The Bronx flashed a smile this morning because our baseball team turned the little things into a big win last night.
The only way to beat a pitcher like Roy Halladay is to make the most of the small stuff because he doesn’t allow much else.
It started in the opening inning when Bobby Abreu scored from first base on Alex Rodriguez’s two-out double.
Melky Cabrera ran down everything in centerfield. Then he went toe-to-toe with Halladay for 10 pitches before taking him just over the wall in right to tie the game in the sixth.
Jason Giambi was sharp in the field scooping throws and snaring liners. And it was his slick base running to stay out of a double play in the seventh that led to the winning run.
Those little things added up because Chien-Ming Wang came up big. He out pitched Halladay through seven innings and then turned it over to Joba Chamberlain and Mariano Rivera who nailed down the win.
That meant big smiles in this little neighborhood.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
It’s Time
I finally broke down and put the tattered ticket where it belongs: In the trash.
I’ve been carrying it since the Cleveland Indians ended the 2007 season in game four of the American League Division Series. I thought about tossing it on New Year’s Day and then again at the start of Spring Training, but it stayed tucked in my wallet as a reminder.
I wanted to remember the wins and the losses and the struggles and the comebacks. Mostly, I wanted to remember the stories. There were some good ones and some bad ones. But even bad baseball stories are good.
There was: The Captain and A-Rod and Joba and The Franchise and IPK and The Big Lefty and Mr. New York and Hip-Hip Jorge and Melky and Robbie and Bobby and Hit-eki and Shelley and The Rocket and The Big G and Mo in the ninth.
Moose fought out of a corner like all the great ones have to do and Chien-Ming Wang was simply great, as usual.
It ended too soon, but the best things usually do. That ticket stayed with me through the winter and into the spring, but the memories will last forever.
Now it’s time to make some more.
I’ve been carrying it since the Cleveland Indians ended the 2007 season in game four of the American League Division Series. I thought about tossing it on New Year’s Day and then again at the start of Spring Training, but it stayed tucked in my wallet as a reminder.
I wanted to remember the wins and the losses and the struggles and the comebacks. Mostly, I wanted to remember the stories. There were some good ones and some bad ones. But even bad baseball stories are good.
There was: The Captain and A-Rod and Joba and The Franchise and IPK and The Big Lefty and Mr. New York and Hip-Hip Jorge and Melky and Robbie and Bobby and Hit-eki and Shelley and The Rocket and The Big G and Mo in the ninth.
Moose fought out of a corner like all the great ones have to do and Chien-Ming Wang was simply great, as usual.
It ended too soon, but the best things usually do. That ticket stayed with me through the winter and into the spring, but the memories will last forever.
Now it’s time to make some more.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Our Team
The Opening Day scorecards are rolling off the press this morning.
The ink is still drying on the names of 26 men – including Andy Pettitte, who will be added to the roster on Saturday – from 25 towns in seven different countries that will represent a city of immigrants. New York is home to everyone from everywhere.
This is our baseball team:
Johnny Damon from Fort Riley, Kansas: It feels like he’s been a Yankee forever.
Derek Jeter from Pequannock, New Jersey: The Captain means everything to this team and this city.
Bobby Abreu from Maracay, Venezuela: A man who was born to hit third in this lineup.
Alex Rodriguez from New York, New York: His big bat is always the key to the season.
Jason Giambi from West Covina, California: He might be the most dangerous hitter in this lineup. And that’s saying something.
Robinson Cano from San Pedro de Macoris, Dominican Republic: This guy could complete a double play with the D train barreling down on him.
Jorge Posada from Santurce, Puerto Rico: The team’s fire and toughness.
Hideki Matsui from Kanazawa, Japan: A perfect baseball player.
Melky Cabrera from Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic: The kid with the style and the smile.
Chien-Ming Wang from Tainan, Taiwan: Opening Day at Yankee Stadium is the game he’s waited all winter for.
Shelley Duncan from Tucson, Arizona: Big swings. Big hits. Big celebrations.
Wilson Betemit from Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic: Ready to live up to all that promise.
Morgan Ensberg from Redondo Beach, California: A tough right-handed hitter that adds depth to a relentless lineup.
Jose Molina from Baymon, Puerto Rico: A great backup for one of the greats.
Mike Mussina from Williamsport, Pennsylvania: He has grown into the leader of this pitching staff.
Phil Hughes from Mission Viejo, California: Pete Abraham of the Journal News calls him “The Franchise” and that sounds good to me.
Ian Kennedy from Huntington Beach, California: His pinpoint control hits the Bronx on Friday night.
Andy Pettitte from Baton Rouge, Louisiana: The big lefty will be here on Saturday.
Jonathan Albaladejo from San Juan, Puerto Rico: Sometimes a player just needs a chance. He’s got the talent to make the most of it.
Ross Ohlendorf from Austin, Texas: Some are impressed with his Princeton degree. I prefer his hard sinker.
Billy Traber from Torrance, California: He gets big outs against tough lefties.
Brian Bruney from Astoria, Oregon: I like his attitude and love his fastball.
LaTroy Hawkins from Gary, Indiana: A great teammate and a great pitcher who will quickly become a favorite in the Bronx.
Kyle Farnsworth from Wichita, Kansas: Coming in at 99 mph.
Joba Chamberlain from Lincoln, Nebraska: Coming in at 100 mph.
Mariano Rivera from Panama City, Panama: Game Over.
The ink is still drying on the names of 26 men – including Andy Pettitte, who will be added to the roster on Saturday – from 25 towns in seven different countries that will represent a city of immigrants. New York is home to everyone from everywhere.
This is our baseball team:
Johnny Damon from Fort Riley, Kansas: It feels like he’s been a Yankee forever.
Derek Jeter from Pequannock, New Jersey: The Captain means everything to this team and this city.
Bobby Abreu from Maracay, Venezuela: A man who was born to hit third in this lineup.
Alex Rodriguez from New York, New York: His big bat is always the key to the season.
Jason Giambi from West Covina, California: He might be the most dangerous hitter in this lineup. And that’s saying something.
Robinson Cano from San Pedro de Macoris, Dominican Republic: This guy could complete a double play with the D train barreling down on him.
Jorge Posada from Santurce, Puerto Rico: The team’s fire and toughness.
Hideki Matsui from Kanazawa, Japan: A perfect baseball player.
Melky Cabrera from Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic: The kid with the style and the smile.
Chien-Ming Wang from Tainan, Taiwan: Opening Day at Yankee Stadium is the game he’s waited all winter for.
Shelley Duncan from Tucson, Arizona: Big swings. Big hits. Big celebrations.
Wilson Betemit from Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic: Ready to live up to all that promise.
Morgan Ensberg from Redondo Beach, California: A tough right-handed hitter that adds depth to a relentless lineup.
Jose Molina from Baymon, Puerto Rico: A great backup for one of the greats.
Mike Mussina from Williamsport, Pennsylvania: He has grown into the leader of this pitching staff.
Phil Hughes from Mission Viejo, California: Pete Abraham of the Journal News calls him “The Franchise” and that sounds good to me.
Ian Kennedy from Huntington Beach, California: His pinpoint control hits the Bronx on Friday night.
Andy Pettitte from Baton Rouge, Louisiana: The big lefty will be here on Saturday.
Jonathan Albaladejo from San Juan, Puerto Rico: Sometimes a player just needs a chance. He’s got the talent to make the most of it.
Ross Ohlendorf from Austin, Texas: Some are impressed with his Princeton degree. I prefer his hard sinker.
Billy Traber from Torrance, California: He gets big outs against tough lefties.
Brian Bruney from Astoria, Oregon: I like his attitude and love his fastball.
LaTroy Hawkins from Gary, Indiana: A great teammate and a great pitcher who will quickly become a favorite in the Bronx.
Kyle Farnsworth from Wichita, Kansas: Coming in at 99 mph.
Joba Chamberlain from Lincoln, Nebraska: Coming in at 100 mph.
Mariano Rivera from Panama City, Panama: Game Over.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Moving On
The New York Yankees and Joe Girardi put Miami behind them last night.
The Yankees hadn’t been there since the 2003 World Series. And, of course, everyone knows how that played out.
Girardi hadn’t been there since he was named the 2006 National League Manager of the Year after nearly leading the Florida Marlins to the postseason. And, of course, everyone knows how that played out.
“You just move on and learn from things that happen in your life,” Girardi explained recently. “I doesn’t really matter whether they’re good or bad. You have to keep learning all the time.”
The Yankees finished Spring Training with a win over the Marlins and headed home to a fresh baseball season in the Bronx. That’s what matters this morning.
The Yankees hadn’t been there since the 2003 World Series. And, of course, everyone knows how that played out.
Girardi hadn’t been there since he was named the 2006 National League Manager of the Year after nearly leading the Florida Marlins to the postseason. And, of course, everyone knows how that played out.
“You just move on and learn from things that happen in your life,” Girardi explained recently. “I doesn’t really matter whether they’re good or bad. You have to keep learning all the time.”
The Yankees finished Spring Training with a win over the Marlins and headed home to a fresh baseball season in the Bronx. That’s what matters this morning.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
The Longest Day
The last day of Spring Training is always the longest.
It drags out of bed and down the stairs and up the street. There are newspapers to buy and coffee, too. Maybe a cigar for later. That would be nice. There’s no rush because the team is still in Florida.
“Way down in Miami,” says the guy at the newsstand. “They’ll come home after tonight‘s game. We won’t see ‘em until tomorrow.”
That’s a long way off for everyone in this neighborhood.
“And tomorrow isn‘t even Opening Day,” snaps the newsstand guy. “But at least the boys will be back in town.”
That means the Yankees will throw it around a little in the Bronx. They will take batting practice and probably some infield. The pitchers will toss in the outfield and throw in the bullpen.
People will hang by the players’ gate and wait for them to head home after the workout. A few might be autograph hounds looking to make a buck. Most will be fans. There are regulars that you’ll see before and after every game. The rest will just want their first look at baseball.
It’s coming.
It drags out of bed and down the stairs and up the street. There are newspapers to buy and coffee, too. Maybe a cigar for later. That would be nice. There’s no rush because the team is still in Florida.
“Way down in Miami,” says the guy at the newsstand. “They’ll come home after tonight‘s game. We won’t see ‘em until tomorrow.”
That’s a long way off for everyone in this neighborhood.
“And tomorrow isn‘t even Opening Day,” snaps the newsstand guy. “But at least the boys will be back in town.”
That means the Yankees will throw it around a little in the Bronx. They will take batting practice and probably some infield. The pitchers will toss in the outfield and throw in the bullpen.
People will hang by the players’ gate and wait for them to head home after the workout. A few might be autograph hounds looking to make a buck. Most will be fans. There are regulars that you’ll see before and after every game. The rest will just want their first look at baseball.
It’s coming.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Everybody’s Got One
The guys gathered around Juan Carlos’s coffee cart were talking about opinions on the last Friday before Opening Day.
“Everybody’s got one these days,” says Jon from Highbridge.
He digs around in his over-stuffed backpack and pulls out newspaper supplements and magazines and fat preview books that promise baseball insight.
“It’s written down,” Jon says. “So it must be true, right?”
Everyone laughs.
Jon tries to keep a straight face, but finally breaks down.
“I know what these people are all about,” he says. “I read all the opinions and scouting reports and take them for what they’re worth.”
“A good way to kill some time on the train,” someone shoots.
“Not just that,” Jon says. “I respect everyone’s opinion, but I’m only worried about my own.”
How the Bronx feels about its baseball team is all that really matters in this neighborhood.
“You can’t pour it onto a page or into a chart,” Jon explains. “It will never be that simple no matter how many so-called experts study the stats.
“The biggest thing they don’t understand is how guys like us look at things,” Jon continues. “It’s not only about the Pennant and the World Series like they all seem to think. We just come out every day to support our team. It’s really that simple. Those who spout opinions and make predictions will never get the game on our level.”
They all nod.
“Everybody’s got one these days,” says Jon from Highbridge.
He digs around in his over-stuffed backpack and pulls out newspaper supplements and magazines and fat preview books that promise baseball insight.
“It’s written down,” Jon says. “So it must be true, right?”
Everyone laughs.
Jon tries to keep a straight face, but finally breaks down.
“I know what these people are all about,” he says. “I read all the opinions and scouting reports and take them for what they’re worth.”
“A good way to kill some time on the train,” someone shoots.
“Not just that,” Jon says. “I respect everyone’s opinion, but I’m only worried about my own.”
How the Bronx feels about its baseball team is all that really matters in this neighborhood.
“You can’t pour it onto a page or into a chart,” Jon explains. “It will never be that simple no matter how many so-called experts study the stats.
“The biggest thing they don’t understand is how guys like us look at things,” Jon continues. “It’s not only about the Pennant and the World Series like they all seem to think. We just come out every day to support our team. It’s really that simple. Those who spout opinions and make predictions will never get the game on our level.”
They all nod.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Never Simple
Joe usually rides the train downtown, but today he decided to walk. His flowing black and silver hair is held down by a headband as he moves along Broadway.
“I like this stretch,” he says. “It’s an old Wappinger Indian trail so I know the lay of the land.”
Joe has native blood in his veins. He’s not sure exactly how much, but there’s no doubt it’s there.
“I grew up on a reservation in Oklahoma,” he says. “My mother was mostly Irish and my father was part Arapaho. They died when I was young so I lived with our neighbors. They were an older couple and I called them my grandparents. They weren’t, but really they were. You know what I mean?”
Nothing was ever simple.
“I never felt comfortable with myself growing up,” Joe explains. “The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to come to New York. Mickey Mantle was from Oklahoma and he made it in New York. I knew he was important and I knew the city was, too.
“Allie Reynolds was my grandfather’s favorite player,” Joe continues. “He told me about the wins and the no-hitters and all the World Series victories. They were beautiful stories.”
Joe now has his own stories.
“Joba Chamberlain is my man,” he says. “I’m so proud of him and his native heritage. I got to every game that he pitched last year. I’m also planning to make every one this year. It was gonna be easy with him in the rotation, but now he’s back in the bullpen and could possibly pitch in every game.”
Joe shrugs.
“Nothing is ever simple.”
“I like this stretch,” he says. “It’s an old Wappinger Indian trail so I know the lay of the land.”
Joe has native blood in his veins. He’s not sure exactly how much, but there’s no doubt it’s there.
“I grew up on a reservation in Oklahoma,” he says. “My mother was mostly Irish and my father was part Arapaho. They died when I was young so I lived with our neighbors. They were an older couple and I called them my grandparents. They weren’t, but really they were. You know what I mean?”
Nothing was ever simple.
“I never felt comfortable with myself growing up,” Joe explains. “The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to come to New York. Mickey Mantle was from Oklahoma and he made it in New York. I knew he was important and I knew the city was, too.
“Allie Reynolds was my grandfather’s favorite player,” Joe continues. “He told me about the wins and the no-hitters and all the World Series victories. They were beautiful stories.”
Joe now has his own stories.
“Joba Chamberlain is my man,” he says. “I’m so proud of him and his native heritage. I got to every game that he pitched last year. I’m also planning to make every one this year. It was gonna be easy with him in the rotation, but now he’s back in the bullpen and could possibly pitch in every game.”
Joe shrugs.
“Nothing is ever simple.”
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Tough Guys
Mr. Rosati sat at the back of the 2 train and listened to a recap of yesterday’s game.“Ian Kennedy really had to battle,” someone said. “He couldn’t locate his pitches like usual and there was a big error behind him. But he still held it close into the fifth.”
“Yeah,” someone else said. “I like how he toughed it out and gave the team a chance to win.”
Mr. Rosati nodded and smiled.
“Tough guys don’t look like they used to,” he said. “Kennedy looks like the young kids you see playing ball in the park. He’s got a face like apple pie.
“I’m showing my age here,” Mr. Rosati continued. “But Sal Maglie was a tough guy that looked like a tough guy. Gossage looked tough and so did Guidry. Even Pettitte looks tough when he stares down the hitter with the glove to his face. Kennedy just doesn’t look tough enough.”
His pitching tells a different story.
“Absolutely,” Mr. Rosati said. “The kid pitches tough and plays tough. I like him a lot. He just doesn’t look like a tough guy.”
Everyone on the train stared at him blankly.
Mr. Rosati shrugged.
“I guess it’s just me.”
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
What’s Really Important
Rodrigo had a good feeling when he woke up this morning. He untwisted the kinks from his neck and stretched his back before ripping into a day-old bagel as he headed down five flights to Jerome Avenue.
He cut up East 164th Street and then walked along River Avenue passed the construction of the new Yankee Stadium and down the stairs to the subway near the bleachers of the old Yankee Stadium.
Rodrigo was waiting for a downtown D train when someone mentioned that Andy Pettitte’s back was improving.
“Great news,” Rodrigo said.
Another person pointed out that Pettitte is going to be pushed back in the rotation and probably won’t start until game three or four.
“That’s not a big deal,” Rodrigo said. “I’m just happy that he’s feeling better.”
Rodrigo’s job – a bricklayer’s apprentice – often leaves him stiff and sore.
“I can deal with my own aches and pains,” he said. “I just want to make sure that my ballplayers are feeling good. That’s what’s really important.”
He cut up East 164th Street and then walked along River Avenue passed the construction of the new Yankee Stadium and down the stairs to the subway near the bleachers of the old Yankee Stadium.
Rodrigo was waiting for a downtown D train when someone mentioned that Andy Pettitte’s back was improving.
“Great news,” Rodrigo said.
Another person pointed out that Pettitte is going to be pushed back in the rotation and probably won’t start until game three or four.
“That’s not a big deal,” Rodrigo said. “I’m just happy that he’s feeling better.”
