Showing posts with label Yankees. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yankees. Show all posts

Monday, October 03, 2011

moneyball — how can you not be romantic about baseball?

As the Yankees have once more made it to the post-season — they are currently battling for the pennant in the American League Division Series — a recent viewing of Moneyball, starring Brad Pitt, seems extremely appropriate. As a die-hard born-and-bred Yankees fan I might not be expected to be the major audience for this film, but Moneyball isn't just a condemnation of the "sport of millionaires." The Yankees do come in for a lot of finger-pointing, as a prime example of a major league team that also has major league bucks at their disposal to fill their rosters with the best players that money can buy. The Boston Red Sox also gets mentioned quite a bit. But Moneyball isn't just about the money. It's about a new way of looking at baseball.



Pitt plays Billy Beane, general manger for the Oakland Athletics. He's divorced, with a young daughter he'd like to spend more time with, if he wasn't always on the road. He's also haunted by his lackluster career in major league baseball — he never lived up to his promise as a player, and seems determined to bring the A's the success he never had. The movie begins with the A's losing the pennant in 2001 to the Yankees — they came so close to making it to the World Series. But close doesn't cut it in baseball. To add insult to injury, three of their best players, and also free agents — Jason Giambi, Jason Isringhausen, and Johnny Damon — are also immediately scooped up by bigger teams, the Yankees, the Cardinals, and the Red Sox, respectively.

Based on journalist Michael Lewis’s 2003 book, Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game, the film chronicles how Beane tried to reassemble his team from the ashes. It's clear to Beane that the old way of doing business won't work, except to keep them at the bottom of the barrel. He isn't sure exactly what to do instead, but he knows he can't keep listening to the old-school, old guy scouts talking up the few players that they can afford.
"There are rich teams, and there are poor teams. Then there's 50 feet of crap. And then there's us."
He isn't sure, that is, until he meets Peter Brant (a character standing in for Paul DePodesta, who didn't want to lend his name to the film, but since everyone knows that the character of Brant is basically DePodesta, why bother playing coy?), played by Jonah Hill, in his best work to-date. A Yale grad who majored in economics, Brant helps Beane use statistics (sabermetrics) to find players that are overlooked because they lack marquee value, but have one thing in common — they get on base — a lot.
"Your goal shouldn't be to buy players. Your goal should be to buy wins. In order buy wins, you need to buy runs."
One of the most interesting aspects of Moneyball is how it takes the audience behind-the-scenes, not just into the locker room, but into Beane's office, and frequently, into his head. The camera closes-in on Pitt, so close you can practically count his eyelashes, watching him, waiting for his cork to pop. And it frequently does, as flashbacks to his time on a variety of teams shows — Billy Beane had a temper and like McEnroe, frequently let it rip. Director Bennett Miller effortlessly moves between scenes on and off the field, from Beane's athletic past to his present.

Beane's short fuse also fuels his ambition and business tactics. One of the best scenes in the film has him dancing between phone calls with other major league teams, negotiating a trade of players, with Brant feeding him names as he flips back and forth effortlessly from one manager of a team to the other.


What is really intriguing as one watches Moneyball is the realization that it is a sports movie that isn't only about winning. It doesn't follow the tried-and-true underdog-comes-from-behind narrative. Beane wants to change the way the game is put together before it is even played. He knows how unlikely it is that his team will ever be on a level playing field, but he wants to at least give his team a chance to play with the big boys. And he did. The trouble is that after the A's put their stats technique into practice and had a miraculous (for them) year in 2002, the rest of major league baseball followed their lead and put their analytics into practice, including the Boston Red Sox, who also still had the bigger bankroll. Some things in baseball changed, but some things didn't.



But as Billy Beane says, towards the end of the film, "How can you not be romantic about baseball?" The A's may never be able to assemble a team with the sorts of players whose individual salaries exceed the A's entire payroll. But they are still going to play baseball. With all of the numbers involved, the game is still played by people. Baseball evokes passion and emotion, from the fans, the owners, the managers, the players. Moneyball is romantic about baseball, which is great.
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Thursday, April 14, 2011

you don't take a photograph— you ask, quietly, to borrow it.—unknown

Steven Klein's photographs sometimes verge on the trying-too-hard department for me (subcategory: sweat), but I can't deny that I love these images of some of my favorites ...

