and never will do - he won over the hearts of both New York City and TV America... unanimously.
In the great Ruthian tradition, this newly annointed Sultan of Swat put on the Show of Shows in the House that Ruth built, at 'The Stadium' where Gehrig and Dimaggio clouted their share, inside The Big Ballpark in the Bronx where Mantle's prodigious blasts thrilled millions, and now in the refurbished version where Reggie and his three mighty swings renovated a once proud dynasty. Hamilton's continuous, consecutive bombardment of batting practice baseballs into the right field upper deck and the far reaches of the right centerfield bleachers put the incredulous grin of awe (better even than a Fourth of July Fireworks Finale) on 55,000 excited, lucky to be alive, ticket paying spectators.
Was A-Rod watching?
Or was he primping himself in front of the mirror readying for his late night proclivities?
And then there was Josh Hamilton's sidekick, the 71 year old Babe Ruth League batting practice pitcher complete with the southern drawl and right out of central casting. Didn't we see this guy on the big screen at the beginning of Roy Hobbs' career? 'Together, the mentor-student tandem seemed to be fresh off the set of a remake of the Bernard Malamud classic and living proof that life immitates art or maybe it has always been the other way around.
ESPN's conglommerate of commentators regurgitated the rags to riches - to sleepingunder the bridge - to recovery/redemption story line ad nauseum. But booze and street drugs will do all that to you and more and also screw up your family too. It took Josh Hamilton 8 trips to the rehabs, the miracle of divine intervention, and the total surrender to a power greater than himself to release him, a day at a time, from the ills of egocentricity and chemical bondage. Put simply, to save his life. That's the way it works.
A-Rod? Still afflicted with PMS, addicted to the lust for Power, Money, and Sex. And throw in Image or Fake Image too which is the real reason last season's MLB Home Run King refused to participate in the longball exhibition hosted by his 27 million dollar per year providing employer. How happy is 'Big' Hank Steinbrenner now?
About as happy as A-Fraud is acting 'cool' at his posh, trendy Manhattan-ite pre-All-Star Game party, playing the casual, laid back host, offering up in his mechanical-robotical style, the obligatory-PC accolades for Hamilton, all the while doing his own regurgitating because he knows down deep that this night in the Big Apple belonged in a way he will never know, to the big kid from Texas, A-Real Deal.
p.s. In front of virtually no one, Justin Morneau accepted the winner's trophy.
Young, dumb, and full of horse dung is the A-Rod we all know and love to boo. Sure, Mr. A-ROID can hit a baseball as far and as high and as deep and as often as anyone in the Game. Sure, Mr. Choke-Rod of the Post Season has been the recipient of the now miscalculated and misjudged MVP Award 3 times in the last 5 years. Even the indicted LIAR Barry Bonds accomplished something near or even better than that. So what? And no baseball fan in his right mind would even attempt to argue that A-Rod is not one of the great individual talents of all time. But he has been, is, and will most likely continue to be one of the great egotistical A-Holes of all time.
For a moment, if that's possible, let's forget his current matrimonial troubles and his corresponding late night sexcapades with none other than the lip sync-ing Material Girl/wannabe Kabala "Esther"/Children's "morality" book author, and all-around Bi-sexual Hypocrite Tramp who sacrilegiously calls herself Madonna (shame on the Media who have joyously let her get away with this all these years!). For a moment, let's take a look into his latest stand on the All-Star game Home Run Derby and why, in the final All-Star game ever to be played in the House that colossal home run inventor Ruth Built, (A-Rod's tour de force), on his home field, wearing the famed pinstripes, in the final year of Ruth's House known these days as the Old Yankee Stadium, on center stage, hometown fans,prime time, in the Media Center of the Universe, the Big Apple itself, and why he is opting out of the long ball contest.
One would or should ask: is he kidding?
'Fraid not, home run fans.
"But why?' asks the incredulous and the ignorant. "Is he injured?"
Healthy as a hunk, just ask his 49 year old "girl." The line Stray-Rod has been regurgitating has all to do with the potential of a home run derby ruining his long looping swing which will need to be perfectly tuned if his team is to somehow begin winning and squeak into this year's post season. He cites a similar dilemma a number of years ago when he was employed as a mercenary by the Rangers.
