Tuesday, June 30, 2009

We Won, and I Will NOT Get Over It

On another blog on which I post -- I won't mention its name but it rhymes with "Flubway Gawkers," something Yankee Fans could be called these last couple weeks, right? -- a Met fan posted and said Yankee Fans need to get over themselves over taking 5 of 6 from the injured Mets.

Riiiight. As if the Yankees don't have their own injury problems. As if Met fans would ever shut up if they'd been able to win 5 of 6 from us. They've done 4 of 6 twice, but, really, the Yankees are New York's team, so the number I'm thinking of here is 7 of 9: Resistance is futile!

Yes, another crossover between baseball and Star Trek. If you don't like it, you are without honor!

We will not get over it, and we will not stop ripping the Mets. After all the trash their fans have talked about the Yankees, including when the Yankees were better, they deserve it.

As you can see, in some ways, the 1984-90 Met glory years, which included my high school days and some frustrating Yankee seasons, shaped my fanhood even more than the 1976-81 Yankee era, the 1st great baseball team I was aware of.

I didn't quite see the 1970s Oakland and Cincinnati teams at their best. By the time I got to see the Big Red Machine, Tony Perez was already gone, Tom Seaver had joined them, and the Dodgers had taken over the NL West. By the time I got to see the A's, Charlie Finley had dumped, or allowed to leave, everyone from his title teams but Vida Blue (and had already tried to dump him) and Billy North.

The 1980s were a rough time for a lot of reasons, and not just because of lousy music, worse cars and a President who drove me up the wall. A great era for baseball -- but not for a Yankee Fan. It's like I've gotten over 95 percent of it, but there will always be that 16-year-old kid who'd still like to be able to say, "You Met fans are so dumb to be rooting for them. They've never won the World Series in my lifetime" -- and suddenly it's no longer true.

Met fans were so smug in the 1980s, and based on what? In the end, one World Championship, and one other Division Title. That's all they got between late October 1973 and September 1999! An entire generation! Their mouths were writing checks that their team couldn't cash. In contrast, Derek Jeter had topped that at age 24. Come to think of it, Willie Randolph (in the preceding generation) topped it at age 23.

All that talk for them... All that action for us. Case closed -- and well before this season's games between the teams. Whether the current players deserve it is debatable; whether Met fans deserve it is a big fat yes. (Not to be confused with John "the Big Fat YES Anchor" Sterling.)

Let's look at it another way:

Mets from 1962 to 2008, 47 seasons: 7 postseason appearances, 5 Division Titles, 4 Pennants, 2 World Championships
Yankees from 1996 to 2003, 8 seasons: 8 postseason appearances, 7 Division Titles, 6 Pennants, 4 World Championships

Ah, but since then?

Mets from 2004 to 2008: 1 postseason appearance, 1 embarrassing postseason defeat, 2 September chokes
Yankees from 2004 to 2008: 4 postseason apperances, 4 embarrassing postseason defeats but only 1 as bad as what the Mets did in '06

And, of course, in the only true Subway Series since Ike's 1st term: Yankees 4, Mets 1, clinching at Shea, with 25,000 Yankee Fans chanting, "Let's Go Yankees!" and "Thank you George!"

No, I will not stop rubbing it in. Not until the Flushing Heaten stop deserving it. I don't see that happening anytime soon.

Monday, June 29, 2009

New York Mets: 1962-2009, Rest In Pieces

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to pay our respects to the recently departed, the New York Mets, who died last night at the age of 47.

The deceased began life as a stumbling child, unable to so much as stand up straight, but at least laughed a lot. His father, Mr. William A. Shea; his mother, Mrs. Joan Whitney Payson; and his godfather, Mr. Charles D. Stengel, were proud, no matter what.

He had a wonderful 8th birthday party, with 60,000 of his closest friends joining him on the lawn. There were some other nice moments in his school days, as his teachers, Mr. Hodges, Mr. Berra, Mr. Murphy, Mr. Kiner, Mr. Seaver and Mr. Staub pointed the way.