Rodrigo’s job – a bricklayer’s apprentice – often leaves him stiff and sore.
“I can deal with my own aches and pains,” he said. “I just want to make sure that my ballplayers are feeling good. That’s what’s really important.”
Monday, March 24, 2008
One Thing
Jose from Gerard Avenue was only interested in talking about one thing on the 2 train this morning. He held up his index finger and smiled.
“One week,” he said. “That’s all we got left until Opening Day.”
He started counting weeks back in October.
“I tried counting days,” Jose explained. “It seemed too long to say 148 days or whatever so I worked out the weeks and started counting down: 19 weeks, 18 weeks, 17 weeks…
“I’ve been like a prisoner using the wall of my cell for a calendar,” he continued. “I’m scratching out the last of the hard time.”
Now it’s time to make plans.
“I know exactly what I’m gonna do on Opening Day,” Jose said. “I’ll get up early and grab a big Sunday-type breakfast: bacon and eggs and home fries and toast and coffee. When my belly is full I’ll watch the guys come in the players’ gate and then catch batting practice. After that it’s just about me and my team and getting a win.
“I realize that it’s unfair to expect so much from one day,” he admitted. “You’re bound to be disappointed, but that won’t last long because one day leads to the rest of the season and then it’s all about getting one win at a time.”
Jose smiled and held up his index finger again.
“Let’s go Yanks!”
“One week,” he said. “That’s all we got left until Opening Day.”
He started counting weeks back in October.
“I tried counting days,” Jose explained. “It seemed too long to say 148 days or whatever so I worked out the weeks and started counting down: 19 weeks, 18 weeks, 17 weeks…
“I’ve been like a prisoner using the wall of my cell for a calendar,” he continued. “I’m scratching out the last of the hard time.”
Now it’s time to make plans.
“I know exactly what I’m gonna do on Opening Day,” Jose said. “I’ll get up early and grab a big Sunday-type breakfast: bacon and eggs and home fries and toast and coffee. When my belly is full I’ll watch the guys come in the players’ gate and then catch batting practice. After that it’s just about me and my team and getting a win.
“I realize that it’s unfair to expect so much from one day,” he admitted. “You’re bound to be disappointed, but that won’t last long because one day leads to the rest of the season and then it’s all about getting one win at a time.”
Jose smiled and held up his index finger again.
“Let’s go Yanks!”
Sunday, March 23, 2008
What It’s All About
I parked in front of the television on a cool New York afternoon.
Everyone in the crowd was well aged at McKechnie Field in Bradenton, Florida, when Melky Cabrera stepped in against lefty Paul Maholm.
It was a comforting sight because Spring Training is supposed to be about retired workers relaxing at ballparks on warm afternoons. That’s one of the advantages of getting old.
I don’t consider myself old, yet. But age is quickly creeping up on me. The fans soaking up this game in the Florida sun had clearly known the feeling.
I imagined them all as retired steelworkers who spend a few weeks each spring watching the Pirates get ready for the season. Most of them probably saw Ralph Kiner and Roberto Clemente and Bill Mazeroski and Willie Stargell back when there were still steel mills in Pittsburgh.
Those jobs are now gone along with the rest of the good jobs in this country. The faces in Bradenton were a reminder of what used to be and could be again.
That’s what Spring Training is really about.
Everyone in the crowd was well aged at McKechnie Field in Bradenton, Florida, when Melky Cabrera stepped in against lefty Paul Maholm.
It was a comforting sight because Spring Training is supposed to be about retired workers relaxing at ballparks on warm afternoons. That’s one of the advantages of getting old.
I don’t consider myself old, yet. But age is quickly creeping up on me. The fans soaking up this game in the Florida sun had clearly known the feeling.
I imagined them all as retired steelworkers who spend a few weeks each spring watching the Pirates get ready for the season. Most of them probably saw Ralph Kiner and Roberto Clemente and Bill Mazeroski and Willie Stargell back when there were still steel mills in Pittsburgh.
Those jobs are now gone along with the rest of the good jobs in this country. The faces in Bradenton were a reminder of what used to be and could be again.
That’s what Spring Training is really about.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Barbershop
The barbershop is humming on the next-to-last Saturday before Opening Day.
Mr. Castorini goes to the front of the line and puts in his order.
“Take an inch off the top,” he says. “My wife wants it short and she says my eyebrows are too bushy. Do something about that.”
“No problem, sir,” says Giuseppe as he brushes off the chair. “I will make you look beautiful.”
“Hey,” Mr. Castorini shoots. “I don’t want to look beautiful.”
He scans the waiting faces and asks:
“Did I say anything about wanting to look beautiful?”
Everyone shakes.
“I will make you look handsome,” Giuseppe corrects. “Your wife will love you.”
Mr. Castorini nods.
“I’m taking her to the opera tonight,” he says. “We’re going to see Tosca.”
Giuseppe smiles.
“That is very nice, sir,” he says.
“I don’t care about the damn opera,” Mr. Castorini fires. “This will keep her happy so I can go to Opening Day with my son. This is the last one at the old ballpark and I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Fabulous,” Giuseppe says. “Chien-Ming Wang is pitching. That should be a beautiful game.”
“Yeah,” Mr. Castorini says. “Let’s get this done so I don’t miss the opera or the ballgame.”
“Of course, sir, right away.”
Mr. Castorini goes to the front of the line and puts in his order.
“Take an inch off the top,” he says. “My wife wants it short and she says my eyebrows are too bushy. Do something about that.”
“No problem, sir,” says Giuseppe as he brushes off the chair. “I will make you look beautiful.”
“Hey,” Mr. Castorini shoots. “I don’t want to look beautiful.”
He scans the waiting faces and asks:
“Did I say anything about wanting to look beautiful?”
Everyone shakes.
“I will make you look handsome,” Giuseppe corrects. “Your wife will love you.”
Mr. Castorini nods.
“I’m taking her to the opera tonight,” he says. “We’re going to see Tosca.”
Giuseppe smiles.
“That is very nice, sir,” he says.
“I don’t care about the damn opera,” Mr. Castorini fires. “This will keep her happy so I can go to Opening Day with my son. This is the last one at the old ballpark and I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Fabulous,” Giuseppe says. “Chien-Ming Wang is pitching. That should be a beautiful game.”
“Yeah,” Mr. Castorini says. “Let’s get this done so I don’t miss the opera or the ballgame.”
“Of course, sir, right away.”
Friday, March 21, 2008
Something About Joba
The conversation had turned to pitching by the time the 2 train rumbled under the Harlem River into Manhattan. Everyone was interested in news about another good start from Ian Kennedy and the progress of Phil Hughes, but Javier just wanted to talk about Joba Chamberlain.
He cleared his throat and made his pitch:
“That kid is something else,” Javier fired. “There are so many great pitchers on this staff and so many talented young arms in this organization, but Joba still stands out.”
Chamberlain’s larger-than-life image is built on exploding fastballs and disappearing sliders that get big outs in big games.
“It’s exciting to watch,” Javier explained. “He always gives you the sense that something amazing is going to happen. And he tops it all off with a fist pump.”
His first relief appearance of the year was amazingly efficient:
1-2 fastball: K
0-2 fastball: K
1-2 slider: K
No fist pump needed in Spring Training.
“He was untouchable,” Javier said. “I know the game doesn’t count and the season is still over a week away, but he looks ready.”
Chamberlain easily slipped back into the bullpen after working as a starter all spring.
“I know he’s gonna be a top-of-the-rotation guy,” Javier admitted. “But I’m glad he’s a reliever for now. He lights up the Stadium when he comes in with the game on the line. He’s not Mariano, but he’s getting there.”
Javier smiled and shrugged:
“There’s just something about Joba.”
He cleared his throat and made his pitch:
“That kid is something else,” Javier fired. “There are so many great pitchers on this staff and so many talented young arms in this organization, but Joba still stands out.”
Chamberlain’s larger-than-life image is built on exploding fastballs and disappearing sliders that get big outs in big games.
“It’s exciting to watch,” Javier explained. “He always gives you the sense that something amazing is going to happen. And he tops it all off with a fist pump.”
His first relief appearance of the year was amazingly efficient:
1-2 fastball: K
0-2 fastball: K
1-2 slider: K
No fist pump needed in Spring Training.
“He was untouchable,” Javier said. “I know the game doesn’t count and the season is still over a week away, but he looks ready.”
Chamberlain easily slipped back into the bullpen after working as a starter all spring.
“I know he’s gonna be a top-of-the-rotation guy,” Javier admitted. “But I’m glad he’s a reliever for now. He lights up the Stadium when he comes in with the game on the line. He’s not Mariano, but he’s getting there.”
Javier smiled and shrugged:
“There’s just something about Joba.”
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Workaday Wonders
Marcus from Mott Haven was facing a long day when he stopped at Juan Carlos’s coffee cart this morning.
“I’m working a doubleheader,” he said. “I’ve got a construction job on Gerard Avenue today and I’m delivering (pizzas) tonight.
“I have to put in the extra time to get ready for baseball,” Marcus continued. “I’m taking off Opening Day and I need to build up a bankroll because I always spend a bunch of money.
“I gotta have a scorecard and a new Yearbook and Media Guide,” he went on. “I also have my eye on a Phil Hughes T-shirt. I’ve already got a number 65, but I like to be current so I’m going for a number 34.”
Hughes is also working toward Opening Day.
“He had a rough start last night,” Marcus said. “The wind blew out a few homers, but he said he’s feeling good and getting close. That’s all that matters. Just put in your work and get ready for the season.”
Marcus finished his coffee, crumpled the cup and fired it into a trash can.
“Strike one,” he shot. “I gotta get to work.”
“I’m working a doubleheader,” he said. “I’ve got a construction job on Gerard Avenue today and I’m delivering (pizzas) tonight.
“I have to put in the extra time to get ready for baseball,” Marcus continued. “I’m taking off Opening Day and I need to build up a bankroll because I always spend a bunch of money.
“I gotta have a scorecard and a new Yearbook and Media Guide,” he went on. “I also have my eye on a Phil Hughes T-shirt. I’ve already got a number 65, but I like to be current so I’m going for a number 34.”
Hughes is also working toward Opening Day.
“He had a rough start last night,” Marcus said. “The wind blew out a few homers, but he said he’s feeling good and getting close. That’s all that matters. Just put in your work and get ready for the season.”
Marcus finished his coffee, crumpled the cup and fired it into a trash can.
“Strike one,” he shot. “I gotta get to work.”
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Special Delivery
My tickets were delivered in a box. I always remember them being stuffed into a fat envelope, but this season required a bigger package.
It felt like my birthday as I ripped into the cardboard and quickly checked the spiral-bound book of tickets. Then I scanned the Fan Club brochure and read through the Ticket Information & Fan Guide.
There was some parking information that was passed over because I don’t know how to drive and an Amtrak schedule that went in the trash because I never leave New York City. There was also something about selling tickets on StubHub, but that’s useless since I haven’t missed a game in years.
I continued through pages about options and benefits and amenities before stumbling across my Identification card that includes a license number and seniority date.
That’s pretty heady stuff for someone who’s never been identified outside of a police lineup and has never been licensed to do anything.
I currently carry a MetroCard and a library card and a SABR card and an ACLU membership card. But being an officially-licensed, card-carrying Yankee with some seniority is quite an honor and a lot of responsibility.
“I’m proud to be part of this team,” I told the media gathered outside my building this evening. “I promise to do everything in my power to deliver a championship to the Bronx.”
Twelve days to go.
Yeah.
It felt like my birthday as I ripped into the cardboard and quickly checked the spiral-bound book of tickets. Then I scanned the Fan Club brochure and read through the Ticket Information & Fan Guide.
There was some parking information that was passed over because I don’t know how to drive and an Amtrak schedule that went in the trash because I never leave New York City. There was also something about selling tickets on StubHub, but that’s useless since I haven’t missed a game in years.
I continued through pages about options and benefits and amenities before stumbling across my Identification card that includes a license number and seniority date.
That’s pretty heady stuff for someone who’s never been identified outside of a police lineup and has never been licensed to do anything.
I currently carry a MetroCard and a library card and a SABR card and an ACLU membership card. But being an officially-licensed, card-carrying Yankee with some seniority is quite an honor and a lot of responsibility.
“I’m proud to be part of this team,” I told the media gathered outside my building this evening. “I promise to do everything in my power to deliver a championship to the Bronx.”
Twelve days to go.
Yeah.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Out Of Vogue
The guys hanging around Juan Carlos’s coffee cart felt a level of sophistication rise over the Bronx this morning.
Word on the streets placed Alex Rodriguez – who was born just across the Harlem River in Washington Heights and now resides on the hot corner at East 161st Street and River Avenue – on the cover of Men’s Vogue.
None of the guys have ever read the publication, but they all sense that it is quite sophisticated. Jose is the only one who can actually recall seeing a copy of the magazine.
“I remember it from a barbershop a few years ago,” Jose says. “It looked a little, well, fancy so I didn’t pick it up.”
A Yankee on the cover changes everything.
“I bought a copy of Men’s Health last week just because there was an article on Derek Jeter,” Jose explains. “I’m a sucker for anything about a ballplayer so I’ll have to get this Men’s Vogue, too.”
But a search of neighborhood newsstands turned up nothing.
“Nobody even carries that magazine around here,” Jose says. “Marco over on Gerard Avenue thought I was some kind of sissy just for asking about it.
“I told him A-Rod is on the cover and he calmed down,” Jose continues. “He promised to ask his supplier about it, but I’ll also make sure and keep my eyes open when I go downtown.”
This bit of sophistication is coming to the Bronx one way or another.
“No,” Jose shoots. “The Bronx and A-Rod are bringing sophistication to Men’s Vogue.”
He winks and smiles and then adds:
“You’re welcome.”
Word on the streets placed Alex Rodriguez – who was born just across the Harlem River in Washington Heights and now resides on the hot corner at East 161st Street and River Avenue – on the cover of Men’s Vogue.
None of the guys have ever read the publication, but they all sense that it is quite sophisticated. Jose is the only one who can actually recall seeing a copy of the magazine.
“I remember it from a barbershop a few years ago,” Jose says. “It looked a little, well, fancy so I didn’t pick it up.”
A Yankee on the cover changes everything.
“I bought a copy of Men’s Health last week just because there was an article on Derek Jeter,” Jose explains. “I’m a sucker for anything about a ballplayer so I’ll have to get this Men’s Vogue, too.”
But a search of neighborhood newsstands turned up nothing.
“Nobody even carries that magazine around here,” Jose says. “Marco over on Gerard Avenue thought I was some kind of sissy just for asking about it.
“I told him A-Rod is on the cover and he calmed down,” Jose continues. “He promised to ask his supplier about it, but I’ll also make sure and keep my eyes open when I go downtown.”
This bit of sophistication is coming to the Bronx one way or another.
“No,” Jose shoots. “The Bronx and A-Rod are bringing sophistication to Men’s Vogue.”
He winks and smiles and then adds:
“You’re welcome.”
Monday, March 17, 2008
Wakeup Call
Everyone was dozing on the 2 train this morning.
“Maybe it’s the time of day,” Jon from Highbridge reasoned. “Or maybe it’s the time of year. Yeah, it’s probably just a flat spot in the middle of Spring Training.”
New York is just starting to shake off the winter rust.
“Sometimes baseball still seems a long way off,” Jon admitted. “It’s one of those things that never feels like it’s going to get here until it does.”
Then Opening Day cracks the door to a whole new season.
“It’s almost surreal,” Jon explained. “The Stadium is so familiar, but it’s like you’re seeing it for the first time. The game has only been in newspaper stories and on television all winter, but everything comes to life that day.
“It’s hard to describe the emotions because there’s so much going on,” he continued. “It’s like a map for the whole season unfolds. You get to see the kids and the new guys and, of course, the veterans.”
Jon paused and smiled.
“Just talking about it gives me a jolt,” he said. “I’m wide awake now so let’s play some baseball.”
Two weeks to go.
“Maybe it’s the time of day,” Jon from Highbridge reasoned. “Or maybe it’s the time of year. Yeah, it’s probably just a flat spot in the middle of Spring Training.”
New York is just starting to shake off the winter rust.
“Sometimes baseball still seems a long way off,” Jon admitted. “It’s one of those things that never feels like it’s going to get here until it does.”
Then Opening Day cracks the door to a whole new season.
“It’s almost surreal,” Jon explained. “The Stadium is so familiar, but it’s like you’re seeing it for the first time. The game has only been in newspaper stories and on television all winter, but everything comes to life that day.
“It’s hard to describe the emotions because there’s so much going on,” he continued. “It’s like a map for the whole season unfolds. You get to see the kids and the new guys and, of course, the veterans.”
Jon paused and smiled.
“Just talking about it gives me a jolt,” he said. “I’m wide awake now so let’s play some baseball.”
Two weeks to go.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Nice Ending
Sometimes you just have to get to the end. That is the best part of Spring Training for everyone. The regulars want to be healthy at the end and everyone else is playing baseball to the end.
Some guys are struggling to earn jobs and the rest are just kids trying to get noticed. They come in for the last few innings and maybe get one shot to hit.
They all made the most of it today.
Everyone who stayed for the finish got to see Bernie Castro from Washington Heights drive in a big run in the eighth inning and then get thrown out trying to tie the game on a single by Alberto Gonzalez.
Then they saw Kyle Anson hammer a ninth-inning double off the right-field wall pulling the Yankees to within one run. They also got to watch Anson score the game winner on Nick Green’s two-RBI single.
Three runs in the ninth. Yankees win 7-6.
Nice ending.
Some guys are struggling to earn jobs and the rest are just kids trying to get noticed. They come in for the last few innings and maybe get one shot to hit.
