Shelley Duncan Had a Chance to Crush a Ray at Home Plate

And he'd didn't.

This from Chad Jennings' great Scranton blog, which tells more about the Yanks than half the NY sportswriters' do, while they suck-up and slobber.

There's recent history between the Rays and Devil Yanks. Thursday, it came to a play at home plate, when Shelley Duncan -- our most badass bad ass -- came a-thunderin' round third. For a moment, you better believe Tampa manager JoJohn Maddon figured his catcher was about to face retribution for the Rays did two weeks ago to Francisco Cerveli.

Shelley could done to the guy what the Meramec River is doing to Missouri.

Level the playing field, I believe it's called.

This is what he did, captured by photog Jason Farmer, whose spectacular sequence of shots can be seen here.


It's what Elliot Johnson, the famous death Ray, should have done two weeks ago, and what Tampa ought to admit he should have done.

In an exhibition game, you play hard. You do not spear a guy at home plate.

And if you're the manager, a day after one of your players did it (which was the case going into the Yankee game), you take your team aside and you say... guys, let's not do that.

That's all this was ever about:

The wisdom of encouraging players to smash into each other in meaningless situations.

Maddon may be a decent guy. He was wrong. Girardi was right.

And in the regular season, when Shelley comes a thunderin' round third...

The Last Stand of Jason Gilbert Giambi

The official line this season says Jason Giambi intends to play 100 games at first base.

It sounds a program hatched by FEMA.

In other words, let's suffer through this year, and pray the next guy has a clue.

Actually, over the last six rotten years, I’ve grown fond of the Giambino. He’s taken a lot of bullets, never once blamed the shooters. He arrived wearing a number 2+5 that stood for Mickey Mantle, his dad's favorite player. And he's never dissed teammates, or New York, or the writers, even when they were dissing him. He always looked like a lunch pail guy, even if his contract made such an image farce.

He wanted to be a great Yankee. He could have been… if he could play first base.

But we’ve seen this movie before. It doesn't end happily. In the field, Jason Giambi moves like Herman Munster. He’s never played 100 games at first for us. Look it up. Last year, he played 18. This notion that he lost weight, strengthened his "core," and is ready to flash leather would be funny, if it didn’t smack of dangerous denial. He's too old -- we're too old -- to buy into it.

Giambi always claimed he hits better when playing the field.

Trouble is, he can’t play the field, so it begins to sound like the excuse that, frankly, a stand-up guy is not supposed to give. You take the bullet instead.

And so we march into his twilight year. When his contract ends, it isn’t going to be Lou Gehrig dying of an unknown disease. If Gumby doesn't hit, there will be a motorcade with marching bands taking him to the airport. In that respect, it’s good to see Giambi get his final chance to make a difference.

Let him play first. Let him fail. We know he will. But give him one last chance to redeem his Yankee soul.

We once gave Joe Torre that chance.

The Giants once gave Tom Coughlin that chance.

Last winter, we cut our lifeline at first base when we let Menky and Andy Philips walk. Frankly, I’ve never understood the logic – letting two glove men go, then signing National League rejects. Oh, well. What's done is done. Now, if Giambi can’t play first, he splits DH time with Hideki Matsui or becomes a pinch-hitter on a team that doesn’t pinch hit.

This is his last stand, his final shot at leaving with a ring, a good name and maybe even a decent contract with another team. He better hit. He better field. This is it.

As a Yankee, he’s taken every bullet. This one’s aimed directly at his heart.

A poem comprised of this week's Drudge Report Headlines

From Drudge to us to you, via 23/6.

Brian Bangs a Bus

If Brian McNamee had rear-ended the bus, it would have been almost perfect poetry. But alas ...

(Go to link for picture goodness)

OR....

On the first day of spring, in the borough of Queens,
Brian the Trainer smashed up two machines.
They had thought his days over for making a fuss,
But he fainted while driving and smacked up a bus...

