Heat

They stood in the heat waiting for the 2 train.

“Pettitte was great last night,” Jon said. “I was worried when he kept putting men on base, but he’s got a way of wiggling out of trouble.”

“I thought it might blow up in the fifth,” Carlos said. “Two on and no outs and then the bases were loaded. Some people think he’s one pitch from getting knocked out, but he knows he’s one pitch from winning the fight.”

It’s always been like that with Andy Pettitte. He was a tough kid when he came up in 1995 and he’s even tougher now.

“Who do you want pitching a big game?” Jon asked.

“Andy Pettitte,” Carlos answered. “But I’ll take Roger Clemens today.”

Jumpy

Alex Rodriguez has a ballplayer’s face and a ballplayer’s swing and a ballplayer’s heart. He is everything that is good about greatness in this game.

The pursuit of his 500th home run is obscuring that greatness a bit these days. There are too many people with too many cameras trying to get a piece of every swing. It may be wearing on him only because that has never been his game.

Rodriguez is about winning. Period. Anyone that doesn’t understand that hasn’t been paying attention.

“I’m sure he doesn’t want this home run to get in the way of what the team needs,” said Javier as he waited outside the players’ gate last night. “I think he’ll be happy when it’s over and he can go back to just being the greatest player in the game.

“I can’t wait either,” he continued. “I was so charged up during his first at bat that I got to my feet and yelled for a fly ball. Man, that’s embarrassing.

“I’m a little jumpy,” Javier shrugged. “Maybe A-Rod is, too.”

Deadline Deal

The deal went down like this:

“It’s gonna be a nice night for a ballgame,” said Carlos from Gerard Avenue. “I’ve got tickets and I’m really looking forward to it.”

“You go almost every night,” snapped Jon from Highbridge. “Why are you so geared up about tonight?”

“A-Rod’s gonna do it,” Carlos smiled. “And I scored leftfield tickets from the guy who deals MetroCards on the Grand Concourse. I got two monthlies and seats in Box 350 for a c-note.”

“Do you think you’re gonna catch the ball?” Jon laughed.

“Why not?” Carlos shrugged. “I’ve got as good a shot as anyone.”

“And then you’ll sell it?” Jon asked.

“No way,” Carlos shot back. “I’m giving it to Alex no matter what anyone offers. I just want to shake his hand and tell him to keep hitting home runs for us. Alex belongs in the Bronx and I want to make sure he stays forever.”

Done deal.

Undefeated

A victory for the homeless ended in defeat, but the East Harlem Little Leaguers showed plenty of fight.

Playing without a home field didn’t stop them from winning the New York City championship. And it couldn’t stop them from advancing to the New York State championship where they lost in extra innings yesterday.

This city can’t kill baseball no matter how hard it tries. The game is alive in East Harlem because kids refuse to be defeated by an endless line of political schemes.

The Little Leaguers lost their home on East 112th Street because the Mayor of this city thinks luxury buildings are more important than baseball fields.

This Mayor – just like the Mayor before him – knows nothing about this city. New York is not about buildings. It’s about the people that live in the buildings. They are from everywhere and speak every language and represent every idea of what our society should be.

But too many New Yorkers are beaten down by politicians that can’t see beyond the next dollar being slipped under the table. The blackouts and service cuts and brutal cops and peeling paint have taken their toll.

But now everyone has been lifted by some ball players in East Harlem who remain undefeated, but still homeless.

Tough To Beat

The Yankees were tough to beat yesterday. That’s what they need to be every day and every night for the rest of the year. This brawl of a season must finish with grinding at bats and Mariano Rivera’s exploding fastball.

“We know what we need to do,” Derek Jeter said. “Everyone understands that each game is important.”

Yesterday seemed even more important after dropping the previous two games in Baltimore. They jumped out to an early lead, but the Orioles kept scratching back. Even a five-run eighth inning couldn’t put the game away. Rivera had to end it with a disappearing fastball.

It was one more tough win for a team that needs to be tough to beat.

Bronx Business

Jose takes care of business on a 50-foot stretch of River Avenue just outside Yankee Stadium.

“I’ve worked more than 10 years to build it up,” he says. “Everyone knows they can come to me if they need tickets. I had to fight for this spot and no one is taking it away.”

New York State is trying. There is a new law deregulating resale-ticket prices, which, at face-value, sounds like a good deal for a guy like Jose.

“No way,” he says. “It’s good for the computer geeks. Those StubHub guys made out on this, but I didn't.”

StubHub.com is a powerful resale Web site that can now charge anything they want for tickets. The new law also prohibits the Yankees from taking action against those who resell tickets online.

StubHub.com says they are “a solution to the street scalper.”

“Solution?” Jose laughs. “They’re the problem. I deal with people face-to-face and offer a fair deal. I sell maybe 30 or 40 tickets a game. They sell thousands. They’ve got tons of under-the-table deals to lock up tickets. Give ‘em time and they’ll have ‘em all. The Yankees sell a ticket for $17 and they turn around and rip somebody off for $60.”

The new law also says that Jose must run his business 1,500 feet from Yankee Stadium. “Yeah, right,” he says. “That just means I’ll get nabbed by the cops a few more times a year. If they can force me out it means more tickets for StubHub. The rich always get richer.”

Squeezing guys like Jose makes the Bronx poorer. “If there are tickets left in the third inning he always gives me one,” says Harry from Walton Avenue. “He’s a good guy and I’d hate to see him forced out because I wouldn’t be able to see very many games.”

Fun Bunch

Maybe there was no other way to tap the true greatness in Alex Rodriguez. Maybe he just needed to remember how baseball felt when he was a kid in order to survive the pressures of being the biggest bat in the biggest lineup in the biggest baseball city in the world.

After drilling his 499th career home run to put last night’s game away, Rodriguez was drilled on the helmet by Robinson Cano and hugged by Melky Cabrera. They celebrated the moment the same way they’re playing these days: Hard and fast with big smiles.

“I have a good time with those two kids,” Rodriguez said. “They are excited about playing the game and they make me laugh a lot.”

They are kids with Dominican roots just like Rodriguez. But they didn’t come out of Westminster Christian High in Miami with a “can’t-miss” tag on their back and they aren’t regarded as the greatest player of their generation and they don’t have the biggest contract in the game. Rodriguez has always been determined to live up to expectations, but he seems even more determined to just be a ballplayer this year.

“The game is fun right now,” Rodriguez smiled.

And that’s the only thing baseball was ever meant to be.

Tax The Poor

There’s an old rule in the Bronx: Don’t look past today because there may be no tomorrow.

Javier cast that aside as he glanced across 161st Street from River Avenue.

“I worry about the new Stadium,” he said as dust rose from the construction site. “The big guy (George Steinbrenner) has been good to us with cheap tickets in the Bleachers and the Tier, but I don’t know if he'll be able to do that when this place opens.

“Taxes keep going up,” he continued. “Major League Baseball is no different than anyone else in this country. They come into the Bronx and pick our pockets so guys like that Wal-Mart thug in Kansas City (Royals’ owner David Glass) and that newspaper baron in Pittsburgh (Pirates’ CEO Kevin McClatchy) can fill theirs.

“I saw the fans in Pittsburgh are finally forcing him out,” Javier went on. “Good, that city deserves better.”

The Bronx deserves better, too. But no one in Major League Baseball’s Park Avenue offices seems to see a problem with dropping a huge tax bill on the poorest borough in New York City and one of the poorest urban areas in the country.

“They’re carrying on an American tradition,” Javier laughed. “Tax the poor to feed the rich. Our only chance is The Boss. He knows what this baseball team means to us and he’s never let us down. I just hope he can keep it up.”

Otherwise, there may be no baseball tomorrows for plenty of people in the Bronx.

Will To Understand

Not enough people have the will to understand. That’s why so little changed from 1947 to 1974 and it’s why even less has changed since.

That lack of understanding will make sure nothing changes tomorrow either.

Understanding isn’t easy. It takes effort to find out what’s really going on in this country. It’s easier for The New York Times columnist Murray Chass to say:

“Many of his supporters believe the opposition to (Barry) Bonds’s assault on (Hank) Aaron’s record is race based, but if they haven’t noticed, this is a case of one black man breaking another black man’s record.

“Aaron has not turned white in the 33 years he has held the record. How, then, can anyone attribute anti-Bonds sentiment to race?

“The color of his skin has nothing to do with the public perception of Bonds; it’s what he put on or under his skin.”

It’s not nearly that simple. To say the color of a person’s skin has nothing to do with how they a perceived in this society is to ignore everything from racial profiling to poverty to Hurricane Katrina to the war against immigrants to Sean Bell to Amadou Diallo.

This isn’t the case of one black man breaking another black man’s record. It’s the case of Bonds trying to break the same record in the same society. Racism cuts this country just as deeply today as it did in 1974. Bonds and Aaron are the same man traveling the same roads that are lined with the same angry mobs.

No one has the will to understand Bonds’s struggles anymore than they had the will to understand Aaron’s. It’s the same all around. No one has the will to understand people who look for work on the streets or people who are thrown out of their homes or people that can’t go to a doctor when they are sick or people who die in wars or people who are profiled or beaten or gunned down in their own neighborhoods.

It’s easier to say they are: illegal or they are lazy or they are dangerous or they are just bad people who do bad things.

It’s never about race.

Beating that line doesn’t change the facts. It only guarantees that nothing will ever change.

Sweet Sunday

It was a long weekend with long innings and longer games. Lousy Friday was followed by Great Saturday which was topped by Sweet Sunday.

In just three days, Shelley Duncan became the talk of the Bronx because of his big swings, big home runs and even bigger smile.

“How could anyone not love this kid?” Javier said after Sunday’s win. “His energy makes me feel like I could play again. On the (subway) platform last night I caught myself taking swings. Big swings. Swings just like the kid takes. Some people started laughing at me, but it was fun.”

Duncan agrees. “Everything about this game is fun,” he said.

Duncan packed a lot into his first few days in New York. Three home runs have made him the city’s newest folk hero. He took a different route than Phil Hughes whose legend grew from the day he was signed until he nearly threw a no-hitter in his second start.