I really like his work when it's a bit more focused on one or two subjects.

Daniel Radcliffe, from Details Magaizine
steven klein photo daniel radcliffe Pictures, Images and Photos

A Rod, from Details Magazine

Jonathan Rhys Meyers, for Energie

Madonna, W Magazine

Brad and Angelina, W Magazine
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Sunday, November 08, 2009

is it strange to have a crush on...

...someone no longer alive?
“I got started dancing because I knew it was one way to meet girls”
Last night I was flipping channels and landed on An American in Paris. It has never been one of my favorite Gene Kelly movies, at least I have always told myself that, much preferring Singin' in the Rain. On the Town is always fun, too. But after the kid was long asleep I stuck with it, just past this part or that number that I remembered that I really loved—Embraceable You (just how Kelly holds his shoulders in that dance with Leslie Caron is amazing), Stairway to Paradise, etc. The cap to, and truly, excuse for the entire movie is the spectacular end piece by Gershwin. The concept, costumes and set design to bring to life paintings by Dufy, Rousseau and Van Gogh is wonderful, but my favorite section would have to be the one set in Toulouse Lautrec's Moulin Rouge. Not only has Kelly never looked sexier (except maybe in that fantasy scene from The Pirate), but the lighting and make-up of the extras in the scene are spot-on. Someone did their homework to create art from art. Wonderful.




No offense to his pal Sinatra, but I would have loved to see Gene Kelly in the movie version of Pal Joey, the role he originated on Broadway. Apparently MGM prevented him from appearing in the film due to contractual blah-blah-blah, so we wuz robbed.
“I wanted to invent some kind of American dance that was danced to the music that I grew up on: Cole Porter and Rodgers and Hart and Irving Berlin. So I evolved a style that certainly didn't catch on right awaybut I had some good mentors in New York who encouraged me.”
There is always something a little dark to Kelly—a quality, besides his fantastic form and athleticism, which contributes to his sexiness. The character of Joey Evans in Pal Joey is basically a jerk. In American in Paris Jerry Mulligan is on his way to becoming a kept man, who finally chooses love over fame to run off to an uncertain future with Leslie Caron just in the last few moments of the film. In one of my favorites, It's Always Fair Weather, his character defines cynicism—and tap dances spectacularly on roller-skates. He was the Bogie of movie musicals. Or, according to Kelly:
If Fred Astaire is the Cary Grant of dance, I'm the Marlon Brando.
Musicals are an idealization of the world, and there is something that just brings a smile to one's face when watching someone sing and dance and express the big emotions with all the color, costumes and back-up dancers. Kelly did all that with style, muscularity and intelligence—and he could speak French! Sigh. At least we can still enjoy all that life and energy and dark emotion on film.
I never wanted to be a dancer. It's true! I wanted to be a shortstop for the Pittsburgh Pirates.
Apparently Kelly was also a big New York Yankees fan.

Thursday, November 05, 2009

yankees.27

Hideki 2 + 2+2

Andy Pettite

♥M.A.R.I.A.N.O.♥


It's Rodriguez, Alex Rodriguez

Jeter, Damon, Posada (and the rest)

YANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEES
YANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEES
YANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEES
YANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEES
YANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEES
YANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEES
YANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEES
YANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEES
YANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEES
YANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEES
YANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEES
YANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEESYANKEES

Time to bask in the glow

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

not just an inheritance, but a birthright


At 7:57 PM ET this evening the Yankees will, I hope, take the field for the game that will sew up the World Series. If they don't, they will have one more shot, as my daughter tried to reassure me on Monday, "It's OK if the Phillies win, Mommy, because the Yankees still have another chance." I applaud her positive outlook, but I will have to reinforce at some point that it is never OK if the (insert other team's name here) win. This is the Yankees. My team since birth and beyond.

Saturdays at my house growing up were a late breakfast/lunch (basically when my dad got up and went out to get eggs, bacon or sausage, and hard rolls—he always shopped for each day, not for the week ahead) and the inevitable ball-game on television. My brother and I would be playing outside or in our rooms, and whenever we would breeze through our dad would tell us what Thurman Munson or Catfish Hunter or Bobbie Murcer were up to and who was winning. Most of the time it wasn't the Yankees. I learned to keep score at a young age and different baseball card flipping games that my dad must have mastered in his childhood in the Bronx. The Yankees were his team, and by extension ours, too. We lived in New Jersey, still close enough to drive up for a special day at Yankee Stadium. We never got any sports items from shopping at the Ocean County Mall. We attended Ball Day, Hat Day, Bat Day. I wish I still had my Roy White baseball bat...


