WEEKEND POST-GAME: First we cook, then we chill.

Alright. Nice Sunday. Ate at Joe's, wandered and discovered that if "Williamsburg" isn't dying, it's at least being pushed further and further South. Drank a couple beers here as the Angels hung tight and then got absolutely manhandled. Enjoyed the company of an Ozzie Sox fan among others. Wrote a couple rewritten lyrics.



gooooodbye anaheim angels...
I can't hang a name on you...
when it changes every new day...
I'm not gonna miss you...

Took the train. Heard via cell phone by field reporter Nay Ratzoo, #3 Marmaduke Fan in the world, that Clemens was down, Clemens was down, and Trot hit a homerun. Good.

(To my field reporter: give me a better name than what I just spat out there. Any name.)

Saw a brilliant show by a brave woman.

Passed by Slainte and saw that the Yankees were...ahead? Whatever. No, not whatever. Good. May as well see if anyone knows how this happened. Explained a bit of baseball to a dude from the U.K. because he asked me. Apparently I know more about cricket than I thought.

(Hello, across the pond: Jen, Dan, and Lil' E.)

Ordered a club soda just to be a customer. talked a bit of Chicago with some Bears fans, talked a bit of...business? with Packers fans. Fun.

Far as the [New York Highlanders] versus the [Cleveland Spiders], I have three words for you. Blood, blood, blood.

I'm cooked, now I chill.



And then I listen to this. Gorgeous song by a brave man composed as he lay dying, mainly just with some records, samples of which may never have cleared to my knowledge. Played by a Korean punk-rock band. I have been over this before. Wow. Wow. Wow.



Then I sleep. Bar's closed on "Columbus" Day. Um, enjoy it. But stare at this a minute and think. I'd love to know what you think, because...zzzzzz....

PREGAME, GAME 1 YANKEES V INJUNS

Not too much today. Maybe something to come on whatever Sterling says about "Thaaaaa New York Yankeeesss" tonight. I'm trying to keep my job. Simple as that.

But I'll let you in on a couple things.

1) I'm going to try very hard to root for the Yankees throughout this. I cannot explain this to my Bostonian readers yet (and am not even trying to touch Maine yet...beautiful place, but yeah, I was there when there was sun) and this is an EXPERIMENT. I'll see if I can find a New York Giants hat. It's as close as I can come to betrayal through writing instead of...I don't even want to know.

Look, I even have a friend in the NYPD now. For me that is...difficult.

Alright. Time to recycle from the ol' blog. Gary Sheffield and Tim McCarver in an interview that has never happened.

I respect Sheff yet never, ever want to meet him or have him on our team, because I remember when I thought Fenway could become Jurassic Park.

2a) Sidebar. Jock Bio. Sheffield. Wow.

Enjoy.

Lights up on Tim McCarver, by himself, as he probably should be. He's coherent, but he is drinking the Yankee Kool-Aid.

TIM MCCARVER
Gary Sheffield has a pair of the fastest hands in the game. So fast, in fact, that Gary says when he watches film of himself, he’s surprised himself.

Change the scene. We see McCarver interviewing Sheffield, pre-recorded.

GARY SHEFFIELD (as a Yankee)
When I watch the game films of my at-bats, y’know, and I see how fast I get my hands through the zone, y’know, it’s surprising, yeah. I mean, they whip through the zone. I’m not thinking about how fast my hands move when I’m at the plate, I’m just trying to hit the pitch. But my hands, y’know, they just move so…elegantly. Like two little ballerinas attached to my wrists. Like two cheetahs grafted to my elbows.

And then, when I watch my homeruns, y’know, on the game films, well, I don’t really get to admire my homeruns in the game. I’m just trying to not disrespect the sanctity of the game, just round the bases and let the crowd let me hear it. But the motion of those moon shots, y’know, it’s like watching the Eagle land. It’s like watching the World Trade Center towers fall…but, y’know, good. Those 450-foot shots are as much a part of American history as any shot in World War II. But I’m not aware of that, except, y’know, when I watch the film.

And sometimes I just look at myself in the mirror, and y’know, I don’t get to look at myself as much as, say, my wife, or the fans, or those who watch me on TV. I unfortunately have this condition that makes it impossible for me to, like, turn my eyeballs back upon myself and, like, admire my own countenance? But then, sometimes, I’m lucky enough to see my own image reflected, in a mirror or a similar reflecting surface. And, man, I really am a handsome man. My face could be as timeless as Cary Grant’s, really. Y’know, most of the time, I’m just going about my business, not thinking about the fact that every woman I pass is getting incredibly moist at just a quick glance at me. So, yeah, of course, that’s a surprise. Every day is a pleasant surprise. I love being me. I never know what new greatness I’ll find out about myself tomorrow. Me: it’s the best.

Back to McCarver, on his own, watching this film. Realizing...oh dear God I think I liked announcing for the Mets after all.

MCCARVER
Smarter men than me would have nothing to say either. Harry Carey, even. This…was Tim McCarver.

(3?) Yeah, I said 9/11, but hey, this guy is truly exploiting it and could be elected President.

I'm aware this could be offensive to many. I believe in catharsis. The play I was blessed to have put up here was about 9/11 and was inspired by THIS. Deb Margolin tried to teach me some nerve and succeeded.

Blah blah blah. Here's the dick joke I promised. Kinda.