Worth the Wait

Phil Hughes delivered. For one day at least, all is right with the Yankees. The team snapped a semi-alarming losing streak, and one of the organization's top young arms finally gave legions of nervous Yankees fans a good look at the same major-league talent that Brian Cashman fell in love with, and refused to give up. 

I was most impressed with Hughes' composure and confidence. He went after each hitter with purpose and conviction, snapping off breaking balls seemingly at will, spotting his above-average fastball and keeping hitters (particularly lefties) honest throughout the night with a pretty effective cutter, a new addition to his already representative repertoire. Really, even if the Yankees had lost, I couldn't have asked for a better outing from Hughes. Who cares if it came one year later than expected?  

Others are impressed, too. Here's a quick roundup of what some are saying. 

Joel Sherman:

You know what Phil Hughes looked like on Tuesday night? He looked like a guy worth waiting for. He looked like the kind of guy you do think long and hard about giving up, even for Johan Santana. He looked like part of the solution for the 2009 Yankees.

Mark Feinsand:

Tuesday night was only one start, but it was the kind of start that reminded us all why this kid had so much hype around him to begin with. Hughes showed precise command of his 92-94 mph fastball, a huge curveball that actually had veteran hitters moving out of the way before it fell in for a called strike and an effective cutter that helped him escape the one jam he got himself into.

[snip]

Hughes is still only 22. If this is how long it took for him to get it together, that’s pretty good.

Tyler Kepner, who, like me, is also bullish about Mark Melancon:

Here’s a prediction. It’s easy to make now, after the last few games, but if you’ve seen them pitch and followed their stories, you believed it even before. Phil Hughes and Mark Melancon won’t go back to the minors.

Mike A.:

All this Pitch f/x stuff is cool and fun to look at, but it can’t quantify the biggest difference between the 2008 version of Phil Hughes and the 2008 version of Phil Hughes: confidence. Last year Hughes (and Ian Kennedy as well) nibbled at the corners too much and pitched scared; they were afraid of contact and didn’t challenge hitters, digging themselves into deeper and deeper holes before the wheels finally came off. Last night was different for Hughes. He went after hitters and pitched with a plan. 

[snip]

What a difference a year - and a third pitch - makes.

Yes, it's only one start. But it was a good one, hopefully the first of many for Hughes this season. 

Rudy Gay, King of the Diamond

Rudy Gay, the starting forward for the Memphis Grizzlies, took batting practice yesterday with the Memphis Redbirds, the AAA affiliate of the St. Louis Cardinals, to prove to his cousin that he could, in his words, "go yard." Unlike his time with the Grizzlies, Gay made good on his promise. 

Gay sprayed a few more hard hits across the field during his next turn, enough to put Michael Jordan to shame. But [Gay's cousin] Ferguson was still confident he was going to win their bet, of which was still undetermined. Their bets normally involve someone doing pushups.

[snip]

In Gay's final turn at the plate, Ilsley delivered a fastball right down the middle. Gay deposited it onto The Bluff in leftfield. He then took a home run trot, of which Ferguson couldn't help but take pictures with his cell phone camera.

If Gay can play third, the Yankees have a spot for him-- at least until Alex Rodriguez returns in early May. I'm serious: A-Rod's replacements--the murderers' row of Cody Ransom, Angel Berrora and Ramiro Pena-- are hitting a combined .213, with 4 errors between them, a rough approximation of A-Rod's recent postseason performances. 

(Via Ball Don't Lie)

No Time Like the Present

After shelling out $243 million for pitchers CC Sabathia and A.J. Burnett this winter, the third-place Yankees hand the ball tonight to 22-year-old Phil Hughes in a prematurely important game for the suddenly slumping Yankees.