Duncan toughed his way through six minor-league seasons before showing up – Roy Hobbs like – to help save the season.

“You never know how long things will last,” Javier said, “but this is going to be fun so I hope it lasts forever.”

A kid like Duncan will make you believe just about anything.

Sweet, indeed.

Next Time

You can’t win every game, but kids always have hope.

“I thought A-Rod was going to hit a home run to tie,” Raymond said. “When he got the base hit I thought Matsui would win it. And then I thought it would be Melky or Robbie.”

Baseball is a hard game. Being 12 years old in the Bronx can be even harder.

“I don’t know if I’ll get to come again this year,” Raymond said. “I wanted to see A-Rod hit one out. I listen to the games on the radio and sometimes you can hear it. Thwack! I want to hear that for myself next time.”

There needs to be more next times for kids like Raymond. More summer days and more baseball games. The Yankees do their share. They provide great access to weekday afternoon games. They have kept the prices of Tier and Bleacher seats manageable for working people and they have always done right by longtime, season-ticket holders.

Doing right by people isn’t something New York City politicians seem too concerned with these days. They continue to let housing prices spin out of control and they allow utility companies to rack up record profits while our infrastructure crumbles and blows up.

Landlords and Consolidated Edison executives settle into the box seats behind the dugout while kids like Raymond hope for one more chance at a game from the Tier. One more chance to see A-Rod and hear a ball jump off his bat.

“My mom says we might be able to get tickets in August,” Raymond says. “I hope so.”

Raymond’s mom has other things to worry about, too. They’ve broken the rent controls on their apartment and the Con Ed bill comes whether the lights turn on or not.

It’s time for this city’s leaders to start thinking about the needs of the people before there are no more next times for any of us.

Quick Turnaround

The air hangs like a wet towel over the South Bronx, but nothing can hold this neighborhood down. “It’s a great day for a ballgame,” Javier says. “Let’s play two!”

A round of boos rolls down the counter at the Crown Diner.

“Why don’t you come up with something original,” someone says.

“What?” Javier shoots. “You think Ernie Banks was the first to say that? Who do you think told Ernie?”

More boos.

Javier laughs and grabs his coffee and sack of donuts. “Gotta work fast today,” he says. “Quick turnaround for a day game.”

Fight Club

I was on the corner of East 149th and the Grand Concourse when two MTA track workers came up for a smoke.

“Did the Yankees win?” one of them asked.

“Yeah, 3-2 in 10 innings.”

“All right,” the other said. “Gotta light?”

It was a casual exchange about a game that was anything but casual. The Stadium had plenty of buzz like it always does when two great pitchers are going. Andy Pettitte is a favorite around here and Roy Halladay is one of the best in the game.

They both struggled early, but you can always count on tough guys fighting their way through. And you can count on tough teams finding a way to win games like that.

It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t easy, but the Yankees tied it in the ninth and won it in the 10th. The deciding blow was a ball slashed to left by Robinson Cano.

“The ball club is showing a lot of fight,” one of the track workers said. “They’re fun to watch. I’ve got tickets for Sunday and I can’t wait.”

Some don’t have to. The Fight Club is open tonight. Roger Clemens against Shaun Marcum. First pitch at 7:05 pm.

Ding.

Gap

There is a growing gap between those who play baseball and those who watch. It’s no different than any other gap in this country: Some of it is fueled by racial and cultural differences, but most of it is economic.

“A ballplayer has to be kept hungry to become a big leaguer,” Joe DiMaggio once said. “That’s why no boy from a rich family has ever made the big leagues.”

That still holds true for the most part. There are a few players from wealthier backgrounds and some from the middle-class, but most Major Leaguers grew up poor. Some in the United States and Canada, more in places like the Dominican Republic and Venezuela and Panama and Nicaragua and Columbia and Mexico.

Poor people know the game in a way rich people can never understand. That’s were the gap starts.

Poor kids play baseball in parking lots in the Bronx and rocky fields in the Dominican. They play with scrap bats and cardboard gloves and old rubber balls. Baseball isn’t something their parents sign them up for. It’s what they are and what they do. It’s their way up and sometimes their way out.

Too many people who can afford the best ballpark seats these days don’t get it. They never played baseball like that and simply don’t understand the game.

The gap really widens because too many of them think they know everything. That’s how it always seems to go in this country. No attempt at understanding leads to one more social gap in an America littered with social gaps.

Attitude

Disappointment comes with the job just like sweat and pain and dirt in their pants. Ballplayers have to get used to it.

But not too used to it.

Sometimes their only weapon is attitude. To survive in this game they had better have one helluva an attitude. People may come along and say they have a “bad attitude” or that they need an “attitude adjustment.” Most of them will carry tape recorders and microphones and have never played much baseball.

The great ones don’t listen.

They listen to their manager and their coaches and their teammates. They’re always told to keep the attitude.

That was about all Robinson Cano – with one hit since the All-Star break – had when he led off the fifth inning yesterday. The Yankees were in a 3-0 hole and Edwin Jackson had allowed only two hits in the game.

Cano quickly fell behind 0-2. Jackson tried to get him to chase. Nope. He hung tough, fouled off seven pitches, worked the count to 2-2 and finally blooped the eleventh pitch of the at-bat into centerfield for a single.

Only players with an attitude can do that. Those without would have been back in the dugout after three pitches.

That hit started a four-run rally that led to a victory. It was an important victory because they are all important. The Yankees – like Cano – are carrying one helluva an attitude these days.

Right Opinion

Gary Sheffield has the right to his opinion. And the nature of opinion says that he isn’t wrong.

Of course, every time Sheffield has an opinion it gets shouted down. There are people in this country that believe certain rights are only for certain people. When Sheffield expressed his views in GQ earlier this year, Major League Baseball’s Richard Levin cut him down by saying, “Consider the source.”

Sheffield was vilified and called everything from a loudmouth to a racist. Sheffield is not a racist. But if bringing light to racial issues that continue to cripple this country is being a loudmouth, then I guess he is that. Jackie Robinson was a loudmouth, too. And so was Martin Luther King Jr.

In an interview for HBO’s Real Sports, which airs on Tuesday, Sheffield was asked to express his opinions again. He explained that black players “… had an issue with Joe Torre. They weren’t treated like everybody else. I got called out in a couple of meetings that I thought were unfair.”

Sheffield also explained that he did not think Torre was racist, only that he treated black and white players differently.

“Derek Jeter used to come to me,” Sheffield said in the interview. “And basically he used to try to tell me what Joe Torre is all about: ‘He’s a good man, he’s this, he’s that,’ But like I told Derek, ‘That’s you. It’s one thing that they treat you a certain way. You don’t feel what other people feel.’”

No on can feel what other people feel, which is why opinions are never wrong.

In the interview, Sheffield detailed an incident when the Florida Marlins sent him to a psychologist to deal with his “behavior problems.”

“The first thing they said to me was, ‘You need to be more like Ken Griffey Jr.,’” Sheffield said. “‘See how he laughs and has fun? I bet he sleeps good at night.’ I got up and walked out.”

Someone recently told me that people wouldn’t boo if Griffey was moving in on the all-time home run record instead of Barry Bonds. But Griffey isn’t Bonds and Bonds isn’t Griffey and Sheffield isn’t either of them.

No one has the right to tell people who they should be or how they should feel or what they should say.

In my neighborhood, Gary Sheffield has the right to his opinion. And there are plenty of people around here saying that he isn’t wrong.

Back To Work

The 2 train carries Carl Stevens to the only job he’s ever known.

“I’ve been taking the same ride for 42 years,” he says. “They call us ‘Building Maintenance Engineers’ now. They used to call us ‘maintenance guys’ or just ‘hey, clean that up.’

“They’ve gotten pretty formal and even make us wear uniforms,” he continues. “I don’t have to wear the whole thing. They say I got ‘grandfathered’ and can wear my Yankees hat because I always have.”

Stevens is one more New Yorker who is always ready for a fight. “They wanted me to wear this brown hat with a big ‘Maintenance’ patch on it. I said ‘Everyone in this building and in this neighborhood knows what I do. Besides, what I really am is: A Yankee.’

“I think they just wanted me to shut up so they let me wear my hat,” he smiles. “I never go anywhere without it.”

He wore it last night when the Yankees took care of the Devil Rays. “It was a good way to get back to work after the (All-Star) break,” Stevens says. “The hitting was good and Andy (Pettitte) was okay and that catch by Melky (Cabrera) was great. I really like watching that kid play. He makes me smile.

“This team has lots of fight and they’re gonna make a run,” he continues. “I’ll bet my hat on it.”

The Streets

The streets know. They can tell where a person has been and where they’re going.

Jon Gonzalez from 183rd Street is going to school. He rides the 1 train and transfers to the 2 downtown. It feels like a million miles from Washington Heights.

“My mom says it’s a good school,” he explains. “I’m going this summer to get ahead.”

The train rattles through Times Square and Penn Station and past 14th Street and Christopher, Houston, Canal and Franklin.

“It ain’t so bad,” Gonzalez shrugs. “A-Rod went to a good high school (Westminster Christian High in Miami) and that’s what I want to do: be a ballplayer.”

He slings his backpack around. It’s blue and “A-Rod 13” is stitched in white.

“Where’d you buy it?” someone asks.

“My mom made it,” Gonzales says. “The school said I needed a bag like this for my books so she just sewed it up.”

He opens the bag and slips a ticket from inside a book cover. “April 19,” he says. “I didn’t go to school that day. It was Thursday. A-Rod hit a home run and we won. I got home late and my mom was mad.

“I said, ‘Someday I’ll hit a home run and bring you the ball.’ She was still mad. ‘You coulda been lost or dead in the street,’ she said.

“I told her, ‘I know where home is.’”

The Hammer

Hank Aaron is being used. So what else is new?

Society has used Aaron from the day he was born and baseball has used him from the day he was old enough to swing a bat.

Now people use him as a weapon to attack Barry Bonds.

Aaron is not interested in being there when Bonds breaks his home run record. Bonds respects that, but no one else seems to.