We'll junk Yankee Stadium so Paris Hilton doesn't get coughed on

Today’s Times reports the price of progress:

The new Yankee $tadium pricing structure will welcome the diehard front row celebrities and CEOs that give baseball its universal appeal.

The wealthiest of the wealthiest of the wealthy.

We’ll be mired in recession, but let's all sleep well knowing that Lindsay Lohan’s pool man won't have to stand beside us at the urinal.

Here's the rub of spending $1.3 billion for a "public" stadium.

The (Legends) seats will start at $500 each and the tiptop ones — the $2,500, front-row seats — are sold out, said Lonn Trost, the Yankees’ chief operating officer.

And then this.

The second offering, which promises a “luxury suite experience one seat at a time,” is the 74-seat Club Suite, which is four luxury boxes combined into one. The $700 price includes food and beverages (alcohol is extra), preferred parking and concierge service.

But let's not forget the real high-rollers.

Of the 47 luxury suites available at the new ballpark, 29 have been leased, for between $600,000 and $850,000.

Great. Taking your family to a Yank game? Expect to pay the monthly mortgage on a house in Syracuse.

Read the economist, Andrew Zimbalist, and you’ll see how stadiums get torn down not because of outdated physical structures, but outdated financial structures.

Luxury seats. That’s all.

We’re abandoning the greatest shrine in sports so that the Pruits of South Hampton won’t get yelled on.

It’s as if they tore down the Louvre to build a movie multiplex… and then constantly tell us how lucky we are!

Well, it’s going to be harder to swallow in the House that Greed Built, when every game becomes the Republican National Convention.

We are sooooo going to hate this new stadium…

Peter Angelos: Our man in Baltimore

Orioles owner Peter Angelos – the man who recently donated Miguel Tejada to the Astros for a sore-shouldered pitcher, who signed Albert “Trick or Treat” Belle for 5-years, who supervised Baltimore’s worst era for baseball since Dick Nixon was stroking Checkers’ furry ears -- is backing Hillary Clinton.

Bet the house on Barack Obama.

When you hear the phrase “slick lawyer,” try to imagine Angelos -- the Isaiah Thomas of baseball -- standing in court, telling a mesmerized jury that, “An institution none other than the United States Postal System considers this man to be Santa Claus!” because frankly, you wouldn’t want this bozo defending you for a parking ticket. You’d end up being water-boarded at Gitmo.

Here, Exhibit A is the A’s, as in Oakland A’s, who have won division crowns while spending less money than Angelos does on crab dip. It was against mighty Baltimore, the perennial power, that 12-year-old Jeffrey Maier seized the home run ball from Tony Tarasco’s outstretched mitt. Yeesh. By now, Maier might have a 12-year-old kid, and Baltimore hasn’t even come close to playing a game on Oct. 10.

What’s really scary, if you happen to be a union member, is the notion that Angelos is a successful “labor attorney.” Somehow, the guy who last year signed Corky Sosa– a homerun-hitter known for butt and bat injections! – amassed enough money to buy a ball club.

Basically, he did to the labor movement what he's done to Camden Yards.

If there was ever a reason to believe class war conspiracy theories... Noam, meet Pete!

Now, he’s backing Hillary?

By June, she’ll be undergoing Tommy John surgery.

High fashion in Florida

Our friends at Rays Index are selling hilariously sweet "Yuck the Fankees" T-shirts. Seeing as how the average woman in Florida sweats through three or four of T-shirts a day, they're probably selling like six-packs of Coors Light at a St. Petersburg 7-11.

We suspect the trailer parks are awash in navy blue and faces everywhere awash in red from laughter.

We're a little surprised to see the item listed for sale under the heading "YUCK the FANKEES mens (more on back)", not that there's anything wrong with that.

While we're on the subject of Tampa, here are some news bits to ponder as the Rays embark on yet another thrilling bid to attain a .500 record:

Deputies search for kangaroo turns up nothing.

Seats at football stadium turn pink.

Tampa area janitors receive terrorism training.

Man charged with hoarding 18 dogs in his home. Was charged for same thing a year before.

