Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Is His Saliva the Secret to his Cutter?

There were plenty of good things going on in yesterday's ALCS game against the Angels. Joba Chamberlain giving up the lead was one of them. Seeing Jeff Mathis double in the game-winning run in the 11th was another. But as I was scrolling down my newsfeed on Facebook, I was a post from my friend Peter Costa.

His status read "MO IS A CHEATER!" in all caps with a link to youtube of Rivera allegedly spitting on the ball.

I'm appauled by hearing this as a Red Sox fan. I can only imagine how Yankee fans feel. Rivera, unquestionably the best closer ever, doctoring the ball for an advantage?! What's next? Ichiro Suzuki corking his bat?

Now before I get too far ahead of myself, the evidence is circumstantial. You can't really tell if he's spitting on the ball or past the ball. I want to give Rivera the benefit of the doubt, but his guilty glance over his shoulder before he spat looks pretty incriminating.

Regardless whether he doctored the ball or not, the story has circulated. There's little doubt that when Rivera arrives at the ball park today, reporters will be waiting by his locker to question the Sandman. Hopefully the rumors are enough to throw off the veteran Yankees tonight as C.C. looks to be the stopper against the Yankees.


Great Weekend to be a Boston Fan in New York


Wow. The past couple days have been great to be a Boston fan in New York. Even if my beloved Red Sox have been bounced from the playoffs for the last week. Not only did the undefeated Giants lose to the Saints on Sunday, but the Juts choked big time against defunct division rival, the Buffalo Bills. And the icing on the cake? The Yankees losing in extra innings last night to the Angels.

What a job-a by Joba! Another postseason choke for Joba the Hut. Where are the swarm of flies when he needs them most? This just another reason why the Yankees have misused Joba Chamberlain. First, he's a lights-out setup man and the heir-apparent to Mariano Rivera. Then he's a pompous number five guy with flashes of brilliance and let's everyone know it. Next, he's a drunk driver in Nebraska. And now, he's a "project". They didn't want to tire him out so they put him on a program. The worst thing they could have done to a horse like Joba. After the Yankees win the World Series (I know I jinxed them before they could even get started), it will be interesting how Joba is handled for the rest of his tenure with the Yankees.

Here's a tip for Joe Girardi: If you want to win the World Series, sit Joba. He lets his emotions boil over, which is a big playoff no-no and it shows.

In other depressing New York sports news. Meet the new Juts. Same as the old Juts. I'm a little confused here. Where did all these cocky Jets go? Wasn't it just a few short weeks ago that Jut fans were anointing themselves Super Bowl champions and having the key of the city made for Mark Dirty Sanchez. The rookie QB threw 6 INTs against a mediocre Buffalo defense and has 10 INTs for the season. After getting off to a very good start the Juts have stumbled, losing three straight. The team says Sanchez is still their starter. HA! Good luck. I'll take my chances with Tom Brady thank you very much.

So much for Rex Ryan not kissing Belichick's rings. If he was smart, he'd kiss a little more than just his rings. Maybe Ryan could get some tips on how to handle division opponents over a cigarette and some cuddling. (I just vomited after envisioning that picture.) Something tells me that the November 22 meeting in New England will go a little differently than the first time around. And I can already envision Ryan kneeling down on his fat knee and kissing Belichick's ring. Belichick is the Michael Corleone of the NFL. It's only a matter of time before the Don strikes at the perfect time.

And in other news, the New York Football Giants lose decisively to the 4-0 New Orleans Saints; which was being labeled as a possible NFC Championship match-up. The Giants failed to show up for the showdown at the Superdome, as the Saints cleaned their cleats with the G-Men. A lack of an aggressive running game (Will Brandon Jacobs relocate his balls?), and an exposed weakness in their secondary were the reasons for their loss.

I watched all three games, intently. And I loved every second of it. Hey, I'm a sports fan. I realize the Yankees are the best team in baseball. I know the Giants are one of the best in the league. And maybe the Juts have had a good quarter here and there. But let me relish in the minor moments where New Yorkers feel down on their luck.

And if you're feeling really there, don't worry there's good news on the way! The New York Knickerbockers tip off their 2009-2010 campaign October 28 against Miami! New York fans rejoice! YAY!