Obviously, the season won’t be won or lost tonight. Even if the Yankees drop tonight’s game against the White Sox, there are still another 142 games left in the season, or five full months until October. Plenty of time. Hughes’ performance tonight, though, is significant because a good outing will not only allow him to cover for Chien-Ming Wang, who’s busy figuring a few things out in Tampa, but also take some pressure off the much-maligned Yankees pen. Although I’m not ready to go down this particular road, Hughes’ presence might also make a more compelling case for the Yankees to move Joba back to the bullpen if and when Wang returns to form, which, in addition to Mark Melancon, should give the Yankees a very solid collection of late-inning guys who can get the ball to the normally uber-reliable Mariano Rivera.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself here. Tonight’s game is important for Hughes. Since the Yankees drafted him in the first round of the 2004 amateur draft, Hughes has widely been considered a future ace for the Yankees pitching staff. The Yankees were so high on him, in fact, that General Manager Brian Cashman reportedly pulled out of a possible trade for Johan Santana last year because the Twins wanted Hughes, in addition to a number of other top-tier prospects. Thrust into the spotlight, Hughes wilted, going 0-4 last season with a 6.62 earned run average. He’s better than his numbers, though, showing promise in 2007, when he threw 6 innings of no-hit ball against the Texas Rangers—in his only his second career start—before pulling his left hamstring in the 7th inning on an 0-2 curveball. Later that season, after a number of physical setbacks, which kept him off the mound for most of the summer, Hughes relieved Roger Clemens in Game 1 of the American League Division Series against the Cleveland Indians, pitching 3+ innings to earn his first playoff win.

Tonight, after a few false starts—and a number of weird injuries—Hughes, still one of the youngest players in all of baseball, has another shot to show that his vast number of pitching tools translate to the majors. The so-called centerpiece of the Yankees' long-term plans has a golden opportunity to contribute right away. The future, it seems, is now. 

The Architecture of a Draft Pick

Peter King gives the interesting backstory to the Jets uncharacteristic draft-day trade for USC quarterback Mark "Dirty Jerz" Sanchez, which may or may not spark the middling franchise into NFL relevancy, depending on who you ask. The dramatic--and complicated--trade almost didn't happen, according to King, because of an obscure clause in the collective bargaining agreement concerning trade centerpiece Abram Elam, the cornerback who signed an offer sheet with the Browns in March, only to have it matched by the Jets a few weeks later.   

Elam was the apple of Mangini's eye in the deal. In March, the Browns signed Elam, a restricted free-agent, to a one-year, $1.5-million offer sheet. The Jets, loaded with safeties, still matched it. And last Friday, when Tannenbaum and Mangini were talking conditional trade, Elam's name was front and center. He'd have to be in the deal for it to work for the Browns.

Not so fast, [Dawn] Aponte [the Browns' capwoman] said. She remembered an obscure article in the CBA -- Article XIX of Veteran Free Agency, Section 3 (h). It said: "If a Club exercises its right of first refusal and matches an offer sheet, that club may not trade that player to the Club that submitted the offer sheet for at least one calendar year, unless the player consents to such trade.''

Aponte told Mangini the consent would have to be in writing. 

[snip]

On Saturday, the draft got to Cleveland's pick. The Browns were set on moving down, and they pulled the trigger. The deal got approved by the league when it looked over the paperwork and saw Elam's signature on the legal document approving the trade.

I don't know enough about the Jets to comment in full about their beleaguered history, but it seems to me this kind of thing usually doesn't work out in their favor. Maybe things are finally looking up for Jersey's other hometown team.

The Reviews Are In

The Yankees just finished their first homestand at the new stadium. Like a lot of people, I've yet to make the trip up to the Bronx, although, from what I've seen on television, the stadium looks pretty good, if a bit excessive. Like a third arm. I'm not too concerned about the "alarming" number of home runs, but if it keeps up through June, I might start to grow nostalgic for the old digs. 

In the meantime, here's a quick summary of what the blogroll thinks of the new Yankee Stadium. The early reviews are decidedly mixed. 

The Good.

 

ASWOBA: 

I was impressed. (A full post of my photos can be found here.) At first, I have to admit that the whole thing seemed like too much. The comfortably cushioned seats are straight out of a new megaplex. The size and clarity of the video screen beyond the center-field wall is impossible to describe in words or even photos. You have to sit in the stadium to grasp how it dominates the field of vision, like a high-def spaceship hovering above the field, the aliens whistling and trying to look inconspicuous. That screen represents the general principle that the stadium is terrific but a lot. The concourses are very open-air, and reminded me of similar spaces in the new(ish) parks in Philadelphia and Houston, among other places. The areas surrounding the game are an enormous improvement from the old Y.S., where leaving your seat for food felt like traveling several miles from the stadium to a claustrophobic warehouse in need of industrial cleaning.

