The Mets 3-2 nail-biter was won by a fingernail. The fortunately unbitten fingernail on the outstretched finger of Lastings Milledge, who needed every millimeter of his digits as he glided just wide of the glove of Reds catcher David Ross, and scraped the corner of home plate for the Mets winning run. Milledge’s feet seemed to stutter-step as he left first early on the two out Ruben Gotay single, so the sneaky slide just barely made up enough for the time he lost before his speed kicked in.
Milledge was recalled from AAA New Orleans today, and represents some hustle and zip in the lineup, as the Mets waive goodbye to 57 year old Julio Franco, who is going straight into the Senior PGA. Also making the most of his opportunity was Gotay, playing second for the injured Jose Valentin, whose finger was bandaged up after breaking up a fight in Puerto Rico during the All Star break. The solid .342-hitting Gotay made team history homering back to back with Jose Reyes to start the game, which, oddly never happened since they started this crazy Mets journey back in 1962.
Its vexing that the veteran Valentin would get injured during what one assumes was a liquor- soaked late night situation during his shore leave from the Mets ship. Mets fans hope that looking back, Jose would rather the two combatants have bashed each other senseless while he lounged at home drinking mango juice and reading the Ted Williams book about hitting. While Gotay seems ready to be leaned on increasingly, its Milledge who will be quickly exposed if he fails. With the curse of injury to anyone who plays leftfield striking Moises Alou, Endy Chavez and Carlos Gomez, fate turns the lasting glow of its spotlight to Lastings Milledge.
Billy Wagner meanwhile, managed to bounce back from the two run homer he allowed to the Indians’ Victor Martinez in the All Star Game with the save. There is a mental disconnect when you throw closers into the dreaded “non-save situation” during the Midsummer Classic, so it was reassuring to see Wagner return to his dominant form when back in his ninth inning role, with all the “save situation” theme music and ceremony he seems to require.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Mets' Maine Man
John Maine began his outing tonight in most auspicious fashion, becoming the first player in major league history to strike out four batters in an inning. Astros leadoff hitter Craig Biggio waved at a subterranean strike three slider, as did #2 hitter Hunter Pence. When #3 hitter Lance Berkman lost his bat in a flailing strike three attempt, it went flying into the on-deck circle, striking #4 hitter Carlos Lee and knocking him flat. Four batters felled in one swoop of a first inning.
Maine went on to fan a career high nine batters in the much needed, tide-turning 6-2 victory in Houston, coming after a late night escape flight that capped a brutal sweep by Colorado.
In the sixth, with runners on first and second and none out, Maine whistled a flame-trailing 94-mph offering high and tight past a lunging Berkman. Capitalizing on the big whiff, he crossed up Lee, who was way out ahead of a vicious and tantalizing slider for strike one. He later went back to the inside heat for a swinging strike three to Lee, and then got Loretta to pop up harmlessly, stepping right out of trouble with a calmness and even emotion you don’t usually see in second year players.
For seven solid innings the Astros offense was pushed down and prevented from breathing by the stifling Maine, until he ran out of gas in the eighth, 119 pitches deep. Lee, got his revenge with a run scoring double and scored himself on a Loretta single. With the score 5-2, the Mets were able to tiptoe out of further damage thanks to Pedro Feliciano, who struck out an angrily looking Morgan Ensberg, silenced the Astro rally and “set up” the closer Billy Wagner for a nice n easy ninth.
Maine’s rousing effort stopped some pretty serious Mets bleeding. After the Mets experienced a Rocky Mountain reduction of their psyche at the hands of Colorado – 47 Coors-aided hits and 34 runs allowed in 3 increasingly demoralizing losses - they were grateful for the poise of Maine and his instant heat out of the gate to set a different tone. Mets play-by-play guy Gary Cohen was inspired enough to anoint Maine as the Mets new “stopper”, and instantly the SNY cameras find the browbeaten visage of Tom Glavine in the dugout, who seemed to somehow sense that his inconsistent performance had just gotten him demoted out of that role.
Maine went on to fan a career high nine batters in the much needed, tide-turning 6-2 victory in Houston, coming after a late night escape flight that capped a brutal sweep by Colorado.
In the sixth, with runners on first and second and none out, Maine whistled a flame-trailing 94-mph offering high and tight past a lunging Berkman. Capitalizing on the big whiff, he crossed up Lee, who was way out ahead of a vicious and tantalizing slider for strike one. He later went back to the inside heat for a swinging strike three to Lee, and then got Loretta to pop up harmlessly, stepping right out of trouble with a calmness and even emotion you don’t usually see in second year players.