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Yankee fans can't fill out stands for ALCS


[Editor's Note: Rehashed story from Boston.BarstoolSports.com]

The Yankees are in the ALCS for the first time since — ahem — 2004. But Yankee Stadium may not be sold out tonight for Game 1 against the Angels. That would be embarrassing for the business side of the organization. 6,000 seats available as of last night through the team. Just a few minutes ago, to see what was out there, I pulled up four tickets on Yankees.com for section 221. OK, so they were $431 each. But they were there. The Yankees trumpeted their postseason ticket prices a few weeks ago, proudly saying they had held the line on prices. But apparently they didn’t go far enough. So if you’re a Yankees or Angels fan and in the vicinity of the Bronx tonight, seats are there to be had. Dress warm.

Wow, I saw this today and I just had to throw it up here. I can't let New Yorkers get too big of a head after last night's big win. Who's to blame here? The shitty New York fans or the shitty New York organization? Tough one to answer. Sure the ticket prices are outrageous and something should be done to lower tickets. BUT, it's the ALCS! C'mon Yankee fans step up to the plate here. Now is the chance to get the 2004 ALCS cobwebs off your face and you guys can't even fill a stadium? I know people who mortgaged off their homes to get tickets to Game 5 in 2004. You guys have no problem showing the love when Jay-Z's "Empire State of Mind" hits the speakers. How about showing up when A-Rod hits the game-tying home run in the rain?

The ball is in your court Yankee fans. Do something with it.

Titans @ Patriots: Tale of the Tape




Tennessee Titans (0-5) at New England (3-2) 4:15 EST.

Both teams are coming off demoralizing losses last week. Tennessee lost to division-rival Indianapolis at home, while New England blew a lead to former offensive coordinator Josh McDaniels and his upstart Denver team. The Titans are searching for the first win of the 2009 season. The Patriots are trying to avoid losing back-to-back games for the first time since late 2006. You know Jeff Fisher wants to get his first win of the season today. You know Belichick won't get beat up on his own field. Who has the edge? Who will walk off the field victorious?

Let's go to the tape:

Tennessee Titans offensive rankings:
  • Points-84 (24th)

  • Yards-1,434 (14th)

  • Passing Yards-886 (17th)

  • Passing TD-5 (17th)

  • Yard per attempt- 5.6 (19th)

  • Rushing yards-548 (7th)

  • Rushing TD-4 (9th)

  • Yard per rush- 5.5 (2nd)

New England Patriots defensive rankings:

  • Points-91 (11th)

  • Yards-1,150 (7th)

  • Passing Yards-769 (7th)

  • Passing TD-5 (12th)

  • Yard per attempt-5.9 (14th)

  • Rushing yards-381 (9th)

  • Rushing TD-1 (3rd)

  • Yard per rush-4.5 (21st)

Strength meets strength as the Titans tandem backfield of Chris Johnson and LenDale White goes against the Patriots stout front seven anchored by whale of the DT Vince Wilfork. The key matchups will be found in the trenches. And with a 100% chance of rain with tempertures in the mid-forties, expect both teams to go to the ground game.

The Patriots lack of big plays of defense will have to end today or the Titans run game will lull the D to sleep. Kerry Collins will slip up with a lackluster cast of WR's and a slick ball.


EDGE: Titans.

Titans Defensive Rankings:

  • Points-139 (29th)

  • Yards-1,448 (21st)

  • Passing yards-1,129 (30th)

  • Passing TD-10 (30th)

  • Yards per attempt-7.1 (28th)

  • Rushing yards- 319 (7th)

  • Rushing TD-2 (7th)

  • Yards per rush-2.8 (2nd)

Patriots Offensive Rankings:

  • Points-104 (18th)

  • Yards-1,504 (10th)

  • Passing yards-1,095 (6th)

  • Passing TD-4 (24th)

  • Yards per attempt-6.2 (16th)

  • Rushing yards-409 (19th)

  • Rushing TD-4 (9th)

  • Yards per rush-3.7 (25th)

Obvious mismatch with the Patriots passing offense and the Titans passing defense. Tom Brady, frustrated after last week's choke against Denver, will look to rebound in MVP-type fashion rain or shine. Having WR Wes Welker back opens up the whole field for Brady to pick apart the defense. Patriot receivers must hold on to the ball this week.