Mike A.:

Other than the PA system, the place was amazing. Monument Park seems a little too hidden, it would be nice to have it on full display as it was at the Old Stadium. The upper deck isn’t nearly as steep as it was across the street, and I like the look of the dark blue seats. I’m sure some people will bitch and moan about tiny little things, but overall the place is phenomenal. I look forward to watching baseball there for the rest of my life.

The bad. 

YFSF:

The Yanks went 4-2 in their first homestand at the new ballpark, but the headlines are almost all negative. CC Sabathia and Chien-Ming Wang are struggling, homers are flying at an alarming pace, and—most urgently—attendance has been pathetic, especially in the highly visible premium seats and the luxury suites that were the very reason for building the place. Our grade on the first week: D-

Ben K.:

New Yankee Stadium is all about exclusion. Throughout the stadium, intermingled with the broad concourses and seating sections, are exclusive areas. There are restaurants that cater only to people who are ticketed for those sections. Get to close and an overanxious security guard will eye you suspiciously while awaiting a ticket stub to confirm that, yes, you actually do belong here.

And the ugly.

Fack Youk:

They say the New Stadium is quieter than the Old one. The "asshole" chants in the bleachers for Sox & Mets fans are pretty loud.

Parkour a Bicyclette

This is just amazing. I used to be able to ride a bike. Now, I barely possess enough coordination to get out of my bed without tripping over a pair of shoes.  



(Via Andrew Sullivan)

Not Safe for Work

Nine years ago today, the Cincinnati Reds, led by captain Barry Larkin, were poised to take on Shawn Green and the Los Angeles Dodgers in the first of three-game series at Cincinnati’s Cinergy Field. The players had finished batting practice, the lineups had been written, the baselines painted, and the infield and pitcher’s mound had been prepared for the night. 

The only problem? The umpires’ equipment was somewhere in New York, more than 550 miles away. While the umpires—CB Bucknor, Al Clark, Mike Vanvleet and Rick Reed—arrived safely in Cincinnati from Montreal earlier in the day, their equipment was shipped, unnoticed, to New York. 

To save the day, Rick Stowe, the Reds' longtime clubhouse manager, and a member of his crew raced off to a local sporting goods store. It was closed. Undeterred, the dynamic duo drove around Cincinnati in search of an open store. Eventually, they found one on the west side of town, and secured about $600 worth of gear, pilling shin guards, chest protectors, cleats, and face masks into the car before racing back to Cinergy Field. On their way back across town, though, they got stuck in traffic, and had to call in for a police escort to get back to the stadium, where they handed the equipment off to the waiting umpires. 

After only a 27-minute delay, starting pitcher Steve Parish finally delivered the first pitch, fittingly, a called strike, to Devon White, the Dodgers' center fielder and leadoff hitter. The Dodgers, behind four serviceable quality innings from rookie starting pitcher Eric Gagne, would go on to win the opener 9-2, and, two days later, sweep the series. 

The umpires' equipment, meanwhile, presumably made its way to the Queen City before the start of the second game.

Spanish Fly

According to various reports, Ricky Rubio, an 18-year-old point guard from Spain, has declared for the National Basketball Association's upcoming draft. Rubio, whose games is often compared to Pete Marovich, has been on the radar of hardcore basketball junkies for at least two years, when he first earned a starting spot--at 16!--for Joventut, one of the better teams in the best professional league in all of Europe. This summer, Rubio cemented his reputation as a big-time player, helping the Spanish National team win a silver medal in Beijing. 

Yadda, yadda, yadda. The kid's good, but the question is, can the Knicks get him? Not likely, although there are a number of ways we could, at least theoretically, hope to land him. We could, of course, win the draft lottery. Why not? Stranger things have happened. 