They all made the most of it today.
Everyone who stayed for the finish got to see Bernie Castro from Washington Heights drive in a big run in the eighth inning and then get thrown out trying to tie the game on a single by Alberto Gonzalez.
Then they saw Kyle Anson hammer a ninth-inning double off the right-field wall pulling the Yankees to within one run. They also got to watch Anson score the game winner on Nick Green’s two-RBI single.
Three runs in the ninth. Yankees win 7-6.
Nice ending.
The Same Streets
Young pitchers all walk the same streets. Ian Kennedy and Joba Chamberlain traced the steps of Phil Hughes yesterday.
Chien-Ming Wang – the oldest of the young pitchers on the staff – took the ball for another walk through Tampa today.
Everything is about building innings and gaining experience and getting ready for the season.
These strolls around Florida will lead them to the Bronx on March 31.
They will be at the corner of 161st Street and River Avenue on that afternoon.
Chien-Ming Wang – the oldest of the young pitchers on the staff – took the ball for another walk through Tampa today.
Everything is about building innings and gaining experience and getting ready for the season.
These strolls around Florida will lead them to the Bronx on March 31.
They will be at the corner of 161st Street and River Avenue on that afternoon.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Nobody’s Perfect
Phil Hughes took a step forward yesterday. He gave up some hits and got some outs without his best stuff. His string of perfect innings was broken, but that doesn’t really matter.
“It was just one of those days that you’ve got to battle through.” Hughes said. “It’s better to get it out of the way now than in the regular season.
“I’ve been able to put my fastball where I wanted so far this spring,” Hughes continued. “It just wasn’t there today. Sometimes I was missing by a little bit, but other times I missed by a lot. It was tough.”
Hughes learned something about getting through tough games.
“I think I just felt too good,” Hughes explained. “I was really overthrowing. The ball came out of my hand real good; I just wasn't throwing it for strikes.”
Not being perfect is sometimes the best way to move forward.
“It was just one of those days that you’ve got to battle through.” Hughes said. “It’s better to get it out of the way now than in the regular season.
“I’ve been able to put my fastball where I wanted so far this spring,” Hughes continued. “It just wasn’t there today. Sometimes I was missing by a little bit, but other times I missed by a lot. It was tough.”
Hughes learned something about getting through tough games.
“I think I just felt too good,” Hughes explained. “I was really overthrowing. The ball came out of my hand real good; I just wasn't throwing it for strikes.”
Not being perfect is sometimes the best way to move forward.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Buttoned Up
Another American soldier died yesterday. Three died the day before and another the day before and eight more the day before that.
No one seems to notice dead soldiers anymore. Everyone is too busy driving their cars and honking their horns and getting worked up over the price of gasoline and the stock market and whether or not Billy Crystal should play in a Spring Training game.
Marcus from Gerard Avenue in the Bronx only gets worked up about what’s pinned to his Yankee jacket. It’s a homemade button that has to be updated all the time.
Today it says:
3,987 dead Americans in Iraq.
How many did you know?
Marcus knew two.
“They were both neighborhood guys,” he says. “They joined the Army because they didn’t have a choice. They say there’s no draft in this country, but I guess that depends on where you’re from and how rich your family is.
“Guys around here get ‘drafted’ all the time,” Marcus explains. “You get out of high school and you can either join the military or deliver pizzas and live under a bridge in a cardboard box.”
Too many kids are coming home in wooden boxes these days.
“I made this button when my friends were killed,” Marcus says. “We had just passed 1,000 dead. I didn’t think it would last much longer, but now it looks like it might go on forever.
“They’re never going to run out of kids to send over there,” he continues. “People in places like the South Bronx are getting poorer and more desperate so they will keep ‘drafting’ themselves. And the people running this country will keep getting rich off it.”
And Marcus will keep adding up the cost.
“I’m sick of changing the number on this damn button,” he says. “I hoped it might make a difference, but it hasn’t so far. People in my neighborhood are too poor to do anything about it and no one else even seems to care.”
No one seems to notice dead soldiers anymore. Everyone is too busy driving their cars and honking their horns and getting worked up over the price of gasoline and the stock market and whether or not Billy Crystal should play in a Spring Training game.
Marcus from Gerard Avenue in the Bronx only gets worked up about what’s pinned to his Yankee jacket. It’s a homemade button that has to be updated all the time.
Today it says:
3,987 dead Americans in Iraq.
How many did you know?
Marcus knew two.
“They were both neighborhood guys,” he says. “They joined the Army because they didn’t have a choice. They say there’s no draft in this country, but I guess that depends on where you’re from and how rich your family is.
“Guys around here get ‘drafted’ all the time,” Marcus explains. “You get out of high school and you can either join the military or deliver pizzas and live under a bridge in a cardboard box.”
Too many kids are coming home in wooden boxes these days.
“I made this button when my friends were killed,” Marcus says. “We had just passed 1,000 dead. I didn’t think it would last much longer, but now it looks like it might go on forever.
“They’re never going to run out of kids to send over there,” he continues. “People in places like the South Bronx are getting poorer and more desperate so they will keep ‘drafting’ themselves. And the people running this country will keep getting rich off it.”
And Marcus will keep adding up the cost.
“I’m sick of changing the number on this damn button,” he says. “I hoped it might make a difference, but it hasn’t so far. People in my neighborhood are too poor to do anything about it and no one else even seems to care.”
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Broken Windows
They broke some windows on West 41st Street last night. That’s what happens when you play baseball inside a fancy glass building.
It wasn’t what some people expected at TheTimesCenter from a panel discussion – Streets of New York: Writers Covering the City – that included journalists Jimmy Breslin, Pete Hamill, Susan Dominus, Dan Barry and Clyde Haberman.
“I thought this was going to be about journalistic ethics,” someone in the audience whispered as the first pitch was thrown.
Breslin started the game by talking about a book he’s reading on legendary general manager Branch Rickey. Then he weaved baseball into the campaign for the Democratic presidential nomination.
“We’re still fighting the same battles,” Breslin said. “I read about Phillies manager Ben Chapman and all the hate he aimed at Jackie Robinson and the Dodgers. Then I look at Geraldine Ferraro and see the same thing.”
Hamill jumped into the batter’s box.
“Jackie laid the groundwork for this,” he said. “Obama’s run began on April 15, 1947, when Robinson took the first step.
“There are many similarities,” Hamill continued. “Robinson had the courage to enter a battle knowing that he couldn’t fight back. Now we see Obama doing things much the same way.”
Those parallels show that progress has been slow.
“But at least there’s been progress,” Hamill said. “You can look at Obama and see that we’ve come a long way.”
And you can look at Ferraro and the racially-divisive campaign run by Hillary Clinton and see that we still have a long way to go.
“It’s the job of newspaper columnists to tell the stories that can make a difference,” Hamill explained. “We want our readers to say ‘I didn’t know that’ or ‘I never thought of it like that.’ It’s a double off the right-field wall if they say both.”
Another window gets broken, but this time it’s for journalistic ethics.
It wasn’t what some people expected at TheTimesCenter from a panel discussion – Streets of New York: Writers Covering the City – that included journalists Jimmy Breslin, Pete Hamill, Susan Dominus, Dan Barry and Clyde Haberman.
“I thought this was going to be about journalistic ethics,” someone in the audience whispered as the first pitch was thrown.
Breslin started the game by talking about a book he’s reading on legendary general manager Branch Rickey. Then he weaved baseball into the campaign for the Democratic presidential nomination.
“We’re still fighting the same battles,” Breslin said. “I read about Phillies manager Ben Chapman and all the hate he aimed at Jackie Robinson and the Dodgers. Then I look at Geraldine Ferraro and see the same thing.”
Hamill jumped into the batter’s box.
“Jackie laid the groundwork for this,” he said. “Obama’s run began on April 15, 1947, when Robinson took the first step.
“There are many similarities,” Hamill continued. “Robinson had the courage to enter a battle knowing that he couldn’t fight back. Now we see Obama doing things much the same way.”
Those parallels show that progress has been slow.
“But at least there’s been progress,” Hamill said. “You can look at Obama and see that we’ve come a long way.”
And you can look at Ferraro and the racially-divisive campaign run by Hillary Clinton and see that we still have a long way to go.
“It’s the job of newspaper columnists to tell the stories that can make a difference,” Hamill explained. “We want our readers to say ‘I didn’t know that’ or ‘I never thought of it like that.’ It’s a double off the right-field wall if they say both.”
Another window gets broken, but this time it’s for journalistic ethics.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
One Last Time
John Dugan has lived exactly 87 years.
“Today is my birthday,” he tells everyone within earshot on the 2 train.
Most of his life has been spent within walking distance of Yankee Stadium.
“I’ve been going there as long as I can remember,” Dugan says. “I worked for a popcorn vendor on River Avenue when I was a kid and would sneak into the bleachers once the game started.
“I didn’t go enough after the war (World War II),” he explains. “There were times when I was too tired from working too much and other times when I was too broke from not working enough.
“But there’s really no excuse for missing too many baseball games,” Dugan admits. “Those are the good times and there are never enough of them. Take it from someone who knows.”
He speaks with a lifetime of experience.
“I’ve been through plenty,” Dugan says. “There’s been good and bad, but I guess that’s how it always is.”
“What’s the worst you’ve been through?” someone asks.
“I don’t think you ever really know,” Dugan explains. “You may think things are bad, but they can always get worse. I grew up during the Depression and thought that was bad.
“But the war was really bad,” he continues. “When I was in France and Belgium and Germany I would have loved to be shivering under the covers in my little apartment in the Bronx.”
“What’s the best thing you’ve ever seen?” someone else asks.
Dugan smiles.
“My wife,” he says. “I met her walking down the Grand Concourse and we were married just before the Army shipped me overseas.
“We were together for 67 years,” Dugan continues. “I lost the best part of me when she died last year. I’ve managed to keep it going, but it’ll never be the same.”
Dugan shakes his head.
“She always baked me a chocolate birthday cake,” he says. “I don’t ever eat chocolate cake anymore because it couldn’t be as good.
“Baseball isn’t as good either,” Dugan continues, “but I still want to go to Yankee Stadium like we used to do together. Sunday afternoon games were our favorite. I’ll go on a hot day and afterwards I will get an Italian ice and sit in the park until dark.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll do that one last time.”
“Today is my birthday,” he tells everyone within earshot on the 2 train.
Most of his life has been spent within walking distance of Yankee Stadium.
“I’ve been going there as long as I can remember,” Dugan says. “I worked for a popcorn vendor on River Avenue when I was a kid and would sneak into the bleachers once the game started.
“I didn’t go enough after the war (World War II),” he explains. “There were times when I was too tired from working too much and other times when I was too broke from not working enough.
“But there’s really no excuse for missing too many baseball games,” Dugan admits. “Those are the good times and there are never enough of them. Take it from someone who knows.”
He speaks with a lifetime of experience.
“I’ve been through plenty,” Dugan says. “There’s been good and bad, but I guess that’s how it always is.”
“What’s the worst you’ve been through?” someone asks.
“I don’t think you ever really know,” Dugan explains. “You may think things are bad, but they can always get worse. I grew up during the Depression and thought that was bad.
“But the war was really bad,” he continues. “When I was in France and Belgium and Germany I would have loved to be shivering under the covers in my little apartment in the Bronx.”
“What’s the best thing you’ve ever seen?” someone else asks.
Dugan smiles.
“My wife,” he says. “I met her walking down the Grand Concourse and we were married just before the Army shipped me overseas.
“We were together for 67 years,” Dugan continues. “I lost the best part of me when she died last year. I’ve managed to keep it going, but it’ll never be the same.”
Dugan shakes his head.
“She always baked me a chocolate birthday cake,” he says. “I don’t ever eat chocolate cake anymore because it couldn’t be as good.
“Baseball isn’t as good either,” Dugan continues, “but I still want to go to Yankee Stadium like we used to do together. Sunday afternoon games were our favorite. I’ll go on a hot day and afterwards I will get an Italian ice and sit in the park until dark.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll do that one last time.”
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Tools Of The Trade
Javier has the right sound, but he can’t quite get the motion down.
“Brrrrrrrrrr,” he growls trying to simulate a chainsaw. “Brrrrrrrrrr…”
The guys gathered around Juan Carlos’s coffee cart are locked in puzzled stares.
“What the heck are you doing?” someone finally asks.
“It’s a make-believe chainsaw,” Javier says extending his empty hands. “I’m pretending to cut down trees the same way the guys were cuttin’ down hitters last night. Joba and Kennedy and Traber and Hawkins and, of course, Mariano was brilliant as usual.”
“They all pitched well,” someone says. “It was a lot more impressive than your little chainsaw impression.”
Everyone laughs, but Javier keeps going.
“It was beautiful,” Javier says. “They were cuttin’ down the hitters and stackin’ up the outs like firewood.
“And they’re just gettin’ started,” Javier continues. “The kids have all the talent in the world and this pitching staff has the tools to keep it going all year.
“Brrrrrrrrrr…”
“Brrrrrrrrrr,” he growls trying to simulate a chainsaw. “Brrrrrrrrrr…”
The guys gathered around Juan Carlos’s coffee cart are locked in puzzled stares.
“What the heck are you doing?” someone finally asks.
“It’s a make-believe chainsaw,” Javier says extending his empty hands. “I’m pretending to cut down trees the same way the guys were cuttin’ down hitters last night. Joba and Kennedy and Traber and Hawkins and, of course, Mariano was brilliant as usual.”
“They all pitched well,” someone says. “It was a lot more impressive than your little chainsaw impression.”
Everyone laughs, but Javier keeps going.
“It was beautiful,” Javier says. “They were cuttin’ down the hitters and stackin’ up the outs like firewood.
“And they’re just gettin’ started,” Javier continues. “The kids have all the talent in the world and this pitching staff has the tools to keep it going all year.
“Brrrrrrrrrr…”
Monday, March 10, 2008
Forming Opinions
Anthony was squeezed on the 2 train this morning. He got on a nearly empty car at Burke Avenue in the Bronx, but by Penn Station he was wedged between the center bar and a woman who kept jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow as she furiously worked on her BlackBerry.
“I don’t mind getting banged around a little,” Anthony explains. “It’s a reminder that I am one little person in a big city.”
The woman couldn’t hear him because she was also listening to her iPod.
“A lot of people do that,” Anthony says. “I guess it’s fine for them, but I like to hear what’s going on in the train and on the street and at the ballpark, too.”
An unfiltered Yankee Stadium is the most important.
“I see lots of people listening to the radio at the game,” Anthony says. “I’ve never done that because the game is personal to me and I don’t want broadcasters in the way.
“Everyone’s got an opinion they’re trying to sell,” he continues. “I like to get the facts and form my own.”
His opinion on:
The woman elbowing him:
“She needs to take off the headphones, put away the BlackBerry and join the party.”
The 2 train:
“That’s where the party always is.”
The left-field seat he has for Opening Day:
“I’m looking forward to everything: the train and the climb to the upper deck and batting practice and the game. It will be just me and 55,000 screaming fans and my team and nine innings.
“I’ll be one little person in a big ballpark,” Anthony continues. “It doesn’t get any better than that.”
“I don’t mind getting banged around a little,” Anthony explains. “It’s a reminder that I am one little person in a big city.”
The woman couldn’t hear him because she was also listening to her iPod.
“A lot of people do that,” Anthony says. “I guess it’s fine for them, but I like to hear what’s going on in the train and on the street and at the ballpark, too.”
An unfiltered Yankee Stadium is the most important.
“I see lots of people listening to the radio at the game,” Anthony says. “I’ve never done that because the game is personal to me and I don’t want broadcasters in the way.
“Everyone’s got an opinion they’re trying to sell,” he continues. “I like to get the facts and form my own.”
His opinion on:
The woman elbowing him:
“She needs to take off the headphones, put away the BlackBerry and join the party.”
The 2 train:
“That’s where the party always is.”
The left-field seat he has for Opening Day:
“I’m looking forward to everything: the train and the climb to the upper deck and batting practice and the game. It will be just me and 55,000 screaming fans and my team and nine innings.
“I’ll be one little person in a big ballpark,” Anthony continues. “It doesn’t get any better than that.”
Sunday, March 9, 2008
The Future
Phil Hughes’s four no-hit innings traveled through the Bronx on the wind. That was the only option with the game not on television or radio today.It’s the same way news of him first reached the neighborhood. His legend started floating over high-school baseball fields and moved quickly through places like Charleston and Tampa and Trenton and Scranton.
All along it was passed down busy counters and across tables and around subway cars. It built on park benches and at newsstands and bars and cigar shops and crowded grocery stores.
And then one day the whole city knew everything about a pitcher none of us had ever seen. We all got a good look at him last year and everyone saw the promise.
Hughes will soon be at Yankee Stadium and all over the television and radio again, but today that promise belonged to those with the ability to imagine.
Close your eyes for a look – blazing fastballs, knee-buckling curves, exploding sliders, and disappearing changeups – at the future.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Expectations
The rain made it a good day to stay undercover in the Bronx.
But there was no cover in Tampa for Francisco Cervelli. He was drilled by a David Price fastball in the seventh inning and bowled over in a play at the plate by Elliot Johnson in the ninth inning.
Cervelli fractured his right wrist in the collision, but he quickly brushed off the incident.
“It’s part of the game,” he said.
Those are the words everyone expected from a tough guy like Cervelli.
Joe Girardi was not as forgiving.
“I think it’s uncalled for in Spring Training,” Girardi said. “You get people hurt. Now that’s what we’ve got; we’ve got Cervelli hurt. I’m all for playing hard, but I don’t think it’s the time when you run over a catcher in Spring Training.”
