Like rooting for U.S. Steel

My love of baseball goes back to the 1968 World Series – Tigers over Cardinals in seven – when my mom introduced me to her favorite sport. Thus began a lifelong love affair with the game. Watching baseball together, especially the World Series, became a hallowed tradition that my mom and I enjoyed until I left home for college.

I settled on the Yankees as “my team” because of the acquisition in 1976 of my favorite player at the time, Jim “Catfish” Hunter. They made it to the World Series that year, won it all in ’77 and ’78, and my affection for the Bronx Bombers was set in concrete. Reading the reams of history and lore surrounding the Yankees has only strengthened my love of the team, and by association, the sport of baseball.

This season, though, I must admit that my allegiance to the New York Yankees has been strained a bit. Not because of the fact that the team has missed the playoffs for the first time since 1995. I lived through the dark years of 1981-1994, 14 seasons of futility where there was no October baseball in the Bronx. My experience as a Yankees fan has always had its down side as well as the championships. So I’ve enjoyed this current run of success with the knowledge that, “this too shall pass.”

No, my allegiance isn’t because they weren’t a very good team this year. It’s because that to some, the Yankees have become a symbol of wretched excess, and by extension, a symbol of American hubris and greed.

Let’s not kid around; the Yankees have always been about the Benjamins. Major League Baseball is a business, first and foremost, and the most successful sports business of them all is the Yankees. It’s always been that way. (Back in the late 50’s, it was said that “Rooting for the Yankees was like rooting for U.S. Steel.”) So ever since I was old enough to understand the economic side of the game, I’ve never been under the illusion that anyone associated with the Yankees was in it purely for the love of the game.

The love of the game is where the fans come in. Yankee followers adore their team like no other fans. (Challenge me on that statement at your own peril.) We acolytes that worship at the Cathedral in The Bronx have a love and a passion for the Yankees that is unrivaled. The players will tell you – regardless of what team they play for – that the experience of playing in Yankee Stadium is unlike that of any other ballpark. (Although this year, many of the Yankees looked as if they could care less about the game.)

Or, it was. The lights of Yankee Stadium have been turned out forever after last night's 7-3 win over the Orioles. Looming beyond the left field wall is the New Yankee Stadium (thank god they didn’t sell the naming rights), the ultimate symbol of greed. A veritable cash printing machine.

To be fair, the old Stadium was trashed with the mid-seventies renovation. They removed the grandstand roof, and with it, the iconic copper frieze that faced it. A plastic reproduction was installed along the top of the outfield wall, but so what? The main entrance behind home plate was befouled with a spiral ramp and the Yankees team store. The field was lowered, the infamous 480 foot Death Valley in left center was brought in, the 295 foot short porch in right was pulled out to 315 feet, and the monuments of Miller Huggins, Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig were pulled off the field of play and installed in Monument Park beyond the left field wall. Also, in a telling sign of how much larger American backsides have become, wider seats were installed, reducing the seating capacity from 72,000 to 56,000. So much was changed that it no longer qualified to be put on the National Register of Historic Places.

The new Stadium will reintroduce many of the features of the original that were lost in the renovation. The frieze is returned to the roof. The exterior is a carbon copy of the original. The dugouts are larger, the clubhouse is grander and more comfortable, the seating has more legroom and cupholders and there are many, many more bathrooms. No more missing a half inning to recycle your $10 Budweiser.

The new Stadium has 57 luxury suites, selling at $265,000 to $350,000 for ONE season! Oh, and 3,000 fewer seats. And, all those luxury boxes push the third deck higher and steeper than the old stadium, so the seats are further from the field. So the common fan gets screwed for the purpose of increasing corporate revenue.

Which leads me to my main point. The Yankees care not one whit about the common fan. They care first and foremost about making as much money as is (in)humanly possible. That means putting big names – Jason Giambi, Roger Clemens, Randy Johnson and the biggest of them all, Alex Rodriguez – on the field in order to attract fans. 4 million of ‘em, in fact.