"I think that's wonderful...I mean, what other superstar would sacrifice personal accolades for the good of his team. How humble of him."
What a guy! Maybe they should give him an award for such sacrifice, or even a medal. Call it the Most Vain Primadonna award. He could be featured on the cover of the Sunday Parade Magazine along with his new woman, old Esther, that other humble humanitarian. Entitle it: "IMMATERIAL GUY & GIRLTOGETHER AT LAST.
"I like them on the cover together but don't like your title."
You being stupid, that's understandable. Excuse me, I apologize for being crass but not for being accurate. Now, let's get back to A-Rod. I want you to use that walnut of a brain that God gave you. Think of his post season chokes, his anemic batting average in the most important games of the season, his errors in the field, and his slap-happy antics running down the first base line against the Red Sox a few years ago. Think of his post game interviews when his inability to perform in the clutch so often was instrumental in his Yankee team's loss, when he was incapable of ownership to his flaws and could only muster up the overly general and non-personal phrase, "It's unfortunate" to categorize his lackluster performance.
Fortunately, many of us are not stupid. Fortunately, we are able to peer through the facade to the playing field of life, even on an overcast, foggy day. We see A-Rod for what he really is - King Baby engorged with self-centered fear. To fail to win the Home Run Derby on his home field in his hometown on so momentous an occasion and in front of his new "girl" seated in his personal Stadium seat would be scrumptious fodder for the tabloids and incredibly distasteful to his own personna. And with the overly deep Yakee Stadium left centerfield as his target opposed to the inviting short right field porch just waiting for Chad Utley's line drive stroke (not unlike Madonna in her bed counting the minutes until A-Rod's late night arrival) as a legitimate excuse to finish in second or third place easily rationalized by all concerned, Choke-Rod still opts out. He does so because he knows that his self-centered fear will, once again, get the best of him and that he could easily go out in an early round. King Baby could not stand that.
A final word to Alex: You're in the Sports Entertainment business, stupid! It's the most important date of the year for your employer. Give back to the "Game" and the fans who have given you so much. If you don't compete in the Derby, you are nothing more than an obscenely overpaid, synthetically engorged WUSS.
We hear that's how the Material Girl likes her boys.
I haven't posted anything in quite a while. Life can do that to a blogger. Death can too - of friends and family and GI's and children and pets and all of that depressing #### can get a man down. It happened to me. Nothing seems worthwhile, not even the blog. In fact, writing about multi-millionaire union members (incredibly, that's what baseball players are) and the child's game they are paid those mega bucks to play, seems a little stupid like, say, talking to yourself in the mirror. So who's listening?
So it's the therapy of trying to put some sense to the nonsensical, some logic to the illogical, and some soul to the superficial that propels me at this very second to hunt and peck the keyboard with my two middle fingers. Do you think there's a little symbolism there?
In case anyone in the black hole of the baseball Blogosphere is interested, here's a few random items which have been on my mind lately.
(1) How does Joe Torre continue to get a pass from the once serious scrutiny of the New York baseball writers? He knows as much about preserving team chemistry as Bud Selig knows about preserving the integrity of the game. Latest example: Yanks have recently (before being rocked in Colorado) jelled as a team with Miguel Cairo playing stellar defense at first, hitting sac flies, laying down sac bunts, stealing bases, etc., etc. You know - baseball. So what does Torre and the Cash-man do? They bring up the feeble hitting (in majors...once whiffed 5 consecutive times in one game, the Platinum Sombrero) Andy Phillips and then start him over the contact-hitting Cairo. Hey Joe, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. The man has got to go, hopefully by the All-Star break. Let Donnie Baseball take the reigns for the rest of the season.