As for the Titans, their defense has been a bigger fraud than the kid lost on the hot air balloon. They are visibly hurting from the off-season departure of DT Albert Haynesworth.

EDGE: Patriots.

Coaching:

C'MMMOONNN. In Belichick we trust! AND he's at home. AND he won't let his team lose two straight.

EDGE: Patriots.

The Patriots have not been manhandling teams like they were in 2007, but that's o.k. The teams that grind it out are battle-tested and it builds character. Just ask the Steelers about that. Patriots grind it out in the rain, 24-17.

Sport's Purgatory: Post-Game Fan Schitzophrenia















Just an amazing day to be a sports fan. Well, kinda. Sorta. Maybe. I'm torn in two directions. I'm stuck between a forked road without a map. The feeling started creeping up at around 3:53 p.m. I tried denying it around 9:25 p.m. Harsh realization began to set in around 1:07 a.m. I am a sports fan. And I have post-game fan schitzophrenia. And this is my story.

The USC-Notre Dame game is my favorite game I hate looking forward to. If that sentence doesn't make sense, just imagine how I really feel. USC's dominance this decade has been nothing short of legendary. And leading the way is Dr. Feel Good, Pete Carroll; shit-eating grin and all. LA's preeminent football team has churned out prospect after prospect from all over the field. (Carroll's actually sent 53 players to the NFL, 14 first-rounders; Carson Palmer, Matt Leinart, Troy Polamalu, Reggie Bush, Lofa Tatupu highlight the list.) The Trojans had an air to them. I hate to use the term, but if it's ever applicable--the USC Trojans have swag. And everyone who watched them could see it the moment their cleats would touch the grass at the Rose Bowl. I love everything about the Trojans...

...and then there's Notre Dame. I grew up on Notre Dame. I love Rudy. I cried the first time I watched it. I cried the last time I watched it. (Hey, it's a touching movie, man. Back off.) As an Irish kid growing up, I must've had a thousand Fighting Irish hats--you gotta rep your heritage. And when Charlie Weis, one-third architect of the Patriots dynasty, signed on to coach his alma-mater I was hooked all over again. So when the two teams collide I'm on the fence more than John Kerry at the Pepsi Challenge. Watching the game unfold is like watching two girls fight over you: you want to step in to lend a hand, but you can't decide which one means more!

From the moment the first ball was hiked at South Bend, I was thrown for a loop. On the one hand, I want USC to stay undefeated and continue their climb towards a third national championship title this decade. But on the other, I want Charlie Weis to keep his job and see Jimmy Clausen carry the Irish to a BSC game.

What's a fan to do in this situation? Hope for a tie? Maybe they will decide both teams tried really really hard, and that everyone is a winner. Is this what New Yorkers think when the Giants play the Jets? Or does the state of New York just secede the victory to the G-Men? (Does anyone know when the Bills are moving to Canadia?)

Which brings me to tonight's ALCS game. Oh my gaaahhdd. What a game, what a game. But yet again, I'm left more confused than after seeing John C. Reilly in the trailer for The Vampire's Assistant--wasn't this guy last playing a retard in Step Brothers? The game was an instant classic, no doubt. But did it have to be the Angels and the Yankees? Did it have to be Boba Fett and Darth Vader? The Beantown bias in me is boiling over as we speak. It's the exact opposite position I was in for the USC-Notre Dame game. I don't know who I want to lose more: the team that beat my team or the team I can't bare to watch win it all.

The baseball purist in me is saying that I should feel fulfilled after watching such a compelling game. I mean, Mariano Rivera going 2 & 1/3 innings is something that should be watched without blinking. Alex Rodriguez exercising his playoff demons after confronting his steroid use at the start of the season is one of the best sports stories this year. All this happening in the inaugeration of New Yankee Stadium. It really should be a memorable postseason.


There's gotta be some cure for this right? How do I get out of sport's equivalent for purgatory. I'm neither happy nor sad. I'm inbetween emotions; a gray area reserved only for the most undecisive decision-makers. Please tell me I'm not the only one! Tell me I'm not alone!