Tampa Bay Bucs play "Rock You Like a Hurricane" during halftime of game against the New Orleans Saints.

Joba: 3 batters, 11 pitches, 9 strikes

OK, there's no such thing as a bridge to Mariano in a Grapefruit game (unless, of course, it's Tampa Bay playing Notre Dame in the BCS Fed-Ex-Yoo-Hoo Chocolate Drink Orange Bowl), but Joe brought Joba Chamberlain in today for his

FIRST ONE INNING RELIEF STINT

against the Baltimore Uh-ohs.

This is what he did, according to the esteemed Dr. Procticus, a blog we love.

Three up, three down.

Three strike-outs.

Nine strikes (Note: Multiple of three.)

Eleven pitches.

Three tomato cans. Minor leaguers. Dewey, Cheatem & Howe.

Nothing to write home about. But, hey, blogging isn't writing home, and besides, they're meeting in the Pentagon right this minute to decide whether to shoot down the balls hit into orbit yesterday off Phil Hughes. *

Hope? We grab it. We clutch it to our breast. We kiss it. Sometimes, halfway into the emotional romantic moment, it turns into Colter Bean, like in some horrifying Stephen King novel.

But today, Joba kissed back. We have hope. Excuse me, I'm going to brush my teeth.

*Note: There is a claim that solar winds affected two of the shots. Fine. OK. That's another French kiss we'll make with hope.

On the mound, Lou Gehrig

Over at NYYfans.com, somebody dug this out of the Sept. 21, 1923 Bridgeport Telegram:

Hurts to squint, doesn't it? Good grief. How could people back in those days blog? Nobody would be able to see it.

Six walks, a wild pitch, and a hit batter. Sums it up.

Also, if you squint, you'll see he went 2-4, batting cleanup.

The Hassle of Being Chien-Ming

Is stuff like this...

AL Central Preview: Alphonso's Take

Our correspondent Alphonso spent 15 minutes assessing the competition in the AL Central, and filed this preseason report. Here is all the information you'll need about each team to carry on an intelligent conversation with the average Yankee fan about the Central. (Listed here in the predicted order of finish.)

1. The Cleveland Indians: They'll go with a five-man rotation, led by future Yankee star C.C. Sabathia, who's listed at 6-foot-7 and "290" pounds. Don't worry fans, flinging around all that weight on the mound won't hurt his shoulder or knees a bit. He'll get better as he ages, believe me.

2. The Detroit Tigers: The Rape of Dade County yielded the Tiggers future Yankee stars Miguel Cabrera and Dontrelle Willis. Cabrera was so happy with the trade, he got this sweet tat.

3. Minnesota Twins: OK, they appear to be an accident waiting to happen, but they're going to hit this year. Future Yankee star Joe Mauer is back from some leg trouble and hitting near .400 this spring. Future Yankee left fielder Delmon Young will crank 30 homers in the Dome and future Yankee center fielder Carlos "GoGo" Gomez is going to rack up 80 stolen bases. The pitching will be just fine, despite the loss of the Savior of Port St. Lucie.

4. Chicago White Sox: They're goin' down. Future Yankee Manager Ozzie Guillen will say something or do something incredibly stupid by mid-May to get himself fired. The team is ready to implode.

5. The Royals: New faces, same places in the standings. 'Nuf said.

Oddly, this predicted order of finish is identical to the way things wound up in '07. If you knew that, you probably shouldn't have wasted your time reading to this point.

AL EAST REPORT: Toronto Blue Jays -- Watch out, Tampa Bay!

Says Wikipedia:

Blue Jays can make a large variety of sounds, and individuals may vary perceptibly in their calling style. Like other corvids, they may learn to mimic human speech.

Last year, A-Rod used this insight against them, when he cried, HA!, causing an egg to fall from the nest.

This year, they won't fall for such treachery.

Last year, Toronto thought they could win. They got squished between the NY-BOS mainframes.