The big names haven’t led to a championship in 7 years now. But the corporate dollars keep rolling in because, my gosh, just look at all those great players on one field! All those Wall Street fat cats sitting in the seats right next to the dugout – seats I’d relinquish a body part or two to sit in – show up in the third inning, leave in the seventh to beat the traffic, sipping Chardonnay and munching on fancy cheeses and caviar. They could care less about baseball, or the Yankees for that matter. It’s all about impressing clients and being seen with the right people. Those people are not Yankee fans. Yet it is they for whom the new Yankee Stadium is built.

Derek Jeter – bless him – got it right in his post-game address to the fans:

“Although things are going to change next year. We’re going to move across the street. There are a few things (about) the New York Yankees that never change. That’s pride, tradition and most of all we have the greatest fans in the world.

We want you to take the memories from this stadium, add them to the new memories that come at the new Yankee Stadium and continue to pass them along from generation to generation. So on behalf of the entire organization, we want to take this moment to salute you, the greatest fans in the world.”

Jeets wasn’t talking to Rudy Giuliani or some other poser Yankees fan. He was talking to Bald Vinny and the rest of the Bleacher Creatures. He was talking to the crazy guy who beats a frying pan with a spoon at practically every home game. He was talking to the family from Paramus who saves all year to afford one trip to the Stadium. And, I’d like to think he was talking to me. He knew they were getting the short end of the deal. Jeter wasn’t especially happy about the move, either.

Real Yankee fans love the Yankees not because of their $200 million payroll, but in spite of it. We didn’t want a new Stadium, the bandwagon poser fans did. The ones who started showing up at the Stadium in 1997, after they were back on top. The rest of us loved the aura and the mystique of the old Stadium. So many memories were made there and so much history written. The way the old barn would vibrate when the strains of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” would accompany Rivera as he sprinted across the outfield grass to finish driving a stake into the hearts of the opposition. All of the late-inning heroics that were the hallmark of those Yankee teams. The ghosts of Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, Mantle, Munson and others that lived there. All of it will be gone. And the game of baseball will be worse for the loss.

So I’m taking a few days to mourn a bit. Sure, it’s just a building. And a building to play a game in at that. But something is being taken away from us that we’ll never get back. And it’s being done so that others can make a few more bucks. But in the off-season, I’ll be monitoring the Yankees’ every move and counting the days until April 16 when the first pitch is thrown in the new Yankee Stadium. I’m in a dysfunctional relationship with the Yankees, but there’s no way I could ever root for another team. When you sign up to be a Yankee fan, it's for life.

It's over

I had the privilege of attending yesterday’s Mariners vs. Yankees game in Seattle. It was a absolutely gorgeous day for baseball, the kind of day on which Ernie Banks would want to play a doubleheader - 72 degrees, not a cloud in the sky. I was with my two step kids and their dad (he’s a good guy and a fellow ardent Bronx Bombers devotee) and we had 13^th row seats right by the Yankees dugout on the third base line.

Further, it was my birthday weekend and we had been looking forward to this game since the schedule was released and discovered that our favorite team was in Seattle on my birthday weekend. I had just received a couple of really cool minor league baseball caps from Ebbets Field Flannels, a 1937 San Francisco Missions and a 1939 Baltimore Orioles. Had my road Yankees jersey on, with Derek Jeter’s #2 proudly displayed on the back, along with my much-loved Marino Rivera t-shirt and my sweat-stained New Era Yanks cap, so I was in full battle gear, ready to take it to the worst-in-the-AL Mariners. Hopes were high for a Yankees victory, especially since their best pitcher, Mike Mussina, was taking the hill. We all were happy to be a part of the Great American Pastime.

Except for the Yankees, that is. They somnambulated their way to a 5-2 loss, their only offense generated by solo homers by Jeter and Nady in the first and second innings. After that, they gave themselves a day off, going 0 for 7 with runners in scoring position, including a game-ending strike out by Wilson Betemit.