(2) Speaking of the Yankees and also the YES network, how does the recently departed Clete (short for Cletus) Boyer not get a Yankee-ography? The man played one of the greatest hot corners in MLB history. In the day, he was known, aptly, as The Magnet and was overshadowed by Brooks Robinson(The VaccuumCleaner) mainly because of the Oriole's superior bat. But lest we forget that Boyer played half his games in the unfriendly (to righties) Yankee Stadium with the real Death Valley of 402' to straight away left, 457' to leftcenter, 461' to center and 407' to right center. Like Elston Howard, Joe D., and The Mick batting from the right side (among others), Clete hit countless 420 foot outs, balls that would have easily cleared Wrigley Field's left field bleachers and crashed into the street below. Something for the Sammy Sosa and Ernie Banks fans to think about. If you doubt Boyer's superb defensive ability, go get yourself a copy of the 1961 World Series film and see for yourself the incredible diving plays he made and then throwing runners out from his knees. There was none finer at coming in on the bunt, scooping the ball up into the bare hand and throwing across his body on the run to nab the batter by a half a step. Boyer was so skilled defensively, that he was often used at shortstop when Tony Kubek was injured. The man was instrumental in the Yankees' pennants of 1960 thru 1964. Gil McDougald and Hank Bauer are others who don't get their due and deserve Yankee-ographies. Their consistent play and World Series' clutch performances are legendary among those of us old enough to remember. Certainly, the producers of YES could do a real tribute to Clete instead of the stupid show with the diehard weirdo Yankee fans participating in the ridiculous antics of the season long road trip. Certainly.
(3) Sosa on # 600. A joke, a farce, and another black mark on MLB. Bud Selig should be instantly retired to that great used car salesmen's lot in the sky. An utter mockery to the likes of Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth, Willie Mays, Frank Robinson, Ted Williams, Mickey Mantle,Jimmy Foxx, etc. But not, of course, Barry Bonds, his brother in sin. Someone ought to check Bud's head for cork.
(4) It is time for Tim McCarver to pack up his millions, his pathetic attempts at being witty, his whiny voice, and his hatred of the American League and especially the Yankees, and ,as Thurman Munson would tell complaining teammates, "RETIRE!" Maybe Joe Buck too.
(5) John Miller on this past Sunday Night's Yankees-Mets game referred to Derek Jeter's slick fielding of a slow roller to short as "Reyes-like!" Who comes in on a slow groundball better than Jeter?! Hey John, listen up: that would be like saying an A-Rod home run was David Wright-like. ####.
(6) If Yanks come back to make it to the post season, based upon YTD, Jorge Posada has to be their MVP. Don't challenge me on this. Just look to history and consider MVP's Berra,Campanella, Elston Howard, Bench, etc. and the role of this position.
(7) George Steinbrenner and the Yankee organization should publicly apologize to every baseball fan for the scheduled razing of Yankee Stadium, the Grand Cathedral of Baseball. If he was the King of England, would he raze the old and then build The New WestminsterAbbey? The Stadium is hallowed ground. Steinbrenner destroyed its beauty by his 1973 rennovation which eliminated the Big Ballpark's signature decorative facade/frieze and in succeeding years moved the fences in 3 times, at least. Yeah, yeah, I've heard all the great things about The Boss and how he restored the winning tradition to the CBS owned failing venture. And it is no great secret that he has an entreprenurial gift and developed the Yankees into the most profitable professional sports franchise. I get it. But does the guy have to destroy the one common link of generation to generation of pinstripe fan - The Stadium? This would not happen in Boston with Fenway or in Chicago with Wrigley. They understand what they are selling. George does not. Yankee fans, you have a season and a half to say goodbye to an old friend you will never see again. And just think of this: The Boston Celtics have won absolutely nothing since moving from Boston Garden. Nothing.
(8) Tomorrow afternoon's theme song is the Mighty Mouse tune: Here he comes to save theday, The Rocket-Man is on his way...prediction: Clemens gets Rocked in Colorado. With a pro rata 28 mil in the Rocket's pocket, the price of a beer and a dog at The Stadium must be hitting double figures by now.
That's it for tonight. As you can tell, I'm not very good with CHANGE unless, of course, change is logical and for the common good and not the elitist few. But I will not change my mind on one thing Yankee fans - that for the good of the team, the Godfather of the Bronx by way of Brooklyn, your Slow Joe Torre...must definitely go. (see old post of mine entitled, "Torre can't win the close ones.")
p.s. Q: Does anyone know what two different numbers Clete Boyer wore?
Johnny Damon, CF – A good season past. Dispelled Samson theory – hair/beard loss had no effect on Bronx performance. Prediction: short porch in right will up his dinger total to around 30 in ’07. Also, a little too happy during Detroit catastrophe. Says all the right things.