It's easy to hate the Yankees, because they represent the whole New York attitude of being the center of the universe. They have all that money and talent at their disposal. But no one gets madder at the Yanks than a true fan, who watches in exasperation as Alex Rodriguez (I will not call him A-Rod anymore) fans that last pitch for a strikeout, or Jorge Posada drops that ball as someone slides into home plate. I can still hear my dad's voice calling them "bums" or his generation's A-Rod (used descriptively, not specifically), Reggie Jackson, who when he struck out or committed some equally heinous non-winning act, earned the moniker along with the rest of his team, "a spoiled bunch of millionaires."

As my wise-beyond-her-years little girl seems to know, there will be another game, if not tomorrow—next season—so a true fan forgives the bobbles and errors and sheer inability to get on base and comes back for more.

But I'd prefer that they win tonight. C'mon Yanks.


Monday, October 26, 2009

this is A-Rod's first World Series?

Wow. Alex Rodriguez really surprised me last night when he admitted amid all the showers of champagne, that this will be his first World Series. Has it been that long? It feels like the Yanks have been closer, and that Rodriguez has put us through enough for three or four. Well, good luck Alex. You've been amazing so far this season. It's interesting that a lot of the announcers have been dropping the A-Rod moniker. Guess they are taking him seriously, just as he is, finally. It was also great to see all the dopey sports mouths proved wrong last night as they lamented pre-game about the Yankees choice of a pitcher to face off the Angels. Baseball is a lot about the numbers—after the fact. But it's also about heart and sheer push. Andy Pettite was great. As was Mariano. And of course, Mister Rodriguez.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

lazy Sunday

Today's agenda: bake pumpkin muffins and watch the Yankees (hopefully) wrap this one up. Glass half full, people, glass half full...

Monday, October 19, 2009

♥Mariano♥

Mariano Rivera is just amazing. I know this isn't exactly news, but I just had to say it.

Even when he makes an error, he still manages to pull the Yanks out of the fire by the end of the (11th!) inning. The game didn't end up in the Yanks' favor, but there's still game four tomorrow.

However this season ends, I will still be in awe of Mariano's abilities. He's been a Yankee for so long now I can't really imagine a bullpen without him.

I Mariano.

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

felix or oscar?

My daughter has inherited my allergies (sorry, kid.)

When I was a kid I loved to watch the Odd Couple on television. In New Jersey it was on a re-run schedule of I think, two episodes in the early evening. I loved both characters, and especially, the setting of New York City, where I hoped to live as an adult (and I did, for about fifteen years.) When I was first watching it I related to Oscar's sports columnist. I liked to write, too, but especially appreciated his ability to come up with the perfect wisecrack for every occasion. I could forgive him his Mets cap versus my beloved Yankees. I could never be as sloppy as Oscar, but surely I could never be as finicky as Felix, right?As I get older and my allergies change, I can hear myself almost honking as Felix would do. I also find myself relating to his fear of mold and dust and whatever else might lurk in Oscar's unbelievably messy bedroom.

The other day we were watching Clean House, which is the "wise-ass" version of many cable if-you-clean-up-your-stuff-you-will-clean-up-your-head shows. Sometimes these people's homes seem fake, as they are just too messy to be real. Except I know someone with a crazy house like that, and I'm afraid that they could use some mental spring cleaning, too. It reminds me of the Odd Couple episode "A Taste of Money" where the guys meet two older men, also roommates. One of the rooms in their apartment has been completely taken over by a gigantic rubber band ball. Felix looks at Oscar and says, "remind you of anyone?" I wish they'd put that show back into syndication...

Felix Unger: Everyone thinks I'm a hypochondriac. It makes me sick.

Oscar Madison: You want brown juice or green juice?
Felix Unger: What's the difference?
Oscar Madison: Three weeks.

Felix Unger: Oh, Oscar, Oscar, Oscar!