The loss dropped the Yankees into fourth place in the AL East, the depths of which they haven’t been since the day they signed a skinny shortstop named Jeter. While it’s still a mathematical possibility, for all intents and purposes, the Yankees’ season ended this weekend in Seattle, dropping two of three to the WORST TEAM IN THE AMERICAN LEAGUE!!!

I have to count it up to just not caring on the Yankees’ part. I remember when I was younger and relished every time I could step onto a ball field to play. Even when it was just slow-pitch softball, that love of the game was always there. What is it about making $20 million a season to play ball that diminishes that love?

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s a grinding season, but so what? Every year, some team gets it together to win it all. Why not the $209 million in payroll Yankees? They used to do that. The teams of the 20s through the early 60s routinely beat the holy crap out of their lowly opponents. The Joe Torre-led teams of the late 90s were cut from the same cloth. Those guys – O’Neill, Williams, Jeter, Posada, Rivera, Brosius, Knoblauch – would set themselves on fire, walk barefoot on broken glass and charge head-first through brick walls in order to beat you. If you thought you had the sack to beat the Yankees, you needed to bring your “a” game, every night in order to pull it off. No lead was safe; those Yankees teams would always find a way to beat you in the bottom of the ninth. They rarely lost because they never gave up on themselves.

Then came the 2001 World Series loss, on a freak Luis Gonzalez hit off Rivera in the 9^th inning of game 7. Steinbrenner decided that we needed a bunch of free agents, signed Giambi, A-Rod, Damon, and a bunch of lesser lights and the rest is history. They’ve been in a slow decline for 7 seasons, culminating in their first miss of post-season play since 1995.

It’s going to be a long, painful off-season (especially if those Chowder Heads win again) and head will undoubtedly be rolling. The Yankees need to get a lot younger and hungrier like they were in the 90s. Giambi, Abreu, Pettitte, I-Rod, Mussina, Nady, and Cabrera, are all guys whose deals are over at the end of the season. Out of that bunch, I’d say Mussina is the only one for certain I’d bring back. You can make arguments of varying strengths on the others, but I think the chemistry on the team is all wrong. There’s no denying the talent the Yankees put on the field game in, game out, but it’s an example of anti-synergy. The sum is less than the total of the parts (my math teachers are rolling their eyes on that one).

The good news is that it's only five months until pitchers and catchers report and the fun starts all over again.

I would not want to pick a fight with this guy

OK, so it's been awhile since the last post. I've been vying for the "Worst Blogger" title and think I'm doing pretty well.

It's been an action-packed summer in these here parts. Oh, and in case you hadn't noticed, the United States is getting ready to decide who gets to hold the keys to the nuke silos for the next four years.

Vice-presidential candidates are typically the pit bulls of the electoral process. They systematically tear down the other side's candidates, leaving the presidential hopeful to soar above the fray.

So the buzz of the past week has been Sarah Palin, a.k.a. "Caribou Barbie." Somehow, I don't think the Wasilla, Alaska mayor's office has prepared her to deal with this smackdown Joe Biden just put on the GOP.



Evidently, the GOP feels the say way, as they are putting her back in the deep freeze.

Yankees vs. Boston - Spring Training

IT IS ON!

The Boston Irish were crying in their green Sam Adams yesterday after the Bronx Bombers ran over the Red Sux 8-4 in Tampa. Bobby Abreu smashed a massive two-run homer and Hideki Matsui added three RBIs to power the offense. Andy Pettitte went three and 1/3 innings, giving up three runs on three hits, but looking good as he got the win.

Yankee reliever Billy Traber is making a serious bid to be the lefty specialist in the bullpen this season, picking up a hold yesterday by going one and 2/3 without giving up a run and striking out two. He's sporting a 0.00 ERA in preseason (which means not much), so unless he blows up in the next couple of weeks, the job is his. He's got a 5.41 lifetime ERA, and his WHIP is 1.55, so it's not like he's the second coming of Sandy Koufax. But if he can keep it inside and get a few lefty batters out, that's all we need. That'd be nice, since we really haven't had a solid lefty since Mike Stanton was in his prime.