His teenage years were rough. He was awkward, and no one wanted to play with him, preferring the mature kid across town, with his cool friends Reggie and Catfish, Thurman and Sparky and Lou. They sure seemed to be having fun.

Then he came of age, and what a coming of age it was, showing the cool kid that it could be done by him as well. But he had a drug problem, and it all fell apart. Considering he only lived to be 47, perhaps this was his "midlife crisis."

He spent most of his 30s trying to find his way again, and he did, taking some bloody noses from the rednecks down South, but giving a few as well, and finally emerging as a successful man in his neighborhood.

But, once again, the guy across town was there to triumph, and show him that he was always going to be second-best. He never got over it. Still, the way things worked out, he was "the first responder" after 9/11, and earned another place in the town's hearts.

It seems patently unfair that what should have been a successful time for him also turned out to be his final years. He had such hopes for his children, Jose and David, and had even built a lovely new house for himself. (He had to: The old homestead was a dump.)

But it was not to be. One of those mean Molina boys ruined things for him. And then, just when it seemed like glory was in his grasp, he let it get away. And then did it almost exactly the same way again. It was time to get out of his parents' house, and into his own.

But what could he do? He was afflicted with all kinds of maladies. Dropsy. A control problem. Walking pnuemonia. A general listlessness. All kinds of bumps and bruises. And no way to relieve it.

The coroner, a man in a Pinstriped suit, Dr. Mariano Rivera, pronounced him dead last night, in his new home. He took one more walk around the body, just to be sure.

Survivors include some children, including Jose and David; a wife, Cyndi Lauper (hey, she's from Queens, and yes, "She's So Unusual"); many brothers and sisters, such as Jon Lewin, Greg Prince, Jerry Seinfeld, Gary Cohen and Joe Benigno; an uncle, Ed Koch; some gorgeous ex-girlfriends, including Susan Sarandon, Glenn Close, Hilary Swank and Julia Stiles; a spiritual adviser, named Metstradamus; and a pet, Mr. Met.

In lieu of flowers, watch the Yankees. Your tears will soon stop.

*

Ah, the National League, where pitchers bat -- even the best pitcher most New York baseball fans now living have ever seen, and I ain't talking about the Fresno vintner. Real baseball.

From this day forward, I don't want to hear any Met fans talk about how they play "real baseball." The best relief pitcher you've ever had (may Tug forgive me) walked a guy with 2 previous career at-bats. With the bases loaded. Turning a one-run deficit into a two-run deficit. You guys should now get down on your knees and beg Bud Selig to put in the designated hitter, because you can't even get Mariano Rivera out.
Mariano was happier about his 1st career RBI
than he was about his 500th career save.

There's an old saying: Fool Mets once, shame on you; fool Mets twice, shame on them; fool Mets five times out of six, and the ghost of Casey starts asking, "Can't anybody here play this game?" Yes, Casey: The team you took to 10 Pennants and 7 World Championships -- not the team that, in your own words, "showed me ways to lose I never knew existed before."

It’s time to put to sleep this idea that there's something special, even holy, about the National League. The NL wins the World Series every now and then, but it never wins the season series in Interleague Play, and whereas it was once unbeatable in the All-Star Game, now they haven't won that since 1996, when a steroided-up catcher for the Dodgers hit a long home run.

The National League... The American League drinks your milkshake! From Shake Shack or otherwise! Slurrrrp! We drink it up!

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Radio Mets: The Hits Do NOT Keep On Coming!

Yankees 5, Mets 0. That's 4 out of 5, and the clinching of the season series, which Met fans should care about a lot more than Yankee Fans by now. Chuckle chuckle smirk smirk.

A.J. Burnett allows one hit, in the 6th. Afterward, Michael Kay and 2 guys who pitched no-hitters after leaving the Mets, David Cone and Al Leiter, spend the rest of that inning on the YES Network talking about Sandy Koufax, the signature pitcher of the 1960s, who pitched 4 no-hitters. Kay cued up a clip of Koufax's windup, and said, "Break it down." And Leiter said, "I can't believe I'm breaking down Sandy Koufax's mechanics!"