Those are the words everyone expected from the manager.
The Tampa Bay Rays should know what to expect from the Yankees when they meet again on Wednesday.
They should also know what to expect in the Bronx. April 4 is now circled on every calendar in the neighborhood.
But there was no cover in Tampa for Francisco Cervelli. He was drilled by a David Price fastball in the seventh inning and bowled over in a play at the plate by Elliot Johnson in the ninth inning.
Cervelli fractured his right wrist in the collision, but he quickly brushed off the incident.
“It’s part of the game,” he said.
Those are the words everyone expected from a tough guy like Cervelli.
Joe Girardi was not as forgiving.
“I think it’s uncalled for in Spring Training,” Girardi said. “You get people hurt. Now that’s what we’ve got; we’ve got Cervelli hurt. I’m all for playing hard, but I don’t think it’s the time when you run over a catcher in Spring Training.”
Those are the words everyone expected from the manager.
The Tampa Bay Rays should know what to expect from the Yankees when they meet again on Wednesday.
They should also know what to expect in the Bronx. April 4 is now circled on every calendar in the neighborhood.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Keeping The Dream
Jon has a good job at a warehouse in Hunts Point. He moved up to shift manager and got a raise this year. But his weekends are still spent driving a cab to save for Yankee tickets.
“The extra money comes in handy,” Jon says, “but that’s not the only reason I do it. I have always wanted a cool story about driving a ballplayer. I’ve heard about guys picking up Satchel Paige. He paid with checks and the guys never cashed ‘em because they had Satchel’s signature.
“I want to drive Derek Jeter someday,” Jon continues. “I would get him where he’s going in record time and then maybe he would flip me an autographed ball and say, ‘You’re the best driver in the city.’”
Jon laughs at his own story and says:
“That would be a first coming from one of my fares.”
His driving has been described as “unique” and “interesting” and “the most frightening 20 minutes imaginable.” One lady even suggested that he should drop everyone in Coney Island so they could ride the Cyclone to calm their stomach.
“She was exaggerating a bit,” Jon says. “I may not be as smooth as the full-time hacks, but I get the job done.”
The job has changed.
“You used to talk to people about the weather and baseball and maybe politics,” Jon explains. “If they were visiting you would tell them about the Statue of Liberty and the best breakfast joints.
“Most people don’t want to talk these days,” he continues. “They are all wrapped up in their own little world with headphones and cellphones.
“It’s just not as interesting as it used to be,” Jon goes on. “There are people I drove years ago that I’ll never forget. Then there are faces that got in my cab last week and I couldn’t pick them out of a lineup.”
He will always be looking for Jeter.
“It’ll probably never happen,” Jon admits. “But there’s no harm in keeping the dream.”
“The extra money comes in handy,” Jon says, “but that’s not the only reason I do it. I have always wanted a cool story about driving a ballplayer. I’ve heard about guys picking up Satchel Paige. He paid with checks and the guys never cashed ‘em because they had Satchel’s signature.
“I want to drive Derek Jeter someday,” Jon continues. “I would get him where he’s going in record time and then maybe he would flip me an autographed ball and say, ‘You’re the best driver in the city.’”
Jon laughs at his own story and says:
“That would be a first coming from one of my fares.”
His driving has been described as “unique” and “interesting” and “the most frightening 20 minutes imaginable.” One lady even suggested that he should drop everyone in Coney Island so they could ride the Cyclone to calm their stomach.
“She was exaggerating a bit,” Jon says. “I may not be as smooth as the full-time hacks, but I get the job done.”
The job has changed.
“You used to talk to people about the weather and baseball and maybe politics,” Jon explains. “If they were visiting you would tell them about the Statue of Liberty and the best breakfast joints.
“Most people don’t want to talk these days,” he continues. “They are all wrapped up in their own little world with headphones and cellphones.
“It’s just not as interesting as it used to be,” Jon goes on. “There are people I drove years ago that I’ll never forget. Then there are faces that got in my cab last week and I couldn’t pick them out of a lineup.”
He will always be looking for Jeter.
“It’ll probably never happen,” Jon admits. “But there’s no harm in keeping the dream.”
Thursday, March 6, 2008
As Good As It Gets
Johnny Blevins was going through the motions on the 2 train this morning. He started by mimicking a big right-handed swing and then broke into a homerun trot that took him through the subway car and finished with an extended fist.
“I love Shelley Duncan,” Blevins says. “That guy is a blast to watch.”
Blevins has all the Yankee moves.
“Run through the batting order,” he says.
“Johnny Damon.”
Blevins jumps into the lefty’s stance and waggles his hands that are holding an imaginary bat.
“Derek Jeter.”
Blevins flips to the right side, holds up his hand and gently slides into position. A perfect inside-out swing rockets a single into right field. He finishes at first base with a sweeping clap.
“I’m the best at doing Jeter,” Blevins says. “It’s because I’ve been watching him for so long.”
But Jeter wasn’t the first one he imitated.
“I started with El Duque,” Blevins explains. “I loved the high kick and decided to try it. It’s harder than it looks, but I got pretty good after awhile. Then I picked up Paul O’Neill. Mostly his batting-helmet throws when he made an out, but I got his swing down, too.”
He has it all down these days.
“Keep going with the hitters,” Blevins says.
“Bobby Abreu… Alex Rodriguez… Jason Giambi… Jorge Posada: lefty and righty… Hideki Matsui… Robinson Cano… Melky Cabrera: lefty and righty…”
“Go through the pitchers,” Blevins orders.
“Chien-Ming Wang… Andy Pettitte… Mike Mussina… Phil Hughes… Joba Chamberlain… Ian Kennedy… Kyle Farnsworth... Brian Bruney...”
“And the best for last,” Blevins says.
“Mariano.”
Blevins looks in for the sign, spits, comes set, and then fires an exploding cutter that finishes the hitter and the game. He walks slowly off the mound and extends his hand.
“Congratulations,” he says.
That’s as good as it gets on the 2 train.
“I love Shelley Duncan,” Blevins says. “That guy is a blast to watch.”
Blevins has all the Yankee moves.
“Run through the batting order,” he says.
“Johnny Damon.”
Blevins jumps into the lefty’s stance and waggles his hands that are holding an imaginary bat.
“Derek Jeter.”
Blevins flips to the right side, holds up his hand and gently slides into position. A perfect inside-out swing rockets a single into right field. He finishes at first base with a sweeping clap.
“I’m the best at doing Jeter,” Blevins says. “It’s because I’ve been watching him for so long.”
But Jeter wasn’t the first one he imitated.
“I started with El Duque,” Blevins explains. “I loved the high kick and decided to try it. It’s harder than it looks, but I got pretty good after awhile. Then I picked up Paul O’Neill. Mostly his batting-helmet throws when he made an out, but I got his swing down, too.”
He has it all down these days.
“Keep going with the hitters,” Blevins says.
“Bobby Abreu… Alex Rodriguez… Jason Giambi… Jorge Posada: lefty and righty… Hideki Matsui… Robinson Cano… Melky Cabrera: lefty and righty…”
“Go through the pitchers,” Blevins orders.
“Chien-Ming Wang… Andy Pettitte… Mike Mussina… Phil Hughes… Joba Chamberlain… Ian Kennedy… Kyle Farnsworth... Brian Bruney...”
“And the best for last,” Blevins says.
“Mariano.”
Blevins looks in for the sign, spits, comes set, and then fires an exploding cutter that finishes the hitter and the game. He walks slowly off the mound and extends his hand.
“Congratulations,” he says.
That’s as good as it gets on the 2 train.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Just Like Baseball
It rained rivers in the Bronx this morning.
“I almost got washed away,” said Bill from Mott Haven. “But I’ll take this with a smile if we can get a nice afternoon for Opening Day.”
The rain was big and fat on Manhattan’s Upper Westside.
“You’ve got to be quick on a day like this,” said Marco as he danced around the puddles on Amsterdam Avenue. “I stay close to the buildings and use the awnings for cover. It’s like being in a rundown and trying to avoid the tag.”
Leslie – who sells beer at Yankee Stadium and works on Wall Street – lost her umbrella downtown as the rain blew sideways.
“This weather is crazy,” Leslie said. “It reminds me of the seventh-inning beer rush because I’m just trying to survive.”
The wind whistled up Maiden Lane and took Carlos’s Yankee hat for a ride.
“It’s like chasing down a ball in the gap,” Carlos said. “But I got to it and threw the runner out at second.”
Things were drying out by lunchtime.
“It turned out pretty nice,” said Ira from Tremont Avenue. “You’ve gotta hang in there every day because you never know what’s gonna happen.
“Hey,” he exclaimed. “That’s just like baseball.”
“I almost got washed away,” said Bill from Mott Haven. “But I’ll take this with a smile if we can get a nice afternoon for Opening Day.”
The rain was big and fat on Manhattan’s Upper Westside.
“You’ve got to be quick on a day like this,” said Marco as he danced around the puddles on Amsterdam Avenue. “I stay close to the buildings and use the awnings for cover. It’s like being in a rundown and trying to avoid the tag.”
Leslie – who sells beer at Yankee Stadium and works on Wall Street – lost her umbrella downtown as the rain blew sideways.
“This weather is crazy,” Leslie said. “It reminds me of the seventh-inning beer rush because I’m just trying to survive.”
The wind whistled up Maiden Lane and took Carlos’s Yankee hat for a ride.
“It’s like chasing down a ball in the gap,” Carlos said. “But I got to it and threw the runner out at second.”
Things were drying out by lunchtime.
“It turned out pretty nice,” said Ira from Tremont Avenue. “You’ve gotta hang in there every day because you never know what’s gonna happen.
“Hey,” he exclaimed. “That’s just like baseball.”
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Full-Time Fan
Jon from Highbridge has been dragging. The guys that gather around Juan Carlos’s coffee cart have watched it develop for weeks, but they all hoped he would turn things around.
Javier from Walton Avenue ran out of hope this morning when Jon slogged up and ordered his usual – black coffee and a glazed donut – with the same tired look on his face.
“What’s going on?” Javier asked. “You look like you’re working three jobs instead of two.”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” Jon insisted.
“Maybe it’s that huge bag you’re always lugging around,” Javier shot. “That thing looks like it’s ready to give birth.”
Jon cracked a smile and dropped the overstuffed Yankee bag off his shoulder.
“It’s filled with baseball magazines,” Jon explained. “It seemed like every day for a month there was a different one at the newsstand and I’m a sucker for anything with a ballplayer on the cover.
“Then there’s all the newspapers,” Jon continued. “I read in the bathroom and on the train and on my lunch break and I still can’t get through everything. It just keeps accumulating in my bag. I love all the baseball coverage, but trying to keep up is wearing me out.”
“Maybe you should become a full-time fan,” Javier scoffed.
“Is anyone hiring?” Jon snapped.
Everyone laughed.
Javier from Walton Avenue ran out of hope this morning when Jon slogged up and ordered his usual – black coffee and a glazed donut – with the same tired look on his face.
“What’s going on?” Javier asked. “You look like you’re working three jobs instead of two.”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” Jon insisted.
“Maybe it’s that huge bag you’re always lugging around,” Javier shot. “That thing looks like it’s ready to give birth.”
Jon cracked a smile and dropped the overstuffed Yankee bag off his shoulder.
“It’s filled with baseball magazines,” Jon explained. “It seemed like every day for a month there was a different one at the newsstand and I’m a sucker for anything with a ballplayer on the cover.
“Then there’s all the newspapers,” Jon continued. “I read in the bathroom and on the train and on my lunch break and I still can’t get through everything. It just keeps accumulating in my bag. I love all the baseball coverage, but trying to keep up is wearing me out.”
“Maybe you should become a full-time fan,” Javier scoffed.
“Is anyone hiring?” Jon snapped.
Everyone laughed.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Old Habits
Javier walked over to Yankee Stadium this morning because old habits are hard to break. His baseball tickets are already secured though his many neighborhood connections, but he was drawn to the ticket line that ran along River Avenue.
“I have lots of great memories from here,” Javier explained. “I always wanted to be first in line, but I never was. I did have some pretty good spots though. They were like gold in the days before the Internet.”
His friend Jose came out last night looking for a good spot and Javier was bringing him breakfast. He had a sack stuffed with chocolate donuts, egg sandwiches, coffee and a couple of bananas. When he spotted Jose near the front of the line he pulled out a banana and moved in from behind.
He jabbed the banana in Jose’s back and said:
“Stick ‘em up.”
Jose slowly raised his hands and then quickly spun to grab the banana.
“Thanks for breakfast,” he said.
Javier peeled the lid off his coffee and asked for the scoop.
“So what’s been happening?”
“What do you think has been happening?” Jose snapped. “My feet hurt and my back hurts and I’m cold.”
“But at least you’re having fun,” Javier said.
“No,” Jose said. “I’m not having fun.”
Javier shook his head.
“I just don’t understand you kids today,” he said. “I’ve stood in the snow for tickets and loved every minute. Any sissy can sit in front of a computer and buy baseball tickets. You’re out here doing it the right way.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Jose said.
“We’ll come out together next year,” Javier promised. “I’ve got this big book of baseball trivia and I’ll bring dominoes and we can play all night.”
“You really are crazy,” Jose said.
“Yeah.”
“I have lots of great memories from here,” Javier explained. “I always wanted to be first in line, but I never was. I did have some pretty good spots though. They were like gold in the days before the Internet.”
His friend Jose came out last night looking for a good spot and Javier was bringing him breakfast. He had a sack stuffed with chocolate donuts, egg sandwiches, coffee and a couple of bananas. When he spotted Jose near the front of the line he pulled out a banana and moved in from behind.
He jabbed the banana in Jose’s back and said:
“Stick ‘em up.”
Jose slowly raised his hands and then quickly spun to grab the banana.
“Thanks for breakfast,” he said.
Javier peeled the lid off his coffee and asked for the scoop.
“So what’s been happening?”
“What do you think has been happening?” Jose snapped. “My feet hurt and my back hurts and I’m cold.”
“But at least you’re having fun,” Javier said.
“No,” Jose said. “I’m not having fun.”
Javier shook his head.
“I just don’t understand you kids today,” he said. “I’ve stood in the snow for tickets and loved every minute. Any sissy can sit in front of a computer and buy baseball tickets. You’re out here doing it the right way.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Jose said.
“We’ll come out together next year,” Javier promised. “I’ve got this big book of baseball trivia and I’ll bring dominoes and we can play all night.”
“You really are crazy,” Jose said.
“Yeah.”
Sunday, March 2, 2008
The Bronx Is Ready
A bar napkin doesn’t make a great scorecard, but that’s the best Eduardo could do today.
“It’s a mess,” he admitted, “but it’s my first game of the year.”
The Bronx was watching real baseball – although just on television – for the first time in a long time.
“I know they’ve played a couple of games,” Eduardo said. “This is just the first one I get to see.”
Eduardo was settled in his seat at the end of the bar at Ball Park Lanes on River Avenue. The Sunday papers had been read and laid in a heap, but The New York Times Sports Magazine PLAY – with its feature on Hank and Hal Steinbrenner – was tucked in his back pocket.
“I’m saving it for later,” Eduardo explained. “There wasn’t enough time to finish the story before the game. I’ve heard about it and I love how Hank and Hal are helping their father with the team so I want the chance to soak it all in.”
It was a good day to soak in the Yankees, too.
“This team is so much fun,” Eduardo said. “I just love to watch ‘em.”
He watched them turn a double play behind Andy Pettitte: 6-4-3.
He watched Jason Giambi blast a three-run homer into the bleachers: HR 3RBI.
He watched Melky Cabrera track down a drive to centerfield: F-8*.
He watched the game end in a tie: 7-7.
“It was great,” Eduardo said with a smile. “Spring Training isn’t always about winning and losing. It’s about getting ready for the season.”
The Bronx is ready.
“It’s a mess,” he admitted, “but it’s my first game of the year.”
The Bronx was watching real baseball – although just on television – for the first time in a long time.
“I know they’ve played a couple of games,” Eduardo said. “This is just the first one I get to see.”
Eduardo was settled in his seat at the end of the bar at Ball Park Lanes on River Avenue. The Sunday papers had been read and laid in a heap, but The New York Times Sports Magazine PLAY – with its feature on Hank and Hal Steinbrenner – was tucked in his back pocket.
“I’m saving it for later,” Eduardo explained. “There wasn’t enough time to finish the story before the game. I’ve heard about it and I love how Hank and Hal are helping their father with the team so I want the chance to soak it all in.”
It was a good day to soak in the Yankees, too.
“This team is so much fun,” Eduardo said. “I just love to watch ‘em.”
He watched them turn a double play behind Andy Pettitte: 6-4-3.
He watched Jason Giambi blast a three-run homer into the bleachers: HR 3RBI.
He watched Melky Cabrera track down a drive to centerfield: F-8*.
He watched the game end in a tie: 7-7.
“It was great,” Eduardo said with a smile. “Spring Training isn’t always about winning and losing. It’s about getting ready for the season.”
The Bronx is ready.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Determination
Javier from Walton Avenue was determined to share his thoughts on Mike Mussina. He clipped a newspaper article a few days ago and tucked it in his pocket to wait for just the right moment.
He decided to make his move while watching the old men play dominoes in Joyce Kilmer Park this afternoon.
“Did you guys hear about Mussina?” Javier asked the group gathered around the game.
Everyone was concentrating on dominoes.
Javier grabbed their attention.
“Mussina said you’re a bunch of old cranks,” he fired. “And that none of you know a damn thing about baseball.”
They all turned and laughed.
“Okay,” someone said. “What did he really say?”
“He was talking about what it’s like to get old,” Javier said. “That should sound familiar to all of us.”