Everywhere you turn people are slithering up to Aaron and his 755 like they’ve been behind him all along. I’m sure this bizarre twist is not lost on Aaron, but is seems to have sailed over the rest of our heads.

Barry Bonds 2007 is the same as Hank Aaron 1974. They’ve traveled the same road littered with same hate mail and the same catcalls and the same newspaper columns and the same sleazy Commissioner.

Aaron’s feelings have been stolen and twisted and his accomplishments are being used to run down another man. They are trying to turn Hank Aaron 2007 into Babe Ruth 1974.

Things never change. So what else is new?

Hard Look

Barry Bonds asked a fair question: “Why are you booing me?”

We owe him an answer beyond the hateful notes, slanted stories, nasty signs and endless boos that echo across this country. An honest look has to acknowledge that race has played a role in our perception of Bonds and his quest to break the all-time home run record.

FACT: Bonds is black.

FACT: Nearly a quarter of black Americans live below the poverty line, which is more than double the rate of all Americans.

FACT: The current unemployment rate for blacks is double that of whites.

FACT: Blacks comprise 13 percent of the population, but are 30 percent of the people arrested and 42 percent of the people in jail.

FACT: More than 13 percent of black males have lost the right to vote because of felony disenfranchisement laws.

Baseball is played alongside these facts. We all live alongside these facts. It’s time to face them.

Race has plenty to do with how Bonds is treated. It has plenty to do with what happened in New Orleans. It also has plenty to do with poverty. And it has plenty to do with what happens every day on the streets of San Francisco and St. Louis and Atlanta and Chicago and Philadelphia and New York and every other city and town in this country.

Too many Americans think they are above it all. “I’m not a racist,” they shrug.

Individually that may be true, but our racist society rolls on and on and on.

The boos keep coming, too.

“I feel disappointed in some of those fans who were influenced by a [media] judgment and have not [taken] the opportunity to know me,” Bonds said yesterday. “People in San Francisco know me. The fans here know me. Fans outside the city only get to see me for three days [at a time]. To judge me based on a third party, that’s what disappoints me, when actually I’ve done nothing wrong to you.”

FACT: It’s time for this country and this game to take a hard look at itself.

Ballplayer

It doesn’t matter, all the money and the hype and the fame. Baseball is about the game. It always has been.

That’s why the question took me by surprise:

“Why,” a friend asked me, “would Sandy Alomar Jr. keep hanging around the Minor Leagues for one last call up?”

The answer is simple:

There is nothing better than being a ballplayer and there is nothing worst than life after being a ballplayer. Some handle it better than others, but no one handles it well.

Alomar would rather handle the aches and pains of being a 41-year-old catcher than life after foul tips. He will play the same for the New York Mets as did for the New Orleans Zephyrs because the game is always the thing.

He will probably end up coaching and eventually managing in the Major Leagues, but that’s all for another time.

Today he’s still a ballplayer and there’s nothing better than that.

Good Ol’ Day

Old-Timers’ Day was about everything.

It was about hot coffee and salted peanuts for breakfast outside the players’ gate. It was about as far in the past as anyone could remember and as far in the future as anyone could imagine.

It was about Yogi Berra and Whitey Ford and Brian Doyle taking pictures with his cell phone. It was about Darryl Strawberry and Jim Leyritz and Paul O’Neill reaching the seats in batting practice.

It was a day that could be whatever you wanted it to be.

For my wife it was about Don Larsen. Her grandfather sat along the third-base line for game five of the 1956 World Series. Larsen once signed a ball for him that he treasured to the end.

For me it was about the crush of media around Reggie Jackson after batting practice. He will always be the straw that stirs the drink around here.

It was about thinking of the day when Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez and Mariano Rivera and Jorge Posada and Bernie Williams will be introduced to another packed Stadium.

And it was a day to think back on a cold March morning when the talk at the Crown Diner turned to Phil Hughes.

“You don’t want to rush the kid,” Javier said. “Phil Hughes’ day will come and Phil Hughes’ Day will come. They’ll be about 30 years apart.”

Maybe someday Hughes will jog out and wave his cap just like Ford and Larsen and Goose Gossage.

Old-Timers’ Day is always about everything you want it to be.

Arrive Early And Stay Late

Most everyone in the Bronx plans for Old-Timers’ Day, but some take it more seriously than others.

“I’ll be here early,” Henry tells me.

“How early?”

“At 10 a.m. to see the players come in.”

First will be the guys from 1977. There will probably be some from 1947, too. And 1957 and 1967 and 1987 and even Paul O’Neill from 1997.

The 2007 Yankees will also come early, including some of O’Neill’s teammates from 1997 like Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera and Jorge Posada and Andy Pettitte.

The day belongs to all Yankees. It is always long and hot and one of the best days of the year. Henry will be the last to leave.

“I just like to see the players,” he says.

Sun Day

Baseball is better under the sun. At least it was yesterday when the ball jumped deep into the right-centerfield bleachers off Hideki Matsui’s bat.

It was a day to soak up a win and talk baseball around the players’ gate and then watch a kid in a blue T-shirt, black shorts and white sneakers slam ball after ball off the wall in Parking Lot 5 at the corner of River Avenue and East 157th Street.

He kept challenging the pitcher to throw one down the middle. It didn’t really matter where the pitches were located because he hit everything. When he finally got something that was really to his liking he drilled it over the fence toward Gerard Avenue.

He thrust his arms in air as the aluminum bat clanked on the asphalt.

“Godzilla!”

Searching For An Honest Crook

The lights blazed on the blog. The door was busted off the hinges even though it was never locked. The floor was littered with upended furniture and broken glass. Books and magazines and newspapers were strewn about.

The blog changed forms and languages and even flicked a few times, but it never went out. Several people helped me put things back on the shelves and in the cabinets. We righted the tables and swept the floor and fixed the door.

It took about five minutes to set this up back in December and I never figured anyone would try to break in and rip it apart.

Baseball is fun, right?

I still don’t know much about security so the door is open if they want to come back and destroy more books and turn over more tables.

My grandfather did get a chuckle out of the whole thing. “A virtual robbery,” he laughed. “You really can’t find an honest crook these days.”

Break In News

My grandparents don’t have a lock on their door. They don’t believe in having things they don’t need.

They are safe in their neighborhood because there isn’t anyone they don’t know. It takes my grandfather 20 minutes to go to the newsstand in the morning because he stops and talks to everyone.

“Besides,” he always says. “They are all welcome to anything we have.”

Security has never been a top priority in my family so it was quite a shock when someone, apparently, broke into this blog today.

I’m not sure how you break into a blog, but the Blogger Help Center tells me it happens. No one really knows what you might see around here in the next day or so. Blog, no blog. Comments, no comments, maybe obscene comments. Anyway, it promises to be a wild ride.

My grandfather is never going to believe this.

Baseball Without Justice

The 4 train stopped dead around Bleecker Street yesterday afternoon.

“The train ahead of us has suffered a one-two punch,” the conductor explained. “There is a suspicious package and a person with a weapon who is threatening other passengers. We will continue once the NYPD clears this up.”

The woman standing beside me offered some perspective. “At least we’re not on that train.”

Yeah, the wait wasn’t bad at all. We made 161st Street-Yankee Stadium in plenty of time. The angry, weapon-wielding person and the suspicious package didn’t make it. Every once in awhile the NYPD does this neighborhood a favor.

Even they know that anger and hate have no place in baseball. Too many people these days don’t understand that. Perhaps it’s because they simply don’t understand the game. Maybe they didn’t play enough when they were kids or maybe they were forced to play too much.

The joy and hope and decency of baseball was either never instilled or it was ripped out by the roots. It’s sad no matter what the case.

Perspective on that comes from Jimmie Crutchfield who played 16 seasons in the Negro Leagues for teams like the Birmingham Black Barons, the Pittsburgh Crawfords and the Chicago American Giants.

Crutchfield once told John Schulian in the Chicago Sun-Times: “We had ball games to worry about. We didn’t have time to hate people.”

The story was titled: Baseball Without Justice.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

“If you don’t have the guts to discuss it on the street then you shouldn’t write it online.”

– Javier, Bronx Philosopher

I once wrote that those were words to blog by. They are also words to comment by.

Blogs can be interesting, useful and entertaining. They can also be dumping grounds for angry, profanity-laced, racist tirades by those who choose to remain anonymous.

I’m not sure exactly what I wanted this blog to be initially, but I certainly never envisioned it as an open forum for those people to spew hate and bring nothing to the conversation.

I realize that I’m an easy target.

I believe in a free, open, just society that starts with quality healthcare, housing, education, transportation and nutrition for everyone. I believe in social and economic justice. I believe that everyone should have the right to marry. I believe that killing is wrong. I believe that no human being is illegal. I believe that Barry Bonds is treated unfairly. I believe Gary Sheffield is correct. I believe Jason Giambi is being singled out by people who have corrupted this game. I believe that teaching kids to play baseball should be a priority.

I believe in the New York that has always been my home. I believe in Syracuse and Buffalo and Watertown and Albany and Binghamton. I believe in the Bronx and Queens and Manhattan and Brooklyn and Staten Island. I believe in Highbridge and Washington Heights and Harlem and every other neighborhood that makes up this great city of immigrants.

I believe that together we can change this city and this state and this country and the whole world, too.

Some call me a communist dreamer and others a bleeding-heart liberal. I decided a long time ago that I don’t really care what anyone calls me.

I talk about my beliefs on the Grand Concourse and Broadway and at Yankee Stadium and on the 2 train and on this blog, which has open comments and a listed email. So if you have something to say: Hit me with your best shot, but leave Derek Jeter out of it because he has accomplished more than the rest of us combined.

Anything For A Win

It doesn’t count as a win, yet. It was a game that played out like so many that have slipped away this year: Get a lead, lose a lead, take back the lead and lose it again. But this was different. It was different because, with two on and no outs, Melky Cabrera slammed a double down the left field line. It drove in a run and set up an inning that ultimately turned a two run deficit into a two run lead.