Derek Jeter, SS – Unquestionably his greatest all-around season. What didn’t he do? And out of the number 2 hole! The Yankee Captain was dissed by many of the New York andSteinbrenner hatingbaseball writers when they awarded the MVP to Justin Morneau. (see my post, “Just In…Jeter Out”) But Baseball Digest (published in Evanston, Illinois) got it right when they named ‘Jeets’ as their Major League Player of the Year. Jeter is a clinic on how to play short (make the jump throw from deep in the hole, come in on a slow roller, go back for an over the shoulder catch on a short fly, etc.), run the bases (intelligently and gazelle-like), bunt, and hit to the right side. With bursts of power and clutch performances, enjoy watching this future Hall of Famer now because he is very special and the spectacle won’t last forever.
Bobby Abreu, RF – Nice finish with Yanks for ’06. Jury is still out regarding season long performance. A little too happy and complacent during the Tiger blowout. Maybe Phillies had it right? We shall see…
Hideki Matsui, LF/DH– Once again demonstrated that he is a true professional with both humble post-injury attitude and timely hitting in last month of competition. Should have been DH’d by Torre in post season to let the new, young, competitive Melky Cabrera continue to produce as he had in the regular season. Look for a decrease in games starting in left field in ’07.
Jorge Posada, C – like Yogi Berra, Elston Howard, and Thurman Munson before him, the true backbone of the team. Clutch. When he’s in the lineup, I would never bat him lower than 6th. Did a better job at the cleanup spot than A-Rod which is not that surprising. A great all-around catcher: handling pitchers, throwing out runners, etc. Thank you Tony Pena. Posada is a true Yankee.
Robinson Cano,2B – Almost won the batting title which he should do this year as long as he stays healthy. Jeter will hit .320 and Mauer, who knows the second time around the league? Let’s hope that Robby can shake off the stigma of Torre batting him in the 9th spot during the playoffs – now wasn’t that a brilliant idea to bolster a young player’s confidence?
Jason Giambi, 1B/DH – needs to play everyday at first base despite limited range. Can scoop balls out of the dirt with the best of them. Hits better when playing in the field. Too much emphasis on defensive liability. Is he any less capable than Moose Skowron, Harmon Killebrew, Boog Powell, Pete Rose, etc., etc., etc.? Power hitting streaks raise questions about continued steroid use.
Alex Rodriquez, 3B – Lived up to his recent fan nicknames of K-Rod, A-Clod, E-Rod, and A-Fraud and we know there are more. Add A-Roid if the 100 names are ever divulged. A-Rod is the person who hasn’t got a clue that the romance is over and keeps making the phone calls and ringing the door bell…but nobody answers. His Big Apple love affair is history. Yankee fans only got the worm. When he finally rides off into the sunset, hopefully back to Texas or Seattle, the Yanks should retire his number to the rag pile so that #13 is never seen again. The ultimate Choke Artist…and for 25 mil per annum!
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Melky Cabrera, LF, etc. – outstanding rookie performance including going deep into the pitch count, slashing the outside pitch the other way, covering Death Valley as well as anyone since Ricky Henderson, maybe better, can steal a base, and is a serious threat to throw out a runner taking the extra base. A powerful arm. Can play all 3 outfield positions. Yanks out of their mind if they use this guy as trade bait for pitching woes.
Gary Sheffield, Gone - but not (or never to be) forgotten. We will miss the savage swing and cannon shots to left, foul balls included (did he once take someone’s head off?) but the Bombers will not miss the anger and the Reggie-like attitude in the clubhouse. Reunited with Leland and Dombrowski, he might very well avenge his pinstripe exit by late season damage against lackluster Yank pitching.
HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL BASEBALL BLOGGERS, PAST & PRESENT
It is late. Maybe too late for this 2006 version of the Joe Torre Traveling Home Run Derby Show. With Jim Leyland as the opposition's grand puppeteer, Kenny Rogers as its impersonation of the great Whitey Ford of post season's past, and the rest of the Tiger cubs roaring like they're full grown and believing they're in charge of the American League jungle, Murderer's Row (and Cano) seem to have taken the final bullet themselves.
I am tired...but not as tired as the same, lame Joe Torre post game jibberish which is interpreted as gospel by the intimidated press conference media. But perhaps, that is not totally fair to Torre. For some reason it seems that no one is allowed to ask the Godfather of the Bronx a tough but thoughtful question.
Such as: Why Joe, in the few days before the playoffs, did you abandon the quicker, more balanced, more run-manufacturing lineup of Melky Cabrera batting 9th and Robbie Cano batting 6th that had produced by season's end, the best record in baseball?
Probable answer: "blahblahblahblahblah..."
Real answer: "George likes to get his money's worth."
Or: Within the last 2 games when it was obvious that the Tiger pitching was overpowering, why Joe didn't you move a runner over into scoring position with a sacrifice bunt?
Probable answer: "Blahblahblahblahblah..."
Real answer: "Those billionaire home run guys would get mad at me. i just hate an argument."
And: You seem to have trouble winning the close games. Who do you think cracks under pressure more, you or A-Rod?
Probale answer: Blahblahblahblahblah....blah"
Real answer: "Stop picking on us. Just because I'm the highest paid manager in baseball and Alex is the highest paid player, is no reason to take that tone of voice. it hurts our feelings."
And finally: "Joe, since the 2000 Championship Team, you lost the 2001 Series in the bottom of the ninth - game 7, have been outmanaged by Mike Scosia twice in the ALDS ('02 & '05), by Jack McKeon in the '03 World Series, and did the greatest choke job in the history of Major League Baseball by losing to the Red Sox in the '04 ALCS after being up 3 games to none and only one out away from a sweep. If you are eliminated from this year's ALDS, courtesy of Jim Leyland and Co., do you think George Steinbrenner will renew your contract?
Probable answer: "Blah."
Real answer: "Only if George keeps taking his medication."
NOTE: for further clarification, please look to Gamescribe's blog entitled, "Melky or Matsui: Team Chemistry Begins to Vaporize"
Sorry about that...Having some problems lately? Finding it a little difficult to make contact with the ol' baseball of late? Personal problems? Head problems? Health problems? It was a sore throat that kept you out of the lineup, was it? I dunno buddy, seems like that big, long, looping swing of yours is getting bigger and longer and loopier all the time - been moonlighting in a slow pitch softball league recently? After all, we realize you're hurtin' for money. What is it after deductions and taxes, like about 18, 19 mil a year? Which is really only about eight and a half months of play, I mean work, ain't that right?
Always wanted to ask you this, Alex: How does it feel when at the end of batting practice and just before you head down into the dugout, you stop momentarily to pull off your batting gloves and, like a King appeasing his peasants with chump change or loaves of stale bread, you toss them into the stands for the mindless fanatics to fight over and covet? (note: he does this!) Make you feel like a King? A Hollywood Idol? A superior being that has "so much talent?" (Yes, that's right Alex, we heard you say that earlier this year to Kim Jones in a post game interview broadcast on the YES network.) Or maybe, you just toss your sweaty mitts to the mediocre masses because, out of the goodness of your heart, you want to share a little piece of you with us, even if it is some of your excess bodily fluids.
Oh Alex, Alex, Alex, Alex...what are we going to do with you? Send you back to Texas? Never happen. Seattle? No chance. You don't leave us with many options. After all, it's obvious that you can't handle the pressure in New York. That's a no-brainer. But what loser of a team would be able to afford you? No, you're in the Big Apple...(no Alex, that's not bigAdam's apple as in CHOKE, that's Big Apple as in the Centerof the Earth aka New YorkCity)...at least for the remainder of your contract.
After that, well, that long, slow, loopy swing looks mighty promising for the Greater Bayonne Slow Pitch Tavern and Bar League. The pay ain't too good but I understand the price is right for the post game brewski's. It's something to consider. I understand that McGwire and Sosa and Palmeiro have already signed on for next year. Can't help but think this way, Alex, making that kind of association. I mean, when they're not drug testing, you hit like an animal but when they're drug testing, well, you don't hit...let's be honest, you stink! Seems like you've lost your reaction time and bat speed overnight.