Javier smoothed the newspaper clipping and read some quotes:
“There is no normal Spring Training when you’re 39,” Mussina said. “This takes a lot of work. There are plenty of people out there who want to do what I do. I’ve got to stay after it and be ready to go.”
Javier skipped down in the story and continued reading:
“I knew that I wasn’t going to just stroll into camp and be a starter my whole career,” Mussina said. “I have to go out there and prove that I can still do it. Maybe it’s time that I get pushed again.”
Javier folded the newspaper article and slipped it back in his pocket.
“We’re all pushed to prove ourselves,” Javier said. “That’s why Moose’s words stuck with me. I think that attitude will help him have a great year.”
Everyone nodded and then went back to dominoes.
Determination always pays off.
He decided to make his move while watching the old men play dominoes in Joyce Kilmer Park this afternoon.
“Did you guys hear about Mussina?” Javier asked the group gathered around the game.
Everyone was concentrating on dominoes.
Javier grabbed their attention.
“Mussina said you’re a bunch of old cranks,” he fired. “And that none of you know a damn thing about baseball.”
They all turned and laughed.
“Okay,” someone said. “What did he really say?”
“He was talking about what it’s like to get old,” Javier said. “That should sound familiar to all of us.”
Javier smoothed the newspaper clipping and read some quotes:
“There is no normal Spring Training when you’re 39,” Mussina said. “This takes a lot of work. There are plenty of people out there who want to do what I do. I’ve got to stay after it and be ready to go.”
Javier skipped down in the story and continued reading:
“I knew that I wasn’t going to just stroll into camp and be a starter my whole career,” Mussina said. “I have to go out there and prove that I can still do it. Maybe it’s time that I get pushed again.”
Javier folded the newspaper article and slipped it back in his pocket.
“We’re all pushed to prove ourselves,” Javier said. “That’s why Moose’s words stuck with me. I think that attitude will help him have a great year.”
Everyone nodded and then went back to dominoes.
Determination always pays off.
Friday, February 29, 2008
A Rotten Tradition
Baseball loves tradition and this country has a habit of making mistakes. Congress had no trouble creating something rotten from that.Congress leads us into so many mistakes and never admits or corrects any of them. And when it comes time to make the same mistake twice – or three times or four times or five times – they jump on people’s throats with both feet.
Hurting people has become a sideshow in this angry mob of a society that we’ve become. We ruined Curt Flood and Pete Rose and then Mark McGwire and Rafael Palmeiro. We are always after Barry Bonds and now the focus is on Roger Clemens.
Leading the way are a bunch of corrupt politicians who have already ruined this country and everything it once stood for. But the saddest story lies in us. We have lost our compassion and decency and are led around by a few hateful people that are calling for Clemens to be banished just like the others.
Some even think Clemens shouldn’t help coach or throw batting practice to minor-league players. But he keeps working because that’s the only thing he’s ever done. He has worked for teammates and fans and soldiers and young ballplayers and high-school coaches and poor people in the Bronx.
All that work made Clemens the best pitcher ever and a decent human being. No one has the right to tear that down.
We have already robbed Flood and Rose and McGwire and Palmeiro and Bonds is setup for a fall, too. Some are determined to push us into the same mistake again.
It’s time to break this rotten tradition.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
The Last Clean Job
Sammy woke up early and hustled over to the Crown Diner. He didn’t want to miss out on the last clean job in the Bronx.
“I was just in time,” he says. “If I had been even a few minutes later someone would’ve beaten me to it. Then I would’ve had to dig through trash looking for bottles and cans.”
A doorman at the local diner doesn’t get a salary, but at least it’s not illegal, yet.
“I work for tips,” Sammy says, “but you don’t have to give me anything.”
The service is simple. Each person gets a “good morning” on the way in and a “have a nice day” on the way out. Hands can stay in warm pockets and no one has to spill their coffee wrestling with the door.
“I get a few dirty looks,” Sammy admits. “It’s just like when I used to wash windshields at the Lincoln Tunnel. Some people will always think you’re trying to rip them off.
“I’m just trying to survive,” he continues. “People give me coffee and donuts and one guy gave me an egg sandwich earlier. I get a dollar here and there. It’s enough to get by for now.”
He lives with his sister and her husband and their three kids.
“I was gonna join the Marines when I got out of high school,” Sammy explains. “My sister begged me not to and promised that I could stay with her until I got a good job and could get out on my own.”
Sammy works at Yankee Stadium during the summer and is a plumber’s apprentice when there is enough work. He spends most of his time opening doors these days.
“There isn’t much out there,” he says. “I’ll have to get by doing stuff like this until baseball season starts.
“Have a nice day.”
“I was just in time,” he says. “If I had been even a few minutes later someone would’ve beaten me to it. Then I would’ve had to dig through trash looking for bottles and cans.”
A doorman at the local diner doesn’t get a salary, but at least it’s not illegal, yet.
“I work for tips,” Sammy says, “but you don’t have to give me anything.”
The service is simple. Each person gets a “good morning” on the way in and a “have a nice day” on the way out. Hands can stay in warm pockets and no one has to spill their coffee wrestling with the door.
“I get a few dirty looks,” Sammy admits. “It’s just like when I used to wash windshields at the Lincoln Tunnel. Some people will always think you’re trying to rip them off.
“I’m just trying to survive,” he continues. “People give me coffee and donuts and one guy gave me an egg sandwich earlier. I get a dollar here and there. It’s enough to get by for now.”
He lives with his sister and her husband and their three kids.
“I was gonna join the Marines when I got out of high school,” Sammy explains. “My sister begged me not to and promised that I could stay with her until I got a good job and could get out on my own.”
Sammy works at Yankee Stadium during the summer and is a plumber’s apprentice when there is enough work. He spends most of his time opening doors these days.
“There isn’t much out there,” he says. “I’ll have to get by doing stuff like this until baseball season starts.
“Have a nice day.”
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
The Same City Hall
Mayor Michael Bloomberg did what he does best yesterday. He struck a blow against some of New York City’s poorest people by raiding stores in Chinatown.The Office of Special Enforcement seized fake Rolex, Coach and Gucci products, shut down 32 shops and put hundreds of New Yorkers out of work.
The mayor seemed proud of all this.
“Whoever you are, wherever you are, we are going to shut you down,” Bloomberg said at his Canal Street press conference.
This was all done to support multi-billion dollar corporations like Switzerland-based Rolex, which thanked Bloomberg for “recognizing the pervasive crime of trademark counterfeiting and stepping up to the plate.”
I’m sure a custom-made Rolex is on its way to City Hall, but that doesn’t pay the bills in Chinatown. People were back on the streets selling the American-made “fake” watches before the mayor even finished his little speech. New Yorkers have to be industrious to survive in a place where the best interests of a Swiss company are a priority at City Hall.
This is the same City Hall that just cut a tax deal worth $20 million for Major League Baseball to locate its new television network in East Harlem.
The same City Hall that closed the East Harlem Little League field last spring to build another luxury building.
The same City Hall that gives Manhattan’s richest private schools priority use of the baseball fields on Randall’s Island.
The same City Hall that allowed the Yankees to start construction on a new stadium before replacing the parks they took.
The same City Hall that fines people who try to scrape out a living by collecting recyclables off the street.
The same City Hall that allows housing prices to spin out of control and utility companies to rack up record profits while our infrastructure crumbles.
That same City Hall took a shot at people who can’t afford a “real” Rolex yesterday. The mayor got a watch for brokering the deal.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
What They Want
Willie starts working the 2 train as soon as he gets on at Gun Hill Road.
“Some guys sit around and wait for customers,” he says. “If you’re gonna make it in this racket you gotta hustle all the time. And it’s important to know the audience and always give ‘em what they want.”
Willie is selling M&M’s and Hershey’s bars this morning.
“They’re good for breakfast,” he announces. “Nothing goes better with coffee.”
“I’m drinking tea,” a woman says.
“They’re absolutely perfect with tea,” Willie counters.
She buys M&M’s.
Willie tries to satisfy everyone so he also offers batteries and decks of cards and little flashlights and naked-lady cigar lighters and gloves and thick wool socks. Earphones and videos and watches are available, too.
He switches to the 1 train at Chambers Street and changes the pitch.
“It’s all about the tourists down here,” Willie explains.
He has Statue of Liberty pens and stickers and postcards and snow globes and yo-yos that flash red, white and blue.
“They’re all big sellers,” Willie says.
But his biggest days come on the 4 train.
“I cleanup when the Yankees are in town,” he explains. “People just can’t get enough of anything with pinstripes.”
And Willie always gives ‘em what they want.
“Some guys sit around and wait for customers,” he says. “If you’re gonna make it in this racket you gotta hustle all the time. And it’s important to know the audience and always give ‘em what they want.”
Willie is selling M&M’s and Hershey’s bars this morning.
“They’re good for breakfast,” he announces. “Nothing goes better with coffee.”
“I’m drinking tea,” a woman says.
“They’re absolutely perfect with tea,” Willie counters.
She buys M&M’s.
Willie tries to satisfy everyone so he also offers batteries and decks of cards and little flashlights and naked-lady cigar lighters and gloves and thick wool socks. Earphones and videos and watches are available, too.
He switches to the 1 train at Chambers Street and changes the pitch.
“It’s all about the tourists down here,” Willie explains.
He has Statue of Liberty pens and stickers and postcards and snow globes and yo-yos that flash red, white and blue.
“They’re all big sellers,” Willie says.
But his biggest days come on the 4 train.
“I cleanup when the Yankees are in town,” he explains. “People just can’t get enough of anything with pinstripes.”
And Willie always gives ‘em what they want.
Monday, February 25, 2008
A Million Of Them
The stories pile up faster than they can be told in this neighborhood.
Javier is trying to bring the guys up to speed at Juan Carlos’s coffee cart this morning. He starts by spinning the tale of yesterday’s snowball fight over on Gerard Avenue.
“It was a good one,” Javier says. “I was coming out of a bodega up the block and I saw the first shots. Some cars might have gotten banged up, but that’s the way it goes during snowball season.”
Everyone knows that snow on parked cars is the best for making snowballs because there’s little chance that a dog or a drunk has made use of it. The fact that those same cars provide good cover during a fight is a bonus.
“Some things never change,” Javier says. “Kids play the same games and that makes me feel good.”
He quickly shifts to another feel-good story.
“Joba,” Javier says with a big smile. “I’m always hearing something new about that kid. He’s a wisecracking, video-game playing, fastball throwing barrel of fun. I was just like that as a kid.”
“You were a kid once?” someone shoots.
“Yeah,” Javier fires back. “I’m still a damn good kid.”
Javier grabs a handful of snow off a car.
“You want to see my fastball or my slider?”
Nervous laughter comes from the group.
“Just tell us another story,” they all say.
“That’s easy,” Javier says. “I’ve got a million of them.”
Javier is trying to bring the guys up to speed at Juan Carlos’s coffee cart this morning. He starts by spinning the tale of yesterday’s snowball fight over on Gerard Avenue.
“It was a good one,” Javier says. “I was coming out of a bodega up the block and I saw the first shots. Some cars might have gotten banged up, but that’s the way it goes during snowball season.”
Everyone knows that snow on parked cars is the best for making snowballs because there’s little chance that a dog or a drunk has made use of it. The fact that those same cars provide good cover during a fight is a bonus.
“Some things never change,” Javier says. “Kids play the same games and that makes me feel good.”
He quickly shifts to another feel-good story.
“Joba,” Javier says with a big smile. “I’m always hearing something new about that kid. He’s a wisecracking, video-game playing, fastball throwing barrel of fun. I was just like that as a kid.”
“You were a kid once?” someone shoots.
“Yeah,” Javier fires back. “I’m still a damn good kid.”
Javier grabs a handful of snow off a car.
“You want to see my fastball or my slider?”
Nervous laughter comes from the group.
“Just tell us another story,” they all say.
“That’s easy,” Javier says. “I’ve got a million of them.”
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Fight Time
A fight breaks out on Gerard Avenue. It is Highbridge against Mott Haven and girls against boys.
Sisi is the leader of the Highbridge gang that has taken cover on the east side of the street.
“Get close to the cars so they can’t hit you,” she tells the rest of the girls.
Carlos – known as Spiderman around the neighborhood for his acrobatic play at shortstop – commands the boys from Mott Haven on the other side of the street.
“Don’t hit ‘em,” he whispers. “Throw at the cars. The noise will scare ‘em and they’ll run.”
He smiles and reaches up to scoop snow off the hood of the car.
Thwack. A snowball whistles over his head and crashes against the building.
“She throws hard,” he says. “Let’s show ‘em what we got.”
Waves of snowballs thump off cars on both sides of the street until someone yells from a building up the block.
“You kids knock that off!”
They scatter up East 153rd Street and across Walton Avenue and up the icy stairs into Franz Sigel Park.
The group totals nine – five girls and four boys – and they are all about 13 years old. Fatoumata is the only one who doesn’t have a Yankee hat.
“My mother made this one,” she says tugging it down over her ears. “It’s nice, but I want one like the Yankees wear.
“I love Derek Jeter,” Fatoumata adds. “He is the best.”
“Hey,” Spiderman shoots. “I’m as great as Jeter.”
“I don’t think so,” Fatoumata says. “You couldn’t even hit a girl with a snowball.”
The fight is back on.
Sisi is the leader of the Highbridge gang that has taken cover on the east side of the street.
“Get close to the cars so they can’t hit you,” she tells the rest of the girls.
Carlos – known as Spiderman around the neighborhood for his acrobatic play at shortstop – commands the boys from Mott Haven on the other side of the street.
“Don’t hit ‘em,” he whispers. “Throw at the cars. The noise will scare ‘em and they’ll run.”
He smiles and reaches up to scoop snow off the hood of the car.
Thwack. A snowball whistles over his head and crashes against the building.
“She throws hard,” he says. “Let’s show ‘em what we got.”
Waves of snowballs thump off cars on both sides of the street until someone yells from a building up the block.
“You kids knock that off!”
They scatter up East 153rd Street and across Walton Avenue and up the icy stairs into Franz Sigel Park.
The group totals nine – five girls and four boys – and they are all about 13 years old. Fatoumata is the only one who doesn’t have a Yankee hat.
“My mother made this one,” she says tugging it down over her ears. “It’s nice, but I want one like the Yankees wear.
“I love Derek Jeter,” Fatoumata adds. “He is the best.”
“Hey,” Spiderman shoots. “I’m as great as Jeter.”
“I don’t think so,” Fatoumata says. “You couldn’t even hit a girl with a snowball.”
The fight is back on.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Crash
Min Jae Kim was limping and the right elbow was ripped out of his jacket.
“Rough night?” someone yelled as he hobbled down Nassau Street.
Everyone laughed.
Kim laughed with them and then took a bow for the crash on Beekman Street that had quickly become legendary in the neighborhood.
Slippery conditions forced most restaurant deliveries to be made on foot last night, but Kim was determined to ride his bicycle.
“I was making good time,” he said. “The streets just seemed to be wet, but I hit a patch of ice and that was it.”
Kim went down hard on his knee and his elbow smacked the pavement as he extended his arm up.
“I had to save the food,” he explained. “It was brown rice with vegetables, spareribs with black bean sauce, spring rolls, chicken soup and a melon salad.”
“No damage?” someone asked.
“Not to the food,” Kim said shifting on his sore knee.
“The important stuff got saved,” someone fired.
Everyone laughed again.
The ribbing from the other deliverymen is good natured these days. Kim is still the only Korean working at this Chinese restaurant, but he has the respect of his coworkers because he is the fastest rider on the crew.
“We all do our best,” Kim said.
“Don’t let him fool you,” someone shot. “He’s like Mariano Rivera coming out of the bullpen.”
“Yeah,” another chipped in. “But when he comes into the game they give him a bag of food instead of a baseball.”
They all laughed and Kim limped in the door to pick up his first order of the night.
“The streets are just wet,” he said tugging on his Yankee hat. “I’ll take my bicycle.”
“Rough night?” someone yelled as he hobbled down Nassau Street.
Everyone laughed.
Kim laughed with them and then took a bow for the crash on Beekman Street that had quickly become legendary in the neighborhood.
Slippery conditions forced most restaurant deliveries to be made on foot last night, but Kim was determined to ride his bicycle.
“I was making good time,” he said. “The streets just seemed to be wet, but I hit a patch of ice and that was it.”
Kim went down hard on his knee and his elbow smacked the pavement as he extended his arm up.
“I had to save the food,” he explained. “It was brown rice with vegetables, spareribs with black bean sauce, spring rolls, chicken soup and a melon salad.”
“No damage?” someone asked.
“Not to the food,” Kim said shifting on his sore knee.
“The important stuff got saved,” someone fired.
Everyone laughed again.
The ribbing from the other deliverymen is good natured these days. Kim is still the only Korean working at this Chinese restaurant, but he has the respect of his coworkers because he is the fastest rider on the crew.
“We all do our best,” Kim said.
“Don’t let him fool you,” someone shot. “He’s like Mariano Rivera coming out of the bullpen.”
“Yeah,” another chipped in. “But when he comes into the game they give him a bag of food instead of a baseball.”
They all laughed and Kim limped in the door to pick up his first order of the night.
“The streets are just wet,” he said tugging on his Yankee hat. “I’ll take my bicycle.”
Friday, February 22, 2008
Young Again
The snowy sidewalks have everyone else bogged down, but they don’t affect Javier.
“I’m a steady performer,” he says. “People are usually pushing by me, but they are all on my pace today.
“I’m like the pitcher you can count on for 15 wins every year,” he continues. “I may never get 20 and pick up the Cy Young Award, but I’ll always get at least 15.”