But it isn’t over. Derek Jeter – who always delivers big hits – will be standing on second base when they pick up this game in 28 days. He will probably still be clapping because he knows as well as anyone that this may have been the inning that finally turned the season.

A game that will take nearly a month to finish certainly feels right after all this team has gone through. “Yeah,” said someone on the 2 train this morning. “I feel good, but not too good because it’s not over. I’ve got to sweat that one out for a month. I hope tonight’s game is shorter.”

They thought for a moment and added, “I don’t really care how long they take or how hard it rains. I’ll do anything for a win.”

Lights Out

The lights went out in the Bronx yesterday. They went out in Manhattan and Queens and Staten Island, too. The Mayor is telling everyone that this was just “a minor inconvenience.”

Of course, Michael Bloomberg wasn’t stuck on a train and he didn’t try and cross the street with no signals and he didn't have to walk home. “A minor inconvenience? Right…,” grumbled Jon from Highbridge.

We heard the same thing last year while a huge chunk of Queens sat with no power for more than a week. We’ll hear the same thing next week, next month and next year. Things like this are always a minor inconvenience for people like Bloomberg.

Those forced to live with the decisions of one more Mayor who has done nothing to improve the lives of the people in this city get a different view. They trudged out of sweltering subway tunnels and walked home so they wouldn’t miss the start of the Yankees game.

“I’ve got batteries in the radio,” Jon smiled. “A win tonight would make it all okay.”

A 4-to-0 loss is a minor inconvenience in a long baseball summer. The same can’t be said when the lights go out.

Moody

Scott Proctor was in a bad mood after last night’s loss.

He was quoted by Peter Abraham in the Journal News: “I let everybody down,” Proctor said in an expletive-filled interview. “It’s embarrassing.”

Tyler Kepner explained it this way in The New York Times: Proctor was moved to profanity in his postgame interview with the YES cameras rolling, something Yankees players almost never use.

Andy Pettitte seemed to capture the overall mood of the Yankees’ clubhouse: “It was just another miserable night for us.”

The Answers

You will come across just about everything if you watch this game long enough. Last night I finally heard Derek Jeter slipup. Someone asked if he could put his, “Finger on why this team is having trouble scoring runs?”

“Nope,” Jeter shot. “If anyone could put their finger on it then we would fix it.”

Apparently, Jeter is spending too much time working on his game and not enough perusing the 11,419,260 Web sites and blogs that have each fingered the Yankees problems and are providing answers.

Some of them range from trading everyone to forcing Joe Torre to suck down Red Bull in the dugout instead of sipping green tea.

How could Derek have missed it?

Theory

Are you interested in how the Yankees can turn the season around? It seems like everyone with keyboard or a microphone has a theory, but making up your own is just as good.

If you watch the games, read the quotes and listen to the interviews you know as much as anyone else on this side of the fence.

Unless Joe Torre and Brian Cashman invite me to discuss the team over coffee and donuts at the Crown Diner, I’ll stick with what Derek Jeter said after Sunday’s loss in San Francisco: “Win, that’s pretty much it. I don’t have anything else for you. We have to win.”

Directions

It’s impossible to get lost in New York because someone will always tell you where to go.

“They think I’m gonna give up?” Javier shot across the 2 train. “I’m supposed to quit because some big month on the radio tells me to be realistic? Baseball is all about not being realistic and never giving up.

“A lot of people just don’t get it,” he continued. “Too much television, too much radio, too many video games and too much time in front of a computer have rotted their brains. Some suburban yuppie with a calculator is going to tell me how I’m supposed to feel about my team? That’ll be the day.”

Andy Pettitte takes the ball in Baltimore. The directions are simple. One game. One team. One win.

Extra

Some games hurt more than others. Anyone who says differently has never played.

I once caught 16 innings in a high-school game. I ended up 2 for 8 with an RBI and we lost 12 to 11. I’ll never forget the bus ride home. I was mad but didn’t scream, sad but didn’t cry and exhausted but didn’t sleep. I couldn’t imagine having the strength to play the next day.

But you don’t have to imagine when the coach yells out the lineup. I batted seventh and started at third base. We won 6 to 2. I don’t remember much else about the game, but I’ll never forget how we felt when it was over.

Every player can find the strength to win. I know the Yankees were dragging yesterday in San Francisco, but they’ll be ready to play today. They have to be.

Upside Down

Somehow it’s all gone wrong and the world has been turned upside down. That’s the only way to explain universal support for a system that allows the rich and powerful to pummel individuals with no questions asked.

Open a newspaper, turn on a radio or sit in front of a television and you will be told that Jason Giambi and Barry Bonds and Gary Sheffield and Sammy Sosa are bad guys. Mark McGwire, too.

A handful of players are being dragged down for years and years of problems that were clearly known and ignored by everyone. I expect the Commissioner and the owners to try and float that idea. I also expect the media to sink it. It is absolutely ridiculous to think that any individual or group of individuals is responsible for problems that were burned so deeply into the game.

But the media doesn’t take its job all that seriously anymore. They do not champion causes for individuals because The New York Times and the Daily News and ESPN and FOX are big businesses. They are drifting too far into the corporate world to do what’s desperately needed: Shine a light on corruption and injustice and don’t just aim it where the people in charge tell you to.

We’re lucky that some hurdles have already been cleared because Jackie Robinson and Curt Flood and Hank Aaron wouldn’t have much of a chance today.

The Fix Is In

Bud Selig runs a confidence game. It’s also known as a con, a scam, a swindle, a grift, a bunko, a flim flam or the old double switch. Those who do it right – or is that wrong? – are masters of muddying the waters and dealing from the bottom of the deck.

Selig’s three-card-monte game runs over on Park Avenue. They play a more genteel style in that neighborhood, but the stakes are higher.

You don’t find the lady or follow the bee for a sawbuck around there. Selig deals United States Senators. In a 164 word, 3 paragraph statement issued yesterday, he referred to George Mitchell as “Senator Mitchell” four times.

George Mitchell is not a Untied States Senator. He has not been a Senator for more than 10 years. This probe into performance enhancing drugs in baseball is not a United States Senate Investigation. Despite his threats, Mitchell does not have the power to seek Congressional intervention any more than you or I.

Mitchell, like Selig, is just another bully on the block with a card up his sleeve.

They bullied Jason Giambi into talking and they think they can bully everyone into believing he is just “one of the bad apples.” They want you to believe that about Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa and Gary Sheffield, too.

They used threats to make Giambi issue a statement that said in part: “I alone am responsible for my actions and I apologize to the Commissioner, the owners and the players for any suggestion that they were responsible for my behavior.”

That’s the Commissioner and the owners covering their backs and protecting their bank accounts, which is all Mitchell’s dog-and-pony show has ever been about.

Selig, Mitchell and the owners and going to walk off with all the money on the table at the end of the day and Giambi probably won’t be able to walk without pain when he’s 50.

Regardless of his salary, Giambi is the brick layer in this little drama. On his way home from work he was drawn into a game he can’t win.

Find the lady, follow the bee, watch the former Senator.

The fix is in.

An American Tale

I took the long way to work today. I got off the 2 train at Chambers Street and headed east so I could cut down Broadway and find Sammy Sosa’s sidewalk marker:

October 17, 1998, Sammy Sosa, Chicago Cubs Baseball Player, Who Broke The Single Season Home Run Record.

Sosa owned the city that day. He cut a path through a sea of cheers and Dominican flags. How could anyone not love him? He plays with a hop and a pop and a smile. Even Mark McGwire, who hit more home runs than Sosa in 1998, loves the guy. “How could you not?” he shrugged.

Last night Sosa hit his 600th home run. It was an opposite-field drive to right centerfield in Arlington, Texas, against the Chicago Cubs.

A man bent down on Broadway this morning and patted the sidewalk that marked Sosa’s day. “He’s a good man. I’m happy for him.”

Sosa still makes New York smile. The man who trails only Hank Aaron, Barry Bonds, Babe Ruth and Willie Mays in home runs, speaks to the best qualities of this immigrant city. He is a hero of the people and should be carried down Broadway again when his career is finally over.

That probably won’t happen because a lot has changed since 1998. Sosa has been dragged down by people who never hit a baseball or lived his life.

He has been called before a House Government Reform Committee and now George Mitchell’s investigation on steroids in baseball has requested his medical records. These are all people who have served a government that helps further economic policies to impoverish countries like the Dominican Republic where Sosa was raised, learned to play baseball and seldom had enough to eat.

That twisted irony is an American tradition that people like Sosa have fought forever. His friends may not be the wealthy and powerful that always seem to get their way, but there are more of us.

An Honest Man

There is a lot of talk about Jason Giambi these days.

Because Giambi talked too much, Bud Selig is trying to make him talk to George Mitchell.

Don’t expect this to lead anywhere. Selig and Mitchell are just covering their backs. They had this all ironed out before Giambi went and wrecked everything by telling USA Today:

“I was wrong for doing that stuff. What we should have done a long time ago was stand up – players, ownership, everybody – and said: ‘We made a mistake.’

“We should have apologized back then and made sure we had a rule in place and gone forward… Steroids and all of that was a part of history. But it was a topic that everybody wanted to avoid. Nobody wanted to talk about it.”

You can place Selig at the top of the list of people who didn’t want to talk about it. He has always been more interested in polishing his legacy as the man who “Brought the game back to its proper place,” than doing any meaningful work.

Selig has a high opinion of himself, but history will paint the true picture. The twisted thread will wind through collusion and a team owner acting as Commissioner and the strong-armed tactics that led to a devastating work stoppage and the sorted loans and the ownership transfer and the eventual sale of the Milwaukee Brewers.

Selig would have been out of baseball years ago if there was a true Commissioner protecting the integrity of the game. Instead, he barks orders from behind a false legacy built on the backs of players like Cal Ripken Jr. and Barry Bonds and Tony Gwynn and Derek Jeter and Mark McGwire and Ken Griffey Jr. and Roger Clemens and Sammy Sosa.

Giambi’s quote moved us closer to ridding baseball of dangerous drugs. It also moved us closer to exposing the people responsible. That’s what really worries Selig and Mitchell and that’s why the Commissioner’s Office continues to leak confidential drug tests and threats of suspension to intimidate players and the union.

