It amazes me how someone as intelligent and insightful about baseball as Tim McCarver is can completely whiff on an explanation the way he did Saturday night when Melky Cabrera was called safe at second as the umpire declined to invoke the "neighborhood" play.
McCarver and Joe Buck were incredulous that Cabrera could be called safe on the front end of what would have been a double play as Erick Aybar failed to touch second. Their logic was that Aybar was in the "neighborhood" of second base, and that umpires give the out to the defensive team on such plays, even if it appears the second baseman or shortstop might not have touched the base.
The problem with this argument is that the neighborhood play is invoked usually as the player is gliding across the bag, and it's not just for the protection of the fielder. It's because it's almost impossible for an umpire to determine if a foot gliding across a bag touches that bag or not.
Erick Aybar was not gliding across the bag. He was straddling the bag in a way that almost seemed intended to demonstrate to the umpire: "I refuse to touch this silly bag." Aybar obviously was not trying to avoid the bag, but he gave the umpire no choice.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Game Three underway
And that was a nice, loud cheer as Jeter crushed the third pitch of the game for a leadoff home run. Funny, I thought only Red S*x fans ever went on the road.
Fox has a mike on home-plate umpire Bill Miller and eavesdropped on a conversation in which Miller seemed eager to tell Jorge Posada how late his flight arrived and how little sleep he got. I wonder if Fox left out the part of the conversation in which Miller told Posada "I feel like an idiot for calling you out on strike two, but it was because I was so tired."
Fox has a mike on home-plate umpire Bill Miller and eavesdropped on a conversation in which Miller seemed eager to tell Jorge Posada how late his flight arrived and how little sleep he got. I wonder if Fox left out the part of the conversation in which Miller told Posada "I feel like an idiot for calling you out on strike two, but it was because I was so tired."
Friday, October 2, 2009
Giants Fan Returns to the Road
Football and barbecue. Only in America.
For the last five years I have traveled, usually with my old college friend Dave, in search of the best of both. Dave and I are Giants fans from opposite ends of the New York megalopolis, he from central New Jersey, me from southwestern Connecticut. He’s one of my best friends, but significantly, he’s my Giants buddy and BBQ compatriot.
We had Giants season tickets for the 1999 and 2000 seasons, which gave us a chance to see some amazing Giants games – remember Big Blue’s 41-0 slaughter of the Vikings in the NFC Championship Game? We also used those times to perfect the art of tailgating. There is very little that has walked or swum that did not find its way to our grill. Bison burgers. Shark steaks. Turtle soup. Scallops and bacon (which makes for a spectacular grease fire, for all my fellow pyros out there!). Even mulled cider spiked with Captain Morgan.
There is nothing, however, like perfectly slow-cooked barbecue. I’m talking about ribs and chicken thighs cooked in the vicinity of low-temperature wood smoke for hours until that nice pink ring develops just below the surface – and the meat’s flesh breaks down to a wonderful, buttery texture. That’s barbecue.
I first fell in love with this most uniquely American style of cooking in college, when I spent what little disposable income I had at the Dinosaur Bar-B-Que, a Syracuse rib joint with snarky attitude and food so good that upon being told that the waiting time for a table was 2 hours and 45 minutes, I would instantly respond, “Cool. I’ll be at the bar.” It wouldn’t even occur to me to leave.
Barbecue, of course, is not indigenous to the Northeast. Great “Q” is tough to find in the New York metro area and nearly impossible to find in Boston. The best of it is located in America’s heartland.
Just like real football tradition.
Dave and I had two memorable seasons of attending all of the Giants’ home games. They were also two very tiring seasons. Getting up at 7 a.m. on a Sunday, often after the type of Saturday night a single guy in his 20s typically spends, to prep food and pack a cooler and a grill and various layers of clothes and chairs and a table and a football and driving 75 minutes to the Meadowlands for a few hours of cooking and drinking and sweating while chasing down a football, followed by the game, followed by possibly a few more hours of tailgating or a few hours of gridlock or BOTH! Then getting home at 8 and unpacking everything. Then doing it again a week or two later, eight times in four months. It’s absurdly fun, but more than a little exhausting.
I know I speak for Dave when I say that I would do it again in a heartbeat – for face value. But in 2001, with the economy in a downturn and both of us trying to rein in our spending, we decided two years was enough for us of paying a premium – albeit a fair one – for tickets. Since then we have gone to a game here and a game there when tickets have become available at face value.