Javier stays on pitching as he pushes through the snow on Walton Avenue.
“The Yankees have a staff full of guys that can win at least 15,” he says. “I’m counting on Pettitte and Moose to be in the 15-win neighborhood, but I think they could each get 20 if everything breaks right.
“Wang can certainly win 20,” Javier continues. “Hughes and Kennedy may be limited by the number of innings they will be allowed to throw, but they can do great things.
“I know Joba will also have a limit on his innings,” Javier goes on. “That kid is still capable of just about anything.”
Those are nice thoughts to carry on a winter day.
“I’ll probably always be a guy that trusts the steady performer,” Javier admits. “These kids really have me excited though.
“They have done something pretty special already,” Javier continues. “They’ve made me feel young again.”
“I’m a steady performer,” he says. “People are usually pushing by me, but they are all on my pace today.
“I’m like the pitcher you can count on for 15 wins every year,” he continues. “I may never get 20 and pick up the Cy Young Award, but I’ll always get at least 15.”
Javier stays on pitching as he pushes through the snow on Walton Avenue.
“The Yankees have a staff full of guys that can win at least 15,” he says. “I’m counting on Pettitte and Moose to be in the 15-win neighborhood, but I think they could each get 20 if everything breaks right.
“Wang can certainly win 20,” Javier continues. “Hughes and Kennedy may be limited by the number of innings they will be allowed to throw, but they can do great things.
“I know Joba will also have a limit on his innings,” Javier goes on. “That kid is still capable of just about anything.”
Those are nice thoughts to carry on a winter day.
“I’ll probably always be a guy that trusts the steady performer,” Javier admits. “These kids really have me excited though.
“They have done something pretty special already,” Javier continues. “They’ve made me feel young again.”
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Back To Baseball
Eddie is sometimes too depressed to care about baseball.“The game means everything to me,” he admits. “But there’s nothing good in my life right now so it just reminds me of what I don’t have anymore.”
He is sitting on a plastic crate and hoping to pick up a few bucks during the morning rush. His sign reads: Looking For Work.
“I’d love a job,” Eddie says, “but I’ll be happy to collect enough for breakfast. I just want to get through the day because people are more generous on their way home.
“That’s easy to understand,” he continues. “I was always in a better mood coming home from work.”
Eddie was a sheet-metal worker. A Union man who helped put heating and cooling systems in buildings all over the city. But the work slowed down and he got behind on his rent and started drinking too much.
It didn’t take long to blow the best job he ever had.
“It was my fault,” Eddie admits. “I didn’t handle the little bumps very well and things got a whole lot rougher. I’ve learned my lesson though. Maybe you can’t really appreciate anything until you’ve had nothing.
“It’s probably like that with baseball, too,” he reasons. “I miss the games at Yankee Stadium and I love following the team day in and day out. I want to get back there.”
It begins with a decision.
“I’m gonna get my life straightened out,” Eddie says. “Spring Training has started and I need to get back to baseball.”
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Picture Perfect
Carl from Gerard Avenue carries the day-old newspaper under his arm even though he can’t get the picture out of his head.“It says so much,” he explains. “I guess it’s that one-picture-is-worth-a-thousand-words thing. It made an impression on me, but since it was in a newspaper I tossed it.
“Then I woke up in the middle of the night,” Carl continues. “I couldn’t get back to sleep until I got up and fished it out of the trash.”
The picture of Andy Pettitte and Derek Jeter was on the cover of The New York Times sports section yesterday. It was taken at Pettitte’s press conference and ran under the headline: Spring Begins With an Apology.
“The headline didn’t stick with me,” Carl says. “I read every word they wrote and all of Andy’s quotes, but nothing mattered more than that picture.”
He holds up the newspaper and smoothes the wrinkles.
“These are teammates that have been through it all and are ready to go through it all again,” Carl explains. “It’s the kind of bond that’s hard to explain. People who haven’t played ball will never understand.”
Carl will never forget.
“I’ve always been a ballplayer,” he says. “I played all through school and at Hostos (Community College) and then in recreational leagues all over the city. I’m still on an over-50 team that plays on Saturday mornings in Red Hook.
“I don’t play with the passion and energy that I used to,” Carl admits. “But that picture reminded me of how wonderfully personal and intense the game can be and how important your teammates are.”
And how powerful one picture can be.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
A Pitcher’s Best Friend
Andy Pettitte is in Tampa, but still covered some ground in the Bronx. He made an early stop at Juan Carlos’s coffee cart.
“I’ll take a small with cream and sugar, please.”
Javier from Walton Avenue was also there.
“I’m a lefty, too,” Javier said. “I always wanted to be a big leaguer and threw all the time. My arm hurt, but I didn’t stop throwing until I couldn’t lift it anymore. I never made it and that hurts worse than anything.”
Pettitte headed to the Crown Diner and grabbed a stool at the counter.
“Pancakes and some of those grilled potatoes, please.”
Jon from Highbridge takes the spot next to him and orders scrambled eggs and bacon with whole-wheat toast.
“Being on the street is the only thing I fear,” Jon said. “I’ve heard that people who grow up rich aren’t afraid of the same things we are. They want a fancier car and a bigger house and a flatter television.
“We just want a job and a place to stay warm at night,” he continued. “That job is the most important thing in the world because it’s the only thing standing between us and the streets.”
Pettitte rode the 2 train to a downtown construction site that has dozens of safety violations.
“I work here to survive,” said Eduardo, who lives on Ogden Avenue in the Bronx. “My friend Fernando fell a few weeks ago and can barely walk. The boss gave him 50 bucks to keep his mouth shut. The rest of the guys help him out, but he might not be able to work again. The boss doesn’t care because there are still plenty of us left.”
Pettitte ended up back where he started.
Javier crumpled his coffee cup in front of Juan Carlos’s cart. He stepped on the rubber and checked the runner at first. He held the stretch and looked the runner back at third. There’s one out and he’s in trouble.
But he dug deep and made his pitch. A double-play ball: 6-4-3.
Javier smiled and winked.
“A pitcher’s best friend.”
“I’ll take a small with cream and sugar, please.”
Javier from Walton Avenue was also there.
“I’m a lefty, too,” Javier said. “I always wanted to be a big leaguer and threw all the time. My arm hurt, but I didn’t stop throwing until I couldn’t lift it anymore. I never made it and that hurts worse than anything.”
Pettitte headed to the Crown Diner and grabbed a stool at the counter.
“Pancakes and some of those grilled potatoes, please.”
Jon from Highbridge takes the spot next to him and orders scrambled eggs and bacon with whole-wheat toast.
“Being on the street is the only thing I fear,” Jon said. “I’ve heard that people who grow up rich aren’t afraid of the same things we are. They want a fancier car and a bigger house and a flatter television.
“We just want a job and a place to stay warm at night,” he continued. “That job is the most important thing in the world because it’s the only thing standing between us and the streets.”
Pettitte rode the 2 train to a downtown construction site that has dozens of safety violations.
“I work here to survive,” said Eduardo, who lives on Ogden Avenue in the Bronx. “My friend Fernando fell a few weeks ago and can barely walk. The boss gave him 50 bucks to keep his mouth shut. The rest of the guys help him out, but he might not be able to work again. The boss doesn’t care because there are still plenty of us left.”
Pettitte ended up back where he started.
Javier crumpled his coffee cup in front of Juan Carlos’s cart. He stepped on the rubber and checked the runner at first. He held the stretch and looked the runner back at third. There’s one out and he’s in trouble.
But he dug deep and made his pitch. A double-play ball: 6-4-3.
Javier smiled and winked.
“A pitcher’s best friend.”
Monday, February 18, 2008
Fantasy Camp
Jon from Highbridge is the only one with the day off. The rest of the guys gathered around Juan Carlos’s coffee cart look across their steaming cups as he lays out his plans.
“I’ve got a fresh cigar and a newspaper,” Jon says. “I’m gonna find a dry spot in the park and relax. Maybe I’ll play some dominos if the old guys get a game going.”
“Why are you out so early if you don’t have to work?” someone asks.
“I don’t want to waste the day,” Jon says. “I’ve also got big lunch plans later. That guy Lenny who lives on Ogden Avenue is friends with one of the bartenders at Mickey Mantle’s place. We’re gonna grab a sandwich and a beer at the bar just like Mickey and Billy and Whitey used to do.”
“But those guys where usually grabbing breakfast at lunchtime,” someone says.
“We ain’t those guys,” Jon admits. “We’re just gonna make believe.”
“So it’s kinda like a Yankee Fantasy Camp for guys who can sit at a bar?” someone shoots.
“That’s right,” Jon fires back. “Aren’t you late for work?”
“I’ve got a fresh cigar and a newspaper,” Jon says. “I’m gonna find a dry spot in the park and relax. Maybe I’ll play some dominos if the old guys get a game going.”
“Why are you out so early if you don’t have to work?” someone asks.
“I don’t want to waste the day,” Jon says. “I’ve also got big lunch plans later. That guy Lenny who lives on Ogden Avenue is friends with one of the bartenders at Mickey Mantle’s place. We’re gonna grab a sandwich and a beer at the bar just like Mickey and Billy and Whitey used to do.”
“But those guys where usually grabbing breakfast at lunchtime,” someone says.
“We ain’t those guys,” Jon admits. “We’re just gonna make believe.”
“So it’s kinda like a Yankee Fantasy Camp for guys who can sit at a bar?” someone shoots.
“That’s right,” Jon fires back. “Aren’t you late for work?”
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Sanchez 77
Marcus sells Humberto Sanchez T-shirts on the 2 train because that’s where he got the idea.
“I was on here after a Yankee game,” he explains. “I looked through the crowd and all I saw were names and numbers: Jeter 2, Rodriguez 13, Posada 20, Damon 18, Rivera 42, Abreu 53, Pettitte 46, Mussina 35, Cano 24, Wang 40…
“You know you’ve made it when people buy your T-shirts,” Marcus continues. “I saw a bunch of Chamberlain 62 T-shirts in September. If I’d seen that kid coming I could have made a few bucks.”
That’s when it hit him.
“I knew Humberto was coming,” Marcus says. “He had the elbow surgery so he’s been flying under the radar, but when he gets here it’s gonna be huge. He might be ever bigger than Joba because this is his home.”
Sanchez grew up just a few blocks from Yankee Stadium and came to his hometown team from the Tigers in the Gary Sheffield trade. He last pitched in this neighborhood for South Bronx High School.
“It will be something when he comes to the big ballpark,” Marcus says. “They think he could be ready around July and people are really excited about it.”
So Marcus talked to a guy at a bodega on Gerard Avenue who has a cousin that knows someone who deals in T-shirts.
“We started simple with just his name and number,” Marcus explains. “But I want to add a catchy line like: Joba Rules or Got Melky?
“That will come eventually,” Marcus reasons. “I’m not too worried because business is good. I guess Humberto has really made it.”
Sanchez 77 is on the 2 train.
“I was on here after a Yankee game,” he explains. “I looked through the crowd and all I saw were names and numbers: Jeter 2, Rodriguez 13, Posada 20, Damon 18, Rivera 42, Abreu 53, Pettitte 46, Mussina 35, Cano 24, Wang 40…
“You know you’ve made it when people buy your T-shirts,” Marcus continues. “I saw a bunch of Chamberlain 62 T-shirts in September. If I’d seen that kid coming I could have made a few bucks.”
That’s when it hit him.
“I knew Humberto was coming,” Marcus says. “He had the elbow surgery so he’s been flying under the radar, but when he gets here it’s gonna be huge. He might be ever bigger than Joba because this is his home.”
Sanchez grew up just a few blocks from Yankee Stadium and came to his hometown team from the Tigers in the Gary Sheffield trade. He last pitched in this neighborhood for South Bronx High School.
“It will be something when he comes to the big ballpark,” Marcus says. “They think he could be ready around July and people are really excited about it.”
So Marcus talked to a guy at a bodega on Gerard Avenue who has a cousin that knows someone who deals in T-shirts.
“We started simple with just his name and number,” Marcus explains. “But I want to add a catchy line like: Joba Rules or Got Melky?
“That will come eventually,” Marcus reasons. “I’m not too worried because business is good. I guess Humberto has really made it.”
Sanchez 77 is on the 2 train.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Twisted Justice
Equal injustices do not equal justice.
William Rhoden of The New York Times knows that. He has long been the voice of reason defending victims from the angry mob of a country that we have become.
That changed with yesterday’s column: Justice Will Be Served Only if Clemens Isn’t Given a Pass.
Rhoden writes:
“If there is fair and equal justice under the law, Clemens should become the next super athlete, after Marion Jones and (Barry) Bonds, to be pursued by (Jeff) Novitzky to the end of the earth. Or at least to a room containing a federal grand jury.”
Rhoden wants us to believe that the path to justice is lined with more injustice. He uses a 955-word column to twist baseball and race and politics into a version of playground revenge.
It is an effort unworthy of Rhoden. I think he honestly believes, as I do, that:
If there is fair and equal justice under the law, Jones will be released from jail and Bonds will just be the greatest hitter in the history of baseball. And men like Novitzky will not be allowed to defile the United States justice system any longer.
I think Rhoden also believes, as I do, that:
If there is fair and equal justice under the law, Clemens will just be the greatest pitcher in the history of baseball.
Injustice is injustice. Having Clemens face the same unfair treatment doesn’t lessen what has been done to Jones and Bonds.
That’s just something to feed the mob on the right that is manipulated by slick operators like Henry Waxman and Elijah Cummings and Tom Davis and the rest of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform. They throw up a smoke screen of black and white and Democrat and Republican and left and right and when they’re done they have picked justice from our pockets again.
Rhoden is a journalist that anyone interested in fairness has been able to count on.
Don’t quit the game now.
William Rhoden of The New York Times knows that. He has long been the voice of reason defending victims from the angry mob of a country that we have become.
That changed with yesterday’s column: Justice Will Be Served Only if Clemens Isn’t Given a Pass.
Rhoden writes:
“If there is fair and equal justice under the law, Clemens should become the next super athlete, after Marion Jones and (Barry) Bonds, to be pursued by (Jeff) Novitzky to the end of the earth. Or at least to a room containing a federal grand jury.”
Rhoden wants us to believe that the path to justice is lined with more injustice. He uses a 955-word column to twist baseball and race and politics into a version of playground revenge.
It is an effort unworthy of Rhoden. I think he honestly believes, as I do, that:
If there is fair and equal justice under the law, Jones will be released from jail and Bonds will just be the greatest hitter in the history of baseball. And men like Novitzky will not be allowed to defile the United States justice system any longer.
I think Rhoden also believes, as I do, that:
If there is fair and equal justice under the law, Clemens will just be the greatest pitcher in the history of baseball.
Injustice is injustice. Having Clemens face the same unfair treatment doesn’t lessen what has been done to Jones and Bonds.
That’s just something to feed the mob on the right that is manipulated by slick operators like Henry Waxman and Elijah Cummings and Tom Davis and the rest of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform. They throw up a smoke screen of black and white and Democrat and Republican and left and right and when they’re done they have picked justice from our pockets again.
Rhoden is a journalist that anyone interested in fairness has been able to count on.
Don’t quit the game now.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Joba Style
Moussa fills up the 2 train. He is a big man with an even bigger smile and an enormous laugh.
“Some people are afraid of my size,” he explains. “But I let them know that I’m a jolly giant.”
Moussa laughs as he plays a giant by lifting his feet and swinging his arms.
His brother helped him get a job driving a taxi when he arrived from Mali about nine months ago.
“The work is good,” Moussa says. “I meet people and learn about New York. The first guy to ride with me wanted to talk about: Yankees, Yankees, Yankees. I had just arrived from Africa and I didn’t know anything, but I learned fast.”
He now wears a Yankee hat and a Yankee jacket and even Yankee mittens.
“I’m a Yankee down to my underwear,” he says with a laugh. “People get in my cab and say something like: ‘Nice hat.’ Then we start talking about the team. I read the newspapers everyday so I have the scoop.
“It’s been fun to learn about baseball,” Moussa continues. “Now it feels like I have known the game my whole life. I bought a ball and glove and I toss it around with my brother and some other guys.
“I would have been a pitcher if I’d grown up in New York,” he goes on. “I think I would have been like Joba.”
He does a Joba-style fist pump and laughs.
“I really love that kid,” Moussa says. “He lights it up, but I would throw harder.”
He winks and smiles and his laugh roars through the train.
“Some people are afraid of my size,” he explains. “But I let them know that I’m a jolly giant.”
Moussa laughs as he plays a giant by lifting his feet and swinging his arms.
His brother helped him get a job driving a taxi when he arrived from Mali about nine months ago.
“The work is good,” Moussa says. “I meet people and learn about New York. The first guy to ride with me wanted to talk about: Yankees, Yankees, Yankees. I had just arrived from Africa and I didn’t know anything, but I learned fast.”
He now wears a Yankee hat and a Yankee jacket and even Yankee mittens.
“I’m a Yankee down to my underwear,” he says with a laugh. “People get in my cab and say something like: ‘Nice hat.’ Then we start talking about the team. I read the newspapers everyday so I have the scoop.
“It’s been fun to learn about baseball,” Moussa continues. “Now it feels like I have known the game my whole life. I bought a ball and glove and I toss it around with my brother and some other guys.
“I would have been a pitcher if I’d grown up in New York,” he goes on. “I think I would have been like Joba.”
He does a Joba-style fist pump and laughs.
“I really love that kid,” Moussa says. “He lights it up, but I would throw harder.”