Saturday, November 29, 2008

a helluva town...


...the Bronx is up, but will I want to see the new Yankee stadium?

New York gets in your blood, I guess. It's not in the cards for me to live there at the moment, but who knows what the future will bring. It was fun to be back, if just for a few days. But a little surreal, as the city is very different from when I last called it home.

Besides 9/11, New York has become "family friendly," which actually translates to gigantic high-end mall. As we took a quick stroll down 5th this afternoon to check out some holiday store windows, I was appalled to see people lined up to get into the Abercrombie & Fitch store. C'mon people. It's just the Gap. Really. And last time I looked, they had one of these stores in a local mall. But this was the New York store...

Did I mention the other crowd of tourists taking photos of Trump Tower? Why? You got me. Because it was there, I guess.
This is my third New Yawk trip in a year. Wow. Anyway, I have to admit that Times Square still fascinates me. Where I work I am always hearing the fearful predictions of the death of print. I do think that newspapers are on the way out, and magazines probably not so far behind. But we'll still have the IKEA catalog, right? But I digress.

I do both print (primarily) and web graphics to earn my bread, but what this latest trip through Times Square taught me is that yes, digital techniques are changing printing, making paper products, posters, less necessary. I have to admit to being amazed that a digital subway kiosk sign was already proclaiming Twilight as the #1 movie. Quite a far cry from the old out-of-date posters advertising movies tnat bombed or concerts that happened long ago. A digital ad can be updated frequently. Bad news for printers with old-school presses, but good news for designers and others wishing to embrace new technologies.

New York is leading the way. D.C. has a small area in it's Chinatown with a large digital display. In another ten years or so we could all be living like Blade Runner. But what will New York look like then? What will our Obamaworld be?

Friday, November 28, 2008

Hmmm...MoMA

A lot has changed since I worked here in the 90s. It's not my MoMA anymore, which is OK, but really - Matisse's "Dance" in the stairwell?

I have some real issues with how the art was displayed in the new (to me) digs. Modern art was crowded, as usual, with the greatest hits of Picasso, Miro, Brancusi, etc. all jockeying for position. While upstairs the Pollocks, Rothkos, Beuys's, Hesse's and the rest had plenty of breathing room.

I like all of the above-mentioned artists, but wouldn't it have really been something to see as much wall space around "Broadway Boogie Woogie" as "Lavender Mist?" Now that would have been a novel approach. Show less art so that we can see more. I'm pissed at how "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon was so poorly served.

I'll admit I''m prejudiced. I've seen all of these works look better. Working at the museum made me feel proprietary, even after all these years. And to add insult to injury, I spent too much at the gift shop. Tis the season. Probably the only shop we saw today without Obama merchandise.

High points: the Miro show was great. Who knew he did such amazing kick-ass large-scale pastels? So much of art is filtered, that it's always fun to rediscover an artist that you may have dismissed or just assumed did one thing when it turns out there is so much more to see. Also the Pipolotti Rist video environment was fun, mainly for it's aural component which permeated every gallery. Kids had fun jumping on the big donut-shaped couch. The actual images were not so compelling, but sort of creepy. The kids didn't seem to mind or notice...

Saturday, October 25, 2008

what took you so long?

Huh, United States? Why did it take over 230 years to get our first black president? Or first truly viable female candidate? I know I'm jumping the gun, but hey, c'mon.

I grew up in suburban New Jersey with the understanding that I could do just about anything I set my mind to, if I tried. And virtually color-blind. It is a tribute to my parents that if they held any prejudices, they didn't transmit them to me. When I announced that I was going to grow up and marry Yankee Roy White, they applauded my choice of the best left fielder in baseball. We never even talked about his skin color. He was just my favorite Yankee.


I never considered myself a proto-feminist either. Let me explain. In first grade it was announced that the class would be putting on a play, "The Three Billy Goats Gruff," and that the boys would all be billy goats and the girls would all be flowers. No mention of the troll, hmmm. Anyway, the teacher, Mrs. Oswald, went around the room and asked each student what part they wanted to play. Each boy said "billy goat" and each girl said "flower." When she got to me I said that I wanted to be one of the billy goats, securing my first starring role as the Middle Billy Goat Gruff. I was more interested in getting a speaking part then just being a posy, or one of the bunch, so to speak, but it wasn't until years later that I wondered if Mrs. Oswald may have been a feminist, laying out a gender-oriented structure and seeing if anyone would challenge it.

