Thursday, May 10, 2007

“NOWHERE TO RUN, AIN’T GOT NOWHERE TO GO”

“Howard J. Rubenstein, the spokesman for the Yankees’ principal owner, George Steinbrenner, said the policy was an expression of patriotism.”

Reminds me of one of my favorite TBF quotes: “God blesses Bangladesh exactly as much as he blesses America.”

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

HAIRCUT 100.

[likely stealing this post title from the boys over at Misery Loves Company, but it was too good not to use]

So I could make some kind of witty comments about how when the Mets go to San Francisco, they can’t wear flowers in their hair any more, but that’s even below me. I know, I wasn’t supposed to watch the game, but plans got reshuffled and I didn’t have to get up at 5:30 after all (6:15 instead), and no matter what, I absolutely could watch the pre-game show.

“David Wright cut his HAIR?” That was TBF, not me.
From there, of course, the incredulity only grew.
We started trying to guess who would (and wouldn’t) cut their hair, or who had cut their hair.
I was backing Beltran from the outset, while TBF was dubious.
On the other hand, I couldn’t believe that Reyes wouldn’t (chicken!).

The pre-game finished, and I ran off to brush my teeth. TBF appeared in the bathroom door a few minutes later.
“The haircuts are working. I put it on pause.”

By the end of that first inning, the night before was just a bad dream. This is the Mets we know. This is how we do things.
I went to sleep with Howie on the radio and even one Barry Bonds home run couldn’t give me bad dreams.

We need to find a way to get out to AT&T Park, and soon. There is wi-fi in the entire stadium! And my friend Shirley told me tales of the past when Palm users could have the starting lined up beamed into their devices each game as they entered the park.
(TBF both loves and hates this idea. I told him that if he lived there, he’d get the lineup electronically, but then still keep the box score manually. He says I’m probably right.)
It kills me to think of all the times in the past I was in various cities on business (or pleasure) with time to kill, and all the ballgames and baseball parks I could have seen by now.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

FRISCO BLUES.

This 10:15pm game start time kind of sucks. I was excited to see the OP-Zito matchup, and I totally thought I’d make it through. What I didn’t take into account was what would happen if we didn’t do well. It’s easy to fight sleepiness and agony when it’s 9pm. It’s a lot harder when it’s 11pm and the team is going from 3-1 to 6-1 (when I gave up) and then 9-1 (when I was brushing my teeth). I went to sleep with Howie on the radio, making the astute observation that the Mets looked tired, but it was only early May.

Yeah.

Add to all of this how unbearable TBF becomes when the Mets lose, and me getting cranky about the time Easley made that error, and then the two of us being mutually cranky at the Mets and each other:
“You said they were playing sloppy baseball!”
“But they were!”
“Not until you said they were!”
“You’re overreacting!”

To be fair to everyone involved, two bad home run calls on consecutive days would knock the wind out of me, too. On the other hand, I feel like I don’t know who the real Shawn Green is, and I will never, ever feel comfortable with Alou in left field, no matter how far and how often he hits.

David Wright. Needs to stop saying “yes” to every magazine cover and PR opportunity unless it’s for his charity foundation. I used to think - of course he’s going to take advantage of every opportunity, that’s exactly what he should be doing, who knows when the spotlight will stop shining. But now - I won’t blame all of the distractions for the slump but I feel like something’s gotta give.

Finally, was anyone else as disappointed at the SNY “Take the 7 Train to shea with Joe Smith” segment as we were? Maybe if they hadn’t hyped it up so much and just showed it as color, but aside from the technical problems (did no one think about the issues of lighting and sound before you got on the subway?), the segment had so much potential but ended up being long and bland. Plus, he doesn’t take the 7 train, ever - he drives (hence the constant parking tickets) - so I’m not quite sure what the point was. Hey, dude, Glavine and Wagner carpool from Greenwich, you and Johnny Maine could share the drive from LIC.

I will miss the game tonight because I have to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow, and we’re going to see Arcade Fire at Radio City on Wednesday night - so there go my game-viewing options for the next two days. I can’t tell whether this will make me more or less cranky. But, provided we survive the rest of the week, we’ll be at Shea Friday night to watch the Mets play the Brewers.

Monday, May 07, 2007

ROCKET TO RUSSIA.

I am sitting in my home office, working, when I hear something coming from TBF’s computer. The now-infamous Suzyn Waldman - exclamation - of A Certain Pitcher’s return to the Bronx. (In this house, this individual truly is He Who Shall Not Be Named.)
“I heard that last night on WFAN,” I tell him.
TBF appears in the doorway.
“It’s terrible,” I continue.
“See, people are saying things, and I could say things, but I don’t want people to think I’m an icky guy.”
“You’re not. It’s terrible. It sounds like she’s having an orgasm.”
“That’s what other people are saying, only not so nice.”
“Yeah. Well. It’s terrible. I’m embarrassed.”
“I think you should write about it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”

When I first got into all of this, I remember TBF telling me there was a female radio announcer for the Yankees, and that she was, unfortunately, not very good. And part of me feels like, damn, this is one hard profession to want to be in that badly, and then the other part of me listens to the occasional Yankee broadcast and asks TBF, “Do I hate her because she’s announcing for the Yankees, or just because she’s not very good?”