For seven solid innings the Astros offense was pushed down and prevented from breathing by the stifling Maine, until he ran out of gas in the eighth, 119 pitches deep. Lee, got his revenge with a run scoring double and scored himself on a Loretta single. With the score 5-2, the Mets were able to tiptoe out of further damage thanks to Pedro Feliciano, who struck out an angrily looking Morgan Ensberg, silenced the Astro rally and “set up” the closer Billy Wagner for a nice n easy ninth.
Maine’s rousing effort stopped some pretty serious Mets bleeding. After the Mets experienced a Rocky Mountain reduction of their psyche at the hands of Colorado – 47 Coors-aided hits and 34 runs allowed in 3 increasingly demoralizing losses - they were grateful for the poise of Maine and his instant heat out of the gate to set a different tone. Mets play-by-play guy Gary Cohen was inspired enough to anoint Maine as the Mets new “stopper”, and instantly the SNY cameras find the browbeaten visage of Tom Glavine in the dugout, who seemed to somehow sense that his inconsistent performance had just gotten him demoted out of that role.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
NY vs. NY a Wagnerian Saga
“Nein, W.” is the answer.
“Do you spell your name with a “V”, Mr. Wagner?” is the question. Or so goes a favorite joke of my classical music aficionado father.
The question for the Mets was how were they going to break a losing skid that saw them drop nein of their last ten games? And how would they do so against the suddenly resurgent Yankees, who have won nein in a row? The answer, like the joke, lies with a Mr. Wagner. Was the tonic for the Mets ills some type of psychological victory? Nein, it was a W, as the Mets triumphed over their Bronx rivals, 2-0 last night, on Wagner’s perfect neinth.
The somewhat unpredictable starter Oliver Perez pitched brilliantly, scattering six hits over his 7 1/3 shutout innings. And the Joe Smith/Pedro Feliciano two-headed monster that picked up the last two outs of the 8th suddenly seems like a serviceable replacement to the one confused head of Aaron Heilman. The perfect 9th Billy Wagner pitched was downright necessary for the Mets. To have blown, or even jeopardized the fragile 2-0 gem the Mets had pieced together would have been more devastating than if they got shelled from the get go.
After getting behind in the count to Posada (with his surprising .349 average) Wagner got Jorge to pop up, then froze Hideki Matsui with an unappetizing offering; an outside fastball that swerved in to skim the black on strike three for the second out. Robinson Cano, seeing Matsui’s open-mouthed hesitation, vowed to swing at Wagner’s nasty outside heat, and flailed at strike three, missing by a foot.
Billy Wagner’s lifetime .188 opponent’s batting average is best among active relievers. His continued ability to locate his feisty arsenal of pitches is needed to unlock the Mets potential, as we enter the heat of summer and the land of the 4-3, 3-2 one run games.
“Do you spell your name with a “V”, Mr. Wagner?” is the question. Or so goes a favorite joke of my classical music aficionado father.
The question for the Mets was how were they going to break a losing skid that saw them drop nein of their last ten games? And how would they do so against the suddenly resurgent Yankees, who have won nein in a row? The answer, like the joke, lies with a Mr. Wagner. Was the tonic for the Mets ills some type of psychological victory? Nein, it was a W, as the Mets triumphed over their Bronx rivals, 2-0 last night, on Wagner’s perfect neinth.
The somewhat unpredictable starter Oliver Perez pitched brilliantly, scattering six hits over his 7 1/3 shutout innings. And the Joe Smith/Pedro Feliciano two-headed monster that picked up the last two outs of the 8th suddenly seems like a serviceable replacement to the one confused head of Aaron Heilman. The perfect 9th Billy Wagner pitched was downright necessary for the Mets. To have blown, or even jeopardized the fragile 2-0 gem the Mets had pieced together would have been more devastating than if they got shelled from the get go.
After getting behind in the count to Posada (with his surprising .349 average) Wagner got Jorge to pop up, then froze Hideki Matsui with an unappetizing offering; an outside fastball that swerved in to skim the black on strike three for the second out. Robinson Cano, seeing Matsui’s open-mouthed hesitation, vowed to swing at Wagner’s nasty outside heat, and flailed at strike three, missing by a foot.
Billy Wagner’s lifetime .188 opponent’s batting average is best among active relievers. His continued ability to locate his feisty arsenal of pitches is needed to unlock the Mets potential, as we enter the heat of summer and the land of the 4-3, 3-2 one run games.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Mets Balk At Their Past
No moment better epitomizes the hope of the Mets young season than the two 12th inning balks committed by the remarkably hesitant Armando Benitez of the Giants out at Shea on May 30. With Jose Reyes juking and jiving on the bases, it was like the Mets past (symbolized by the flinty ego of Armando Benitez in the painful memories of his ’99-‘03 Mets stint) flinching at its immediate future, the irrepressible Reyes. A leg twitch by Armando, a hesitation of will which told of his fear, the smile of Reyes like a deadly and charming feline predator.
After Reyes scored on balk 2 and Carlos Delgado homered, the Mets were dancing around home plate in glee and, in a classic case of “don’t shoot the messenger,” Benitez was immediately shipped off to the Marlins in exchange for a fellow reliever, David Messenger. While the positive symbols were obvious to any Mets fan whose gastrointestinal health suffered when Benitez used to take the mound, it’s hard to celebrate in a season where its been declared “anything less than the World Series is a disappointment.”
Delgado's slump has continued; he struck out looking with the bases loaded Sunday, as the Mets got snakebit 4-1 by the D-Backs. The clutch bat of this wily veteran has provided its share of late inning magic, but cannot be counted on alone. As Beltran sat with a busted knee and Wright, just back from back spasms, looked tentative, the Mets offense, including an all-reserve outfield of Endy Chavez, Ben Johnson and Carlos Gomez, was punchless and beatable.
The Mets, at some point in their quest, will meet an opponent who won’t flinch. Reyes clearly will always be dancing and deadly and will be smiling a lot. And Delgado will be magic sometimes. However, in order to triumph, the Mets will need Wright and Beltran to be not just at their average selves, but stepping it up to that other level.
After Reyes scored on balk 2 and Carlos Delgado homered, the Mets were dancing around home plate in glee and, in a classic case of “don’t shoot the messenger,” Benitez was immediately shipped off to the Marlins in exchange for a fellow reliever, David Messenger. While the positive symbols were obvious to any Mets fan whose gastrointestinal health suffered when Benitez used to take the mound, it’s hard to celebrate in a season where its been declared “anything less than the World Series is a disappointment.”
Delgado's slump has continued; he struck out looking with the bases loaded Sunday, as the Mets got snakebit 4-1 by the D-Backs. The clutch bat of this wily veteran has provided its share of late inning magic, but cannot be counted on alone. As Beltran sat with a busted knee and Wright, just back from back spasms, looked tentative, the Mets offense, including an all-reserve outfield of Endy Chavez, Ben Johnson and Carlos Gomez, was punchless and beatable.
The Mets, at some point in their quest, will meet an opponent who won’t flinch. Reyes clearly will always be dancing and deadly and will be smiling a lot. And Delgado will be magic sometimes. However, in order to triumph, the Mets will need Wright and Beltran to be not just at their average selves, but stepping it up to that other level.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Gallows Readied for Torre
The recent failures of the Bronx Bombers have left Yankee Nation wearing its smugness and arrogance like the Emperor’s new clothes. The NY Post quoted a CT woman who was commenting on quotes by Anaheim shortstop Orlando Cabrera after a recent Bronx outing. Cabrera had the audacity to say Yankee fans, essentially, were mean spirited louts who would rather berate opposing players than see “good baseball.”
“When’s the last time the Angels drew four million?” asked Yankee fan Lisa Prisco in response to Cabrera. This kind of circular logic dominates the Yankee mentality, the notion that their history of success and being a bigtown favorite makes them more than human. YES announcer Michael Kay will tell you once an hour in a network commercial that the Yanks have won the most championships in the “history of sport.” (First of all whose version of “history”? Are we including the ancient lacrosse wars fought on this continent centuries ago?)
The ineptitude of the superhuman Yankees has reflected on Torre, evidenced by a portion of “The 4 Million” booing Torre on a mound visit with the derisive tone Cabrera decried. The weight of the Yankee expectation and payroll creates an illusion… it MUST be Torre’s inability to lead a team of high priced all-stars to blame for their failure. As Torre is the symbol of a program gone awry, and the inevitable gallows are prepared for a leadership change, this Mets fan believes Torre is being wrongly blamed.
In fact, its more circular logic… “it must be the over-the-hill Torre’s fault because the Yankees couldn’t possibly be this terrible on their own” is how the sentence finishes in the mind of the booing fan. In fact my Yankee friends, you are this terrible because you are this terrible, and the Cashman plan of the all star smorgasbord is not really working. The right mix of leadership, system-grown talent, and heart does not exist on their roster this year, plus the pitching simply is bad and/or banged up. Firing the veteran Torre wont change that.
Only the belief in the fundamentals which Mr. Cabrera eloquently described as “good baseball” can change that.
“When’s the last time the Angels drew four million?” asked Yankee fan Lisa Prisco in response to Cabrera. This kind of circular logic dominates the Yankee mentality, the notion that their history of success and being a bigtown favorite makes them more than human. YES announcer Michael Kay will tell you once an hour in a network commercial that the Yanks have won the most championships in the “history of sport.” (First of all whose version of “history”? Are we including the ancient lacrosse wars fought on this continent centuries ago?)
The ineptitude of the superhuman Yankees has reflected on Torre, evidenced by a portion of “The 4 Million” booing Torre on a mound visit with the derisive tone Cabrera decried. The weight of the Yankee expectation and payroll creates an illusion… it MUST be Torre’s inability to lead a team of high priced all-stars to blame for their failure. As Torre is the symbol of a program gone awry, and the inevitable gallows are prepared for a leadership change, this Mets fan believes Torre is being wrongly blamed.
In fact, its more circular logic… “it must be the over-the-hill Torre’s fault because the Yankees couldn’t possibly be this terrible on their own” is how the sentence finishes in the mind of the booing fan. In fact my Yankee friends, you are this terrible because you are this terrible, and the Cashman plan of the all star smorgasbord is not really working. The right mix of leadership, system-grown talent, and heart does not exist on their roster this year, plus the pitching simply is bad and/or banged up. Firing the veteran Torre wont change that.
Only the belief in the fundamentals which Mr. Cabrera eloquently described as “good baseball” can change that.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Abolish "The Cycle"
I can’t believe they implicated Mom in the idiotic media charade that is “The Cycle”.
This Sunday, Mother’s Day, Fred Lewis, rookie centerfielder of the San Francisco Giants, playing in only his 16th big league game as a daytime sub for Randy Winn, hit an imaginary and unimportant smorgasbord of hits known as “The Cycle.” Immediately, the journalists who have suffered through the Giants’ 15-2 dismantling of the Rockies are reporting: It’s a Mother’s Day Miracle. “I called to tell her I didn’t get her anything,” Lewis was quoted as saying, “until now.”
In defense of Fred Lewis’ Mom and the good of baseball, it should be pointed out that the unusual combination of single-double-triple-home run is nothing but an artificial statistical oddity, and the fact that Lewis attained it does not make his Mom love him any more, and should not be a substitute for buying her flowers or at least a nice card. Game winning hits and clutch performances should be celebrated above all. If you want to celebrate a statistical oddity, wouldn’t four homers be a hitter’s perfect game? Or two grand slams? If you were going for the individual statistical gusto in a blowout game, and you had a homer, triple and double, why on earth would you want a single instead of another home run?
Yet that was exactly the unexpected situation which the rookie Lewis found himself in. “There were fans behind the on deck circle who were yelling that I needed a single” Lewis reported. He obliged with a quick little singles swing and a ball lined into right against the beleaguered Colorado bullpen, as “history” was made. There should be much less significance to this “full house” of all the hits, the media really needs to let up. Or if they must persist with “The Cycle”, at least have the decency to leave Mom out of your circus.
This Sunday, Mother’s Day, Fred Lewis, rookie centerfielder of the San Francisco Giants, playing in only his 16th big league game as a daytime sub for Randy Winn, hit an imaginary and unimportant smorgasbord of hits known as “The Cycle.” Immediately, the journalists who have suffered through the Giants’ 15-2 dismantling of the Rockies are reporting: It’s a Mother’s Day Miracle. “I called to tell her I didn’t get her anything,” Lewis was quoted as saying, “until now.”