We also started developing an appreciation for Giants road trips. Through connections of friends, we ventured to Philadelphia, Baltimore and New England for Giants games – all losses.
But in 2004, Dave had a more ambitious idea. He’d been dying to see Green Bay’s legendary Lambeau Field. The Giants played there that year. I needed no convincing.
And, I’m glad to say, Dave needed no convincing when I suggested that a good way to spend the Saturday before the Giants-Packers game would be to go to a big-time college game. A Big Ten game. Wisconsin-Illinois at Camp Randall Stadium in Madison.
If you’ve never been to a major college football game, you need to do so. Immediately. The atmosphere surrounding one of these games blows the NFL experience away. Don’t believe me? Try it. Go to one of each in a single weekend. For me, the only reason I could even get excited about Sunday’s game after the electricity of Saturday’s is because the Giants were playing.
This was confirmed each of the next three years. We headed to Texas in 2005, and saw an exciting Giants-Cowboys game featuring an Eli Manning fourth-quarter comeback to force overtime. Yet my primary memories of that weekend involve Bevo, “Texas Fight” and Vince Young leading the soon-to-be national champion Longhorns to a rout of Colorado in Austin – after a stop in some little Texas town for some roadside barbecue, of course.
Likewise the following years. Giants victories in the sterile, corporate environs of the Georgia Dome and Ford Field are happy memories, yet they leave less of an impression than the giddy, raucous Alabama and Ole Miss fans among whom we sat at Bryant-Denny Stadium in Tuscaloosa, or the Ohio State and Michigan marching bands, who showed us at the Big House that those schools’ famous rivalry is steeped not just in hatred of one another as in respect by playing the other school’s fight song.
This year, however, there will be no college game for us – but there will be no post-modern NFL stadium, either. Instead, we’ll be at Kansas City’s Arrowhead Stadium, and I anticipate this may be the last place left outside Green Bay where the aura of the game, and the tailgate, will rival that of a college clash.
And it will bring us back to our barbecue roots. Kansas City is the mecca of barbecue, and home of this weekend’s American Royal Barbecue contest. I’ve wanted to go to one of these for years, and it’s about to happen. I already have contacted a BBQ contest entrant known as “Mr. Bones” and asked to be included on their VIP list for the big “Friday Night Party.” Beer will flow and football will be discussed – I think – as the crew practices "smoking" in advance of Saturday night's main event, to be judged late Sunday morning.
By Sunday, we’ll know more about ribs and brisket than we ever thought possible, and maybe we’ll put some of that knowledge to work at the Arrowhead tailgate.
In short, it will be a weekend-long tribute to meat and football. Tell me that isn’t every man’s dream.
For the last five years I have traveled, usually with my old college friend Dave, in search of the best of both. Dave and I are Giants fans from opposite ends of the New York megalopolis, he from central New Jersey, me from southwestern Connecticut. He’s one of my best friends, but significantly, he’s my Giants buddy and BBQ compatriot.
We had Giants season tickets for the 1999 and 2000 seasons, which gave us a chance to see some amazing Giants games – remember Big Blue’s 41-0 slaughter of the Vikings in the NFC Championship Game? We also used those times to perfect the art of tailgating. There is very little that has walked or swum that did not find its way to our grill. Bison burgers. Shark steaks. Turtle soup. Scallops and bacon (which makes for a spectacular grease fire, for all my fellow pyros out there!). Even mulled cider spiked with Captain Morgan.
There is nothing, however, like perfectly slow-cooked barbecue. I’m talking about ribs and chicken thighs cooked in the vicinity of low-temperature wood smoke for hours until that nice pink ring develops just below the surface – and the meat’s flesh breaks down to a wonderful, buttery texture. That’s barbecue.
I first fell in love with this most uniquely American style of cooking in college, when I spent what little disposable income I had at the Dinosaur Bar-B-Que, a Syracuse rib joint with snarky attitude and food so good that upon being told that the waiting time for a table was 2 hours and 45 minutes, I would instantly respond, “Cool. I’ll be at the bar.” It wouldn’t even occur to me to leave.
Barbecue, of course, is not indigenous to the Northeast. Great “Q” is tough to find in the New York metro area and nearly impossible to find in Boston. The best of it is located in America’s heartland.
Just like real football tradition.