They decided long before this investigation started where the blame would land and they will stop at nothing to reach their predetermined conclusions.

They just didn’t count on an honest man mucking it up with some straight talk.

Blogs And Street Corners

Blogs are poor excuses for street corners.

I was reminded of that by my friend Javier. “Some of you bloggers are worse than (Mike) Lupica,” he said standing outside the market near the corner of Gerard Avenue and 157th Street. “At least Lupica comes to the ballpark, sometimes.”

I countered: “But blogs can create discussion.”

“That’s a good thing,” Javier agreed, “but what kind of discussion is it? It seems to be mostly people without much courage. You know, a bunch of internet tough guys that want to tell everyone how smart they are.

“That’s not discussion,” he continued. “It’s more like yelling or horn honking. Most of the people that comment on blogs probably drive cars and would turn into my crosswalk and honk because they think they’re more important than me. And of course they’d never get out of their car in my neighborhood.

“They beat up on A-Rod and Jason (Giambi) and Joe Torre,” Javier went on. “No one beats on those guys out here. If you don’t have the guts to discuss it on the street then you shouldn’t write it online.”

Words to blog by.

Magic

The kids on Gerard Avenue uncapped a fire hydrant yesterday. It cooled a hot afternoon and the arriving Yankee Stadium crowd provided the cover needed to elude the police long enough for proper enjoyment.

There was a thick river flowing down 157th Street before lookouts signaled that the cops were moving in. Summer traditions never change because kids never change. That gives the neighborhood its magic.

Johnny Damon worked some magic a couple of hours later when he walked along the dugout steps and flipped a cup of water in the air. Cubans believe that will make it rain runs. I don’t know if Damon is aware of that, but Orlando Hernandez certainly is and it worked against him on Sunday night.

The word along Gerard Avenue is that the magic was turned on El Duque. He will always be a favorite in the Bronx and we wish him well since we won’t meet again until the World Series.

But all the stops will be pulled if we meet on a cool October night.

Truth

Truth can be hard to find, but a plain one stares from every game between the Yankees and Mets: These match-ups bring far too many people in the ballpark that know nothing about baseball.

Six Major League Baseball games – three in the Bronx and three in Queens – are blurred by a made up rivalry that has done little more than make some rich people richer and angry people angrier.

Everyone in the neighborhood is happy that this yearly sideshow is finished.

Now, let’s play baseball.

What Would Tony Say?

I was taught early on that the other team is, well, the other team and your only interest should be to beat them. But much like Willie Mays quietly applauding Joe DiMaggio’s home run in the 1951 World Series, I found myself clapping for Tony Clark – an Arizona Diamondback – as he walked out of Yankee Stadium yesterday.

Clark was sharply dressed in a brown suit and stopped to sign a few autographs before climbing on the bus. His Yankee career was quick – 106 games in 2004 – and his numbers – .221 with 16 home runs and 49 RBIs – weren’t huge, but he meant a lot to this team, his teammates and the people in this neighborhood.

The mood around here rides on our baseball team and 2004 – like all baseball seasons – had plenty of ups and downs. Clark was always a calming voice. After tough losses I used to find myself hoping they would interview him. He could put a positive spin on even the most disappointing defeats.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he would say. “We just need to tighten it up. We’re having better at-bats and the hits will come. Now, we’ll sleep fast and get back after it tomorrow.”

Short, sweet and full of clichés. It may not have been exciting for reporters, but it was perfect for fans.

Even now, I’ll ask myself: “What would Tony say?”

“You need to keep the same attitude whether you’re on a winning streak or a losing streak. This is a difficult game and it’s always changing. All you can do is play ‘em hard and see where you end up.”

Tony Clark will make a great manager someday.

Promise

Each day offers promise, but there seems to be a bit extra when you plan to spend more time at the ballpark than at work.

Thursday afternoon baseball is sweet. High behind the plate you can glimpse the South Bronx grinding along while – for nine innings – the game below is all that matters. There is always work to do, but nothing should get in the way of a baseball break.

It is a comforting reminder of what we can be. Think of a world where each day is like this for everyone.

That should be our goal and our promise.

As Advertised

Last night came as advertised at Yankee Stadium.

National League Cy Young Award winner Brandon Webb was good, but American League Cy Young Award runner-up Chien-Ming Wang was better.

The Yankees capitalized on an error and jumped out to an early lead. Wang – with the help of Kyle Farnsworth and Mariano Rivera – did the rest.

Draw it up, box it up, wrap it up, and sell it: As Advertised.

Where’s Roger Kahn?

After a tumultuous week that had Gary Sheffield defending comments he made in the current GQ, William Rhoden wrote an interesting and even-handed column in Saturday’s New York Times. The piece featured quotes from Jimmie Lee Solomon, Major League Baseball’s executive vice president of baseball operations, which helped make Sheffield’s case that the popularity of Latino players is largely part of an economic imperative that makes them more appealing than African American players.

“The reason that the academies were put there is basically economic,” Solomon told Rhoden. “When a major league team develops a player in Latin America, that player is not subject to baseball’s draft. When a club builds an academy in the Dominican Republic and signs a bunch of players, those players belong to that club and they can sign all those players.”

Rhoden wrapped up his column with this: Gary Sheffield, baseball’s bull in a china shop, has indelicately brought attention to a delicate subject.

Rhoden may have been hoping for a bit too much from some.

Yesterday, Jon Heyman countered on SportsIllustrated.com:

“When you see Major League Baseball putting academies in other countries, obviously that throws up a red flag,” Sheffield told GQ. “You wonder why they ain’t going up in our neighborhood. Bottom line, what I see, I talk about… I see it over and over. If anybody can show me I’m wrong, then show me.”

That’s where MLB had to step in. According to Solomon [the same Jimmy Lee Solomon quoted by Rhoden in the Times], MLB just put up a $10 million baseball facility in Compton, Calif. called the Urban Youth Academy, complete with four fields and a 12,500-square foot clubhouse on a 10-acre plot.

Not only that, but Solomon said that the Atlanta Braves put up an academy in Atlanta with the financial backing of Chipper Jones, Mike Hampton, Brian Jordan and John Smoltz. In addition, a site is being selected in Washington, D.C., the Phillies are building an academy in Philly, the Red Sox in Boston and the Astros in Houston.

Plus, MLB has run the RBI program since 1991, with 165,000 of 200,000 of its young ballplayers playing in the U.S. And there’s more. The Baseball Tomorrow Fund, a joint venture from MLB and the Players Association, has targeted $10 million in grants to aid baseball in inner cities and impoverished areas.

Solomon said: “If Gary had taken the time to call the office, he could have said, ‘That’s not enough. But not to get the facts ... well, that’s unfortunate.”

Those facts show Major League Baseball’s efforts are sorely lacking. Two academies, a couple of programs and a few plans and promises is not nearly enough for a multi-billion dollar industry in a country of more than 300 million people.

Sheffield is the only one willing to speak out against these injustices and aside from Rhoden’s column, he has been vilified for his courage and candor.

What changed with Solomon between the time he spoke with Rhoden and then Heyman? And how do two writers, working with essentially the same subject, produce two completely different stories?

This incident capsulated many of the injustices that cut through our society and too often go ignored because anyone who dares speak out is quickly labeled and their points are never examined or investigated.

Jackie Robinson’s story was chronicled by baseball writers who knew the social significance of the story and refused to be put off by labels and vague generalizations.

Where’s Roger Kahn when you need him?

Monday Points

One point cuts through all the talk in the Bronx. The Yankees are going to chase everyone down and win this thing.

“How else should I feel?” shrugged Raul from Walton Avenue. “The guys are playing well, they are working their way up in the standings and there are still more than 100 games left. It’s going to be a fun summer.”

It was a fun weekend in the Bronx against the Pirates and we learned a few things:

Andy Pettitte and Mariano Rivera are as tough as they come.

Doug Mientkiewicz, who is having his broken wrist surgically pinned to cut his recovery time, is pretty tough, too.

This team is a lot better now that Roger Clemens is back.

I can’t seem to find any of the people who wanted to trade Bobby Abreu a couple of weeks ago.

Alex Rodriguez is the biggest right-handed bat in baseball.

Jason Giambi was on the field signing autographs yesterday. He was introduced on “Jason Giambi Bat Day” and received a big welcome from the fans. Bud Selig would receive a much different reception if he ever dared to come to the Bronx.

Derek Jeter is always the leader of this team.

Johnny Damon is fitting in nicely as the designated hitter.

No one plays the game with more joy than Melky Cabrera.

Yeah, it’s going to be a fun summer and that’s the only point that really matters.

Weekender

There is nothing better than a Bronx baseball weekend. Pettitte, Rocket and Clippard. It’s great to have the guys back home.

But Friday is the beginning of the week for a lot of people. If no one worked weekends the trains wouldn’t run and the ballpark wouldn’t open. The trash would pile up and there would be no one to sell newspapers and make burritos.

I tip my hat to those who make our weekends better.

2,000 And Counting

Everyone is ready to pass judgment when symbols and statistics collide with history.

We saw that last night as Joe Torre became only the tenth manager to win 2,000 games. Numbers like that are impossible to ignore, but Torre still takes more than his share of criticism. Sports talk radio and baseball blogs allow people who have never set foot on a Major League field to snipe at one of the games’ brightest minds.

Some complain about his in-game strategy, but no one can question his record. He has been a stabilizing force for nearly 12 years on a team and in a city where more than a couple of seasons will earn a manager iron-man status.

Torre is the perfect man for a difficult job. He deals with the media better than anyone and has a good working relationship with a demanding owner. He is the calming presence that leads this team, but he is not – as many believe – a passive manager. He deals with his players as individuals and challenges, comforts, and scolds as necessary.

Anyone that thinks he doesn’t bring enough energy to the field hasn’t been paying attention. When it’s time to yell, Torre can raise the roof with the best of them.

His players love him and so do the fans that live and die with every pitch. Strategy can always be questioned, but the measure of a man is his final record. Torre is at 2,000 wins and counting.