Realistically, though, there are a number of factors working in the Knicks' favor. First, because Joventut controls Rubio's contract, if an NBA team wants him, they're going to have to pay Joventut the $500,000 allowed under the NBA's collective bargaining agreement. Under the Dolans, the Knicks, although morally bankrupt, have always been flush with Cablevision cash, which means they wouldn't think twice about shelling out the money it would take just to draft Rubio. Second, and perhaps more important, the Knicks are only a handful of lottery-bound teams that actually, you know, need a point guard, and would welcome the chance to take Rubio over the likes of Blake Griffin or Hasheem Thabeet. 

I'm not alone in thinking this, either. Bethlehem Shoals, as is his wont, breaks down, the emerging Griffin-Rubio debate, vis-a-vis the performance of dominant guards in this year's playoffs:

Look at the teams with the league's worst records: Sacramento would love Rubio, but the Wizards and Clippers supposedly have stars recuperating to retake their point guard slot. Oklahoma City would run into the problem of what to do with explosive, promising Russell Westbrook. The T-Wolves could use him; the Grizzlies have been encouraged by the progress made by Mike Conley, Jr., but whatever. The Warriors would have to resign themselves to a small backcourt, and once and for all give up on Monta Ellis as their PG. Rubio to New York could save the NBA. At the same time, almost all those teams would benefit instantly from Griffin's presence -- and not have to deal with a buyout in this cash-sensitive climate.

From his lips to god's ears. Shoals goes on to say that, like a certain red wheelbarrow, so much depends on the playoffs. If the league's premier guards are all knocked out in the early rounds, he posits, then a general manager is more likely to take Griffin, a reliable, cheap frontcourt presence, over the promise of Rubio. Knicks fans, then, should be rooting against Derrick Rose and the Bulls, and, to a lesser extent, Rondo and the Celtics, if we hope to land Rubio in, what will most likely be, the mid-to-late lottery. As if we needed another excuse to hate Chicago and Boston. 

Even if the Knicks don't land Rubio, there remains a silver lining. With Rubio in the draft, the Knicks are now essentially guaranteed a guard who would thrive in D'Antoni's system (Brandon Jennings, Stephen Curry, Tyreke Evans, Eric Maynor or Ty Lawson)-- which would almost make up for missing out on Rubio. Almost. 

Bruins Rules

You don't need to be a fan of hockey to enjoy the following commercials for the Boston Bruins. They're the best thing to come out of Boston since Kevin Garnett's injury report.

Can We Have Our Ball Back, Please?

On this day, 56 years ago, Mickey Mantle, the then 21-year-old centerfielder for the New York Yankees, hit a two-run home run out of Griffith Stadium, home of the Washington Senators, into the backyard of a neighboring row house, located at 434 Oakdale Street, 565 feet away. Batting right-handed, the switch-hitting Mantle drove Chuck Stobbs’ first pitch toward left center, where, according to various reports, it cleared the 50-foot- high bleachers wall 391 feet from home plate and bounced off the top of a attached 69-foot long scoreboard, disappearing into the surrounding working-class neighborhood.

Before Mantle had finished rounding the bases, Arthur Patterson, a Yankees PR man, fled the stadium in hot pursuit of Mantle’s prodigious blast. Outside, Patterson ran into Donald Dunaway, the young kid who had seen the ball land down the street. After showing Patterson exactly where he picked it up, Dunaway handed over to Patterson the scuffed-up ball and, in return, received an undisclosed sum of money and, eventually, a new ball autographed by Mantle.

Jordan 3000

On April 16, 1987, the Chicago Bulls lost their penultimate regular season game 117-114 to the first place Atlanta Hawks. But don’t blame Michael Jordan. His Airness, the 1986 Slam Dunk Champion, finished with a cool 61 points, 10 boards, 4 steals, a block and an assist in 41 minutes. Jordan’s 61-point outburst was his third straight game with 50 or more points and, during the third quarter, he put up an incredible 23 straight points, a National Basketball Association record. Two of those 23 points, a lay-up, put Jordan past the 3,000-point mark for the season, making him only the second player-- the first since Wilt Chamberlain-- to scale such lofty heights.

The following night, against the Boston Celtics, Jordan scored a comparably pedestrian 17 points, which brought his season total to a ridiculous 3,041 points, or 240 less than his total minutes played for the entire season. Amazingly, Jordan averaged an unconscious 37 points per 40 minutes that year.