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Baseball & Family: How Baseball has saved the American family

So it's been a while since I've last checked this. It's about time I dust the keys off. But to my defense the fall semester of my senior year has been a little stressful. I led my fraternity, Tau Kappa Epsilon, to the best overall float for the Homecoming Parade at Hofstra University. Talk about winning one for the little guy! That's the equivalent of 1997 Florida Marlins! The job couldn't have been done without the help of the lovely ladies of Alpha Phi (shoutout!). Despite what others may say, it was done through hard work and was absolutely worthy of the top prize--a trophy roughly the size of Earl Boykins. Can someone cue Kanye West?
Homecoming aside, my classes have been better than expected! One class I'm taking is entitled "Baseball in Literature". I know, right? It's a dream come true, isn't it? We've been reading famous books and discussing the effect they've had on culture, and how culture has effected these novels. The great part is that these are all books I should have read, but have been too lazy to get around to it (The Natural, Bang the Drum Slowly, The Year the Yankees Lost the Pennent to name a few).

Don't get me wrong, here. We do do more than just read baseball stories and discuss them. We write papers on baseball and its relationship with American culture. I just got my first paper back and it was B+ work. So I decided that B+ work is worthy enough to share with you, the respected reader! And if you don't like it...fuck off, I don't care what you think anyway.
I kid! I kid!
Baseball and Family: How Baseball Has Kept the American Family Together

The thick summer air slows the ball down before it hits the palm of my worn Rawlings mitt. I wind-up, focusing on the imaginary strike zone as my father waits patiently from the crouch, glove extended. Before I could deliver a devastating curve my mother calls out from the deck, “Boys! The burgers are ready,” and the game is stopped immediately. The gloves are dropped and the race to get the best burger is on. Even my Golden Retriever, Huckleberry, is in on the hunt. We all gather together at the table over burgers, buns, and baseball. The Red Sox are hosting the Yankees today, so there is a reason to watch the television from the dinner table. My father and I stayed glued to the screen, chatting about Dice-K’s chances shutting down the potent Yankee lineup, a modern-day Murderer’s Row. My mother even gets involved, even if it is superficial. “That Jacoby Ellsbury is just too cute!”

After dinner, we all sit down in the living room and watch intently as the game unfolds. When the Sox score a run from a wall-ball double off the Green Monster, we erupt from our seats—yes, even my mother. And when the Yankees answer back with two runs of their own in the seventh inning, we make sure to curse them as they round the bases as if the players could actually hear us—and yes, even my mother had some choice words.

Baseball has helped build strong families and kept them together since its inception before the 1900’s. Unlike its American rival, football, baseball has family values in its core. Fathers instill their love of the game in their new-born children, giving them gloves or putting a miniature bat in their hands before they can even walk upright. And as the children grow-up and start in their first tee-ball league they learn vital developmental skills, not only for the game of baseball, but for the game of life as well. Most importantly, on those sunny Saturday mornings when the games are played the whole family grabs their lawn chairs and bagged lunches and come together to celebrate the game as they watch one of their own play.

Where football is a game that brothers bash each other in the backyard, baseball is passed down—almost ritualistically—from a father to his son or daughter. There are certain nooks and crannies to the game that may seem trivial, but have a huge impact in the life of a child. For example, the process of going out for the first real glove with your father; from feeling out the glove to making sure it fits but that there’s still enough room to grow. And as soon as you get home what happens next? You can’t even use it! Your father greases up the mitt, throws a ball deep in the webbing, wraps a rubber band two-fold around it, and tells you to put in underneath your mattress for the weekend. Developmental skill number one: patience.
There is something very metaphorical about a father and a son having a catch in the backyard. The father is passing his knowledge of the game onto his son or daughter with every toss of the ball. It may not seem like much, but as we saw in Field of Dreams all Ray Kinsella wanted was to have a catch with his dad, whom he had a dysfunctional relationship with. In fact, the whole reason Ray built the field was for that exact reason: “If you build it, he [his father] will come”. There is an unspoken bond when that leather-bound ball hits the worn leather of the mitt—a perfect silence, where one knows what the other is exactly thinking without ever saying a word.

In the dawn of the Internet, text messaging, and interactive television, baseball helps children stay active and stay out of trouble. Unlike the Golden Era of baseball in 1940’s-50’s, today’s society almost demands that both parents work to provide for the family. As a result, the level of unsupervised children is through the roof—which can lead to causing trouble, experimentation with drugs and alcohol, and other damaging actions to pass the time. But baseball provides children with structured fun while teaching fundamentals of the game and in life. As you learn the game of baseball, you learn to have patience and wait for the right pitch; much like in life—timing is everything. There are eight other players on field that you must rely on in order to win the game. Developmental skill number two: trust. Baseball also teaches young players that if they work hard they will be rewarded. If you bust your butt at practice, it will pay off in the games. That same logic could be applied to schoolwork or business. Developmental skill number three: hard work pays off in the long run.

However, baseball is not limited only to the male end of the family. Women have played a pivotal role in how baseball has saved the American family. In fact, one might say that they are at the foundation of it. As a parent, more importantly as a mother, it is imperative to take an active interest in the interests of their children. The role of the mother may not be as intricate as the father—who teaches the game more often than not—but she certainly plays a contributing factor. Personally, if it wasn’t for my mother’s nourishing encouragement after those 0-for-4 days I might have quit playing when I was 14. She never fully understood the game—or fully enjoyed it for that matter—but she enjoyed that her son enjoyed it. And that’s all that should be expected. Throughout baseball literature, women were no more than glorified cheerleaders as it was. They were put in the story to support the hero; to support him in times of good and nurture him when times fell rough. Getting back to Field of Dreams, Ray’s wife, Annie, stands beside Ray as he cuts down a third of his corn field on a whacky dream he had. And in small-town Iowa, where money is thing as it is, that is economic suicide. She’d be crazy to let him do that. But she does and she defends the decision to her brother while embracing her husband’s reconnection with his childhood. The role of the woman in the family is to keep the family a loving, close unit. That is exactly what Annie Kinsella did, even if she wasn’t 100% sure about her husband’s hunch.

The game goes on filled with the jeers and cheers of an actual baseball stadium. As the Red Sox take the lead in the late innings my family takes a collective sigh of relief as Jonathan Papelbon walks to the mound. And in this busy world we live in, we will all go back to our lives after that last strike is called. Father will go handle the family bills. Mother will clean up the kitchen and prepare for her meeting tomorrow. And the kids will get back be getting ready for school. But for those three hours and fifteen minutes everything stops and we are together, enjoying our company and our team. Developmental skill number four: like a team, family is always there for each other.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

In a era filled with cheaters, Jeter stands alone

"He'd been summoned by the baseball gods; to carry the torch, to help save the team and the stadium and maybe even the game of baseball itself." - Peter Richmond in GQ Magazine



Derek Jeter is the best player of my generation. There, I said it. I'm not even mad about it. Go ahead Jerry Remy revoke my Red Sox Nation card. I don't care. In fact, I happily accept Jeter wearing that title with open arms. Since he broke in the league as a 22-year-old pinstriped phenom Jeter has had an aura around him. A little pep in his step, if you will. And as Jeter closes in on Lou Gehrig's all-time hits record of 2,721, it only seems right to annoint him as simply the best.


To sit here and list off all the stats and all the accolades throughout Jeter's career would just be the tip of the iceberg. And he has a lot of those too, missing only a regular-season MVP award in his trophy room. Instead here are three pivotal moments in Jeter's illustrious career that have set him apart from the Albert Pujols', Barry Bonds', and Alex Rodriguez's of the world.

A budding star and natural-born leader emerges after game 6 of the 1996 World Series against Atlanta.



OCTOBER 26, 1996
The 1996 New York Yankees were a savvy bunch to say the least. The roster was chock-full of veterans who knew who to play the game. Wade Boggs, Paul O'Neill, Tino Martinez, Bernie Williams, Ruben Sierra, Tim Raines, Jim Leyritz, and Cecil Fielder were among the veterans in the lineup. Kenny Rogers, David Cone, Dwight Gooden, and Jimmy Key anchored the pitching staff. This was a bunch of guys who have been through it all a thousand times. But the moment Derek Jeter's spikes crossed the white chalk on the field, it became his team.