OK, I know it's only a spring training game and is therefore meaningless. But any day we beat Boston is a good day in my book!

Next resumption of hostilities: April 11-13, Fenway Park

Seeing cyclists

Reason # 2,479 why I love Portland so

St. Patrick's Day was yesterday and Portland celebrated by putting on the green. The first of a number of "Bike Boxes" was installed at SE Hawthorne Blvd. at 7th.

A Bike Box is simply a safe place for cyclists to wait at a red light, ahead of the vehicles, rather than beside them. Why this is so important it because it allows cyclists to avoid being victims of a "right hook," the slang expression for being hit by a vehicle turning right at an intersection. This is statistically the most prevalent type of bike/car crash in Puddletown.

Recently, two Portland cyclists fell victim to right hook accidents, Tracey Sparling and Brett Jarolimek. Both were legally in bike lanes when they were hit and killed by trucks turning right.

The outrage and sadness felt by cyclists and non-cyclists alike spurred the City of Portland to take quick action in an attempt to end the carnage. I snapped a few shots of the bike box in action yesterday on my way home from work. In the few moments I was there, it appeared that drivers and cyclists alike had figured out what to do. If you're a driver, it's pretty hard to miss the huge "STOP HERE" and thick white line placed before the box. The green coloring is not paint, but is rather a series of super-space-age thermoplastic tiles that are heat sealed to the asphalt. The tiles are impregnated with a crystalline substance to improve traction.

This is but the first of 14 bike boxes planned for targeted intersections around Portland. Bike boxes are one of a number of engineering measures being taken to improve safety and visibility for cyclists; there's more to come that you can read about HERE.

The city's research shows that about 60 percent of residents are "interested but concerned" when it comes to cycling. Grisly news coverage of dead cyclists doesn't do anything to alleviate those fears. In reality, cycling in Portland is getting safer by the year (see above link) . But perception is reality for many people, so they continue to not ride.

Something so visible as a screamin' green bike box makes a real statement to people that cycling is here to stay, it's going to continue to grow in popularity and the city is serious about making it safer. I applaud Portland for taking quick action after two very unfortunate incidents.

















A couple of cyclists demonstrating how bikes go to the head of the line.






















Cars stay put on red lights; bicycles are free to turn. Just as God ordained it!




An overview of the bike box in relation to the intersection.

Found on the sidewalk

Bike theft is rampant in Portland; stemming from a combination of drug addicts, plenty of bikes around, and scrap metal dealers that pay in cash, few if any questions asked.

So it's pretty common to see bikes still locked to racks with the wheels, seatposts or other easy to remove bits missing.

This one, however, seems to be in a league all its own. The headset was even pried out. All that's left is the bottom bracket and the crankarm. I'm surprised the chainrings haven't been removed by now. The frame will get hacksawed next, I predict. You might want to hurry and not let this bounty get away.

Cali trip - part 1: Save the newts!

This past weekend, I made a trip down to the Bay Area to visit my friend, Bill. He's an old buddy dating back to seventh grade. We've always had similar tastes in hobbies over the years; model railroads, slot cars, hockey, etc. We both spent some time after college trying to be bike racers, but that went by the wayside pretty quickly for us both.

So now we try to get together each year or so to do some riding and enjoy an old friendship. This most recent trip was timed to coincide with the prologue of the Tour of California, held at Stanford. The idea was to ride on Saturday, then catch the pros on Sunday

Bill had a great route planned out for our ride, starting from his house in Moraga and winding up through the Berkeley hills overlooking the University of California campus. Before we could leave, we had to attend to, of all things, a loose headset on Bill's bike. For you techno geeks, it was the star nut not seating in the steerer tube that was causing the problem, so we made a quick trip to the bike shop to get it fixed. Then we hit the road.