Number 42 in Your Program, Number 1 in Your Hearts

On April 15, 1997, in recognition of the 50 anniversary of Jackie Robinson's debut with the Brooklyn Dodgers, Major League Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig retired Robinson's number 42 during a 35-minute ceremony at New York's Shea Stadium. While 11 major leaguers, including Mariano Rivera, Mo Vaughn, Butch Huskey, and Jose "It's Lima Time" Lima, took the field later that night with "42" stitched on their jerseys, only one donned the number for the first time.

Two thousand miles away, in Arlington, 5-11 Marc Sagmoen, a former standout at the University of Nebraska, made his major league debut for the third-place Rangers in an otherwise meaningless game against the Chicago White Sox. Like Robinson, Sagmoen goes hitless in his first game but one-ups the baseball legend when he recorded his first RBI in the bottom of the 6th with a bases-loaded walk against ChiSox hurler James Baldwin. Two days later, on April 17, Sagmoen recorded his first hit in the show, an inside-the-park home run off Kansas City's titular ace, Tim Belcher. Sagmoen hung around for another 19 games, compiling an uninspiring career .140 batting average, before playing out his professional career in the minors. Sagmoen's claim to fame, though, remains: he was the last major leaguer to be issued No. 42 as his official uniform number.

Free Mustache Rides

On April 15, 1972, during the Oakland A’s Opening Day 11-inning victory over the visiting Minnesota Twins, iconoclast Reggie Jackson reportedly became the first high-profile major leaguer to appear in a regular season game with a mustache since Wally Schang wiggled his ‘stache behind the plate for the Philadelphia A’s 58 years earlier, in 1914.

Although Major League Baseball never officially outlawed facial hair, teams, for the most part, nevertheless adhered to an unwritten rule against lip ticklers until Jackson stepped on the sun-drenched, Oakland field with a shadow above his lip, and immediately stirred up a Coliseum-sized shit-storm in the A's front office. Owner Charles Finley ordered manager Dick Williams to make Jackson shave it off. When Williams relayed the message to his superstar slugger, however, Jackson politely told his skipper where, exactly, he could stick his razor. 

A few days later, Finley, a marketing genius, quickly reversed course and offered a $300 bonus for any player willing to grow his own mustache. Pitchers Jim "Catfish" Hunter and Rollie Fingers famously took him up on his offer. A trend was born. Later that season, Finley held a “Mustache Day,” which granted free admission for all mustachioed fans to the team’s Father's Day matinee. By mid-June, the entire 25-man roster sported mustaches, including the stodgy Williams. The team would ride their follicles—and an impressive staff ERA—all the way to the World Series, where they defeated Cincinnati's fresh-faced Big Red Machine in a 7-game match up of “The Hairs vs. The Squares.”

The Big Idea

Recently, I've been researching past sporting events with an eye toward writing about some of the lighter or at least odder moments that have occurred on a particular day. With my homework almost complete, I'm ready to launch a new, semi-regular WGASIG feature that looks at the historical and the hysterical, the idiotic and the ignominious, the curious and, oftentimes, the criminal incidents from the ridiculous world of professional sports. Hilarity ensues this afternoon with my next post. Spoiler alert: It's about facial hair and the opportunistic genius of Charles Finley.

Why Wang Got Whacked, Again

Because he sucks? Well, not quite. Although no one can say for sure, Wang's piss-poor performance, his second in as many starts, is, once again, most likely related to his out-of-whack release point, which is leaving the ball up in the zone and resulting in a somewhat troubling drop in velocity, according to Mike A: 

First of all, those post-May 18th points that are mixed in with the pre-May 18th points are scattered over several starts. It’s not like all those pitches came from one or two starts, they’re spread out over all six starts. Secondly, it’s very likely that the difference in the general horizontal location of the pitches is caused by Wang move more towards the first base side of the rubber, but we’re focusing on the vertical location since Wang said he wanted to come more over the top.

In general, Wang’s throwing the ball from a spot about six inches higher this year than he did last year, no matter if you consider the good ‘08 Wang or the bad ‘08 Wang. That contradicts what he said after the game, but that doesn’t mean he’s lying or the data’s wrong. It’s entirely possible that he wants to release the ball from an even higher spot than he currently is, but I have to ask why? I mean, if throwing it from a slightly lower slot worked last year, why change it? I’m no pitching coach or pitching mechanics expert, so I won’t even attempt to answer those questions. All I do know is that for some reason Wang is releasing the ball from a higher spot than last year and yet he still wants to come even more over the top. 

Like Mike A., I think the 10 months off messed up Wang's mechanics a little bit, and I assume Wang will get his groove back sooner rather than later. I'm not ready to give up on a pitcher who's won 19 games twice in four years. At least not yet, anyway. 

Incidentally, I'm not going to do this after all of Wang's starts. I'm just really impressed with the consistently sterling work by the RAB triumverant. It's really impressive, and deserves many, many looks. I'm crushing on them almost as hard as Andrew Sullivan does on Nate Silver. For serious. 

Las Cucarachas

When civilization finally crumbles, earth will be inhabited by three things: cockroaches, former Bush press secretaries and, shockingly, Isiah Thomas, the recently hired head coach of the men's basketball team at Florida International University.

B.J. Upton is Half-Mays, Half-Gazelle

Five months removed from shoulder surgery, B.J. Upton returned to the Tampa Rays' lineup last night to run ruckus against the shell-shocked Yankees. In six plate appearances, Upton went 1-3, with three walks (fine, one was against Nick Swisher), two stolen bases and two runs scored. Defensively, he tracked down Xavier Nady's second-inning bomb to the deepest part of the Trop, as easily as if he were shagging fly balls during batting practice. Seriously, he made one the most impressive catches of the year--already--look downright pedestrian.  Sadly, the below screen shot doesn't do justice to Upton's freakish athleticism and gazelle-like grace. For the second-by-second replay, take a look here and click play. 


I am now officially terrified of B.J. Upton, one of the most dangerous ballplayers in Major League Baseball. Speed kills, especially slow-footed teams from New York. 

"It's Hard to Think in Laudatory Terms of the Product"

I'm still on vacation. I should be posting more regularly in the next couple of days or so. Until then, enjoy this clip of former Cubs broadcaster Harry Caray ripping into Cracker Jack and the caramel-coated criminality of the American marketplace. Or something like that. 

Why Wang Got Whacked

Because of his inconsistent release point, according to the wizards at River Avenue Blues. 

Pretty chart. But what does it mean? Mike Axisa explains:

Wowza. I used Wang’s complete game two hit job in Fenway last April as my basis of comparison (that’s a combo of both sinkers & four-seamers to make life easy), and look at the difference. His release point is off by about a foot both vertically and horizontally (FYI, the x-axis is the distance from the center of the plate, the y-axis is the distance above the ground, both in feet, each gridline represents one inch). This explains a whole lot, because it’s hard to get that sinker down with such a high release point. Now we know what the Wanger and Dave Eiland have to work on over the next four days.

Hopefully, Wang, like CC, can make the necessary adjustments to his helter-skelter delivery and inconsistent release point before his next start. Otherwise, it could be a long season for Wang and the Yankees. 

"You're F*cking Out, I'm F*cking In"

I don't have HBO, so I've never had the pleasure of watching “Eastbound & Down," a series about Kenny Powers, a washed-up, out-of-control relief pitcher who returns to his hometown of Shelby, North Carolina, to figure out where things went wrong. I've heard great things about it, particularly about its star, Danny McBride, the guy behind "The Foot Fist Way" and the only funny thing about "Tropic Thunder" and "Pinneapple Express." 

For inspiration, Powers apparently listens regularly to his own audiobook, "You're F*cking Out, I'm F*cking In," which, based solely on the below clip, is as funny and outrageous as it sounds. My personal favorite: "One time I was invited to come to a social gathering. I was paid a handsome amount of money, and I brought a shotgun and a bottle of Tanqueray and showed those people the best fucking time they've ever seen." 

And: "I’ve been blessed with many things in this life. An arm like a damn rocket, a cock like a Burmese python, and the mind of a fuckin’ scientist." 

And: "If there's one thing I hate, it's losing. If there's two things I hate, it's losing and getting cancer." 

I think you get the point. Enjoy the compilation. 

(Via Warming Glow)

Baseball, Pittsburgh Both Better with Beer

For the 2009 season , the Pittsburgh Pirates have lowered the cost of a 21-ounce beer at PNC Park to an inviting $4.75, the cheapest price in all of baseball. Coincidentally, the Pirates also feature the second-lowest average ticket price at $15.39 per game, or approximately the cost of two 12-ounce beers at Fenway Park, home of the most expensive brew--and second-highest average ticket price-- in the majors. You get what you pay for, I suppose. 

ElimiNate

Near the end of his otherwise uninteresting profile of the increasingly overhyped Nate Robinson in this week's issue of New York magazine, Mark Jacobson makes an important point about the diminutive guard and, by extension, his frontcourt running mate, David Lee, both of whom will be restricted free agents this summer: "Fact is, both Robinson and Lee are sixth men on a team of seventh and eighth men."

I couldn't have said it better myself, particularly about Nate Robinson. When Nate burst onto the scene in 2005, I cheered on his histrionics and tantalizingly inconsistent play because, well, the Knicks didn't exactly have much else going for them at the time, and I honestly thought Nate had game, a belief that hasn't really changed over the years. As the team gears up for the future, though, it's becoming increasingly clear that Nate and his game don't exactly fit into the organization's long-term plans. Sure, Nate's an explosive role player, a quick spark off the bench. But he's not a building block—at least not for this team, which has failed to win more than 35 games in any year with him on the roster. What, exactly, has Nate shown over his tenure with the Knicks to warrant a second contract, other than two meaningless Slam Dunk titles and four years of losing basketball? For all his talents and razzle-dazzle, I'm afraid Nate is simply a luxury the Knicks can no longer afford.

One Shinning Moment

An insipid, fitting end to a pretty uninspiring 2009 tournament. 

Yanks Lose: More Grist for the Mill

Touch pearls, the Yankees lost. Although I would have preferred to see them win on Opening Day, I can't get too excited about yesterday's beat down. There are still 161 games to be played, and I like the Yankees' chances of winning more than their fair share. You wouldn't think that, though, judging from this morning's papers, which have all but eliminated the Yankees from playoff contention. Here are some of the more hysterical reactions from the press, both local and national. 

John Heyman, SI: 

Between Sabathia and Teixeira, the Yankees got zero return on their $341 million investment. 

Bill Madden, New York's Daily News: 

Game One of 2009 seemed all too familiar to 2008, beginning with the starting pitching. This wasn't what anyone envisioned.

Madden's colleague, Anthony McCarron: 

A few more games like this and the Joba Chamberlain-to-the-bullpen clamor will begin anew because the two relievers the Yankees are hoping take over the eighth-inning duties did not perform well.

Joel Sherman, New York Post: 

In a down economic climate, the Yanks invested $341 million on just [Sabathia and Teixeira]. They are not going to feel bad about those decisions at 0-1. However, no one wants to make a bad first impression as a Yankee because the hole is always a little deeper, so deep that many never truly escape.

Mike Celizic, nbcsports.com: 

It’s a good thing for the Yankees that you don’t draw broad conclusions from one game, because if you did, the conclusion would be expressed in two words: they stink [...] the first person whose backside is going to be on the line is the manager, Joe Girardi. This team, built at the Yankees’ customary obscene expense, is build to win now. And in the Yankee worldview, 'now' doesn’t apply just to full seasons. It applies to every game.

The Yankees will try to salvage their season tomorrow night. Until then, take a look here and here for a more reasonable take on yesterday's loss. 

MLB 2009 Predictions: An Exercise in Futility

Trying to get out in front of possible story lines or anticipate a particular team's performance over 162 games is next to impossible, perhaps even downright stupid. So many things can happen to a ball club between now and the end of the month, let alone between Opening Day and October. I'm going to take my chances, though, and predict the six division champs, the two wild card winners and the eventual World Series champion. Here, as they say, goes nothing:

American League:
Yankees
Twins
Angels
Red Sox (Wild Card)

National League:

Braves
Cubs
Dodgers
Mets (Wild Card)

World Series:

Yankees over Braves.   