There wasn't that much of a difference in personnel from '95 and '96. Except for making a 22-year-old with no more than 15 games of Major League experience. There is little coincidence the Yankees won four of the next five World Series after Jeter became an everyday player. He has that natural knack of when he speaks people listen. How he acts, people follow be it veteran, coach, or owner. For the playoffs Jeter had 22 hits in 15 games good for a .360 average, a .410 OBP, 3 SBs, and 3 RBIs.



You begin to scratch the surface after witnessing game 3 of the 2001 ALDS against Oakland.


OCTOBER 13, 2001
The Yankees were down 0-2 in the series and facing elimination in the stadium. It was the seventh inning and a rocket down the firstbase line sent the not-so-fleet-of-foot Jeremy Giambi off at first. The ball rattles arounds the right-field corner and Shane Spencer comes up with it and fires homes. As Giambi hits third the ball is in flight, soaring over the heads of cutoff men Alfonso Soriano and Tino Martinez. Jeter is where he's supposed to be; on the pitcher's mound backing up Soriano and Martinez in case an errant throw misses them. It pays off to remember the fundamentals. Jeter sees the ball aiming towards the Athletics on-deck circle and scoops the ball up with both hands, and with momentum taking him towards foul territory flips the ball to Jorge Posada blocking home plate. Jeremy Giambi neglects the slide signal by his teammate and his career as he attempts to scurry past Posada's tag. The Yankees win the game. They go on to win the series, and the World Series. Jeter is named World Series MVP and is forever immortalized in baseball history.


Jeter's reaction to the play? Ho-hum. "I didn't have time to turn around, set up and throw," he told the press afterwards, as if the play was simply routine. "Basically, I just got rid of it. If I tried to spin around, he would have been safe."


You realize that you're dealing with a legendary player on 4th of July showdown with the Boston Red Sox.



JULY 4, 2004
The Boston Red Sox come into New York reeling. Playing .500 ball for a few weeks going into the series, the Red Sox needed a pulse in order to avoid leaving the Bronx on life support. A frequent sub-story of the Red Sox-Yankee rivalry was the matchup of the two elite shortstops in baseball, Jeter and Nomar Garciaparra. Jeter was Rookie of the Year in 1996. Nomar in '97. Nomar won the batting title in 1999 with a .359 average. Jeter hit .342 finishing second. Jeter had the rings. Nomar flashed the leather. They even were featured in commercials together. Two players perpetually bounded by their dominance on the field.



The divide had grown steadily going into 2004, however, as Nomar was injuried-proned and unhappy while Jeter sat on his throne as king of the Yankees. Once a guaranteed argument-starter, the world finally got their answer of who was the ultimate shortstop. As Nomar watched the game from the bench nursing an "injury", Jeter made a play that forever immortalized him in baseball history, again. It was a 1-2 pitch from Tanyon Sturtz. Trot Nixon was the batter. Nixon lunged at the outside curve sending the ball towards the foul line in short left field. Jeter had the best angle, despite being 30 yards away from the balling. He sprints towards the foul line and picks the ball out of the air. He makes the impossible catch. Momentum then sends him diving head-first in the stands. Jeter is bleeding from his face as fans help him back to the field. The camera cuts to a slouching Nomar watching blankly as the play unfolds. Nomar is traded 27 days later, sparking a flame in the Red Sox who go on to win the World Series. He hasn't been the same player since.


Oh yeah I forgot to mention one thing. Jeter finished that game. It's his love of the game that separates Jeter from the rest.


During a period where the we lived by the motto "long live the long ball" a 5-tool shortstop went to work everyday and put in the blood, sweat, and tears necessary to be considered the best. As homerun hitters revilled in the spotlight, Jeter went along business as usual. And when those hitter fell from their perch because of steroids, Jeter took his rightful throne as the best in the game.


If not for his phenomenal on-the-field performance, for his parents who raised him right and for the way he carries himself. Sportswriter Gay Talese put it in the best words:

"He's rather unique for a young man in the 1990s. Endowed as he is with all that talent, all that money and such impeccable manners-that makes him an anachronism. In this era of boorish athletes, obnoxious fans, greedy owners and shattered myths, here's a hero who's actually polite, and that has to have come from good parenting. You can't compare him to Joe DiMaggio, for DiMaggio didn't have bad manners — he had no manners. Where have you gone, man with manners? Here you are, Derek Jeter."