The ride started with an easy loop through town to get the legs warmed up, then wound along the base of the hills until the road took a sudden turn to the left and lurched skyward.

1.2 lung-searing miles later, we arrived at the top of the climb. Bill said he needed to check the map, but I think he was just catching his breath. Not that I was complaining, mind you.

Continuing along the ridge, we were treated to some great views and some easy rollers. That didn't last for long as we soon reached Grizzly Peak Rd. for some more climbing fun.

As Paul Sherwen would say, we were "digging deep into our suitcases of courage" to get up the climb.

Once we'd finished off that climb, we were done with any significant increases in elevation for the day. We continued along until we reached a road that had been closed to cars for a uniquely California reason - newt mating season. I am not making this up.

The road was a twisting, steep decent and I was too occupied with grabbing handfuls of brake lever and avoiding stroller-pushing soccer moms to see if there were any newts having sex in the road. I don't think I squished any - there were no newt guts on my tires when I got to the bottom of the hill - so that was a relief.

We had the option to extend our ride, but decided that the risk of decimating the newt population of the Bay Area was too great a risk to bear. So we headed for home.

Put this in your musette!

Mens Health magazine has just released their list of the 20 Worst Foods In America. Next time you have the urge to see what a heart attack feels like, head on over to your local craptastic Outback Steakhouse for a steaming heap of Aussie Cheese Fries with Ranch Dressing.

2,900 calories per serving, 182 g of fat, 240 g of carbs. Mmmmm, I can feel my ventricles locking up just thinking about it.

Now, I suppose if you have a big ride coming up, this would be one way to carbo-load. But your heart would explode on the first climb of the day.

Not to be outdone, equally-crappy chain restaurant Chili's comes in a close second on the list with their signature Awesome Blossom. "Awesome" must be referring to the 2,710 calories per serving, 203 g of fat, 194 g of fat and a jaw-dropping 6,360 g of sodium!

Close Calls

Some wag once said, "There are only two groups of people. Those who stereotype and those who don't."

One of the not-so-great outcomes of the explosive growth in cycling here in Portland has been a increasingly nasty public debate dividing us into two groups of people - cyclists and drivers.

Cyclists, so the stereotype goes, regularly flaunt the traffic laws. They run red lights and stop signs, ride on the wrong side of the road, don't use lights at night, and so on, all the while carrying on with a self-assured smugness that they are better than everyone else because they're not burning fossil fuels.

The Driver stereotype says that all people piloting a car - no, make that a Hummer H2 - are cell-phone yakking, Starbucks swilling, self-absorbed sacks of crap who care nothing about society and even less about those cyclists who are jamming up the streets.

Reality, of course, is that neither of these pigeonholes has very many people in them. As a cyclist, my experience with drivers - at least in Portland proper - is that most of them are very attentive and that the last thing they want to do is to hit a cyclist.

As a driver, I do my best to watch for cyclists. But I do admit to getting a bit pissy when I see cyclists doing some or all of the dumb stuff listed above.

I will fully admit that I've done dumb stuff behind both steering wheel and handlebars. Of course, making a mistake while driving carries a much greater potential for disaster than while riding. But screwing either one up can mean serious injury or death.

So, in an attempt to get me to focus better on how I both ride my bike and drive my car, I've set up a scoreboard of sorts in the space to the right. When I have a close call on my bike that is another driver's fault, that's a point in the "driver" category. But, when I screw up on my bike - rolling a stop sign is my main weakness - I'm gonna own that too. And finally, when I make a mistake in my car - god forbid - that goes on the scoreboard too.

We'll see how this goes for the next couple of months, especially when the weather gets nicer and I start riding to work more. It will be interesting to see which category gets the highest score. Tonight didn't get the other motorists off to a good start; I nearly got whacked by two different pickup truck drivers at the same intersection. They both failed to yield the intersection to me when they had a stop sign.