Dave and I had two memorable seasons of attending all of the Giants’ home games. They were also two very tiring seasons. Getting up at 7 a.m. on a Sunday, often after the type of Saturday night a single guy in his 20s typically spends, to prep food and pack a cooler and a grill and various layers of clothes and chairs and a table and a football and driving 75 minutes to the Meadowlands for a few hours of cooking and drinking and sweating while chasing down a football, followed by the game, followed by possibly a few more hours of tailgating or a few hours of gridlock or BOTH! Then getting home at 8 and unpacking everything. Then doing it again a week or two later, eight times in four months. It’s absurdly fun, but more than a little exhausting.
I know I speak for Dave when I say that I would do it again in a heartbeat – for face value. But in 2001, with the economy in a downturn and both of us trying to rein in our spending, we decided two years was enough for us of paying a premium – albeit a fair one – for tickets. Since then we have gone to a game here and a game there when tickets have become available at face value.
We also started developing an appreciation for Giants road trips. Through connections of friends, we ventured to Philadelphia, Baltimore and New England for Giants games – all losses.
But in 2004, Dave had a more ambitious idea. He’d been dying to see Green Bay’s legendary Lambeau Field. The Giants played there that year. I needed no convincing.
And, I’m glad to say, Dave needed no convincing when I suggested that a good way to spend the Saturday before the Giants-Packers game would be to go to a big-time college game. A Big Ten game. Wisconsin-Illinois at Camp Randall Stadium in Madison.
If you’ve never been to a major college football game, you need to do so. Immediately. The atmosphere surrounding one of these games blows the NFL experience away. Don’t believe me? Try it. Go to one of each in a single weekend. For me, the only reason I could even get excited about Sunday’s game after the electricity of Saturday’s is because the Giants were playing.
This was confirmed each of the next three years. We headed to Texas in 2005, and saw an exciting Giants-Cowboys game featuring an Eli Manning fourth-quarter comeback to force overtime. Yet my primary memories of that weekend involve Bevo, “Texas Fight” and Vince Young leading the soon-to-be national champion Longhorns to a rout of Colorado in Austin – after a stop in some little Texas town for some roadside barbecue, of course.
Likewise the following years. Giants victories in the sterile, corporate environs of the Georgia Dome and Ford Field are happy memories, yet they leave less of an impression than the giddy, raucous Alabama and Ole Miss fans among whom we sat at Bryant-Denny Stadium in Tuscaloosa, or the Ohio State and Michigan marching bands, who showed us at the Big House that those schools’ famous rivalry is steeped not just in hatred of one another as in respect by playing the other school’s fight song.
This year, however, there will be no college game for us – but there will be no post-modern NFL stadium, either. Instead, we’ll be at Kansas City’s Arrowhead Stadium, and I anticipate this may be the last place left outside Green Bay where the aura of the game, and the tailgate, will rival that of a college clash.
And it will bring us back to our barbecue roots. Kansas City is the mecca of barbecue, and home of this weekend’s American Royal Barbecue contest. I’ve wanted to go to one of these for years, and it’s about to happen. I already have contacted a BBQ contest entrant known as “Mr. Bones” and asked to be included on their VIP list for the big “Friday Night Party.” Beer will flow and football will be discussed – I think – as the crew practices "smoking" in advance of Saturday night's main event, to be judged late Sunday morning.
By Sunday, we’ll know more about ribs and brisket than we ever thought possible, and maybe we’ll put some of that knowledge to work at the Arrowhead tailgate.
In short, it will be a weekend-long tribute to meat and football. Tell me that isn’t every man’s dream.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The Rest
It gets dark so damn early now. Not like winter, when the short days and standard time combine to give you that depressing pitch-darkness at 5 p.m. That's just depressing. We're not nearly there yet.
But I brought a football to my friend Justin's place last Sunday, figuring we could chuck it around after the 4 o'clock games ended. I hadn't yet noticed that it is now too dark to throw a football outdoors at 7:15 p.m. That's a bummer.
So is trying to cook in the dark. I live to grill, but we don't have lights in our yard, so dinner gets cooked in the dark. My wife's flashlight appears not to have been used in a while. I changed the batteries, but that sucker is weak. But it all worked out. They're turkey burgers, anyway. Left over from Monday night's tailgate at the U2 concert in Foxborough. Nittany Wife doesn't eat red meat, so I've gotten used to subbing turkey for beef. It's not so bad. Actually, was craving fried chicken tonight, but the only thing worse than wasting money is wasting food, so out of the freezer the turkey burgers came. And there was bacon in there, too. Turkey burgers cooked on a charcoal fire and covered with cheddar and bacon are actually pretty damned good.
And here's the bright side (literally) of grilling in the dark: the charcoal fire looks positively bad-ass in the dark, especially as flames pour out of a chimney starter and the metal sides of that baby glow red.
Speaking of U2: Monday night's show was my first U2 show. I bought the tickets for the wife, who likes U2 a lot more than I do (I think they're really good, but really overrated, too), but also calls Snow Patrol, which opened up, her favorite band. Those Irish lads acquitted themselves quite well Monday night -- their last night on the tour. Of all the people I know who went to one of the two Foxborough shows, none really knew Snow Patrol, but all were impressed. I don't love them. I'm a fan by marriage. But I was happy for them. They're talented and very good.
And speaking of grilling, I think I'll be in tailgate heaven next weekend. I'll be heading with some friends to Kansas City for the Giants-Chiefs game. Arrowhead Stadium is reputed to be the pinnacle of the tailgate. I don't see how it could be better than Giants Stadium, but I'm keeping an open mind.
Anyway, it won't be about the gameday tailgate. It's all about the American Royal Barbecue competition. I'm hoping my new status as an official NFL blogger gets me and the boys in the trenches with one of the barbecue teams. I WILL cover this with the respect it deserves.
And, by the way -- the word is spelled "B-A-R-B-E-C-U-E." Just becauses "BBQ" is an acceptable abbreviation does not make "barbeque" an acceptable spelling. It's not. It's barbecue. My position on this matter shall be considered inflexible.
As for the Giants, tomorrow will be the first time I will have to travel to a sports bar to see them -- and hope that said sports bar will show the game with the stupid Patriots playing at the same time. I'm supposed to cover the game for the blog, and I won't be able to see it at home because I don't have Sunday Ticket. It's going to be an annoying enterprise. Thank goodness the Giants have three crappy opponents coming up, because they are awfully banged-up, especially on defense.
CRAPPY COMMERCIALS
Nothing could be worse than those "money you could be saving by switching to Geico commercials," but these Dennis Leary Ford truck commercials are pretty close -- not because of Dennis Leary. Dennis Leary is great. Because all they are are Dennis Leary talking about trucks -- and not saying anything interesting -- while all his words appear on the screen around pictures of Ford trucks. One of the most annoying things in the world is having someone read to you. You know, as an adult. If you're still 5 years old, it's kind of nice having your mom or dad read you a story. If you're 36, you don't need Dennis Leary reading you a script about Ford trucks that you can read yourself.
SYRACUSE FOOTBALL REVISITED -- WITH GRAMMAR LESSON
I decided tonight that Twitter is not for me, but I did follow the Syracuse-Maine game on Twitter, and the Orange is now ahead 41-17. So we don't have to spend the week shaking our heads that we can't even get an easy win against a Division I-AA team. But clearly we have a long way to go. Well, we know that. But it's even longer.
"The Orange is ahead? Hey Phil, don't you mean the Orange are ahead? They're a team. That's plural, right?"
Could be. The English use plural pronouns and verb forms in all instance when referring to teams, bands and other organizations. "Chelsea have a match with Arsenal this weekend." "Cream are reuniting for a tour." They're consistent.
Americans are not. They outsmart themselves. They'll say things like, "The Orange have to play better." But they would never say, "Syracuse have to play better." They'd use "has." This makes no sense. Both of those nouns are singular, and both refer to the exact same thing -- a football team. That could be seen as singular -- it's a team, a thing -- or plural -- it's 80 players. But it appears we're not smart enough to decide which, because you'll hear grammatical disasters during sports reports: "Notre Dame loses their first game of the year." So Notre Dame is both singular ("loses") and plural ("their") in the same sentence.
Sports Illustrated for years has applied a policy of treating teams with collectively singular nicknames (Orange, Cardinal, Heat, etc.) as singular. The Syracuse newspapers have done the same since Chancellor Nancy Cantor pissed on the heads of SU alumni by deciding that our beloved Orangemen were now "The Orange." Both, however, are a little lax in their enforcement of this policy. SI, in particular, does a good job of editing its feature stories but is loaded with errors in its "departments." Maybe I'm just anal, but it's a little disappointing.
NIGHT COLLEGE SCORES
Syracuse gives up a late touchdown -- would like to see the Maine necks stepped on a little harder -- but wins 41-24. I'll take it but would have preferred it not be so nerve-wracking for so long. Just a reminder that we're not that far removed yet from being the team that's been one of the worst in the nation the last four years. Are we headed in the right direction? Absolutely. But it's going to take a lot of time. More than one season.
Ditto for St. Anselm. They're not going to get pushed around by anyone but the best teams in the league anymore, but I hoped we'd see them at least slow down Merrimack today. Didn't happen. Couldn't stop the run at all, and couldn't match the offensive output. Nothing much more to say.
Meanwhile I think I'd better hide anything in the house that's black and yellow, lest the wife light it on fire. Penn State is spitting the bit against the Hawkeyes for the second straight year, this time at home. I've got my own problems, and this isn't one of them. Were I a Penn State fan, however, I'd be eating broken glass right now. They're giving this game away.
That's enough for tonight.
But I brought a football to my friend Justin's place last Sunday, figuring we could chuck it around after the 4 o'clock games ended. I hadn't yet noticed that it is now too dark to throw a football outdoors at 7:15 p.m. That's a bummer.
So is trying to cook in the dark. I live to grill, but we don't have lights in our yard, so dinner gets cooked in the dark. My wife's flashlight appears not to have been used in a while. I changed the batteries, but that sucker is weak. But it all worked out. They're turkey burgers, anyway. Left over from Monday night's tailgate at the U2 concert in Foxborough. Nittany Wife doesn't eat red meat, so I've gotten used to subbing turkey for beef. It's not so bad. Actually, was craving fried chicken tonight, but the only thing worse than wasting money is wasting food, so out of the freezer the turkey burgers came. And there was bacon in there, too. Turkey burgers cooked on a charcoal fire and covered with cheddar and bacon are actually pretty damned good.
And here's the bright side (literally) of grilling in the dark: the charcoal fire looks positively bad-ass in the dark, especially as flames pour out of a chimney starter and the metal sides of that baby glow red.
Speaking of U2: Monday night's show was my first U2 show. I bought the tickets for the wife, who likes U2 a lot more than I do (I think they're really good, but really overrated, too), but also calls Snow Patrol, which opened up, her favorite band. Those Irish lads acquitted themselves quite well Monday night -- their last night on the tour. Of all the people I know who went to one of the two Foxborough shows, none really knew Snow Patrol, but all were impressed. I don't love them. I'm a fan by marriage. But I was happy for them. They're talented and very good.
And speaking of grilling, I think I'll be in tailgate heaven next weekend. I'll be heading with some friends to Kansas City for the Giants-Chiefs game. Arrowhead Stadium is reputed to be the pinnacle of the tailgate. I don't see how it could be better than Giants Stadium, but I'm keeping an open mind.
Anyway, it won't be about the gameday tailgate. It's all about the American Royal Barbecue competition. I'm hoping my new status as an official NFL blogger gets me and the boys in the trenches with one of the barbecue teams. I WILL cover this with the respect it deserves.
And, by the way -- the word is spelled "B-A-R-B-E-C-U-E." Just becauses "BBQ" is an acceptable abbreviation does not make "barbeque" an acceptable spelling. It's not. It's barbecue. My position on this matter shall be considered inflexible.
As for the Giants, tomorrow will be the first time I will have to travel to a sports bar to see them -- and hope that said sports bar will show the game with the stupid Patriots playing at the same time. I'm supposed to cover the game for the blog, and I won't be able to see it at home because I don't have Sunday Ticket. It's going to be an annoying enterprise. Thank goodness the Giants have three crappy opponents coming up, because they are awfully banged-up, especially on defense.
CRAPPY COMMERCIALS
Nothing could be worse than those "money you could be saving by switching to Geico commercials," but these Dennis Leary Ford truck commercials are pretty close -- not because of Dennis Leary. Dennis Leary is great. Because all they are are Dennis Leary talking about trucks -- and not saying anything interesting -- while all his words appear on the screen around pictures of Ford trucks. One of the most annoying things in the world is having someone read to you. You know, as an adult. If you're still 5 years old, it's kind of nice having your mom or dad read you a story. If you're 36, you don't need Dennis Leary reading you a script about Ford trucks that you can read yourself.
SYRACUSE FOOTBALL REVISITED -- WITH GRAMMAR LESSON
I decided tonight that Twitter is not for me, but I did follow the Syracuse-Maine game on Twitter, and the Orange is now ahead 41-17. So we don't have to spend the week shaking our heads that we can't even get an easy win against a Division I-AA team. But clearly we have a long way to go. Well, we know that. But it's even longer.
"The Orange is ahead? Hey Phil, don't you mean the Orange are ahead? They're a team. That's plural, right?"
Could be. The English use plural pronouns and verb forms in all instance when referring to teams, bands and other organizations. "Chelsea have a match with Arsenal this weekend." "Cream are reuniting for a tour." They're consistent.
Americans are not. They outsmart themselves. They'll say things like, "The Orange have to play better." But they would never say, "Syracuse have to play better." They'd use "has." This makes no sense. Both of those nouns are singular, and both refer to the exact same thing -- a football team. That could be seen as singular -- it's a team, a thing -- or plural -- it's 80 players. But it appears we're not smart enough to decide which, because you'll hear grammatical disasters during sports reports: "Notre Dame loses their first game of the year." So Notre Dame is both singular ("loses") and plural ("their") in the same sentence.
Sports Illustrated for years has applied a policy of treating teams with collectively singular nicknames (Orange, Cardinal, Heat, etc.) as singular. The Syracuse newspapers have done the same since Chancellor Nancy Cantor pissed on the heads of SU alumni by deciding that our beloved Orangemen were now "The Orange." Both, however, are a little lax in their enforcement of this policy. SI, in particular, does a good job of editing its feature stories but is loaded with errors in its "departments." Maybe I'm just anal, but it's a little disappointing.
NIGHT COLLEGE SCORES
Syracuse gives up a late touchdown -- would like to see the Maine necks stepped on a little harder -- but wins 41-24. I'll take it but would have preferred it not be so nerve-wracking for so long. Just a reminder that we're not that far removed yet from being the team that's been one of the worst in the nation the last four years. Are we headed in the right direction? Absolutely. But it's going to take a lot of time. More than one season.
Ditto for St. Anselm. They're not going to get pushed around by anyone but the best teams in the league anymore, but I hoped we'd see them at least slow down Merrimack today. Didn't happen. Couldn't stop the run at all, and couldn't match the offensive output. Nothing much more to say.
Meanwhile I think I'd better hide anything in the house that's black and yellow, lest the wife light it on fire. Penn State is spitting the bit against the Hawkeyes for the second straight year, this time at home. I've got my own problems, and this isn't one of them. Were I a Penn State fan, however, I'd be eating broken glass right now. They're giving this game away.
That's enough for tonight.
Yankees and Red S*x in the Home Stretch
Admit it. The season series means a little to you. The Red S*x won the first eight games they played against the Yankees this year, and all you could hope for was that the Yankees would stop the bleeding and find a way to contend for a wild card.
One ridiculous post-All Star run by the Bronx Bombers, however, changed all that, and our goals changed: we hoped the Yankees, once on the outside looking in, could maintain their firm grip on first place and that, most of all, they were not a bully team. Meaning: as good as they looked against everyone else, we hoped they wouldn't get punched in the mouth and go back into their shell when the Red S*x came calling.
Our fears were assuaged and then some. The Yankees won six out of seven over two series in August, with Alex Rodriguez delivering key home runs in the 15-inning classic at Yankee Stadium and the tight affair 48 hours later. We knew then that we were in first place to stay, and, almost as delicious, that we had sent the Red S*x reeling. We knew -- we know -- that true redemption for all that has gone wrong the last eight years can only be earned in October, but for the time, things couldn't be much better.
Then something happened: the Red Sox turned themselves around and became the hottest team in baseball, with the starting pitching that was so shaky in those seven games straightening itself out and the team dominating at home even more than before. Meanwhile, the Yankees' kept winning, but at a slower pace, and with the starting pitching outside of CC Sabathia looking as shaky as ever. A.J. Burnett never came close to matching his performance that Friday night against the Red S*x, Andy Pettitte's shoulder got sore, and Joba Chamberlain went from being unreliable to being effectively the biggest threat to the Yankees' prosperity.
So we entered this weekend with this: it's probably too late for the Red S*x to catch us for the division title, and even if they do, we're in the playoffs, but a poor performance against the Red Sox this weekend would have left us with serious doubts about the Yankees' prospects of getting through the American League's postseason gantlet.
So, after two wins in two games at the Stadium this weekend, is everything okey dokey? Not exactly. Sabathia was wonderful today, but he was awesome last year and the year before in the regular season for Milwaukee and Cleveland, respectively. His postseasons, however, have left something to desire. Like Alex Rodriguez, he is going to have to shine in October. And surely last night's performance, as good as it was, does not erase all doubts about Chamberlain. He is not yet an effective starting pitcher. He has the talent to be one, and I'm willing to wait. He's only 23. But I don't know that he's going to help us turn a 2-1 series lead into a 3-1 lead in a playoff series. And Burnett with his inconsistency and Pettitte with his shoulder will remain question marks at least until they pitch well against the AL Central champ in the ALDS.
So what does this weekend mean? It's for bragging rights, and little else. Red S*x fans got to whoop it up as much as ever when they were 8-0 against the Yankees. That massive lead has all but evaporated. If the Yankees finish off another sweep tomorrow night, they will have tied the season series, 9-9. It will be meaningless comepared to anything that happens in October, but it will assure that those eight losses will never be a source of humiliation for us again. The games may count the same, but I'll take them during the pennant race over the early season any day.
One ridiculous post-All Star run by the Bronx Bombers, however, changed all that, and our goals changed: we hoped the Yankees, once on the outside looking in, could maintain their firm grip on first place and that, most of all, they were not a bully team. Meaning: as good as they looked against everyone else, we hoped they wouldn't get punched in the mouth and go back into their shell when the Red S*x came calling.
Our fears were assuaged and then some. The Yankees won six out of seven over two series in August, with Alex Rodriguez delivering key home runs in the 15-inning classic at Yankee Stadium and the tight affair 48 hours later. We knew then that we were in first place to stay, and, almost as delicious, that we had sent the Red S*x reeling. We knew -- we know -- that true redemption for all that has gone wrong the last eight years can only be earned in October, but for the time, things couldn't be much better.
Then something happened: the Red Sox turned themselves around and became the hottest team in baseball, with the starting pitching that was so shaky in those seven games straightening itself out and the team dominating at home even more than before. Meanwhile, the Yankees' kept winning, but at a slower pace, and with the starting pitching outside of CC Sabathia looking as shaky as ever. A.J. Burnett never came close to matching his performance that Friday night against the Red S*x, Andy Pettitte's shoulder got sore, and Joba Chamberlain went from being unreliable to being effectively the biggest threat to the Yankees' prosperity.
So we entered this weekend with this: it's probably too late for the Red S*x to catch us for the division title, and even if they do, we're in the playoffs, but a poor performance against the Red Sox this weekend would have left us with serious doubts about the Yankees' prospects of getting through the American League's postseason gantlet.
So, after two wins in two games at the Stadium this weekend, is everything okey dokey? Not exactly. Sabathia was wonderful today, but he was awesome last year and the year before in the regular season for Milwaukee and Cleveland, respectively. His postseasons, however, have left something to desire. Like Alex Rodriguez, he is going to have to shine in October. And surely last night's performance, as good as it was, does not erase all doubts about Chamberlain. He is not yet an effective starting pitcher. He has the talent to be one, and I'm willing to wait. He's only 23. But I don't know that he's going to help us turn a 2-1 series lead into a 3-1 lead in a playoff series. And Burnett with his inconsistency and Pettitte with his shoulder will remain question marks at least until they pitch well against the AL Central champ in the ALDS.
So what does this weekend mean? It's for bragging rights, and little else. Red S*x fans got to whoop it up as much as ever when they were 8-0 against the Yankees. That massive lead has all but evaporated. If the Yankees finish off another sweep tomorrow night, they will have tied the season series, 9-9. It will be meaningless comepared to anything that happens in October, but it will assure that those eight losses will never be a source of humiliation for us again. The games may count the same, but I'll take them during the pennant race over the early season any day.
A Football-And-Beer Saturday (Redundant)
I'm not sure about this Twitter crap. I've been doing it for less than 30 minutes and already think I dislike it. My attention span may be shorter than Milton Bradley's temper, but I still don't think 140 characters is going to hold my thoughts on anything. If there's a way that I can use Twitter to promote both this blog and my OFFICIAL NFL.COM GIANTS BLOG (and I'll get you all the URL as soon as I'm permitted to do so), I will. But I'm not writing 140-character columns. I'm not contributing to the dumbing-down of our nation.
So here's everything that's on my mind right now, and I'll cover each as succinctly as possible: Syracuse football, The Yankees' and Red Sox' playoff prospects (and, to some extent, their current series), the Giants, their injuries, my blogging about them and my impending trip to see them in Kansas City, St. Anselm football's disappointing loss today, U2, grilling in the fall and Entourage. That's enough of a list.
SYRACUSE FOOTBALL
This is freaking me out. I didn't care a whit about the Penn State game. I knew we weren't winning that, and, frankly, was pretty happy not to get annihilated. A 28-7 loss is nothing to be proud of, but at least the Nittany Wife doesn't have an "Oh, you poor thing" look on her face when I come home after 28-7.
But the fact that we are not only sweating out a game against Maine but TRAILING in the third quarter is infuriating. Overtime loss at home against Minnesota? Hey, plenty of reason for optimism. Lose to Penn State? Lot of very good teams will lose to Penn State by 21 points this year. Three-point win after near-collapse vs. Northwestern? We can't be upset about any win against a BCS-conference team. Not after the last four years.
But we're now in danger of losing at home against a Division I-AA team. I don't think I'm betraying any greed when I say that I think we have a right to expect better than that. A loss against South Florida next week may be inevitable, but it will be forgiven if the honeymoon is still going on. If Doug Marrone and Greg Paulus want it to continue, they'd better win this game tonight. In regulation. By at least a touchdown.
So here's everything that's on my mind right now, and I'll cover each as succinctly as possible: Syracuse football, The Yankees' and Red Sox' playoff prospects (and, to some extent, their current series), the Giants, their injuries, my blogging about them and my impending trip to see them in Kansas City, St. Anselm football's disappointing loss today, U2, grilling in the fall and Entourage. That's enough of a list.
SYRACUSE FOOTBALL
This is freaking me out. I didn't care a whit about the Penn State game. I knew we weren't winning that, and, frankly, was pretty happy not to get annihilated. A 28-7 loss is nothing to be proud of, but at least the Nittany Wife doesn't have an "Oh, you poor thing" look on her face when I come home after 28-7.
But the fact that we are not only sweating out a game against Maine but TRAILING in the third quarter is infuriating. Overtime loss at home against Minnesota? Hey, plenty of reason for optimism. Lose to Penn State? Lot of very good teams will lose to Penn State by 21 points this year. Three-point win after near-collapse vs. Northwestern? We can't be upset about any win against a BCS-conference team. Not after the last four years.
But we're now in danger of losing at home against a Division I-AA team. I don't think I'm betraying any greed when I say that I think we have a right to expect better than that. A loss against South Florida next week may be inevitable, but it will be forgiven if the honeymoon is still going on. If Doug Marrone and Greg Paulus want it to continue, they'd better win this game tonight. In regulation. By at least a touchdown.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
I was just about to roast Chris Berman on this site for mistaking the term "LP." I thought I heard Berman say, in relation to LP Field, "I got about 400 LPs -- pounds." Of course, that would be LBs. But, upon further review, the ruling is that Berman actually said he has 400 LPs -- albums."
Right on.
But if you're looking for an ESPN talker to say something stupid, just wait. Not a minute later, he followed Marisol Castro's weather forcast by saying that hey, if there's that much rain in the forecast, he could just nickname the weathergirl "Parasol."
Nice job, Chris. A parasol is used to block sun, not rain. Hence the name "parasol," meaning, literally, "for the sun." You'd think an Ivy Leaguer would know this.
In more important news, my career as an official NFL blogger of Giants football begins today. I'll have the URL for you as soon as I know it for sure. Preview should be up (very personal in nature, but I actually do talk football in it) today, and I'll be back after the game with three key observations on Big Blue.
LET'S GO GIANTS!
Right on.
But if you're looking for an ESPN talker to say something stupid, just wait. Not a minute later, he followed Marisol Castro's weather forcast by saying that hey, if there's that much rain in the forecast, he could just nickname the weathergirl "Parasol."
Nice job, Chris. A parasol is used to block sun, not rain. Hence the name "parasol," meaning, literally, "for the sun." You'd think an Ivy Leaguer would know this.
In more important news, my career as an official NFL blogger of Giants football begins today. I'll have the URL for you as soon as I know it for sure. Preview should be up (very personal in nature, but I actually do talk football in it) today, and I'll be back after the game with three key observations on Big Blue.
LET'S GO GIANTS!
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