He winks and smiles and his laugh roars through the train.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
The Exploited
The exploited are born when they walk out of underfunded high schools and into places like the U.S. Army Career Center on the corner of East 161st Street and Gerard Avenue. It’s a popular spot because fighting wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are the only jobs left in this neighborhood.Those who make it home with all their arms and legs ride the D train to downtown construction sites where buildings rise because the bankers and brokers need new offices and they want fancy condos to replace rent-controlled apartments.
The exploited work all day and come home sore and tired and can’t sleep because they close their eyes and see the war. The people in the offices and the condos never see the war.
The exploited might escape to Yankee Stadium sometimes. Maybe they saw Roger Clemens – the greatest pitcher in history – win some of those 354 games.
Maybe they like to talk about that and tell of the time they saw Clemens when he came to visit the soldiers in Afghanistan. He might have signed an autograph and played catch and showed them something their country never has: Kindness and decency.
Then one day they see Clemens exploited by the same politicians that started the wars and have made sure there are no good schools and no good jobs and no decent housing and no healthcare for soldiers or anyone else.
They are upset and try to sleep, but they only see the war and the politicians that sent them there.
Then they roll over and see the baseball sitting on the shelf: Roger Clemens #22.
He is one of them now.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Dream Day
A snowy night slammed into a rainy morning and turned the Bronx to slush. That made it a good day to talk about anything other than the weather.
“I’ve always had this dream about Spring Training,” Jon begins. “The field is the greenest green you can imagine and there are palm trees and the sun is so bright.
“Everything is perfect,” he continues. “I have a seat behind the plate and a sack of my Mom’s famous tuna-fish sandwiches. I watch batting practice and they take old-fashioned infield and then play until dark.”
Jon smiles and soaks it in.
“I’ve never been south of Staten Island,” he admits, “And I’ve never even seen a palm tree, but I’ve always had that dream.”
It was born in the Bronx.
“I love baseball so much,” Jon says. “I grew up on Jerome Avenue and have gone to Yankee Stadium all of my life. I’ve see the greatest players and the greatest teams and the greatest games, but the most romantic dream I have is about Spring Training.
“I used to think that was strange,” he continues. “But I guess it’s natural to have these larger-than-life dreams about things you’ve never actually seen before.”
Spring Training will probably stay out of reach.
“I have a wife and a daughter and two jobs,” Jon explains. “The dream will stay a dream unless the D train starts running to Tampa.”
He stops and considers.
“I don’t even want to go anymore,” he resumes. “I prefer to keep the dream.”
“I’ve always had this dream about Spring Training,” Jon begins. “The field is the greenest green you can imagine and there are palm trees and the sun is so bright.
“Everything is perfect,” he continues. “I have a seat behind the plate and a sack of my Mom’s famous tuna-fish sandwiches. I watch batting practice and they take old-fashioned infield and then play until dark.”
Jon smiles and soaks it in.
“I’ve never been south of Staten Island,” he admits, “And I’ve never even seen a palm tree, but I’ve always had that dream.”
It was born in the Bronx.
“I love baseball so much,” Jon says. “I grew up on Jerome Avenue and have gone to Yankee Stadium all of my life. I’ve see the greatest players and the greatest teams and the greatest games, but the most romantic dream I have is about Spring Training.
“I used to think that was strange,” he continues. “But I guess it’s natural to have these larger-than-life dreams about things you’ve never actually seen before.”
Spring Training will probably stay out of reach.
“I have a wife and a daughter and two jobs,” Jon explains. “The dream will stay a dream unless the D train starts running to Tampa.”
He stops and considers.
“I don’t even want to go anymore,” he resumes. “I prefer to keep the dream.”
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Neighborhood Secrets
Jose is wearing a new jacket when he gets on the 2 train at 149th Street and the Grand Concourse.
“It’s got thick lining for the cold weather,” he says. “The guy at the store told me that it’s the same kind the Yankees wear.”
“What store?” someone asks.
Jose doesn’t know the man sitting across the train, but he quickly sizes him up – wearing a slick suit and shiny shoes – as a banker or a stockbroker. Either way, he is someone who might call the cops.
“It’s just a store,” Jose deadpans. “I think it might have been uptown. No, it was more downtown. I don’t really remember.”
Some places don’t need to advertise.
This store sells men’s suits one week and women’s dresses the next. They offer sweaters and gloves in the winter and baseball caps and T-shirts in the summer. Sometimes they sell backpacks and bags. Other times they have canned soup and peanut butter and breakfast cereal.
Every once in awhile they get some Yankee merchandise: T-shirts, hats, sweatshirts and maybe even jackets like the players wear.
There are plenty of these stores in the Bronx. They are also on Ditmars Boulevard in Queens and on Utica Avenue in Brooklyn and all along Broadway in Manhattan.
They don’t have signs or set hours, but people depend on them.
“I couldn’t afford this jacket anywhere else,” Jose explains after the slick suit gets off at Wall Street. “That guy could buy anything he wants.
“You do what you can to survive,” Jose continues. “And you try to help the people around you. But I’m pretty sure that guy doesn’t live in my neighborhood.”
He might have a new Yankee jacket if he did.
“It’s got thick lining for the cold weather,” he says. “The guy at the store told me that it’s the same kind the Yankees wear.”
“What store?” someone asks.
Jose doesn’t know the man sitting across the train, but he quickly sizes him up – wearing a slick suit and shiny shoes – as a banker or a stockbroker. Either way, he is someone who might call the cops.
“It’s just a store,” Jose deadpans. “I think it might have been uptown. No, it was more downtown. I don’t really remember.”
Some places don’t need to advertise.
This store sells men’s suits one week and women’s dresses the next. They offer sweaters and gloves in the winter and baseball caps and T-shirts in the summer. Sometimes they sell backpacks and bags. Other times they have canned soup and peanut butter and breakfast cereal.
Every once in awhile they get some Yankee merchandise: T-shirts, hats, sweatshirts and maybe even jackets like the players wear.
There are plenty of these stores in the Bronx. They are also on Ditmars Boulevard in Queens and on Utica Avenue in Brooklyn and all along Broadway in Manhattan.
They don’t have signs or set hours, but people depend on them.
“I couldn’t afford this jacket anywhere else,” Jose explains after the slick suit gets off at Wall Street. “That guy could buy anything he wants.
“You do what you can to survive,” Jose continues. “And you try to help the people around you. But I’m pretty sure that guy doesn’t live in my neighborhood.”
He might have a new Yankee jacket if he did.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Beautiful
Everything was hard this morning in the Bronx.
The cold that knifed through the neighborhood yesterday was settling in with the guys gathered around Juan Carlos’s coffee cart.
“My hands barely work even with gloves,” said Javier from Walton Avenue. “By the time I got the lid off my cup there was nothing but a giant coffee ice cube. It was as hard as a rock.”
Reading newspapers is even harder.
“That really has nothing to do with the cold,” Javier admitted. “The newspapers just aren’t very good once you get past the pitching form and the box scores.”
People on the streets have been saying that for years by not buying newspapers. Everyone thought it was the online surge, but Jimmy Breslin is offering something new these days.
Breslin – America’s greatest living journalist and New York’s greatest ever – has been throwing fastballs at newspapers as he promotes his new book The Good Rat.
He issued a challenge just last week:
“Pick up any newspaper in the morning,” Breslin said. “Count the words in the lead sentences. There will be at least 25 in all of them: Guaranteed. The writers just want to tell you how many degrees they have from this college or that university.
“Steinbeck would use 12 words in the first sentence,” Breslin continued. “Mailer 15 words. Hemingway five. That’s because they had respect for their readers. It may sound like I’m being hard on colleges and that’s because I am. None of them have any idea how to teach people to write.”
Mike Lupica – who went to Boston College and covers New York City baseball while living in New Canaan, Connecticut – mentioned The Good Rat in yesterday’s Daily News. His column started with a 47-word sentence.
Breslin could sum that up in one.
Beautiful.
The cold that knifed through the neighborhood yesterday was settling in with the guys gathered around Juan Carlos’s coffee cart.
“My hands barely work even with gloves,” said Javier from Walton Avenue. “By the time I got the lid off my cup there was nothing but a giant coffee ice cube. It was as hard as a rock.”
Reading newspapers is even harder.
“That really has nothing to do with the cold,” Javier admitted. “The newspapers just aren’t very good once you get past the pitching form and the box scores.”
People on the streets have been saying that for years by not buying newspapers. Everyone thought it was the online surge, but Jimmy Breslin is offering something new these days.
Breslin – America’s greatest living journalist and New York’s greatest ever – has been throwing fastballs at newspapers as he promotes his new book The Good Rat.
He issued a challenge just last week:
“Pick up any newspaper in the morning,” Breslin said. “Count the words in the lead sentences. There will be at least 25 in all of them: Guaranteed. The writers just want to tell you how many degrees they have from this college or that university.
“Steinbeck would use 12 words in the first sentence,” Breslin continued. “Mailer 15 words. Hemingway five. That’s because they had respect for their readers. It may sound like I’m being hard on colleges and that’s because I am. None of them have any idea how to teach people to write.”
Mike Lupica – who went to Boston College and covers New York City baseball while living in New Canaan, Connecticut – mentioned The Good Rat in yesterday’s Daily News. His column started with a 47-word sentence.
Breslin could sum that up in one.
Beautiful.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Cigars And Codfish Stew
The wind barreling along the Grand Concourse picks up a page from a newspaper and slaps Javier in the face.
“It’s brutal today,” he says. “That wind will cut you.”
Javier beats it by stepping into a doorway to light his cigar. It takes several tries, but he finally gets it lit only to have the wind ram the first puff up his nose and down the back of his throat.
“Damn,” he says gagging. “I’d smoke at home, but people complain that I stink up the whole building.”
He tries to be a good neighbor.
“Going easy on the cigars is the least I can do,” Javier says. “They don’t complain too much about my codfish stew.
“That stew is the reason my wife left me,” he continues. “She said it smelled like City Island at low tide.”
Javier draws on the cigar and turns his head to blow a puff of smoke that quickly vanishes in the wind.
“It’s delicious,” he says. “The cigar, of course. But the codfish stew, too. I use them both to celebrate. I have a cigar after every Yankee win and I make the stew after something bigger. I made it last year when they wrapped up a playoff spot. They had a good team, but they’re even better this year with all the kids ready to help.
“I can’t wait to see what they can do,” Javier continues. “I think they’ll have me buying a lot of cigars and the neighbors had better get ready for plenty of codfish stew.”
There will be no complaints.
“Well,” Javier says, “the codfish might complain.”
“It’s brutal today,” he says. “That wind will cut you.”
Javier beats it by stepping into a doorway to light his cigar. It takes several tries, but he finally gets it lit only to have the wind ram the first puff up his nose and down the back of his throat.
“Damn,” he says gagging. “I’d smoke at home, but people complain that I stink up the whole building.”
He tries to be a good neighbor.
“Going easy on the cigars is the least I can do,” Javier says. “They don’t complain too much about my codfish stew.
“That stew is the reason my wife left me,” he continues. “She said it smelled like City Island at low tide.”
Javier draws on the cigar and turns his head to blow a puff of smoke that quickly vanishes in the wind.
“It’s delicious,” he says. “The cigar, of course. But the codfish stew, too. I use them both to celebrate. I have a cigar after every Yankee win and I make the stew after something bigger. I made it last year when they wrapped up a playoff spot. They had a good team, but they’re even better this year with all the kids ready to help.
“I can’t wait to see what they can do,” Javier continues. “I think they’ll have me buying a lot of cigars and the neighbors had better get ready for plenty of codfish stew.”
There will be no complaints.
“Well,” Javier says, “the codfish might complain.”
Saturday, February 9, 2008
No Easy Business
There was a loud pop on Chambers Street this afternoon. Heads turned and eyes darted, but all they saw was Johnny Blevins pretending not to hear anything as he hustled to catch the 2 train.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he said heading down the stairs. “I’m not breaking any laws, but that doesn’t mean some cop won’t hassle me.”
Blevins is delivering balloons. He has three dozen gathered in two huge plastic bags that barely fit into the subway entrance. They are mixed blue and white and each has a New York Yankee logo.
“They’re for a party uptown,” he explained. “I think it’s a birthday, but I’m not sure. It’s hard to keep them all straight.
“We used to get Yankee requests mostly during the summer,” Blevins continued, “but now it seems like we get them all the time. This is my second batch today.”
He makes at least a dozen deliveries on a normal Saturday.
“This is party day,” Blevins said. “We have other decorations, but balloons are the biggest seller.
“Delivering them isn’t as easy as it sounds,” he continued. “They are as light as air, but it’s hard to get them around without an incident.
“The train is the toughest part,” Blevins went on. “I may get one that’s half empty here, but a thousand people will be trying to squeeze on at Times Square. I got pushed off once. Then a lady popped half my balloons with her hairpin another time. It can get pretty crazy out here.”
So the balloon he lost back on Chambers Street is the least of his problems.
“We include an extra balloon per dozen so I could lose two more and still be even,” Blevins explained. “I don’t think there will be much more trouble though.”
He laughed to himself.
“But in this business you never know.”
“I don’t want any trouble,” he said heading down the stairs. “I’m not breaking any laws, but that doesn’t mean some cop won’t hassle me.”
Blevins is delivering balloons. He has three dozen gathered in two huge plastic bags that barely fit into the subway entrance. They are mixed blue and white and each has a New York Yankee logo.
“They’re for a party uptown,” he explained. “I think it’s a birthday, but I’m not sure. It’s hard to keep them all straight.
“We used to get Yankee requests mostly during the summer,” Blevins continued, “but now it seems like we get them all the time. This is my second batch today.”
He makes at least a dozen deliveries on a normal Saturday.
“This is party day,” Blevins said. “We have other decorations, but balloons are the biggest seller.
“Delivering them isn’t as easy as it sounds,” he continued. “They are as light as air, but it’s hard to get them around without an incident.
“The train is the toughest part,” Blevins went on. “I may get one that’s half empty here, but a thousand people will be trying to squeeze on at Times Square. I got pushed off once. Then a lady popped half my balloons with her hairpin another time. It can get pretty crazy out here.”
So the balloon he lost back on Chambers Street is the least of his problems.
“We include an extra balloon per dozen so I could lose two more and still be even,” Blevins explained. “I don’t think there will be much more trouble though.”
He laughed to himself.
“But in this business you never know.”
Friday, February 8, 2008
Any Day
Any day could be your best.
That has kept Nelson Figueroa going through 13 professional baseball seasons.
Any day could be your last.
That has kept Figueroa determined enough to survive 13 professional baseball seasons.
He has done some time in the big leagues with the Diamondbacks and the Phillies and the Brewers and the Pirates. But most of his days have been spent looking out the window of a bus in places like Kingsport and Columbia and Binghamton. There have also been stops in Tucson and Scranton and Indianapolis and Nashville and New Orleans.
He has pitched in the Mexican League. And he has won some big games in the Chinese Professional Baseball League.
Figueroa has always been willing to throw a baseball for any team willing to hand him one.
He spent this winter with the Aguilas Cibaenas in the Dominican League. He helped them secure a title with two big wins in the championship series against the Tigres del Licey.
He pitched for the Yaquis de Obregon – champions of the Mexican League – in the Caribbean Series. He faced Licey again on the second day of the tournament and gave up only a run into the 10th inning. That one eventually slipped away so they called on Figueroa in relief three days later against Licey.
He entered a tied game in the bottom of the ninth with one out and runners on first and third. He held them down and his team scored and then he closed it out.
“I’m not a closer,” said the 33-year-old, “but I’m always ready to do whatever is needed.”
That’s why the soft-tossing righty from Brooklyn always survives to see if the next day might be his best.
Figueroa will be in Port St. Lucie in just a few days trying to win a job with the Mets as a non-roster invitee. It’s another shot at the Major Leagues and you never know when it’s your last.
“I’m just trying to get hitters out,” he explained. “I’m trying to make sure that my family’s going to eat well, trying to make sure that I can get back to the big leagues.”
Figueroa believes his best day is still out there, but he knows his last day is out there, too.
That’s what keeps a ballplayer going.
That has kept Nelson Figueroa going through 13 professional baseball seasons.
Any day could be your last.
That has kept Figueroa determined enough to survive 13 professional baseball seasons.
He has done some time in the big leagues with the Diamondbacks and the Phillies and the Brewers and the Pirates. But most of his days have been spent looking out the window of a bus in places like Kingsport and Columbia and Binghamton. There have also been stops in Tucson and Scranton and Indianapolis and Nashville and New Orleans.
He has pitched in the Mexican League. And he has won some big games in the Chinese Professional Baseball League.
Figueroa has always been willing to throw a baseball for any team willing to hand him one.
He spent this winter with the Aguilas Cibaenas in the Dominican League. He helped them secure a title with two big wins in the championship series against the Tigres del Licey.
He pitched for the Yaquis de Obregon – champions of the Mexican League – in the Caribbean Series. He faced Licey again on the second day of the tournament and gave up only a run into the 10th inning. That one eventually slipped away so they called on Figueroa in relief three days later against Licey.
He entered a tied game in the bottom of the ninth with one out and runners on first and third. He held them down and his team scored and then he closed it out.
“I’m not a closer,” said the 33-year-old, “but I’m always ready to do whatever is needed.”
That’s why the soft-tossing righty from Brooklyn always survives to see if the next day might be his best.
Figueroa will be in Port St. Lucie in just a few days trying to win a job with the Mets as a non-roster invitee. It’s another shot at the Major Leagues and you never know when it’s your last.
“I’m just trying to get hitters out,” he explained. “I’m trying to make sure that my family’s going to eat well, trying to make sure that I can get back to the big leagues.”
Figueroa believes his best day is still out there, but he knows his last day is out there, too.
That’s what keeps a ballplayer going.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
All Mexican
Everyone watching the baseball game on television was Mexican.