Cone explained it pretty well, though, talking about how Koufax used his entire back -- from neck to shoulders to spine to tush -- to generate enough power to make his curveball as fast as most pitchers' fastballs, and his fastballs something you could hear from the dugout, but not see from the batter's box.

Koufax, who pitched his entire career (1955-66) with the Dodgers, had to retire at age 31 due to injury, became the youngest-ever inductee to the Hall of Fame at 36, and is now 73 and, last I heard, living in Florida.

Anyway, in their last 18 innings, all against the Yankees, the Mets have gotten hits in exactly 2 of them -- 4 hits total. Granted, "the Initial Boys," CC Sabathia (he doesn't use periods) and A.J. Burnett (he does use them)j, are pretty good pitchers. And the Mets have had some injuries. Still...

Now it can be told: It's not that Citi Field is a dampening field for sluggers, it's that the Mets can't hit!

Injuries? The Yankees have 'em, too. As Governor Mark Sanford of South Carolina would say, "Don't cry for me, Argentina!"

Speaking of whom, can you imagine if Manny Ramirez (for example) were to leave a baseball team for 5 days without telling them where he went? He'd be gone. But Sanford isn't resigning.

Tonight, the Yanks and Mets close it out in the Sunday night (N)ESPN telecast with El Baldo and the Little Red Machinist. Chien-Ming Wang is pitching. This could be a turning point: If Wang can pitch well -- and against these banjo hitters the Mets have, he'd better -- it could be a very enjoyable summer.

Now, if only I could afford to go to some games!

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Mets Defense's Day Off

Andy Pettitte and Joba Chamberlain
...not to be confused with Ferris Bueller and Cameron Frye

Squawker Lisa of the Subway Squawkers blog says that if the Yankees win this subway series (remember, lower-case letters unless it’s in, ha ha, October), Met fans will gripe about "payroll and injuries."

Met fans, gripe about payroll and injuries? Surely, you jest.

Met fans, gripe about payroll and injuries? Whose payroll, their own? Far and away the biggest in the sainted National League?

Met fans, gripe about Yankee payroll and their own injuries? Who do they think they are, Red Sox fans?

Actually, the Red Sox have won as many World Series in the last 5 years as the Mets have in the last 47 years. (And as many as the Yankees in the last 10... grumble... )

The last 2 games, Yankees 24, Mets 1. 15-0 two Sundays ago, 9-1 last night.

Forget Ferris Bueller, this was Mets Defense' Day Off. The Yankees scored how many times? Nine times!

Right about now, the Mets may be saying about the next 2 games, "You fellas have nothin' to worry about. I'm a professional." And it would be understandable if Met fans said, "A professional what?"

I love that movie. One of the things I like to remember about 1986.

When is a starting pitcher a "relief pitcher"? When it's CC Sabathia coming back from his injury last Sunday. If CC had stayed hurt, the Yanks would be in serious trouble as far as reaching the postseason is concerned.

The weird thing is, last Sunday, my family had dinner at a certain restaurant (I won't say which one, but it's a steakhouse with a longhorn steer as its logo), where we hadn't eaten together (at least, not with me) for 2 years, and that time was the time Phil Hughes was pitching a no-hitter against the Mets and got hurt and hasn't quite been the same since.

Like I've said before, I don't believe in curses, jinxes or hexes, except when it comes to sports. But that's spooky. The food and service are good at this chain, but I ain't never eating at that particular location with the whole family while a Yankee game is in progress. Never again. Our pitchers are depending on it!

24-1? Ouch. Then again, that number reminds me of Steve Phillips' comment about one Alex Rodriguez. A-Rod 564, Reggie 563? Uh, no. I'll take the runs he drives in, but there's no way in hell a steroid user is a better player than a non-steroid user, no matter how much talent he has.