Now, they're old and slow and resigned to a grim reality: The once-abundant Syracuse-feeder system is leaking at the implants. (Lapdog Syracuse just installed real grass, a sign that even they are fed up with losing.)

Unless Adam Lind starts sneaking Canadian HGH, forgetaboutit.

Toronto's one chance: The U.S. dollar continues to shrink. Our economy hits the dumpster. By June, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Detroit -- hell, the entire NL and AL Central divisions -- cannot meet payrolls.

Flush with Canadian loonies, the Jays start buying stars for a price of Molson kegs.

But that's the only hope. They can't do it without a major U.S. recession.

Best Pitcher: Roy Doc Halladay, 29. According to Baseball Reference, these are the Top 5 pitchers that compare to him, at his age.

Tim Hudson, Matt Morris, Don Newcombe, Scott McGregor, Kevin Millwood

Good grief. Isn't he better than them?

Best Hitter: Vernon Wells, 29. Here are his astral twins:

Reggie Smith, Jack Clark, Bobby Thomson, Carlos Beltran, Bobby Murcer

Anything there? Murcer, maybe. That's it.

Best Rising Star: Alex Rios, 27.

Tony Gonzalez, Rondell White, Bernie Williams, Mel Hall, Roy Weatherly

Too early to say. Hate to think of them having a Bernie.

FINAL: Let's hope the dollar stays strong, and think of getting Halladay at the break.

Redsocks’ crusade: “Money for nuthin, and chicks for free.”

“It's not just the coaches, it's the staff, the trainers, a lot of people are affected by this.”

Beloved Redsock coaches and staff will receive a $40,000 stipend for their grueling all-expenses paid week in Japan. Thank God.

You’d hate to think the players had to fork over for their entourages.

And considering that two superstars of the Redsock Nation – Gyroball and Okinawa -- come from Japan, it must been a heartening vote of brotherhood to hear Youk say, “Fuck you, Tojo, I want Charlene to get full pay, ‘cause I need my second-inning rimjob.”

Maybe this is what happens when players become rock stars in a universe designed by frat boys.

Maybe this is what happens when at age 24, after clubbing 2 homeruns at Pawtucket, you end up in Men’s Vogue, bare-chested and shining like a Wendy’s Hot Meal.

Maybe this is what happens when your self-appointed team leader is reciting Rush Limbaugh podcasts while dodging MRI appointments on his arm.

The Redsocks spake, the earth provided, and it’s being spun as a sign of team unity.

Yeah. Money has always been a unifying force.

Why Are You Here?

You should be at the comic book store buying two copies of THE FLASH, written by a member of this blog. Me. If you must know.

Poll: "I wish they weren't tearing down Yankee Stadium"

Siena College has polled 802 New Yorkers about sports. Most of it is the usual stuff about who's popular, who isn't.

Jeet wins with a 67 % fave, 6 % neg -- (even Redsock fans give him 44 % fave, vs. 30 % neg.)

Here are the names, blue positive, red negative.

Buried in the crosscheck is one totally sad and completely under-discussed issue.

"Agree or disagree: I wish they weren't tearing down Yankee Stadium."

AGREE: 46.5 %

DISAGREE: 17.8 %

NO OPINION: 25.8 %

Two-to-one margin. Eighteen percent want a new stadium; that's almost George W. Bush territory.

We've said it before, we'll say it again:

The day the new stadium opens, everybody will go home and say exactly the same thing:

"I miss the real one."

How are we letting this happen?

Would we let them tear down the Sistine Chapel?

We're going to let Boston have the only remaining shrine stadium.

We are really going to regret this.

Bostonians Begin to Flee Nation

This unnamed red sox fan is shown packing for his re-location to the lower east side of Manhattan.

He has abandoned " red sox" nation for a job at Bear Stearns.

After "prepping" at Harvard and selling weiners at Fenway for two years, he has had enough with "Red Sox Nation."

"The Red Sox sell lousy hotdogs, and use that girly yellow mustard. I couldn't take it any more. And now they are going to Japan for opening day."