Easy Target

Jason Giambi is an easy target.

He’s a trusting, decent, flawed person – which makes him just like the rest of us – who has no chance against a mean, vindictive mob led by Bud Selig.

Thankfully, teammates have his back.

“You’re getting punished for doing an interview and talking,” Mike Myers told the Daily News. “If this is the precedent that’s going to be set – that if you do an interview and speak out against Major League Baseball, we’re going to slap you on the wrists and say ‘Cooperate with (George) Mitchell and if we don’t like your answers, we’re going to punish you even worse’ – I think it’s a joke.”

Selig’s threat to suspend and/or fine Giambi for comments he made to a reporter if he doesn’t cooperate with Mitchell’s investigation sounds more like a back-alley shakedown.

“Bud thinks he can do whatever he wants,” said Mike Mussina.

The people with money and power always do.

It’s time for the Major League Baseball Players Association (MLBPA) to show Selig and Mitchell and the team owners that no one should be able to coerce testimony with threats.

Giambi may be an easy target, but the MLBPA and its membership are not. If Selig wanted to know how far he could push the players, I think he just found out.

Now he should prepare for the big push back.

Heart Of The Matter

Gary Sheffield cut to the heart of the matter and was quickly cut down.

His comments in the new GQ have been twisted, dissected and turned around. He has been called everything from a loudmouth to a racist.

“I called it years ago,” Sheffield said in the magazine. “What I called is that you’re going to see more black faces, but there ain’t no English going to be coming out. ... [It's about] being able to tell [Latin players] what to do – being able to control them.”

White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen clarified:

“It’s not that they can control us; maybe when we come to this country, we’re hungry,” Guillen said. “We’re trying to survive. Those guys sign for $500,000 or $1 million and they’re made. We have a couple of dollars. You can sign one African American player for the price of 30 Latin players.”

Yes, control is at the heart of the matter: Financial control.

Major League Baseball is an American corporation and like all American corporations it craves exploitable commodities. As Guillen points out, Latin players are a huge pool of cheap labor.

That’s the real issue Major League Baseball doesn’t want anyone talking about. Pitting African Americans against Latin Americans is the easiest way to gloss over baseball’s sweatshop operation. If the workers squabble amongst themselves they won’t fight Bud Selig and the team owners who are exploiting all of them.

“When you see Major League Baseball putting academies in other countries, obviously that throws up a red flag,” Sheffield said yesterday. “You wonder why they ain’t going up in our neighborhood. Bottom line, what I see, I talk about. I see it over and over. If anybody can show me I’m wrong, then show me.”

Sheffield is right. Teams don’t have academies in the Dominican Republic and Venezuela because they care about the people in those countries. They have them because the can develop and sign players cheaply.

And they are always looking for new pools of cheap labor, which is why we’re hearing so much about China these days. It’s never about growing baseball. It’s always about growing wealth.

Sheffield – with some help from Guillen – cut to the heart of it, but people at the top don’t want anyone talking about issues that could cut into the bottom line.

Clete

So many memories of Clete Boyer come in 5x7 and 8x10. They are glossy black and white and grainy color. Some images flicker across a screen: a drive to Boyer’s left, great stop, from his knees to Bobby Richardson and on to Joe Pepitone. 5-4-3 double play.

These are most of my memories because I wasn’t lucky enough to see Boyer play, but they weren’t my first thoughts when I heard he died yesterday at 70.

I remember Boyer coaching third base for the Columbus Clippers in 2002. They were in Syracuse during the heat of the summer and he was in the midst of trying to mold Drew Henson into a Major League third baseman.

Boyer’s legs were bothering him by then and his jog was slow, but he still did the job.

A few years later I heard him speak in Cooperstown and asked about working with Henson.

“The Yankees needed me,” he said. “I’d do anything for them because they did everything for me.”

A crowd gathered around after he spoke and a man wearing a Boston hat asked him a question. Boyer grabbed the hat and flipped it into the corner.

“You can’t wear that near me,” Boyer deadpanned.

The crowd laughed.

Boyer smiled, but didn’t laugh.

Moose Skowron remembered him as “a good teammate and a good guy.”

I agree.

Forgotten

Alex Rodriguez makes a great New York hero. He was born in Washington Heights and raised by a single mother to become the greatest baseball player of his generation and maybe the greatest of any generation.

The headline writers went to work the instant his ninth-inning home run gave the Yankees a lead. He is the back-page hero today. It is well deserved for so many reasons, but the biggest for me is that my rainy walk to work was made a lot brighter just thinking about how good he must have felt rounding the bases.

I also thought about the forgotten heroes and forgotten plays that were washed away by A-Rod’s blast:

Melky Cabrera’s great catch in the right-centerfield gap to lead off the third inning.

Hideki Matsui digging Dustin Pedroia’s double out of the corner, hitting Jeter with a quick throw and Posada’s great block and tag to get Julio Lugo at the plate.

Robinson Cano’s slick fielding and bullet triple to drive in the tying run in the eighth.

Bobby Abreu’s game-saving catch.

Luis Vizcaino, Kyle Farnsworth and Brian Bruney doing the job in front of Mariano Rivera.

This team makes a great New York hero when it plays like that.

Hard Lesson

Robinson Cano was clipped by the D train yesterday. It took the form of Mike Lowell and blazed by in the fourth inning.

Cano completed the double play, but ended up on the ground. Base runners should never allow their teammates to be doubled up, but most no longer slam into fielders trying to tag them, which is why Cano sat stunned on the infield grass.

Cano won’t make that mistake again. He learns fast and next time will be prepared just as Lowell was.

The first rule of baseball is: Use anything and everything to gain an advantage and expect the other team to do the same.

It can be a hard lesson, but it’s one that sticks with you.

Signature Address

Chien-Ming Wang lives at 643 Double Play Alley, Apartment 4A. It’s a cozy one-bedroom in a five-story walkup in Highbridge and Brian Bruney just moved in next door.

Wang battled into the sixth inning last night with the help of two big double plays. Derek Jeter started both, but he saved his best for Bruney in the seventh inning when he stabbed a bouncer up the middle and flipped to Robinson Cano, who could make a strong throw if the D train was barreling down on him at second base.

6-4-3. Beautiful.

Another World

“I guess some people really don’t understand,” Luis Perez shrugged. “How could anyone get upset about a baseball player trying to win a game?

“It’s bizarre.”

Perez – like so many people in New York – comes from another world.

“Sometimes it seems like everything has been turned upside down,” he said. “People are nice on the ball field and mean off it. Some of the people criticizing A-Rod for distracting a fielder would swindle me out of my pension or evict me from my home to make a buck.”

Perez has coached baseball in New York for more than 40 years. “Once I had a mother ask: ‘Why don’t you just let the boys run around and have fun?’ I told her, ‘My job is to teach them how to play baseball. Playing well and winning are fun.’ She wasn’t happy.

“If I was a chess teacher, would it be okay to let the kids throw the pieces around if they thought that was fun? Baseball takes skill and work and thought. When you put that all together you get a great player like A-Rod.”

Alex Rodriguez also comes from another world.

“The things A-Rod does on the field, especially the little things, come from playing and playing and playing,” Perez said. “Not as many kids do that anymore. Too many of them have fancy uniforms, but only play a few times a week.

“It’s fun to watch A-Rod and Jeter and Posada and Cano because I know they’ll find a way to win,” Perez went on. “A-Rod used something on Wednesday that he probably learned on some old field when he was 12 years old.

“How could anyone not love that?”

Culture Shock

Conversation moved quickly at the Crown Diner.

“The guys looked good last night.”

“Yeah, this is the start.”

“Two over. Home fries. Whiskey down.”

“A-Rod came up big in the ninth.”

“Yeah, huge RBI and being heads up on the bases put the game away.”

“Order up!”

Alex Rodriguez is more than “heads up.” And he is more than the most talented baseball player of his generation. He is also the smartest and the most determined.

People can flip, fold and cut that anyway they want.

Rodriguez said it best, “I couldn’t care less what they (the Blue Jays) or anybody else thinks. I know what people in here (the Yankee clubhouse) think.”

And I know what I think: Rodriguez plays the way I was taught, which is why there is no one I’d rather watch now that I can’t play anymore.

The winning team held the field in my neighborhood and the loser went to the back of the line. Winning is what baseball is all about and our system drove that home. As a third baseman, I learned to block the view of a runner trying to tag and score on a fly ball to right or center, I learned the hidden ball trick, I learned that you never let them double up your teammate, and most of all I learned that you look for every advantage on the field.

Rodriguez found one last night. It made me smile because it helped win a ball game.

Winner holds the field and the loser goes to the back of the line. Those who don’t understand shouldn’t be in this neighborhood.

Summer Run

The frustration train ran through the Bronx and down the west side of Manhattan. Workers climbed on at every stop and slumped on gray benches as the rattle carried them downtown.

“What’s next?” Carlos asked.

“14th Street,” Jon chucked.

Carlos glared. They both laughed.

“We’ll get ‘em tonight,” Jon said. “It’s all going up from here.”

“I guess it’s got to,” Carlos shrugged.

“You guess?” Jon demanded. “We don’t guess around here. We know things are going to swing and whoever is on the other end is going to be sorry.”

Carlos’ lips curled. “Yeah, it’s going to be a good summer.”

Just Win

Derek Jeter is in Toronto, but he knows the feeling in the Bronx.

“I think people are annoyed,” Jeter said. “I don’t want to speak for everyone, but it looks like people are bothered by it (losing). People show their emotions in different ways; not everyone throws things or bangs things around, but it still bothers them.”

Jeter was talking about his teammates, but he could have been talking about people on the Grand Concourse or at Ball Park Lanes or in the Crown Diner. This isn’t a 25-man effort. There are over a million people in the Bronx and over four million will stream into Yankee Stadium this year.

They all want better.

“There’s no secret formula; we just have to win,” Jeter continued. “That’s it. Period. You have to hit better, pitch better, do everything better. There’s no secret recipe to turn things around.”

No secrets. Just win. Tonight.