Case in point: In the wake of the death of Michael Jackson, everyone is talking about (among other things) what an incredible talent he had.

But suppose... there was a McGwire/Bonds situation. That is, a young man with a background similar to Michael's, with as much desire to excel, but not as much talent to carry it out. And suppose also that there was a drug that gave you as much ability as Michael Jackson, and this hypothetical kid took it, and came up with 7 Number 1 hits and a dozen Grammies.

Then we find out he took the drug. Then he lies about it. "Who's bad?" Would we ever consider him the Gloved One's equal, or dare we say superior? Oh hell no.

Of course, the 1 Met run (and 1 of the 3 hits) came on a home run by Gary Sheffield. Twenty years ago, if a player had as many home runs as Sheff (say, Reggie, or Mike Schmidt), we'd be counting off every one as he kept moving up the all-time list. How many does Sheff have? At this point, he may be the only one who cares. As far as I'm concerned, every steroid user who topped 500 is, morally speaking, forever stuck at 499.

As I said before, tonight's game is on YES and SNY, not Fox, so Yankees win. Tomorrow night's game is on (N)ESPN, so the Yankees will probably lose it, and Joe Morgan will be unable to contain his glee. The little fink. A truly great player, despite being only 5-foot-8 (even shorter than I am), but as a broadcaster he's a little fink.

Monday, June 22, 2009

"Everybody Sucks!"

Looks like I hit another nerve.

To Stanley C.: The error you cited has been corrected.

Now, on to "local fan," who posted, "Boy are you a whiny bitch. Get over the fact that all your money did not buy a title. Suck on that."

At the rate your team is going, you won't be able to buy tickets to a major league game, and that'll have nothing to do with how much money you have. Unless, of course, you want to drive all the way to St. Petersburg. That is, if the Rays stay. If they have to move, too, you may have to go all the way to...

Atlanta? Oh, yuck.

Is that what it takes to get any kind of response? First I insulted Penn State (and they deserved it), now Miami.

Atlanta is a lousy sports town.

Dallas sucks. (Except for the Mavericks. I like Mark Cuban.) Especially the Cowboys. And Tim Cowlishaw's homerism.

Boston, as has been said before, is full of Chowdaheads. We don't even know who the truly loyal fans are anymore. We used to, but now it sure looks like it's all frontrunners. As they say in English soccer, "Where were you when you were shit?"

It reminds me of the yell from the Yankee Stadium Bleachers -- back when they were still at the real Yankee Stadium:

"Yankee Baseball! Mets suck! (current opposing team's name) sucks! (opposing team's right fielder, as he was the closest player) sucks! Box seats suck! Everybody sucks!"

Including ourselves, Creatures? They're dedicated fans, but sometimes they go a little too far.

No, not everybody sucks. But there sure are a lot of people who piss me off.

Did I mention Joe Paterno is a rat-faced hypocrite?

Anyway, after a lackluster series in Miami -- or is Joe Robbie/Pro Player/Dolphin/Land Shark Stadium in Miami Lakes? Or Opa-Locka? -- the Yankees have the day off, and then... visit Atlanta.

1864 YANKEES BURN ATLANTA
1996 SAME THING
1999 DON'T THEY EVER LEARN
2009 GUESS NOT

Sunday, June 21, 2009

I Hate Miami

I hate Miami. I hate that it was where a Presidential election was stolen. But I hated it before November 2000.

I hate the fakeness of the place. I hate that it's pink and aqua-green. I hate flamingoes.

I hate the Miami Dolphins. I hate the Miami Heat. I hate the University of Miami Hurricanes. I know the Florida Panthers are closer to downtown Fort Lauderdale than to downtown Miami, but I hate them, too.

I used to root for Penn State when they played the thuggish Hurricanes. Of course, now that I've seen the true character of that damned Paterno... but that's a subject for another time.