So, just like I think that every kid, boy or girl, should get to be a billy goat (or a flower, for that matter), I also am actually a little pissed about all the talk about those "cracks in the glass ceiling." Hillary was a very good candidate. I didn't vote for her, because I thought Obama was a better one. My thoughts about her candidacy never centered on her being a female. Maybe being a Clinton...But I think it's pretty lame that it's taken a new century to shake up the old white WASP boys club. That ceiling never should have existed, much less needed to be cracked open. I'm half WASP myself, but with a hard-to-pronounce Italian last name. Hell, most of my family members can't even pronounce it correctly. But when will we ever see an Italian-American in the White House?

And all this crap about marriage. Enough. It is time to let people be who they are, legally and spiritually. It's a big world, people. There are so many religions, ways of thought, spirituality. Why do I feel that this country is only starting to catch up to what a little girl just took for granted, that she could marry anyone, and achieve anything she put her mind to, take the "boy's part," so many years ago?

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

rumble in da bronx

I've been going (or been taken) to Yankee Stadium since I was a kid.

All sorts of memories.

Of a streaker who disrupted a game.

Of some ticket snafu which, after my dad said he was a newspaperman, got us down into the clubhouse where we got to meet a player and get the autographs of ball players not playing the first game of the double-header (Thurman Munson!)

Bat day, hat day, ball day.

Seeing them at Shea when the stadium was being renovated.

In college, taking the subway up to the Bronx - it took FOREVER.

Seeing them in Florida at a Spring training game. Seeing them on the road, in D.C., Baltimore.

Some of the coolest players ever.

Roy White. Thurman. Bobby Murcer. Ron Guidry. Catfish Hunter. Reggie Jackson, Dave Winfield, Paul O'Neill.

Hearing my dad talk about the stars of his day.

DiMaggio. Rizzuto.

The Yankees are more than just a team to my family and me. It's part of our background. Our Noo Yawk roots.

I just hope they can preserve the white trim.


Monday, August 04, 2008

the apple needs to fall far from the tree

Helen: I can't believe you don't want to go to your own son's graduation.
Bob: It's not a graduation. He is moving from the 4th grade to the 5th grade.
Helen: It's a ceremony!
Bob: It's psychotic! They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity, but if someone is genuinely exceptional...


Overachiever parents. What's with that? I swear, if I hear one more mom or dad say "Good job!" because their little angel has taken a step, slid down a slide, managed to get most of it in the toilet, etc., etc., I'm going to scream. Being a kid is not a job, and being a parent shouldn't automatically embrace a sports mentality. But it seems to, these days. How far away is this sort of praise from Jeter slapping A-Rod on the butt or giving him a high-five after he drives in a homer? Not far. That is appropriate behavior at Yankee Stadium. At the public restroom in Target, not so much.

Why should everything a kid does be congratulated? Simple day-to-day tasks that we all have to master in our formative years are being rewarded, illustrated in the fantastic scene (dialogue above) from The Incredibles, where the "super" dad sums it up.

Of course all parents want to cheer their kids on. But the pushy stage-mother is just a prescription for heavy-duty psych bills in your child's future. Let's face it, they're going to have plenty to resent you for anyway, but did the fact that you were so busy ferrying them to soccer practice and ballet class and violin lessons and god-knows-what-else really benefit them in the long run? What about just letting them have a childhood, where they play and have fun?

How much of this over-booking is the desire to expose your kids to all the great stuff that's out there or simply mimicking our own crazy schedules? Or trying to live out your 'deprived" childhood through your kid?

It's a precarious balance. Hopefully the kids won't suffer for it. Because we don't really need any more Mileys/Britneys/Lindseys.

And if everything a kid does is so darn good, how do we gauge real excellence?

Dash: You always say 'Do your best', but you don't really mean it. Why can't I do the best that I can do?
Helen: Right now, honey, the world just wants us to fit in, and to fit in, we gotta be like everyone else.
Dash: But Dad always said our powers were nothing to be ashamed of, our powers made us special.
Helen: Everyone's special, Dash.
Dash: [muttering] Which is another way of saying no one is.