The Professional

Hideki Matsui has reportedly signed a one-year contract with the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. His days in pinstripes are, alas, behind him. I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. Despite his 6-RBI performance in the deciding game of the World Series, Matsui is an old 35, with two surgically repaired knees and nearly two full decades of service time under his belt. He just doesn’t fit in with the Yankees' plans for the future. I get it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss watching Matsui apply his trade nine months a year.

Since signing with the Yankees in 2002, Matsui averaged 20 home runs, 140 hits, 28 doubles, and 85 RBI per season, while batting .292, with a slugging percentage of .482 and an on-base percentage of .370. What’s more, besides the 2006 and 2008 seasons, when injuries limited him to 51 and 93 games, respectively, Matsui played in no less than 142 games, and drove in no fewer than 90 runs in any given season. It’s one thing to be consistent, quite another to be consistently good—and an almost impossible feat to be consistently good in New York without falling prey to the non-stop yammering of modern sports talk radio.

In sports, you see, there’s always a nauseating amount of talk about whether or not a player is underrated or overrated. Adrian Gonzalez, for instance, or Robinson Cano, can be argued either way, depending on the person or the preferred statistic of the day. Matsui, though, is the rare athlete, the rare New York athlete, valued by fans and baseball people alike at a worth equal to that of his talents.

During his tenure with the Yankees, Matsui played like a professional, and was always appreciated as such. 

Who Do You Say That I Am?

(Originally Posted Here)

Last night, while watching John Wall take over Madison Square Garden, I couldn’t help but wonder, like many others, if Wall isn’t already the most talented college basketball player I’ve seen in my lifetime. He very well might be, even nine games into his collegiate career and albeit still neck-and-neck-tattoo with Allen Iverson. (Shaq remains arguably the most impressive, if only because of his size and freakish athleticism; while LeBron and maybe Garnett would have been equally impressive if they hadn’t jumped right to the NBA).

This morning, the Sporting News’ Dan Shanoff pointed out the very same thing, writing that Wall is already more captivating than Carmelo Anthony, Kevin Durant and Michael Beasley were in their one-and-done Freshman year. While touting Wall, Shanoff also asks an interesting question: Does the Kentucky Wildcat and future overall No. 1 pick need a nickname?

This is a tough one, particularly because John Wall already sounds like a nickname. I doubt very much anyone anywhere will ever refer to him exclusively by his monosyllabic surname, as if Wall and his otherworldly basketball talents could somehow be camouflaged as just another member of a functioning five-man unit. This is unacceptable.

Also unacceptable is JW. Too proper, too close in vicinity to J.D. for a man of Wall’s explosiveness and unpredictability. He’s not a stuffy, practiced man of letters; he’s a budding basketball deity. And deserves better.

In a different era, when college basketball was followed almost exclusively via the radio, some charismatic announcer or Midwest-based, ink-stained wretch would have christened Wall “the Kentucky Waltz” or “Mr. Bluegrass” or some such provincial moniker. Alas, those bygone days have, well, gone by. Gone too are the 1960s, when Earl Monroe and Lew Alcinder rose to form. Back then, Wall would have been known simply as “Black Jesus.” A decade later, he would have been called “Black Power,” while in the 1980s, he would haven been tagged with an unfortunate marketing slogan, like Wall Inc., or the Wall of Honor or, in a less democratic society, the Great Wall.

The 1990s would have bestowed upon him some variation of veracity or divine right: the Truth; the Answer; the One; Diddy. It’s a shame that period is behind us, because Wall’s high school, Word of God, fits him like a suit.

Today, in the age of Obama, I’m inclined to label Wall with some post-millennial, post-racial nickname, something entirely new. Something onomatopoeic. Something like Crunk or Zwar or Zounds. Or maybe he could do like Prince and go with an unpronounceable symbol, like the Nike swoosh, which somehow seems appropriate.

The name I keep coming back to, though, is e pluribus unum. In fact, I'm now convinced of it.

He Stoops to Conquer

I just read this Times’ profile of Jesus Leonardo, a stooper who makes a pretty good living cashing in discarded betting slips at local OTBs.

Mr. Leonardo, who is married with two teenagers, is hardly living on the fringes. He said that stooping brings him $100 to $300 a day, and more than $45,000 a year. Last month, he cashed in a winning ticket from bets made on races at Santa Anita Park in Arcadia, Calif., for $8,040. His largest purse came in 2006, when he received $9,500 from a Pick 4 wager (choosing the winners of four consecutive races) at Retama Park Race Track in Selma, Tex.

I didn’t realize this was even a viable career path. My high school guidance counselor, a Jesuit septuagenarian, failed to mention it during our two semesters together. A model of academic excellence, my ass.

Blogger On Blogger Violence

Over at my other site, a semi-anonymous commenter made a last-ditch plea for Ben and me to stop jawing at one another before we end up mortgaging our friendship for a few cheap shots: 

you guys are going to hate each other on a very, very personal level if you keep this blog going.

A close friend also recently told me our blog posts don’t read as if we’re having any fun, which was--and is-- the point of the entire enterprise. The two criticisms, if you could even call them that, go hand in hand. I’ve come to realize tone is tricky, and our particular type of humor, while admittedly caustic, loses some of its nuance in print. In trying to write authoritatively, we’ve inadvertently come off as more combative than he or I ever intended, splashing the waters a bit too forcefully for others who might be inclined to dip their toes.

Suffice it to say, Ben and I are not in any danger of one day taking a hatchet to each another. At least I’m not. I shouldn’t speak for him. It’s always the quiet ones, isn't it? 

Jarret Jack, Your Shoe's Untied

Down by 27 points in the third quarter, the Chicago Bulls wanted nothing to do with the Toronto Raptors. Or Jarett Jack, apparently. Jack was allowed to tie his right shoe, as the final seconds of the quarter ticked down. After he finished lacing up his right boot, Bulls center Brad Miller then fouled third-string center Patrick O'Bryant 22 feet from the basket. Good lord. Even the Knicks' defense isn't that charitable.  

Donnie Walsh's Teachable Moment

Avert your eyes, Knicks fans. This isn't pretty. 

"When I saw [Brandon Jennings] play in Vegas, I did go to our scouts and I told them, 'Look, if you knew he was that good you should have come to me every day in my office and said, 'You've got to look at this guy,'" said Walsh. "I said, 'I listened to you. You said, 'He's good,' but that was about it."

Oy. The Knicks, in case you haven't been paying attention, are pretty thin at the point guard position, and really could have used a player of Jennings caliber, even if almost nobody projected him as worthy of the lottery. (Full disclosure). "Jennings to Gallo for three" or "Jennings to Lee for the easy stuff" sound a hell of a lot more promising than "Duhon turns it over again" or "another wild shot by Robinson."

I have to give Walsh, though, some credit for admitting he and his staff screwed the pooch on Jennings. A certain general manager can't even cop to that. But let's not get carried away here. A mistake is a mistake, after all, and the total breakdown in player evaluation leading up to the draft, when it's most pressing, mind you, doesn't exactly paint the organization in the most positive of lights. 

Look, this isn't exactly the Blazers passing on Michael Jordan. The Knicks, despite their many flaws, will survive this. But that doesn't mean passing on Jennings doesn't sting, especially this season. Or next. It does. And it will. Missing out on Jennings also ratchets up the pressure on Mike D'Antoni and his staff to bring out the best in Jordan Hill and Toney Douglas, two promising but salmonella-raw players drafted in lieu of Jennings. 

Walsh still has this summer to rectify his mistake. I just hope he learns from it sooner rather than later, and his draft night misfire was truly an aberration and not a harbinger of things to come. 

"He Ain't Never Coming Back."

The Onion hits a little too close to home. 

Secret Service agents later confirmed that a half-tearing, half-smiling Obama was greeted by Vice President Joe Biden in the White House Rose Garden. Kneeling on the lawn, Obama reportedly told "Big Joe" that he would be in charge of the country for a while, and that the vice president should keep an eye on Iraq and Iran while he was out.