And I hate the Florida Marlins. The first time the Yankees ever had to play an Interleague series, in June 1997, it was in Miami at Joe Robbie Stadium. Uh, Pro Player Stadium. Er, Dolphin Stadium. Ulp, Land Shark Stadium. (Land Shark? Who's throwing out the first ball, Chevy Chase?) And they lost two of three to the Marlins. The Marlins ruined the Cleveland Indians' best chance to win a World Series since 1948. The Marlins beat the Giants, Braves and Indians in the 1997 postseason; they beat the Giants, Cubs and Yankees in the 2003 postseason; in each case, even though all three teams were better. The Marlins got lucky. (I still hate Jeff Weaver.)

Two years ago, I was at a certain restaurant with the family when Phil Hughes got hurt while pitching a no-hitter against the Mets, and hasn't been the same since. Today, first time I've eaten with the family at that same restaurant since, and the Yankees are playing the Marlins, and CC Sabathia gets hurt and leaves the game in the second inning. As with that earlier game, the Yankees ended up losing.

I hate Miami, and I'm thinking of boycotting that restaurant chain. Or, at least, not eating there with the family while the Yankees are playing.

I know, I know, Florida voted Democratic last November. But I still hate the Marlins. And the Dolphins. And the Heat. And the Panthers. And the Hurricanes.

The only thing I like about Miami is that Jennifer Lopez basically lives there now. But then, that's another reason to hate Miami, isn't it? They took her! Bastards...

Screw Jeffrey Loria. He never should have been allowed to wreck the Montreal Expos and buy the Marlins and win a World Series. A real Commissioner would step in, confiscate the Marlins, and move them to Montreal to take the place of the Expos/Nationals.

But then, baseball hasn't had a real Commissioner since Fay Vincent.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Dusty Rhodes, 1927-2009; How Old Are You Now?

James Lamar Rhodes has died. Like many men with the name Rhodes, he was nicknamed "Dusty." 1927-2009.

He was a left fielder who played his entire major league career, 1952 to 1959, with the Giants, in both New York and San Francisco. He missed the Giants' 1951 "Miracle at Coogan's Bluff" Pennant, but was an integral part of their 1954 World Series win, still the last for the franchise, and was with them in 1957 when they moved across the country.

In Game 1 of the '54 Series -- it is shocking, knowing how late the season ends now, to know it was played on September 29, 1954 -- the Giants were playing the Cleveland Indians at the Polo Grounds in upper Manhattan. In the 8th inning, with the score tied 2-2, Vic Wertz hit a ball about 440 to center field, where it was actually caught, by a guy you might have heard of named Willie Mays. Mays then made an equally amazing throw that forced Indians star Larry Doby to tag up from 2nd to 3rd, but not score, as he and the other baserunner surely would have had Mays not made what has become the most famous defensive play in the history of sports.

(I've long wanted to do "Top 10 Most Famous Defensive Plays In Sports History." Maybe this is the year.)

In the bottom of the 10th inning, Giant manager Leo Durocher pinch-hit Rhodes for his future Hall-of-Fame left fielder, Monte Irvin. Good guess: He hit the ball just 260 feet down the right-field line. Any other ballpark on the planet, and Indian right fielder Wally Westlake could have made the catch, or at least held it to a single. But it was a home run.

Actually, the film reveals a possible "Jeffrey Maier situation." A fan was sitting in the upper deck, and the ball bounced off his hand and back onto the field. But the hand wasn't out over the field, so, as close as the fence was, the homer was still legal. It was for three runs, and the Giants won, 5-2.

Rhodes also pinch-hit for Irvin in Game 2, and singled, staying in the game to play left, and hit another home run. Now, while the Polo Grounds was a ridiculously-shaped stadium, and these were cheapo home runs, they were not totally ridiculous: They were hit off Bob Lemon and Early Wynn, respectively, a pair of future Hall-of-Famers. The Giants went on to sweep the favored Indians, who also haven't won the World Series since.

These homers did not count along with Rhodes' regular-season totals. He hit 54 for his career. His lifetime batting average was .253. He wore Number 26, which has not been retired by the Giants, for Rhodes or for anyone else.