Javier was Mexican even though he was born in Carolina, Puerto Rico, and lives on Walton Avenue.
Jose was born in La Romana, Dominican Republic, and lives on the Grand Concourse, but he was Mexican, too.
Mamadou is from Bamako, Mali, and lives on Jerome Avenue, but he was also Mexican.
Jon has lived his whole life in this Bronx neighborhood, but he was Mexican on this day.
We were all Mexican because the Yaquis de Obregon – champions of the Mexican League – are trying to come from behind against the Dominican League powerhouse Tigres del Licey.
Licey was on top in the Caribbean Series and they were leading this game by three runs heading to the ninth.
The Yaquis were winless in the tournament.
We all wished for a rally, but it was Carlos Valencia’s two-RBI triple and Oscar Robles’s game-tying single that gave everyone hope.
Nelson Figueroa – another New Yorker who was Mexican – pitched out of jam in the bottom of the ninth. Then we all wondered if Roberto Saucedo could win the game.
Saucedo homered in the second inning and he came up in the 10th with two on and one out and every Mexican cheered as the ball again sailed into the leftfield seats.
We crept closer to the television as Figueroa closed it out for all of us who were Mexican on this day.
Javier was Mexican even though he was born in Carolina, Puerto Rico, and lives on Walton Avenue.
Jose was born in La Romana, Dominican Republic, and lives on the Grand Concourse, but he was Mexican, too.
Mamadou is from Bamako, Mali, and lives on Jerome Avenue, but he was also Mexican.
Jon has lived his whole life in this Bronx neighborhood, but he was Mexican on this day.
We were all Mexican because the Yaquis de Obregon – champions of the Mexican League – are trying to come from behind against the Dominican League powerhouse Tigres del Licey.
Licey was on top in the Caribbean Series and they were leading this game by three runs heading to the ninth.
The Yaquis were winless in the tournament.
We all wished for a rally, but it was Carlos Valencia’s two-RBI triple and Oscar Robles’s game-tying single that gave everyone hope.
Nelson Figueroa – another New Yorker who was Mexican – pitched out of jam in the bottom of the ninth. Then we all wondered if Roberto Saucedo could win the game.
Saucedo homered in the second inning and he came up in the 10th with two on and one out and every Mexican cheered as the ball again sailed into the leftfield seats.
We crept closer to the television as Figueroa closed it out for all of us who were Mexican on this day.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Characters
Broadway at West 66th Street isn’t the best place to meet Jimmy Breslin. There’s not even a bar on the corner anymore.
“People have serious lives these days,” Breslin says. “They gotta make money to maintain their lifestyles. They’ve got no time for bars and there’s no room for characters either.”
Breslin spent a lifetime as a newspaperman covering a city full of characters. But tonight he’s in a trendy chain store promoting his newest book: The Good Rat.
I gave up a bar stool and the first game of a Caribbean Series doubleheader to see Breslin tonight. I’m not alone. The place is packed with people who look on the upper side of wealthy.
These aren’t the people Breslin wrote about, but he speaks easily with them until I slip him a question.
“Would you be a newspaperman if you were just starting out today?” I ask.
“That’s a good one,” he says. “The game’s changed and there’s probably no room for a guy like me.”
He pauses for a moment and then really gets rolling.
“Pick up any newspaper in the morning,” Breslin says. “Count the words in the lead sentences. There will be at least 25 in all of them: Guaranteed. The writers just want to tell you how many degrees they have from this college or that university.
“Steinbeck would use 12 words in the first sentence,” he continues. “Mailer 15 words. Hemingway five. That’s because they had respect for their readers. It may sound like I’m being hard on colleges and that’s because I am. None of them have any idea how to teach people to write. They have wrecked the business.”
Kicking the dead body of a once great newspaper city isn’t what this night is about so the conversation drifts back to The Good Rat and then the book signing starts.
When my turn comes, Breslin asks:
“How do you want me to sign it?”
“Just your name,” I say. “I’ll be dead someday and no one else would want my name in their book.”
Breslin laughs.
“You’re a real character aren’t you?” he asks.
“Aren’t we all?” I shoot.
He laughs again.
I hit the street with a smile and get to the bar in time to watch the Dominican League champion Aguilas Cibaenas beat the Mexican League champion Yaquis de Obregon.
The place is dark and smells like stale beer and spicy chili.
Breslin should have come along.
“People have serious lives these days,” Breslin says. “They gotta make money to maintain their lifestyles. They’ve got no time for bars and there’s no room for characters either.”
Breslin spent a lifetime as a newspaperman covering a city full of characters. But tonight he’s in a trendy chain store promoting his newest book: The Good Rat.
I gave up a bar stool and the first game of a Caribbean Series doubleheader to see Breslin tonight. I’m not alone. The place is packed with people who look on the upper side of wealthy.
These aren’t the people Breslin wrote about, but he speaks easily with them until I slip him a question.
“Would you be a newspaperman if you were just starting out today?” I ask.
“That’s a good one,” he says. “The game’s changed and there’s probably no room for a guy like me.”
He pauses for a moment and then really gets rolling.
“Pick up any newspaper in the morning,” Breslin says. “Count the words in the lead sentences. There will be at least 25 in all of them: Guaranteed. The writers just want to tell you how many degrees they have from this college or that university.
“Steinbeck would use 12 words in the first sentence,” he continues. “Mailer 15 words. Hemingway five. That’s because they had respect for their readers. It may sound like I’m being hard on colleges and that’s because I am. None of them have any idea how to teach people to write. They have wrecked the business.”
Kicking the dead body of a once great newspaper city isn’t what this night is about so the conversation drifts back to The Good Rat and then the book signing starts.
When my turn comes, Breslin asks:
“How do you want me to sign it?”
“Just your name,” I say. “I’ll be dead someday and no one else would want my name in their book.”
Breslin laughs.
“You’re a real character aren’t you?” he asks.
“Aren’t we all?” I shoot.
He laughs again.
I hit the street with a smile and get to the bar in time to watch the Dominican League champion Aguilas Cibaenas beat the Mexican League champion Yaquis de Obregon.
The place is dark and smells like stale beer and spicy chili.
Breslin should have come along.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
One Pitch And Two Throws
It took one pitch and two throws to get the third out in the top of the seventh inning.
The Tigres del Licey were clinging to a one-run lead against the Aguilas Cibaenas when Tony Pena Jr. drilled a ball off the leftfield wall and Victor Diaz tried to score from first base.
Diaz was out at the plate: 7-6-2.
Licey’s lead was safe.
It may not seem all that important since Licey tacked on four runs in the bottom of the inning and rolled to a 5-2 victory, improving their record in the Caribbean Series to 3-0, but that defensive masterpiece drew shouts in the Bronx.
“A beautiful 7-6-2 putout,” yelled Javier from Walton Avenue. “That was absolutely marvelous.”
The play was magic even a world away on a dusty barroom television.
“It can’t be done any better,” Javier went on. “Marvelous. Just marvelous.”
Licey leftfielder Emilio Bonifacio grabbed Pena’s ball off the wall and fired to Anderson Hernandez who nailed Diaz at the plate with a perfect relay to catcher Matt Tupman.
“That kind of play makes me ache for baseball,” Javier said. “They’ll be doing it across the street (at Yankee Stadium) in a couple of months, but I wish they were here tonight.”
Javier closed his eyes and went through it again.
One pitch and two throws: 7-6-2.
Marvelous.
The Tigres del Licey were clinging to a one-run lead against the Aguilas Cibaenas when Tony Pena Jr. drilled a ball off the leftfield wall and Victor Diaz tried to score from first base.
Diaz was out at the plate: 7-6-2.
Licey’s lead was safe.
It may not seem all that important since Licey tacked on four runs in the bottom of the inning and rolled to a 5-2 victory, improving their record in the Caribbean Series to 3-0, but that defensive masterpiece drew shouts in the Bronx.
“A beautiful 7-6-2 putout,” yelled Javier from Walton Avenue. “That was absolutely marvelous.”
The play was magic even a world away on a dusty barroom television.
“It can’t be done any better,” Javier went on. “Marvelous. Just marvelous.”
Licey leftfielder Emilio Bonifacio grabbed Pena’s ball off the wall and fired to Anderson Hernandez who nailed Diaz at the plate with a perfect relay to catcher Matt Tupman.
“That kind of play makes me ache for baseball,” Javier said. “They’ll be doing it across the street (at Yankee Stadium) in a couple of months, but I wish they were here tonight.”
Javier closed his eyes and went through it again.
One pitch and two throws: 7-6-2.
Marvelous.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Always Adaptable
Min Jae Kim can hear the pounding from the restaurant where he works. It goes on all day and sometimes deep into the night.
“It’s from the construction site up the block,” he explains. “Some people complain about the noise, but I actually like it.”
Kim often delivers meals to the workers, but that’s not the reason he has grown attached to the pounding.
“I think it sounds like popping baseball gloves,” he says. “You know that scattered rhythm when a bunch of guys line up and play catch along the outfield foul line? If I close my eyes I can almost see it.”
The other deliverymen standing on Nassau Street poke fun at his vision.
Kim laughs along with them because he knows how to adapt.
“I’m a Korean working at a Chinese restaurant,” Kim says, “but my favorite food is spaghetti and I love those Dominican cigars they make up on Church Street. I can fit in almost anywhere.”
But he feels the most comfortable at Yankee Stadium with his friends.
“They are all from Taiwan,” Kim explains. “We met when they sat in front of me at a game that Chien-Ming Wang pitched. I became a big Wang fan that day.”
He lifts his jacket to show off the Wang T-shirt underneath.
“We are going to Opening Day so I hope he’s pitching,” Kim says. “But it wouldn’t be so bad if we had to go to the second game, too.”
He is always adaptable.
“It’s from the construction site up the block,” he explains. “Some people complain about the noise, but I actually like it.”
Kim often delivers meals to the workers, but that’s not the reason he has grown attached to the pounding.
“I think it sounds like popping baseball gloves,” he says. “You know that scattered rhythm when a bunch of guys line up and play catch along the outfield foul line? If I close my eyes I can almost see it.”
The other deliverymen standing on Nassau Street poke fun at his vision.
Kim laughs along with them because he knows how to adapt.
“I’m a Korean working at a Chinese restaurant,” Kim says, “but my favorite food is spaghetti and I love those Dominican cigars they make up on Church Street. I can fit in almost anywhere.”
But he feels the most comfortable at Yankee Stadium with his friends.
“They are all from Taiwan,” Kim explains. “We met when they sat in front of me at a game that Chien-Ming Wang pitched. I became a big Wang fan that day.”
He lifts his jacket to show off the Wang T-shirt underneath.
“We are going to Opening Day so I hope he’s pitching,” Kim says. “But it wouldn’t be so bad if we had to go to the second game, too.”
He is always adaptable.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Different
Javier settles down on a bench near the highest spot in Franz Sigel Park. From here he can look out across the rooftops and catch glimpses of Yankee Stadium through the trees.
“You can‘t see this all the time,” he explains. “Once the leaves come back on the trees it’s completely different.”
Javier was looking for a fresh angle when he picked up his lunch at US Fried Chicken on Gerard Avenue.
“It’s quiet up here in the winter,” he says. “It’s a good spot to eat lunch and maybe smoke a cigar. You can rest and think and get yourself a whole new attitude.”
Javier digs into his lunch: fried chicken, potato salad, cole slaw and a roll.
“I got french fries, too,” he admits. “I shouldn’t have, but they sure taste good.”
He eats and soaks in the neighborhood on a warm February afternoon.
“It’s gonna be strange when the old Stadium is gone,” Javier says. “I’ve been sitting here for so many years that it’s hard to imagine it not peeking out at me.
“I’m not saying that will be bad,” he continues. “But it sure will be different.”
Indeed.
“You can‘t see this all the time,” he explains. “Once the leaves come back on the trees it’s completely different.”
Javier was looking for a fresh angle when he picked up his lunch at US Fried Chicken on Gerard Avenue.
“It’s quiet up here in the winter,” he says. “It’s a good spot to eat lunch and maybe smoke a cigar. You can rest and think and get yourself a whole new attitude.”
Javier digs into his lunch: fried chicken, potato salad, cole slaw and a roll.
“I got french fries, too,” he admits. “I shouldn’t have, but they sure taste good.”
He eats and soaks in the neighborhood on a warm February afternoon.
“It’s gonna be strange when the old Stadium is gone,” Javier says. “I’ve been sitting here for so many years that it’s hard to imagine it not peeking out at me.
“I’m not saying that will be bad,” he continues. “But it sure will be different.”
Indeed.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Ticket Plan
Rodrigo hates getting up early on Saturday mornings because he works late delivering pizzas on Friday nights. But he is saving for baseball tickets and a guy over at Twin Donuts gave him a tip about a job in Red Hook.
So he dragged out of bed and down five flights of stairs to Jerome Avenue. He cut up East 164th Street and then walked along River Avenue passed the construction of the new Yankee Stadium and down the stairs to the subway near the centerfield bleachers of the old Yankee Stadium.
The D train took him to the Broadway-Lafayette Street station where he switched to the F train that dropped him at Smith and 9th Streets in Brooklyn.
He walked by the baseball fields where he used to play in a summer league on Sunday afternoons. A smile inched across his face as he remembered the little stand that sold guacamole tacos in the park.
“I could eat four or five of them after a game,” he said. “I wish I had one right now.”
He settled for a stale donut that he ate on his way to the Van Brunt Street warehouse.
“Are you here to work?” barked a man near the door.
Rodrigo shook his head and downed the last of the donut.
Nine hours later he was sore from unloading huge wooden crates, but he had 50 dollars for the coffee can in the back of his cupboard.
“I gotta keep saving,” he explained. “The Yankees raised the ticket prices and they’ll probably do the same again next year.”
He is headed straight to his pizza delivery job.
“I hope it’s busy tonight,” he said. “I’ll fall asleep if I sit down.”
Rodrigo hates getting up early on Sunday mornings, too. But he heard about some work up in East Tremont.
“I’m not sure what it pays,” he said. “But every extra dollar counts these days.”
So he dragged out of bed and down five flights of stairs to Jerome Avenue. He cut up East 164th Street and then walked along River Avenue passed the construction of the new Yankee Stadium and down the stairs to the subway near the centerfield bleachers of the old Yankee Stadium.
The D train took him to the Broadway-Lafayette Street station where he switched to the F train that dropped him at Smith and 9th Streets in Brooklyn.
He walked by the baseball fields where he used to play in a summer league on Sunday afternoons. A smile inched across his face as he remembered the little stand that sold guacamole tacos in the park.
“I could eat four or five of them after a game,” he said. “I wish I had one right now.”
He settled for a stale donut that he ate on his way to the Van Brunt Street warehouse.
“Are you here to work?” barked a man near the door.
Rodrigo shook his head and downed the last of the donut.
Nine hours later he was sore from unloading huge wooden crates, but he had 50 dollars for the coffee can in the back of his cupboard.
“I gotta keep saving,” he explained. “The Yankees raised the ticket prices and they’ll probably do the same again next year.”
He is headed straight to his pizza delivery job.
“I hope it’s busy tonight,” he said. “I’ll fall asleep if I sit down.”
Rodrigo hates getting up early on Sunday mornings, too. But he heard about some work up in East Tremont.
“I’m not sure what it pays,” he said. “But every extra dollar counts these days.”
Friday, February 1, 2008
Returning The Favor
Dino – short for Dennis – is the most giving man in the neighborhood.
Sometimes he’ll give you a song:
“Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things…”
Other times it’s a poem:
“I read in the papers about the Freedom Train.
I heard on the radio about the Freedom Train.
I seen folks talkin’ about the Freedom Train.
Lord, I've been a-waitin’ for the Freedom Train!...”
Or he might give you a line from the Bible he carries:
“Do onto others as you would have them do onto you.”
Dino always gives out books because that’s his business.
“Lay a title on me,” he says. “Lay two titles on me or three…”
“Steinbeck’s In Dubious Battle,” you shoot, “and Gideon’s Trumpet by Anthony Lewis.”
“No problem,” he says. “What about Hemingway? I know where I can get a hardcover second edition of The Dangerous Summer.”
Dino has sources. He knows every dealer in the city and gets books off stoops and newspaper boxes and even from the trash.
And he knows what everyone likes.
He digs two books from his bag: Josh Gibson: A Life in the Negro Leagues by William Brashler and Derek Jeter: Pride of the Yankees by Patrick Giles.
“Pay whatever you think,” Dino says.
You give him more than he would have asked for.
But that’s just returning the favor.
Sometimes he’ll give you a song:
“Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things…”
Other times it’s a poem:
“I read in the papers about the Freedom Train.
I heard on the radio about the Freedom Train.
I seen folks talkin’ about the Freedom Train.
Lord, I've been a-waitin’ for the Freedom Train!...”
Or he might give you a line from the Bible he carries:
“Do onto others as you would have them do onto you.”
Dino always gives out books because that’s his business.
“Lay a title on me,” he says. “Lay two titles on me or three…”
“Steinbeck’s In Dubious Battle,” you shoot, “and Gideon’s Trumpet by Anthony Lewis.”
“No problem,” he says. “What about Hemingway? I know where I can get a hardcover second edition of The Dangerous Summer.”
Dino has sources. He knows every dealer in the city and gets books off stoops and newspaper boxes and even from the trash.
And he knows what everyone likes.
He digs two books from his bag: Josh Gibson: A Life in the Negro Leagues by William Brashler and Derek Jeter: Pride of the Yankees by Patrick Giles.
“Pay whatever you think,” Dino says.
You give him more than he would have asked for.
But that’s just returning the favor.
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