That call yesterday was terrible. It was over the top, excessive, and embarrassing, because all the icky guys out there are going to take advantage of it to make every piggish comment they can possibly make. By all means, show emotion, by all means, convey to the fan listening on the radio the feeling of the moment in the stadium.  By all means, do not be a bland blonde bimbo, freely display your intelligence and personality.

That call, unfortunately, did none of those things.

And now I just want this to be over with, because TBF’s middle finger is going to fall off from his need to brandish it every time we see Clemens’ face anywhere, and now his arrival is going to overshadow anything that happens the weekend after next, even if he’s nowhere near Flushing.

[Audio link via Toasted Joe.]

Saturday, May 05, 2007

THE NY TIMES INVESTIGATES:

What it’s like to be a hot dog vendor at Shea.  (Be sure to watch the video.)

Somehow I am not surprised to learn that Shea leads the major leagues in hot dog consumption. Maybe because everywhere else they’re *not* Nathan’s and Hebrew National and as a result, taste like ***?

Friday, May 04, 2007

LET A MAN COME IN AND DO THE POPCORN (PART 1)

8th inning:
“Oh, my god, Gary, stop talking about the f’ing popcorn.”
“All that matters is--” TBF intones, “--Endy is The Man.”

Not a nail biter, but not a clean sweep either. I am struck by Maine’s command, my serene knowledge that, even with men on first and second, he will get us out of it - and he does.

Julio Franco is now officially the oldest man I will never make fun of. Does that count as a water landing?
I am a little sad, though, that he is not the oldest man to have a celebration dance with Jose Reyes. (Just a hug.)

I love the view of the dugout at Chase Field. But tonight I was rueing that I had not been more diligent with my Spanish lessons (and no, not the ones from the Jose Reyes Spanish Academy).

The story about Lo Duca’s mom (from Gary and Ron) was just heartbreaking.

And - Damion Easley and the double play - did you watch that? No flamboyance, no wasted movement whatsoever. Seriously, if the man is just so - zen.

In the end, the popcorn doesn’t matter, but I am indignant on Endy’s behalf.

EASLEY DOES IT.

There, I’m going to use my own damn cliche first.

I wasn’t even going to watch this game. I have been fighting some kind of Spring bug all this week, hence the lack of posting - we didn’t go to the game on Tuesday, even - and I was asleep until the 4th inning, when I couldn’t sleep any more, and was having dreams about Shea being much smaller but square. (It’s a stomach thing. Always gives me weird dreams.)

I was working on my Friday Photo when Damion freaking Easley came up to bat and on a 2-0 count knocked one over the fences, on the side of the park opposite the swimming pool.

“We’re going to go back to that,” TBF picks up the remote.
“Because we weren’t expecting it.”
“Just like last time.”

I predict that the duo of Easley and Chavez will become very popular this year.

FRIDAY PHOTO. [5-4-07]

In honor of Dr. Randolph’s upcoming honorary doctorate from my alma mater this weekend (College at Lincoln Center, represent!), this week’s Friday Photo is one of my favorite photos of Willie, chatting with Cliff Floyd during BP in Pittsburgh last year.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

PARK LIFE. [4-30-07]

Welcome to the upper deck on a Monday night, against the Marlins. El Duque on the DL. To quote TBF, “Hmmm. Pitcher called up due to injury, four letter last name - where have I seen this movie before?” You’ve all seen this movie before, because it’s called The Pitcher Sucked Was Not Great, and The Team Was Asleep.

I know. The same wind that should have carried our balls out over the fence also carried THEIR balls out, over the fence, against the scoreboard, and, mysteriously, out of our gloves. There was one inning-ending play so bad (when Reyes, Easley, Green and Delgado, if not Alou too for good measure, all went running for the ball, with Reyes ultimately dropping it) that I just started screaming along the lines of: “ALL FOUR OF YOU??! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” The crowd starts to boo Park and I join in, feeling the need to clarify, “I’M NOT BOOING HIM, I’M BOOING THE FOUR OF YOU, YOU KNOW BETTER!”

The team wakes up, rallies back to regain four runs, only to let them get another two. People were leaving in droves, and honestly, I don’t know how much I blamed them. It was windy, and the Mets didn’t seem to care, why should they?

You know it’s bad when the highlight of the game is the addition of Sr. Oliver Perez to the faculty at the Jose Reyes Spanish Academy.

Moments from tonight’s game:

“I don’t know any swear words in Korean,” I said.
TBF says something unintelligible, but that sounds like Korean.
“What’s that?”
“It’s ‘hello’. It’s what Jae Seo used to say during the ground rules.”
“That’s not helpful right now.”

Rick Peterson walks out of the dugout. “‘Coaching visit to mound,’” TBF comments, in his best Gamecast imitation.
“What’s he going to say? ‘Chan Ho, do you like kimchi? And do you like ice cream? Do you like them together? Well, right now it’s like you’re putting kimchi on your ice cream,’” I attempt.

[more after the jump]