Rhodes was a native of Alabama, but appears to have had no problem with his black teammates Mays, Irvin or Hank Thompson. He appears to have been an ideal team player, if not a particularly impressive one. Durocher said he couldn't field, "But, boy, could he hit!"

After his retirement from baseball, he had a job on a tugboat in New York. Yankee pitcher Jim Bouton, a Giant fan in the Fifties, remembered being on a tour bus at the 1964 World's Fair in Flushing Meadow, across from then-brand-new Shea Stadium, and Rhodes was driving it. Bouton considered it an awful come-down for such a World Series hero.

But Rhodes never bemoaned his fate, saying he loved his tugboat job. If he was ever disappointed at playing baseball well before the era of big player salaries, he never publicly said so. He retired to Las Vegas, and attended the occasional memorabilia show and reunion with his teammates, before dying on Wednesday at age 82.

Dusty Rhodes may have been a superstar for only a week, but it's a week most of us will never get to enjoy.

It was a week nearly 55 years ago. And that's not the only thing that reminds me of how much time has gone by.

It's been 75 years since Babe Ruth last played for the Yankees, and Carl Hubbell struck out 5 straight batters in the All-Star Game.

It's been 60 years since the epic Yankees-Red Sox Pennant race of 1949, including Joe DiMaggio's comeback from injury.

It's been 50 years since the 1st West Coast World Series, between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Chicago White Sox.

It's been 40 years since the start of Divisional Play, Mickey Mantle's retirement, and the combination of the Chicago Cubs' "September Swoon" and the Mets' "Miracle" World Series, including their coming together in the fulcrum of the "Black Cat Game."

It's been 30 years since Thurman Munson's crash and the "Family" winning Pittsburgh's last World Series.

It's been 25 years since Detroit last won a World Series, and since Harry Caray and Ryne Sandberg made the Chicago Cubs a national phenomenon over "SuperStation WGN."

It's been 20 years since the Pete Rose gambling scandal and the earthquake that stopped a World Series -- still the last one won by a San Francisco Bay Area team (the A's over the Giants).

And it's been 10 years since David Cone's perfect game, Robin Ventura's "Grand Slam Single," Kenny Rogers' Pennant-losing walk and the Yanks winning their 25th World Series, thanks in part to the Chad Curtis Game.

This year, I will turn... 40. Yeah. The Big Four Oh.

Reggie Jackson, my guy, just turned 63. That's impossible: Mister October can't be 2 years away from Social Security. (Like he needs the money.) He's now as old as DiMaggio was when I first became aware of him -- and as old as Mantle was when he died.

I did the math. Presuming that a fan was approximately 7 years old when he first began regularly watching baseball on television, as I was...

If you remember the Yankees' return to glory in 1996, or Milwaukee being an American League city, then you're at least 20 years old.

If you remember the Mets winning the World Series at all, Bill Buckner as something other than an unfairly-cast goat, and Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire and Roger Clemens as skinny rookies, then you're at least 30.

If you remember Chris Chambliss' Pennant-winning homer, Reggie's three-homer game, Billy Martin as a World Series-winning manager, the Boston Massacre, the Bucky Dent Game, Thurman's crash, Rickey Henderson as a rookie, and Joe Morgan as a great player and not an annoying, clueless broadcaster, then you're pushing or past 40.

If you remember Carlton Fisk doing the Fenway Twist, or the Oakland dynasty of Reggie and Catfish, or Lou Brock rewriting base-stealing records, Pete Rose picking fights with Ray Fosse and Bud Harrelson, or Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, Frank Robinson, Harmon Killebrew and Al Kaline as active players -- and Roberto Clemente as a living, breathing, still pretty effective player -- then you're around 45, or more.

If you remember the Mets winning in '69, and Brooks Robinson's third-base clinic of the following October, or Washington being an American League team, then you're at least 47.

If you remember Sandy Koufax as an active pitcher, the Red Sox "Impossible Dream" season, and the Year of the Pitcher (Bob Gibson's 1.12 ERA and 17 Ks in Game 1 of the Series, Don Drysdale's six straight shutouts, Denny McLain winning 31 games and Mickey Lolich saving the Tigers' bacon in the Series), or Caray as a fully-engaged broadcaster for the Cardinals (either half of that would be shocking to people who only know him as a doddering Cub announcer), or Kansas City having a team wearing green instead of blue, then you're at least 50.

If you remember Shea Stadium as brand-new, and Mantle, Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford and Roger Maris as productive players, Stan Musial as an active player, and the Braves being in Milwaukee, then you're at least 52.

If you remember Ted Williams as an active player, Casey Stengel managing the Yankees, and Mantle and Maris gunning for 60 homers, and there being no Mets at all, then you're at least 55. As you would be if you remember Tampa Bay, Phoenix, Denver, Miami, Toronto, Seattle, San Diego, Montreal, Houston and Minneapolis all as minor league cities.

If you remember the Giants being in Manhattan and the Dodgers being in Brooklyn, with guys like Mays, Irvin, Jackie Robinson, Roy Campanella, Duke Snider and Gil Hodges being on the field, then you're at least 60. That's right, the youngest Brooklyn Dodger fan is now 60. You're a long way from Erasmus Hall High School, bubbe.

If you remember the Dodgers winning their only Series in '55, or the '54 heroics of Mays and Rhodes, or Bob Feller as an active pitcher, or Ralph Kiner as an active slugger instead of a malaprop-prone Met broadcaster, or Phil Rizzuto as an active shortstop instead of a teller of strange stories on Yankee broadcasts, or there being American League teams in Philadelphia and St. Louis and a National League team in Boston, and Baltimore, Milwaukee and Kansas City as minor league cities, then you're at least 62.

If you remember "the Shot Heard 'Round the World" describing something that happened at Lexington, Massachusetts, not something that Bobby Thomson hit, then you're at least 65. (Even if you don't know baseball, you know someone who does, and you've heard the name Bobby Thomson.) As you would be if you remember the Phillies being the Whiz Kids of Richie Ashburn and Robin Roberts, and the A's still being managed by Connie Mack.

If you remember before Jackie Robinson, if you remember when baseball was all-white, which means you also remember when DiMaggio, Williams, Musial and Feller were at their peaks, then you're at least 70.

If you remember DiMag's 56-game hitting streak, Williams batting .406, and Mickey Owen unable to handle Hugh Casey's curve (spitball?), then you're at least 75.

If you remember Lou Gehrig as an active player, and Hank Greenberg hitting 58 home runs while Jimmie Foxx (who'd previously done it) also hit 50, then you're at least 78.

If you remember Babe Ruth at anything close to his best, and John McGraw as manager of the Giants, then you're well over 80.

If you remember the Babe at his very best, and Ty Cobb, Tris Speaker, Walter Johnson, Grover Cleveland Alexander and George Sisler as active players, then you're approaching or past 90.

If you remember when Ruth was a pitcher, Shoeless Joe Jackson was an untainted player, Honus Wagner and Christy Mathewson were still active and home runs were hard to come by, then you're almost 100 years old.

And if you remember the Chicago Cubs actually winning the World Series, you're probably dead -- or lying. The Guinness Book of World Records lists 30 people alive today in the U.S. who are at least 110 years old, the oldest being a woman in Los Angeles named Gertrude Baines, who's 115. No word on whether she likes baseball, but if she does, then she might be old enough to remember Jack Chesbro, Wee Willie Keeler, and even Ed Delahanty. But, being black and from Georgia, they probably never let her into a big-league ballgame until she came to L.A.

All those years ago...

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time. And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
-- William Shakespeare, Macbeth

Shakespeare was right... until the end. I would love to see what he would have done with baseball. There is a line of his where talks about "base players," but that's got nothing to do with sports.

Baseball is the most fun game there is, but time flies when you're having fun.