And if it's not that, well, then Mr. Rodriquez, you're in bigger trouble than I thought. Then it's all in the head and I ain't talkin' about where your game's been this year. If the problem is between the ears, well then, there's absolutely nothing anyone can do for you. That, buddy, is something you're gonna have to work out for yourself.
Tell ya what A-Rod, here's my advice: fake it 'til ya make it. Translation: pretend you're having fun on the field and play loose like Jeter - suck it up without excuses and/or complaints like Posada - stay positive no matter what like Bernie, and make the most of your opportunity in pinstripes like young Melky. Inotherwords, grow up. And something else, get a little humility, will ya? Because as you know, payback is a ####. Do some or all of those things and you should be halfway home. And if that doesn't work, well, you could always follow the Jason Giambi stealth health and pharmeceutical power plan.
It's been the better part of a month since my last post and since the first round of NGS finalists was announced. Others who had failed to make the cut used their blogging rights in different ways including offering congrats, rationalizing, whining, and even spewing forth semi-vicious remarks. I did none of these...except to myself and my wife. God Bless the woman. But what I did do is to finally get some much needed sleep. Is the NSG still going on? Do we have a winner yet?
Sleep. We write better when we get enough. We keep things in a more realistic perspective. We can laugh at ourselves. Smile more. Live better. Our dreams are even sweeter. And those are good reasons to turn off the tube and to surrender the outcome of the NBA Finals (aka Shaq vs. The Great White Hope) to the morning news which will await us like a fresh cup of coffee. After all, since Sports Illustrated ain't callin', most of us need to go to work in the morning. And I'm also not expecting a windfall donation to my writing cause, courtesy of the NBA or MLB multi-millionaires, any time too soon.
Speaking of mega-millionaires, one of our favorite targets, A-Rod, must be getting ready to do the stand-up comedy circuit a la Rodney Dangerfield. Just yesterday he hit a mammoth home run to the tune of long awaited cheers and then in his next at bat, whiffed with runners on second and third as the boo-birds returned. "What have you done for me lately, A-Rod?" Tough crowd, New York. The Most Valuable Prima Donna just gets no respect.
Willie Randolph's Omar Minaya Mets are turning New York City's front running heads in their direction and returning the Long Island fan base to Big Ugly Shea. Prediction: By season's end or at least before the beginning of the 2007 season, Boss George offers Willie the Yankee helm ...but Willie smartly declines the job of skippering a wayward ship in rough waters. And Joe Torre? Enjoying a much needed retirement...we hope.
Finally, what time of year is it really? I've been confused about this for so many years. Is anyone old enough to remember when specific sports had specific seasons? If Basketball and Hockey (who cares) in June isn't enough, we have in no specific order, World Cup Soccer (Madagascar vs. Luxembourg) , Collegiate Women's Softball World (?) Series, Collegiate Men's World (?) Series, ESPN Boxing, Kickboxing, Ultimate Fighting (very sick), U.S. Open Golf aka Tiger vs. Phil, The French Open (Grunge on clay),The Fox Game of the Week (time for Tim to also retire) The Sunday Night ESPN Game( "As Joe Morgan Sees It"), the Wednesday Night ESPN Game, the Thursday Night ESPN Game, The ESPN Game of the Hour (!!!), The YES Network Yankee Games, The UPN Yankee games, The Fox Yankee Games, Yankeeographies forever, Nascar, Grand Prix, Drag Racing, Poker, Poker, Poker, and, is it really possible, more Poker and not finally but incredibly, Team Paintball Championships. It's all enough to drive a person crazy enough to watch the WWE. Where are the soothing tones of Chis Schenkel doing Bowling when you need them?
So, instead of viewing and listening and reading and incessantly writing about the games we see other more gifted people play, let's put on our hiking shoes, take to a trail, purge our systems of the vicarious sickness, and absorb some of the natural world into our senses. Before it's too late. That's the ticket.
I believe many things, among them:
that the monuments should still be on the playing field, 460 feet from home plate...
that the most exciting play in baseball is the race between ball and man, the inside the park home run...
that for fielding alone, Clete Boyer is right there with Brooks and Nettles...
that Yankee Stadium should stand forever...
that Number 7 walking to the plate was supernatural. ..
and that there was nothing better than to shag fly balls with your best friends after supper on a summer evening