In defense of Fred Lewis’ Mom and the good of baseball, it should be pointed out that the unusual combination of single-double-triple-home run is nothing but an artificial statistical oddity, and the fact that Lewis attained it does not make his Mom love him any more, and should not be a substitute for buying her flowers or at least a nice card. Game winning hits and clutch performances should be celebrated above all. If you want to celebrate a statistical oddity, wouldn’t four homers be a hitter’s perfect game? Or two grand slams? If you were going for the individual statistical gusto in a blowout game, and you had a homer, triple and double, why on earth would you want a single instead of another home run?
Yet that was exactly the unexpected situation which the rookie Lewis found himself in. “There were fans behind the on deck circle who were yelling that I needed a single” Lewis reported. He obliged with a quick little singles swing and a ball lined into right against the beleaguered Colorado bullpen, as “history” was made. There should be much less significance to this “full house” of all the hits, the media really needs to let up. Or if they must persist with “The Cycle”, at least have the decency to leave Mom out of your circus.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Coach Rob Stood for Respect
On a week including the resolution of the Final Four and the beginning of the baseball season, I would never have guessed that Grind It Out Sports would be addressing a college football story. Granted the Georgetown game was a big disappointment…even though Hibbert outplayed Oden in the most hyped matchup of 7-footers since Olajuwon-Ewing over 20 years ago, an uncharacteristic string of Hoya turnovers opened the door for Conley and company to score on fast breaks, as the Buckeyes kept Georgetown at bay to advance to the finals. A finals which was more a coronation for the Gators than a game as Ohio State never really got involved. The game, which was played right after the first Passover seder was disappointingly “like any other night” in which the Gators superior talent and depth allowed them to coast to victory.
None of that seems as significant as the passing of former Grambling State head coach Eddie Robinson this week at age 88. “Coach Rob”, as he was affectionately known by his players coached that team for 57 years, and is not only a bridge to the past, but a man whose unique presence made a meaningful contribution to the changing social environment of our country.
Just the sound of Grambling State’s former name connotes a bygone era in our country: “Louisiana Negro Normal and Industrial Institute”. Robinson took over the coaching job at this traditionally black college in 1941, and in a segregated America his interpretation of his coaching duties included making sandwiches for his players when they went to road games, since they were not welcome at any restaurants along the way. "Coaching is a profession of love.” Robinson would say, “You can't coach people unless you love them." Anyone whose Mom or Dad made them sandwiches can relate, but what must it have meant for these young men, away from the home for the first time, to have the soothing, upbeat, and gentlemanly presence of Robinson to give them courage and teach them what it means to be a man – in a nation where they were treated as less than men.
That Robinson set the record for coaching wins is a fitting tribute, less to his X’s and O’s than to his consistency and unwavering dedication to his purpose in life. He found at Grambling a platform that allowed him to touch the lives of thousands of young men, 200 of which went on to the NFL. Within the reach of his little college he was able to lay down his own rules. Saying that he treated each player “like he wanted to marry my daughter”, Robinson created a place where every individual was respected. It just took America a little while to catch up to him.
Thanks for the legacy you created for all human beings to learn from, and rest in peace Coach Rob.
None of that seems as significant as the passing of former Grambling State head coach Eddie Robinson this week at age 88. “Coach Rob”, as he was affectionately known by his players coached that team for 57 years, and is not only a bridge to the past, but a man whose unique presence made a meaningful contribution to the changing social environment of our country.
Just the sound of Grambling State’s former name connotes a bygone era in our country: “Louisiana Negro Normal and Industrial Institute”. Robinson took over the coaching job at this traditionally black college in 1941, and in a segregated America his interpretation of his coaching duties included making sandwiches for his players when they went to road games, since they were not welcome at any restaurants along the way. "Coaching is a profession of love.” Robinson would say, “You can't coach people unless you love them." Anyone whose Mom or Dad made them sandwiches can relate, but what must it have meant for these young men, away from the home for the first time, to have the soothing, upbeat, and gentlemanly presence of Robinson to give them courage and teach them what it means to be a man – in a nation where they were treated as less than men.
That Robinson set the record for coaching wins is a fitting tribute, less to his X’s and O’s than to his consistency and unwavering dedication to his purpose in life. He found at Grambling a platform that allowed him to touch the lives of thousands of young men, 200 of which went on to the NFL. Within the reach of his little college he was able to lay down his own rules. Saying that he treated each player “like he wanted to marry my daughter”, Robinson created a place where every individual was respected. It just took America a little while to catch up to him.
Thanks for the legacy you created for all human beings to learn from, and rest in peace Coach Rob.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)