The Snap, Go, Fling of the American Atmosphere, C**ksucker

Sure the weather this morning sucks, and there's a less than 50 percent chance today's games will be played, but even the idea of meaningful baseball games has me positively giddy. In recognition of Opening Day, then, here's a clip from Bull Durham, the greatest movie ever made about the national pastime, Walt Whitman's favorite game. You could look it up.  

Mookie Blaylock

Because it's Friday, I thought I'd bring your attention to a pretty cool feature the guys from Pearl Jam (or at least their people) put together in anticipation of the band's March reissue of their debut album, Ten.


It's a 3-dimensional puzzle, which, once assembled, lets you enjoy a few remastered tracks,a couple of live tracks and a few from the band's 1992 Unplugged performance. Once all the tracks are unlocked, a bonus "Master/Slave" video plays. It's worth the look, and the time. Be careful, though: the game is incredibly addictive and, at first, a little frustrating and completely disorienting. 

Also, because it's Friday, here's my own bonus clip of Pearl Jam's first official gig. It's at the Off Ramp, in 1990, when they were still known as Mookie Blaylock. First song, first show, the Holy Grail of Pearl Jam bootlegs. 

What Mighty Contests

I don't just get my sports jollies from men in baggy shorts and baseball caps. Every now and again, I like to check in on the tweedier contests of the more erudite-- and  galactically less coordinated. From the Book Bench, the New Yorker books blog, comes this interesting round up of a recent table quiz that pitted three teams-- of authors, editors and agents-- against one another in a winner-take-all, 5 v 5 literary trivia battle royale. Although the authors ultimately took home the fake, plastic trophy, the best line of the night came from the mouth of a disgruntled literary agent.  I'll let the Book Bench's Victoria Loustalot set the scene, and deliver the well-timed kicker:

In the first round, when Lethem correctly answered the question “The clocks strike thirteen in the opening line of what classic novel?” (answer: “1984” by George Orwell), a feisty young agent in knee-high black leather boots yelled, “Get a job!”

The contest was sponsored by Splice magazine, a Brooklyn-based literary journal I never knew existed.

Channing Frye and His Pet Dragon

This is kind of random, but Channing Frye, formerly of the University of Arizona and the New York Knicks, wrote a post on his blog about the weird and out-of-control popularity of the Twilight series. He doesn't get it:

I asked [my girlfriend] what was so intriguing about the book and here was her analysis: “The reason why I and many women love this story is because the main vampire, Edward, is deeply in love with Bella (main women character.) He loves her but cannot do anything physical with her and that type of “naughty” tension (wink, wink) is what I think keeps people reading. The fact that he loves her and doesn’t want to hurt her, yet he says, “her blood is the sweetest he had smelled in a 100 years.” So he can’t do anything with her because he might lose control and EAT her. Therein lies the conflict and the draw for reading these stories.

Now, when I heard this, the first thing I thought of was how lonely is this girl that outta all of the people in all the world she falls in love with a dang vampire? I mean, come on. That’s like me having a pet lion or a pet dragon and loving it all day and never coming to the conclusion that hey, when my pet dragon or lion is hungry all this lovey-dovey stuff is going out the window. It’s gonna bite my face off.

God bless Channing, and his almost pathological literal-mindedness.

(Via TrueHoop)

A Catholic Lapse

There was a time, not too long ago, when Catholic colleges and universities dominated college basketball. However, as the Quad, the New York Times college sports blog, points out, Catholic basketball programs haven't found much success in recent tournaments. Since 1985, the year Villanova won it all, Seton Hall is the only Catholic school to play in a national championship game. That was in 1989, when I was 10, two years removed from my First Communion, and four years after Georgetown, St. John's and Villanova all reached the Final Four.

That was not considered especially noteworthy at the time, as Catholic colleges regularly made it to the season’s last weekend through the 1980s. Of the 40 teams in the Final Four that decade, seven were from Catholic colleges — Georgetown three times, St. John’s, Villanova, Providence and Seton Hall.

But in the 20 years since then, only three achieved the feat — Marquette in 2003, Georgetown in 2007 and now Villanova in 2009.

My faith calls for me to pull for Villanova, but my bracket demands Michigan State. Tom Izzo's father is Catholic: does that count?