In The Trenches

Yankee fans are a singular tribe. Above – or below – all others we are a driven lot. There are no breaks in the Bronx. No Memorial Day getaways. No vacations. No days at the beach.

Life here isn’t always perfect, but in the summer we play baseball and that’s all that really matters.

People came into our neighborhood over the weekend in crisp red shirts and hats. They were obnoxious and there were fights.

My friend Javier and I faced off with a group of Angels fans yesterday. There were four loud ones behind us who started up in the seventh inning and didn’t quit until the final out when they aimed a racial jab at Derek Jeter.

There is nothing that will touch off a war in the Bronx quicker than a knock on The Captain.

“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you,” Javier shot.

“Jeter’s overrated,” one of them giggled as he kicked Javier.

Javier lunged and the giggler crashed back into his seat.

“If you want to step outside we’ll go,” Javier challenged. “There’s four of you and two of us so you might want to go back to Disneyland and get some more guys.”

Javier set his shoulders in a manner that showed he held victory in his fists.

The Angels scattered and Javier carried himself out of The Stadium the same way the Yankees will carry themselves into Toronto: Knowing that victory in their hands and their bats.

Raised To Be Razed

Jason Giambi was raised right and it’s turning out all wrong.

Giambi’s problem is that his parents taught him to be too honest, too decent, too trusting, and far too nice. Nice guys are easy targets in our society.

The big lefty can handle fastballs in, curveballs away, diving splitters, exploding sliders, and scoops at first. But he’s overmatched by the nastiness of Bud Selig and his band of billionaire owners, who are only looking out for themselves.

Giambi cares about people and he can’t hide it. His lawyer and agent have probably told him a million times not to comment on anything but the game. They understand the danger that lurks on Park Avenue. They know how mean and spiteful Major League Baseball can be if anyone threatens their bottom line.

Giambi was still determined to push the game in the right direction. Baseball pushed back with all its underhanded might. Confidential tests landed on the front page and he was called in for a sit-down.

I hope Giambi now understands who he’s dealing with, but I fear he doesn’t. His parents did far too fine of a job. They raised a good person who is being sucked into a system that’s manipulated by bad people.

It’s a dangerous situation for Giambi, but it’s even more dangerous for the game.

Verse

I love poetry, but can’t write. I love baseball, but can’t play anymore. Now I have a blog. My last two posts reminded me of some of my favorite verse.

On Tuesday, I wrote about what the Yankees mean to Mahamadou from Highbridge and what people like Mahamadou mean to the Yankees. It got me thinking about these lines from The Death of the Hired Man, by Robert Frost:
Home is the place where,
When you have to go there,
They have to take you.

Yesterday, I was forced to address the sorry state of Major League Baseball’s confidential drug testing program for amphetamines. We now know there is nothing confidential about the program and it is really little more than an extortion racket run out of the Commissioner’s Office on Park Avenue.

It reminded me of Martin Niemöller’s famous and often altered words:
First they came for the Socialists, and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn't a Jew.
Then they came for me, and there was no one left
to speak up for me.

I would tweak it to say:
First they came for Barry Bonds, and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t Bonds.
Then they came for Jason Giambi, and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t Giambi.
Then they came for those opposing them, and I didn’t speak up,
because I was afraid.
Then they came for the game, and there was no one left
to speak up for any of us.

Baseball deserves better from all of us.

Truth And Consequences

That should teach Jason Giambi. Tell the truth and they will take you down.

Their new weapon of choice is the “confidential drug test.”

Barry Bonds was the target this winter. A “confidential drug test” for amphetamines was leaked to the media during his contract negotiations with the Giants. They wanted to push him out of the game and they almost succeeded.

Now, Giambi’s “confidential drug test” for amphetamines is leaked to the media just days after he told USA Today:

“I was wrong for doing that stuff. What we should have done a long time ago was stand up – players, ownership, everybody – and said: ‘We made a mistake.’

“We should have apologized back then and made sure we had a rule in place and gone forward… Steroids and all of that was a part of history. But it was a topic that everybody wanted to avoid. Nobody wanted to talk about it.”

Giambi dared to speak out and challenge the game to do the right thing. Now he will pay. The bill came on the cover of the Daily News: “Flunked! News learns Giambi failed test for amphetamines.”

A strategic shot.

The game is controlled by people with a lot more money and power than Giambi or Bonds or any player or all the players. The message is certainly clear: Step out of line or speak out of turn and there will be consequences.

They can get to anyone at anytime. And none of it has anything to do with the integrity of the game or the health of the players. It is all about money and power.

Those who own the game will do anything to protect their investment. They will decide how it is investigated and how it is displayed. They will redefine the word “confidential” and leak information in gross violation of the collective bargaining agreement. They will steal people’s privacy and smear them at will. They are above the law and above us all.

Giambi, Bonds, Integrity, You and Me are all expendable for the good of the bottom line.

Home

The Yankees belong in the Bronx and they belong to the Bronx. These streets are home to people from around the world. They speak a hundred different languages and bring a thousand different customs, but they all draw something from their baseball team.

While the Bronx remains the poorest borough in this city and one of the poorest urban areas in this country, the Yankees fill it with a sense of worth. Some of newest to the neighborhood have never been inside the Stadium, but they understand what the Yankees mean.

Mahamadou never saw a baseball game in Nigeria. He’s lived in Highbridge for almost two years and walks past Yankee Stadium every day. He watches South Bronx High School and Hostos Community College games, but he hasn’t seen the Yankees, yet.

“I can’t wait to go,” he says. “I’m saving my money. I always listen on the radio, but I’m glad when they are home because I can see the lights from my window.”

Chien-Ming Wang lit up the Bronx with a gutsy performance last night. He battled into the seventh inning and left to a standing ovation.

“I can hear the cheering from home,” Mahamadou smiles. “Sometimes I turn down the radio and just listen.”

The sounds of home.

Clip Job

There aren’t as many clip joints as there used to be and the term has been gentrified as a clever name for suburban hair salons, but Tyler Clippard slipped into Queens and swiped a win for the Bronx with old-fashioned speed, skill and deception.

“He’s got a live fastball, kind of a herky-jerky motion,” David Wright told Peter Abraham of the Journal News. “He kind of comes at you with a lot of elbows and legs and he was throwing strikes. When you’ve got those kinds of off-speed pitches with that kind of control, his fastball would sneak in.”

It may not have been the greatest heist in New York history, but it was a big win from a big kid who couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

“This is the greatest night of my life,” he said.

It got a little better when Yankee fans started with: “Tyler Clippard, Tyler Clippard, Tyler Clippard…”

“Yeah, the greatest night of my life…”

The first line of Clippard’s scouting report in the 2007 Baseball America Prospect Handbook is: “In his third full pro season, Clippard did what he has done every season – get better.”

His first start at Yankee Stadium will be electric, but it’ll be hard to top the effort he gave last night.

Fight Time

No one in the South Bronx dares to back down from a fight. Everyone within 10 blocks who wasn’t asleep or drunk would know the moment it happened and then the problems would really begin.

This is a tough neighborhood in a tough borough in a tough city. Our baseball team is the same. They play to win every day and always comeback stronger tomorrow. Any less would mean big problems around here.

The Yankees have had it rough so far, but that doesn’t change today or tomorrow or the next day. They will come out ready to fight.

And win.

The Climb

Brian from Washington Heights sank into a seat on the 1 train this morning and asked, “Are the Yankees going to climb out of this?”

Of course.

New Yorkers climb and climb and climb. There are stairs everywhere: Subways, ballparks and walk-ups.

Jimmy Breslin once said, “No story in New York happens under the fourth floor. You climb stairs and all the stories are at the top of the stairs. You get into trouble when you get there using an elevator. All the news business starts with your feet.”

The baseball business, too.

It’s hard to appreciate the game without the climb. Baseball is as hard as the streets and the tunnels and the stairwells. That’s why baseball is so much a part of New York and New York is so much a part of baseball.

Up and down the same stairs every day never gets old because New Yorkers know that the climb is all the fun.

The Usual

Coffee and eggs – over easy – rice and beans and flour tortillas is the best way to start a day. A win is the best way to end a doubleheader.

They say doubleheaders are hard to win and easy to lose and you usually split. The Yankees took the usual in the nightcap behind a strong start by Chien-Ming Wang, who was nominated for mayor over breakfast at the Crown Diner.

Ultimately, it was decided that he was far more valuable to this city as a pitcher.

“He always gives us a chance to win,” said Javier between bites of his omelet. “When they give him some runs he locks it down.”

Taking the series today would be a big step for this team. Matt DeSalvo has been very good and the bats are coming alive.

Winning two of three with the occasional sweep will become the usual in the Bronx.

Something Better To Talk About

The first game didn’t go well, but it’s better to win the nightcap of a doubleheader if you can only win one.

New York needs something better to talk about.

Something To Talk About

They need to play this doubleheader in Chicago because New York is running out of things to talk about.

The moment last night’s game was rained out and rescheduled as part of day-night doubleheader, people started debating starters for Sunday. “Will Moose or Wang go on short rest or will they call up Clippard or Wright or Steven Jackson?”

Mike Mussina stuck a fork in it. “I haven’t pitched this game yet,” he said. “Why don’t we worry about (today’s) game before we worry about Sunday?”

Even that shot of reality won’t stop the talk.

Yeah, let’s play ball.

Win Today

A day off has turned New York into a city of mathematicians and scientists. I was cornered this morning by some guy in a suit that burst onto the 2 train at 34th Street and started assailing me with winning percentages and batting slumps.

“Keeping Bobby Abreu and Robinson Cano in the lineup is troubling,” he said.

“No,” I countered. “It would be troubling if you and I were in the lineup. You've gotta be getting off at Wall Street.”

Everyone has a theory and a formula. And everything is in play: Roster moves, batting order, pitch selection, bullpen use, travel schedules and pre-game meals. A 24-hour-a-day, 9 inning baseball reality show.

But baseball reality seldom enters the equation.

You’ve got to dig around in a pile of old quotes to find the words of noted baseball realist Mariano Duncan, “We play today, we win today. That’s it.”

That is it.

Day Off

Is this an “off day” or a “day off?”