We caught up with him as he loaded his cardboard boxes onto the roof of his his two door Hyundi.

I had to speak to him through a megaphone because I was then standing on the MIT side of the Charles and he was on the Harvard side.

" So you are dumping all your years of Red Sox nation brainwashing because of lousy mustard?"

" It's not just that. the fans are pernicious, he screamed."

"By the way, how do I get to the other side of the river, he asked ?

" You are on the other side of the river, numnutz," I replied.

Hell yes, they will go ...

With the world on the brink of WWIII, the Red Sox decide that they'll go to Japan after all. An international incident is averted.

No forfeits. the Red Sox are back in a first-place tie at 0-0.

Bartolo Colon - not on the team's Japan roster - is still going to Denny's, however. As soon as he finishes his brunch at Shoney's.

Hell no, they won't go!

Breaking News: ESPN sez the Redsocks vote to boycott Japan trip. (Bartolo Colon voted to go to Denny's instead.)

So, with two forfeits, we'll start the season a game up - ("two in the loss column" I can already hear Michael Kay say ...)

Hold that plane! Redsocks may boycott Japan trip

Bartolo Colon may not get a chance to see his teammates off at the airport. Redsocks players say they may boycott the trip to Japan over a dispute over pay for the coaches.

The last-minute drama may force Selig's hand and make MLB cough up the money - which, apparently, was in the original agreement for trip before the sport's powers that be decided to cheap-out and screw the coaches.

Stay tuned.

Yesterday is how Yanks are supposed to be

Yesterday, America got a glimpse of the way we used to be.

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To reconfigure John Sterling's call: The Yankees win... the Yankees WINNNN.

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We’re not talking game. We’re talking hearts and minds. We’re talking about winning back what we lost over the last seven wretched years – when we trashed our heritage on Kevin Browns, Gary Sheffields, Randy Johnsons, Jaret Wrights, Carl Pav-ahhhhhhhhhh-NO.

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No more.

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Yesterday, the world saw Yanks running their fingers over names cut into stone, pausing to ponder what blessings they've received, and offering one pleasant memory to those who for the rest of their lives will seek to counterbalance a horrible one.

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Damm! This is what Yanks are supposed to be.

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This is what we are supposed to be.

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Goddamm! We are not supposed to be bullies, choke-artists, drunks, druggies, steroid abusers, wire-tappers, waterboarders, thugs and under-achieving, chuckling dolts of nepotism.

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Goddammit, we are the Yanks. We are supposed to bring hope, truth, honor, justice. We don’t run over innocent catchers. We don’t shoot into crowds. We don’t need HGH. We don't torture people.

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We have taken a lot of shit over the years, most of it from chock-full-o-hate, self-righteous Redsock carpers, (Remember their shameful acts over Wade Boggs, Carlton Fisk, Roger Clemens?) who came to prefer a Yankee loss to a Boston victory -- a state we must ever embrace.

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Truth is, though, somewhere along the way, we grew callous, mean-spirited, greedy.

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Yesterday, we stood for something.

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Well, it got us thinking...

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We at IT IS HIGH hereby make this vow:

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We shall celebrate Yank victories, achievements and virtuous deeds with more pure, unabashed joy than anywhere else on this planet.

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And we will ridicule Yank wrongs, scandals and stupidities more harshly than God.

(Seriously: You'll get a better deal from Him than us.)

Today, though… we celebrate a good day to be Yank…

... and suggest that fans everywhere…

START SPREADIN' THE NEWS...

I'M LEAVING TODAY....I WANT TO BE... A PART OF IT...

NEW YORK, NEW YORK...

THESE VAGABOND SHOES...

ARE LONGING TO STRAY...

RIGHT THROUGH THE VERY HEART OF IT...

NEW YORK, NEW YORRRRRK!

ANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNND...

IF I CAN MAKE IT THERE...

I CAN MAKE IT... ANYWHERE...


IT'S UP TO YOU... NEW YORK...

NEW YORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK