If you need any more proof that baseball is a funny game, I submit Game 1 of the 2010 World Series between the Giants and the Rangers. The world was expecting one of those torturous, hard-fought one run ball games; a pitcher’s duel that would make Harvey Haddix look up and notice.
And it was the Freak who blinked first, pitching in and out of jams that could have been worse (especially considering his self-admitted “little brain fart” when he ran Young back to third, neglecting to make the short throw that would have been an easy second out; perhaps he was still high from his pre-game bowl?), but being 2-0 to Cliff Lee has been a tough row to hoe; a path to a loss.
But, Lee missed his location more times in those 4 2/3 innings than he has in the last three starts against the Yankees over the last two post seasons. And give credit to the oft-anemic bats of the Giants; they took full advantage and piled on the Rangers.
Prevent defense made the final score of 11-7 seem closer than the game was from the 5th on. But, and the Rangers showed me this after the 1st game of the ALCS, don’t count these guys out. Losing with your #1 – and watching the infallible seem all too human – has to sting, but the Rangers are a “plucky” bunch. Matt Cain really needs to stick it to them in tonight’s game 2.


So, with time to kill since there’s only one freaking baseball game – at best – per day ‘til the end, I turned to Netflix last night. “Get Him to the Greek” was last night’s distraction. Stated upfront: I am not a big fan of this entire Apatow, et al oeuvre, but I do like Russell Brand quite a bit so I came at it with as open a mind as I could.
Russell Brand was great as the washed up Brit rock star and Puffy was a hysterical, scene-stealing revelation as the record label head and their two performances nearly held the movie afloat. At least when they were on screen, it was interesting and funny.
And nothing totally against Jonah Hill as the lead, but his nebbishy, fat ass cannot carry a picture. Some of it wasn’t his fault entirely; he’s kind of an unlikeable character. He’s given a job to do, and it’s obvious that Sergio (Puffy, the crazy boss) knows what he’s talking about, but Hill’s character goes along on his own misguided path.
Worse still is the relationship between him and his live-in, too cute for him, girlfriend. I see the whole bait ‘n switch aspect to their relationship as we find it in the beginning of the movie. She no longer goes to the gigs with him that are both his passion and his profession, but fully expects him to give it all up for her. They have obviously grown out of the relationship; someone should end it – and even when they sort of do, it doesn’t help the growing dislike of Hill as he falls into bathroom sex with ho’s etc.
I’m not judging, per se, it’s only a movie and a comedy at that, but this relationship has been set up as the “one that matters” and it’s obviously not. Yes, this is a bro-mance first and foremost and it’s the rare one that actually has the two guys wind up in bed having sex. I don’t think too many of these flicks actually let the bro’s consummate. The fact that the girlfriend is present and accounted for is just to make it “not gay.”
Odd movie.

Well, it’s a little easier to take the World a little less serious when the Yankees are mostly all off hunting and fishing. I don’t see Jeter out for elk or bass, but hopefully AJ Burnett’s got his head somewhere else. And hopefully the seething pain of an early dismissal continues to burn in CC Sabathia’s head and heart. Yes, four or five bad Yankee fans spitting on Cliff Lee’s perky blonde wife doesn’t aid in the wooing of the lefty, but CC can do it.
As for the actual World Series, I’m still going with the underdog Giants and tonight’s match-up of Cy Young winners, the aforementioned Lee and the Freak should make for really excellent autumn baseball. The Giants connection to the Yankees goes well past the face that they shared stadiums in New York back in the old ages.
Brian Sabean, the Giants’ GM, was Yankee-trained and was very nearly Gene Michael’s replacement. As is, Sabean is the dude who drafted Jeter. And he’s brought over such a team of Yanks who were with, or under him in the Yankee organization. The list includes Rags, BamBam Meulens and Roberto Kelly in uniform. But Dirt Tidrow, Joe Lefebvre and, surprisingly, Steve “Bye-Bye” Balboni, who did not eat himself to death, but is an advance scout for San Francisco.
If you haven’t been following or missed the interview with Brian Wilson after the closing of the NLCS, you really, really must. Google Brian Wilson and “the machine;” I promise it will be worth your time.


There’s a chance that Marco J. Spumante will be rising phoenix-like from the ashes of my writing career. I’ll keep you posted or direct you to his blog or site as soon as He has something to talk to you about…

There could be some other projects in the pipeline. The fast approaching end of baseball marks an increase in productivity. I am sure there’s some sort of correlation, but I don’t know what it is.

Having utilized both my head and my heart to make my last round of predictions, I couldn’t have been more wrong. The only thing I got right this time – having been 4-0 in the Division Series – was the fact that the Yanks/Rangers series went six games. Seeing how the Yanks showed up for one full game and a few innings in the opener, they really didn’t deserve to win and they got what they deserved.
Outside of a couple decent starts, some rather effective relief appearances and Cano and Granderson, pretty much the rest of the team didn’t show up; the results were not pretty. I’ll let the Fall Classic close before I talk much about the Yankee hot-stove league save to say that Cliff Lee made himself an awful lot of money so far this post-season. Whether or not he does wind up in pinstripes is still very much in the air, but Brian Cashman will drive the price up, of that be certain.
The Yanks may drive up Carl Crawford’s price, too. They can effectively block Tampa Bay from retaining their pried leftfielder by big bids even if Crawford eventually winds up in Anaheim. Right. I am not talking about what happens this winter; there is still plenty of baseball to be played.
Watching the Giants grab that sixth and final game from the Phillies really showed their mettle. They don’t have enough hitting to win the NL West, the NLDS or the NLCS, or so it seemed. But when the Giants score three runs they’re nearly unstoppable. Lee vs. Lincecum could be one of those epic pitcher’s battles and we may get to see it twice, perhaps, if things get really crazy, even three times...
Prediction: Giants beat Rangers in 7.


Nanowrimo is right around the corner; starts on a Monday this year, which, if I am going to participate, lines up well for me; like having your Number 1 starter on perfect, four day rest to start the World Series. I like starting projects on Mondays, or so I tell myself; it’s probably more of way to procrastinate on the other six days of the week…
Now, here’s the thing: Nanowrimo (which stand for National November Novel writing month) is a great way to force oneself into the chair. A writer requires a semblance of Sitzfleisch (literal translation: sit flesh; for writers more of a: “put your ass in the chair and leave it there…” kind of thing) to commit to the fifty-thousand words in a month goal, but it’s really achievable if you put yourself to it. Basically it breaks down to 1,667 words per day for the thirty days of November. If you’re interested, go to www.nanowrimo.org for information, FAQ’ and to sign up if you’ve got it in you.
I have done it once before to completion (although have never gone back to the novella (50,000 works out to only 140-170 pages) yet) and then there was last year. I was at 47,000 words and heading back to my laptop to finish the last 3,000 words to make the target and on time, too. And what did I find? The friends’ home I had been house-sitting over the Thanksgiving weekend had been robbed in broad daylight. They made off with my laptop amongst the household items stolen.
Thing is: I was planning on backing the book up when I returned from Brooklyn, so I lost the entire thing, save for the first ten handwritten pages still in a notebook somewhere. I still don’t have the heart to re-read those; I won’t be attempting to re-do that book, should I decide over the next few days whether to Nano or not to Nano. You’ll know if I do; you’ll know if I don’t, too.

Had nothing nice to say yesterday, so…
But perhaps a good rain came and swept the Rangers out of the Bronx and back to Texas for the deciding last two games. And the Yankees should have already made the upstarts sweat the flight back home.
How awful was Tuesday’s game’s end? I don’t know; it was the very, very rare occasion that I left the TV set before the final pitch, but I was supposed to be somewhere else. And with the end of the MLB season around the corner of the calendar page, I am going to need something else to vent about on here, so…
I went to a comedy show at Akbar, which is around the corner from me. Knowing that I was damned if I do, damned if I don’t, I got there at the prescribed time and then had to sit through a handful of mostly unfunny comediennes. There was one male, but I stand by my original take on the lineup. And I don’t see anyone with drinks in their hands, or making the back and forth to the bar (except for me that is) but I want whatever else it was that most of the rest of the crowd was imbibing, because they were having a laugh riot.
The closing act, and the reason I was there in the first place, was Mary Mack from Minneapolis. She, on the other hand, was very funny and rather charming and the rare exception of an attractive comedienne. I think you have to have some sort of affection for the Mid-West to get a lot of her act – and it is an act I found out afterwards speaking with her in the bar.
Now, here’s where I tie it all in – because when I informed Mary that I had missed the end of the Yankee playoff game to come see her, she offered to let me use her MLB package sign-in to see the end of the game. Now, seeing how I, a virtual stranger (although we have a friend in common which is how she came to my attention in the first place) and the fan of the team that knocked her team out of the playoffs, this seemed like more than the 20% Midwestern “nice” that I have been told about. The fact that she is a big enough baseball fan to have the MLB package was far from being lost on me.
Yesterday’s Yankee playoff game felt like a rally to restore sanity; at least mine, maybe CC Sabathia’s as well. Backs against the wall and really not wanting to let the Rangers celebrate at Yankee Stadium and in front of the fans, a fourth and final loss was simply not going to be. I knew it even before the Yanks came to bat.
I’ve been updating friends who can’t watch live (stupid jobs!) via text message for years as a matter of fact. But seeing how I’ve been furnishing nothing but bad news, I told a friend in New York that the Yankees were up 5-0 before they had even come to bat in the first. And ok, I got it wrong by six outs, but it’s good to know the powers were functioning at capacity.
Giants downed the Phillies, again, in the nightcap and the guys in pink and their manager seem to have pushed the panic button. My prediction of Philadelphia in seven is still technically possible, but if you’ve been watching the great pitching does seem to be doing in the good hitting and the Phils (like the Yanks) have not been hitting well.
Living in Los Angeles, I came to realize as I was chatting some with the guy in the tattoo shop chair (I watch most of the games in my friend’s tattoo shop as I don’t have the cable TV) who’s a local that the worst thing possible is a Yankee/Giant World Series. And that’s what I’d like to hand them…
Last night I went to see Hugh Cornwall play Stranglers songs at El Cid. And with no respect to the club or its awesome manager/booker Dave Knapp, it was amusing, but not terribly entertaining. Yes, I was prepared for it to be the aged sausage fest that it was, but really old guys? Do you really have to wear old guy t-shirts to see old, old guy play old songs? We get that you’re old and you’ve been cool for a long time, but all I saw were Damned (including my own friend!), Devo and Stooges t-shirts.
Hugh, looking gaunt and tired, opened with “Nice ‘n Sleazy” a Stranglers’ classic, and I do mean that. And I closed my eyes and enjoyed hearing that song played louder than I had probably ever heard before. But by the second song of the first set, I was pretty freakin’ bored. It only went downhill from there. I swear this is true: they made “Always the Sun” which was never a heavy metal classic, sound like a Cyndi Lauper song and I am not kidding.
And all of the old New York punk bias came floating down. The Stranglers were *always* old, they had beards (Cornwall barely has hair on his head these days) and wore corduroy. And the keyboards? They actually could have used some of those. At times it was as if Hugh was trying to re-invent some of the old songs as Killing Joke songs, but that didn’t work for me either until they were joined, albeit briefly, by Frankie Fanti playing a beautiful, green Gretsch hollow-body. I took a picture of that and it was the only picture I took all night.
And to the cute young brunette who I watched worm her way in front of me, felt as she pressed back against me, but when I noticed your Angry Samoans t-shirt and realized it was most assuredly out of your father’s closet it was time for me to back up. I back up well these days…

Well, what do you write about a game like last night? Umm... Andy Pettitte threw the best six best innings of any Yankee starter in the ALCS? Thing is: the little, excuse-me, only with the short rightfield porch homer by Hamilton with one on in the first cast a sense of gloom and eventual doom (for last night) over the Yanks and quieted the fans who wanted something to be raucous about; they got ... zip.

2-0 or 8-0 really didn't matter much if you don't hit. When you don't get too many opportunities against a guy like Lee, you have to make them count. Gardner singles, steals second with nobody out and the heart of the lineup-- Jeter, Swish & Tex -- can't get the speedster past third base is just not going to fly.

Personally, after the game 2 loss I took that as the proper opportunity to change the clothes I had been wearing since the first game vs. the Twinkies on October 6th. And I didn't see it as "panic" as much as "courtesy" but since I have watched nearly every moment of the Yankee playoffs by my lonesome -- mostly by choice; I don't really want to have to talk to anyone during the game -- the growing smell from my feet and nether regions probably wasn't bothering a soul...

AJ goes tonight and he needs to bring his concentration, curve-ball and cajones to the mound at 5:07 local time -- and not 5:10 or 5:30 -- and stick it to all the newspapers, radio jerks and Rangers. Yes, there is a lot riding on tonight's game (unless it's rained out, right?) but even if the Yanks go down, they are capable of winning three games in a row with the likes of CC, Hughes and Andy, but they will have to show up and hit and potentially prove that they can hit Lee.

Speaking of Lee, it became very apparent last night that the lefty made himself an awful lot of money last night in the spotlight. No matter how the post-season winds up, even if Lee doesn't pitch or win another game, he is going to be supremely sought after. Obviously, the Yankees are big believers in the old adage of "if ya can't beat 'em -- get 'em!" theory and will be more than willing to throw New York sized dollars at him. Thing is: you also have to expect Nolan Ryan to try to match those big bucks with some Texas sized greenbacks, too.

And, if anyone has any thoughts for the direction of this blog (an awful word by the way; I think it's the writer's equivalent of "chub" for those chopped meat encased tubes. Those are good for little more than movie props) after the end of the baseball season, please let me know...

Writing these during the playoffs is a horse of another color. First off, I am watching far more intently and working the mojo's to be taking notes for things to point out the following day. On top of that, you should be watching the same broadcast as there's but the one (now, on that I could go on and on, but I'll spare you) so what can I tell you that you didn't get beaten over the head with already?

I am glad that McCarver still thinks he's funny; Buck probably doesn't hear him any longer; I know I don't.

It's "the shadows" fault I have not posted for a while. Those talking-heads gave them undue credit for just about everything else in that game, why not this? Berkman running with his head up his ass rounding first and getting nailed? Oh, "the shadows" for sure.

And with so much press coverage, if you read even a smidge of it, you're going to get more than you want to know. I did "learn" that if, and only if, there is an actual feud ongoing from his Texas days between Tex and Ron Washington apparently it would over the fact that the skipper cursed too much for the firstbaseman's like and he smoked in the dugout.

Now, they try and limit both managers doing that (Pinella was guilty, Leland and a number of the older guys-- who can blame them?) and the TV coverage of it. But this was a new one on me, or, rather, and old blast from the past. I really thought chewing tobacco had been pretty much outlawed in MLB; I imagine the David's sunflower seed lobby was a pretty mighty one and helped send tobacco the way of the original Red Line.

But nope, there's The Freak in the Giants dugout, after he was out of the game, caught by the Fox camera sticking a wad between his teeth and gum. A skoal-dipping man? I had no idea...

So, if the Yankees "tanked" the end of the season to get the Twins (which worked out just dandy) and to avoid Texas and Cliff Lee in a 5-game series, well, that's pretty much what we have right now. Except the next three are at that new big ballpark in the Bronx. Beating Lee, or sticking around and having Andy Pettitte stick with him inning by inning until the Yankee batters can un-nerve the Ranger 'pen tonight, turns the series and gives AJ something to work on the following night. It's as good a plan as any...

Of course, Girardi may have already seen weather reports when he said AJ would be the starter for game 4 and a rain-out would change things...

Okay, kiddies, I have my computer back; can't believe that it took 2 freakin' weeks, but such is life.

So, if you were paying attention, I was four for four in my division series picks. Here goes the predictions for the championship series.

Yanks over Rangers in 5.
Phils over Giants in 6 (sorry).

I will re-start this blog tomorrow. So rest up and go Yankees!

Not so E-Z

Playoff time means scramble time for me who has no crappy cable TV in his house so must rely on other means and places. And the laptop is in the shop, still, so this will be a truncated version yet again...
But if last night's debut of Target Field is any indication, the Yanks still have that ability to turn it on when they have to. Sabathia was far from lights-out, but he kept the Yanks in the game, pitched a quality start and the bullpen bent, but never broke over the last three, scoreless innings.
The TBS anouncers don't seem to add much to the game, but no one in the booth is nearly as annoying as Michael Kay, but the Fox guys haven't chimed in yet; give them time-- I am sure they'll piss me off. I do like the old time way where the game would be broadcast with a member of each team's regular season announcers doing the play-by-play and color commentary. But it's about the money and the networks these days so that won't ever happen again even if it's such a better idea.

Cliff Lee puts Texas up with a dominating start versus David Price and the Rays. I'd be a little worried if I were a baseball fan in Florida.

Same goes for Cincinati with Halladay going one better than just about anyone else. A walk on a 3-2 pitch is all he gave up en route to MLB's only second post-season no-hitter. I say let Doc get it all out of his system now. That said, it sure does look like the route to the NL pennant goes through the city of brotherly love again.

Pitching should dominate in the Giants/Braves series set to start this evening up in AT&T Park. I'll be watching that one right after today's 2nd Yankee/Twin contest.

Go watch some baseball...

What don't you want to hear when you call to see if your laptop has been shipped back and is rady for pick-up: umm, says the geek, one of the parts came in, but they're still waiting for the other. hp service center doesn't have parts to new hp computers?? Yeah, that's just great.

The playoffs have actually started I think, but I have no access as of now. What do I got? I got predictions made with head and a little heart:

Yanks over Twins
Rangers over Rays
Phillies over Reds
Giants over Braves

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Don't go to Hardly Strictly BlueGrass next year. You won't like it. But you can tell your friends it jumped the shark as your reason for staying away...

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Laptop in shop; this blog should hopefully be back for the Playoffs...