From what the team has said, yesterday was an “off day” and today is a “day off.” Getting away from the ballpark will make everyone feel better. It should help get the hitters rolling and keep the bullpen fresh.

Tuesday will be the test, but fans on the downtown 2 train had no doubts this morning.

“They will get themselves turned around in Chicago,” said Barney from Hunts Point.

People who ride the trains early – before 7:00 a.m. – are believers and they never quit. They are tough and expect the same from their team.

“They can’t give up any more ground,” said Mahamadou from Highbridge. “They need to fight through every game and when it’s over they will be on top. I know how good this team is and now they need to show everyone else.”

“They’ve got a big run in them,” Barney chipped in. “It doesn’t matter who they’re playing because they are good enough to beat anyone.”

It starts after a day off.

Strategy

You don’t spend much time on some games. They move fast and end quietly. You shrug them off as a bad night or a good pitcher. It’s usually a bit of both.

They don’t matter for long. Matt DeSalvo goes tonight and he is coming off a great start against the Mariners on Monday.

The New York Times has an interesting story in today’s paper about how much DeSalvo reads – he is currently working on Confucius – and how he is able to apply it to life and baseball.

The story sparked a memory of a Spring Training piece written in the Journal News by Peter Abraham. Back in March, DeSalvo was reading the English translation of “The Book of Five Rings,” which is a 362-year-old manual written by Miyamoto Musashi on military strategy and sword fighting.

It begins: “Strategy is the craft of the warrior…”

Every lesson applies to pitching. The battle between pitcher and hitter is pure and beautiful and violent and nasty.

DeSalvo will have a ball and a glove, but the strategy is the same as it was 362 years ago.

The Chains Of Freedom

I thought I knew everything about Yankee Stadium. I haven’t missed a game in years and can almost walk to my seat blindfolded – sorry about that soda, sir – but I learned something yesterday.

The New York Times ran a story called “Patriotism, Defined and Enforced.”

This is what it taught me:

“Seconds before ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ and ‘God Bless America’ are played, police officers, security guards and ushers turn their backs to the American flag in center field, stare at fans moving through the stands and ask them to stop. Across the stadium’s lower section, ushers stand every 20 feet to block the main aisle with chains.”

I sit in the Tier – which is “chain free” – and I don’t get up during the game because, well, I’m watching the game.

I also don’t stand for “God Bless America.” I haven't stood since reading about Carlos Delgado’s principled idea to protest the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Over the years my decision to sit has developed into a personal statement for peace and justice.

I believe George Steinbrenner’s intentions are good. He has done so many fine things like providing free tickets to soldiers and inviting cadets from West Point to attend games.

But standing for a song has nothing to do with honoring soldiers or the “way of life” they are supposed to be defending. Plenty of those who stand and thump their chests as patriotic, drive to the Bronx in SUVs that have more armor than the vehicles we force our soldiers to ride and die in. If we want to honor our soldiers we should start by providing them with proper equipment and decent healthcare and adequate pay.

To me, standing for “God Bless America” is supporting wars that have sent too many kids back to the Bronx in body bags. It is a symbol of New Yorkers without arms and legs who will never be able to live normal lives because of the horrors we have put them through. It stands for racial profiling and extraordinary rendition and Guantánamo Bay and every other mistake this country has made since September 11, 2001.

The treatment of our soldiers and our citizens and people around the world is shameful. Songs and chains can’t change that and Americans shouldn’t stand for it anymore.

Maybe that starts with keeping your seat in silent protest.

Short Stack

I rushed through breakfast and tore through the newspapers on the train. A day game after a night game is always a rush.

Compressing a normal work day into a four-hour dash can take more out of you than, well, a normal work day. But it is always a relief to sink into a seat on the train in the middle of the day and get ready for a baseball game.

This is summer in the city.

Melky Play

This thought was buried in the midst of Chien-Ming Wang’s bid for a perfect game on Saturday, but now is a good time to bring it up because there is never a bad time for a fun baseball story.

In that game, which was dominated by Wang’s sinker, Melky Cabrera hit a slow roller up the first-base line in the third inning. As always, he was running like a pack of wolves was snapping at his heels and got to the bag at the same time as Richie Sexson and Jeff Weaver. Cutting between them he stumbled, collided with Weaver and landed in a heap. Safe.

I worried for a moment, but then I saw Melky smile and hop to his feet. Around the neighborhood he has been tagged “Rubber Man” for his bouncy style and fearless play. Later in the inning the scoreboard flashed:
Scorer’s Decision
Melky Play: Base Hit

Everyone should play like Melky.

Understanding The Game

Scott Proctor was pinched by the man and raked over the coals by people who know nothing about baseball.

Everyone knows the story: It started on Friday night when both dugouts were warned after Kei Igawa knocked down Ichiro Suzuki. Hideki Matsui and Alex Rodriguez were both hit on Saturday. Then things boiled over on Sunday when Josh Phelps leveled Kenji Johjima on a play at the plate and Jarrod Washburn hit Phelps in his next at bat. Proctor then buzzed a fastball behind Yuniesky Betancourt.

Proctor was thrown out of the game, words were exchanged and the dugouts and bullpens emptied. That should have been the end of it. But that’s never the end of it these days. The etiquette police from Major League Baseball’s Park Avenue offices gave Proctor a four-game suspension and broadcasters have been criticizing him for the last two days.

Proctor did exactly what a baseball player should have done and so did Washburn and Phelps. There are too many people analyzing baseball that know nothing about the game.

Baseball isn’t about being nice, polite or even rational. Baseball is about winning and about being tougher than the other guy. Anyone who doesn’t understand that should stick with more gentile pursuits like golf and yachting.

Major League Baseball is played by tough men. They weed out the softies on the playground and send them off to be broadcasters or commissioners.

Proctor may get locked up and criticized by people who aren’t tough enough to do his job, but in the Bronx we appreciate the way he plays and so do his teammates. That’s all that really matters.

Changes

A lot can change in a day. The Yankees were hoping for a good start from Darrell Rasner on Sunday and they got a great one. They have been trying to patch up their starting rotation and they got some encouraging news on Phil Hughes.

And, oh yeah, they signed Roger Clemens.

That’s a big change. Clemens is the greatest pitcher of his generation, and probably the greatest pitcher of any generation. No one doubts that he will do the job. On the mound there is no give, no quit and no fear in the man.

No one in the Bronx ever wanted him to leave and everyone has wanted him back since the day he signed with Houston. Clemens was born to pitch here. Born to pitch where every out is as important to the people as it is to him.

His first start at Yankee Stadium will light up the borough. The tension was already building outside the players’ gate as Clemens threw in front of 55,000 empty seats yesterday afternoon. No one knew for sure what was taking him so long, but there was speculation.

“He’s probably working out,” someone said. “That would be just like him.”

And that’s why we love him.

The Rocket is back where he belongs.

Fresh Start

The Yankees need a fresh start. There were plenty of positives last night – the gutsy performance of Mike Myers, the great hitting and the never say die attitude – but ultimately it was a disappointing loss.

Chien-Ming Wang is the best man for a fresh start because he always gives a good start. The first month of the season has had its rough spots, but Wang will get things rolling with his bowling-ball sinker.

The Grind

The Yankees broke the rules.

When it comes to doubleheaders, it’s said: “They are hard to win and easy to lose and you usually split.”

The Yankees took two from Texas yesterday.

“We had some extra aggression,” Doug Mientkiewicz said. “We went out there with a bit of an attitude. We just need to keep it going.”

It’s not as easy as it sounds. One tough game is an emotional drain. Two close ones will make you want to sleep for a week.

The team got back to New York just in time for breakfast and they need to be ready for Seattle tonight.

It won’t be easy, but this team is ready for the grind.

Speak Easy

Melky Cabrera provided a post-game highlight yesterday. He did a radio interview in English after going 3 for 4 in the opener of a doubleheader.

It was reported that Cabrera worked on his English at the urging of Mariano Rivera and Robinson Cano. He sounded great and inspired me. I am embarrassed that my Spanish isn’t better. I vow every year that I’m going to start with Spanish an make myself multilingual just like this city and this country.

I can certainly do better if a young ballplayer with the weight of the world on his shoulders can dedicate himself to the task.

Being an American means understanding and communicating with everyone.

It’s A Beautiful Day…

…In New York. But the Yankees are in Texas so let’s play two on the radio and maybe the television, too.

That’s what today’s split doubleheader means to me and everyone else in the city. Hunkering down with a radio to hear Andy Pettitte today and rushing home between games to catch Mike Mussina’s return tonight.

I’m glad they’re back in the Bronx tomorrow.

Back To Work

Phil Hughes now knows that everything can turn on one pitch. That knowledge will make him better whether his next start comes in four or six weeks.

Last night was thrilling and disappointing and promising and frustrating. The ride in the Bronx was a buzz and a blast and a break. Many believe the televisions flickered and the radios crackled in the seventh inning.

Hughes commanded the game until he threw a 0-2 curveball to Mark Teixeira with one out in the seventh. He was everything promised and more. A pulled hamstring will delay his future, but nothing can stop him.

I don’t see anything stopping this team either. The rotation is strong even with the injuries: Chien-Ming Wang, Andy Pettitte, Mike Mussina, Kei Igawa, and Darrell Rasner or Matt DeSalvo or maybe Tyler Clippard.

Hughes’ future has been pushed back to June or maybe July, but the Yankees’ future is tonight.

Andy Pettitte goes back to work.

May Day

Today – May 1, 2007 – will be the start of something special for the New York Yankees, New York City and the United States.

Phil Hughes will take the ball and try to get the Yankees headed in the right direction while millions of workers will take to the streets to try and get this country headed in the right direction.

May Day is a symbol of international labor solidarity and it is a rallying point against the unjust treatment of immigrant workers in this country.

The Yankees represent a city and a borough and a neighborhood that was built and is fueled by immigrants.

Our baseball team is a common bond for everyone. While resting our feet after a hard day we will watch Hughes go after his first Major League win.

Today brings us one step closer to a just society and an American League pennant.

The start of something special, indeed.