My Most Hated Opponents -- Non-Players Edition

A few weeks ago, I listed "My Most Hated Opponents -- Players." I said I would do it for non-players, and finally I have.

I have 2 eligibility rules: I will only consider post-high school figures, and only individuals who've been actively involved for at least 5 full seasons since I began watching sports on TV in 1977.

The no-high-school rule lets out Bob DeMarco, the head football coach at Old Bridge High School, arch-rivals of my Alma Mater, East Brunswick. Besides, DeMarco is a decent guy, and I find it easy to believe it was his players, not him, who chose to run up the score in certain meetings back when the school was still known as Madison Central. And his brother, former E.B. wrestling coach Greg DeMarco, is one of the most decent people ever involved in high school sports in Middlesex County, New Jersey.

I don't have a problem with Bob. It's his team I hate. I'm not sure I can even adapt, as British soccer fans have, the Monkees' song "Daydream Believer" to fit him: It doesn't feel right to sing, "Cheer up, Bobby D! Oh, what can it mean to a... sad purple bastard and a... shit football team!" He may wear purple and black, but he's not sad and he's not a bastard. As for his team, well, I've seen them win championships, but they'll always be shit to me.

The longevity rule lets out Walter O'Malley, the greatest villain in the history of baseball, because by the time I was old enough to start watching, the man who owned the Dodgers, in Brooklyn and then in Los Angeles, in part since 1942 and fully since 1950, was already a dying man, and his son Peter was pretty much running the team. Walter Francis O'Malley died in 1979, and would top the list if I were just a few years older. He gets a Lifetime Bereavement Award.

However, unlike with my Most Hated Opponents – Players edition, collegiate coaches are allowed. I couldn't make this list without one in particular.

10. Bobby Valentine, New York Mets. The only man ever to manage The Other Team to back-to-back postseason appearances, and along with Davey Johnson (whom we’ll see later) one of only two to manage them to more than one at all. He was funny sometimes, but he was such an arrogant little bastard. When did he earn that arrogance?

Still, Bobby V never really hurt the Yankees, so he's at the bottom of this list.

UPDATE: Bobby V went on to manage the Boston Red Sox in 2012, which might have lifted him higher on this list, if that season hadn't been such a train wreck for the Sox, and so much fun for Yankee Fans to watch. And Terry Collins managed the Mets to back-to-back postseason appearances in 2015 and '16.

9. Earl Weaver, Baltimore Orioles. A genius, but also a raging egomaniac and a very nasty little man. Much like the Yankees' own Billy Martin, except fat rather than scrawny.

I'll never forget him conveeeeniently forgetting to put the tarp down at Memorial Stadium in that game in '78, when the Yanks were desperately trying to claw back into the race. And the '79 team that outdistanced the Yankees – took me 20 years to realize that Ken Singleton was a good guy.

But he didn't hurt the Yanks that much while I was old enough to watch. If I'd been around for his entire managerial run, 1968 to 1982 and again briefly in '85 and '86, maybe he'd be higher on this list.

8. Bobby Cox, Toronto Blue Jays and Atlanta Braves. Despite the Yanks winning 8 straight World Series games against him in 1996 and '99, this is really more for what he did as Jays manager, particularly in that 1985 AL East duel. I was 15, and I don't think I've yet gotten over losing that race.

Still, it was sickening to see those unworthy Braves win the NL East year after year after year… Beats having the Mets do it, though, and hating Cox is one of the few people both Yankee Fans and the Flushing Heathen can agree on. That and his "Rain Man" pitching coach Leo Mazzone. Yeah. Yeah.

7. Bob Clarke, Philadelphia Flyers. There had to be at least one hockey opponent here, but what Ranger? Mike Keenan may have coached them for their only Stanley Cup win since FDR's 2nd term, but it was only for that 1 season. It's hard to bring up any feelings toward then-GM Neil Smith. Glen Sather? Nah, it's not like he was Jaromir Jagr, or Sean Avery, or his bald pal from Edmonton and The Garden, Mark Messier.

But Clarke, while undeniably a great and courageous player, was also first the leader of the Broad Street Bullies, the Flyers who beat up everybody including the early Devils; and then the GM of the Flyer teams that gave the Devils such fits from 1995 to 2004.

And, as Flyer fans will tell you, it was easy to root for "Bobby" Clarke the player, who is up there in the Philly pantheon with Connie Mack, Richie Ashburn, Mike Schmidt, Chuck Bednarik, Wilt Chamberlain, Julius "Dr. J" Erving, Tom Gola and Rollie Massimino; but it's a lot harder to root for "Bob" Clarke the GM, who made the Flyer roster respectable again, but made the Flyer front office unworthy of respect.

Granted, the Lindros family – Eric, Carl and Bonnie – weren't angels, but Clarke could have handled it much better. You didn't have to like Lindros to dislike Clarke. But I can't have him all that high on this list, simply because his greatest era of potential harm came before I was old enough to really understand hockey.

6. Dual entry: Jim Calhoun and Geno Auriemma, University of Connecticut basketball. Their successes cannot be denied, but neither can their arrogances. They do like to rub it into the faces of their opponents, especially Geno to his 2 main rivals, Pat Summitt at the University of Tennessee and Vivian Stringer at Rutgers. The fact that both Calhoun and Auriemma are also big-time Red Sox fans is enough to induce vomiting.

Calhoun

Some people think of UConn as a New York-area school because Connecticut is part of the New York Tri-State Area. But it's also part of New England, and the Huskies' Gampel Pavilion is 86 miles from Boston's Downtown Crossing as opposed to 139 miles from New York's Times Square.

Auriemma

5. Jimmy Johnson and…

4. Tom Landry, Dallas Cowboys. They both had to be on here. At least Johnson wasn't a hypocrite: He knew he and his team were a bunch of, to put it charitably, rogues. Landry was a sanctimonious hypocrite who looked the other way as his crew claimed to be "America's Team," all the while looking more like "South America's Team" (because of certain players' copious consumption of drugs) or "America's Most Wanted" (other crimes), which got worse in the Johnson era.

This is why Landry is higher on the list: Because he gave off an aura of knowing better, but chose to look the other way for his criminals. Why separate entries for them, while I combined the UConn coaches into one? Because the UConn coaches coached (and still do) at the same time, while these Cowboy coaches were in 2 different eras.

3. Pat Riley, New York Knicks. Yes, he won 4 titles with the Los Angeles Lakers and 1 with the Miami Heat. But I liked him with the Lakers because, like most people with taste, I hated the Boston Celtics. And I excused him with the Heat, because I was a Nets fan, and he wasn't really the Nets' problem.

But as coach of the Knicks, he A, got in the Nets' way when they put up their best team between the 1976 ABA crown and the 2002 Eastern Conference Title; and B. practically ruined the NBA with his thuggish defenses, turning a game of 110-100 scores into a game of 84-78 scores. Fans want scoring. You think we give a damn that Chamberlain holds the record of 55 rebounds in a game? No, we talk about him scoring 100 points.

The player who symbolized Lakers-era Pat Riley was Magic Johnson.

The player who symbolized Lakers-era Pat Riley was John Starks.

The difference is the difference between 1980s and 1990s NBA.

It's one of the great ironies of sports that Riles won titles with the '80s Lakers, the ultimate fast-break team, the team known as "Showtime"; then, when Patrick Ewing could have been his Kareem, Charles Oakley could have been his James Worthy, and while he didn't have a Magic Johnson type (how many of those have there been? Very few), he could still have played fun basketball. Instead, he brought the mid-1980s Big East (all those cheap shots from John Thompson's Georgetown and Louie "the Sweater" Carnescca's St. John's) to the NBA Atlantic Division.

I wonder if it dawned on him that he didn't win another World Championship until he had another Kareem (Shaq) and another player who almost resembled Magic in style (Dwyane Wade)?

2. Davey Johnson, New York Mets and Baltimore Orioles. Although he's managed other teams, this is for his management of the Mets at their 1984-90 peak, when they were the most arrogant team in the history of New York baseball. Even John McGraw's old New York Giants, they of "the look of eagles," were modest compared to these bastards.

But if Davey was any damn good at managing, how come they only won the 1 World Series – and only the 1 Pennant? And only reached the Playoffs 1 other time?

Then, of course, there was Davey's O's, who tried a different drug from the one that the '80s Mets seemed to enjoy: Steroids. And yet, he had an unholy hissyfit when Derek Jeter hit that home run in Game 1 of the 1996 ALCS. As if it was Jeter's intention to "cheat." Davey, you insufferable snot, you lost all 3 games at Camden Yards in that series. If you can't defend your home field in the Playoffs, don't whine about some kid in the stands.

In fact, with the '86 and '88 Mets, the '95 Reds, the '96 and '97 O's, here is Davey's record at home in postseason play: 10-13. At home. This is not the mark of a good manager. (UPDATE: After managing the Washington Nationals to the 2012 NL East title, but choking in the NLDS, his home postseason record stands at 11-15.)

Yet he always thought the umps were against him. No, Davey, what was against you was your own ineptitude. The Mets won it all in '86 in spite of you, not because of you. A good manager would've gotten that team at least 1 more Pennant, and possibly as many as 4 more. (Then again, maybe they weren't really that great.)

But, as they say in the Highlander franchise, In the end, there can be only one.

1. Joe Paterno, Pennsylvania State University football. Ol' Ratface spent the better part of 30 years picking on the teams now in the Big East Conference, then went to the Big Ten. Penn State fans whine about how, with undefeated teams in 1969, 1970, 1973 and 1994, the Nittany Lions were not awarded the National Championship.

Admit it: He does look like a rat.

Maybe it's karma for Paterno running up the score on weaker Eastern opponents, thus inflating his team's record. And also for poaching players from other territories. Two of his best players -- Franco Harris of Mount Holly and Rancocas Valley High, and Kenny Jackson of South River -- were among the many he has poached from New Jersey, and whose first choice could have been Rutgers. He's taken New Yorkers away from Syracuse, New Englanders away from Boston College, and Chesapeake Valley players away from Maryland, Virginia, Virginia Tech and West Virginia.

The last time Penn State played Rutgers, at Giants Stadium in 1995, Penn State was leading 52-34, and Paterno had his quarterback pass. With an 18-point lead near the end of the game. Touchdown, 59-34. When it was over, Rutgers coach Doug Graber -- whose job was in jeopardy and was indeed fired after the season, though he has returned to RU as a radio broadcaster -- did not shake Paterno's hand afterward, instead telling him what a classless SOB he is. Well, that may not have been Graber's exact phrase, but it might as well have been.

And this great patriotic conservative Christian known as "Saint Joseph" among his fans, he cursed right back. Later, he apologized to the press for his profanity -- but not for his classless coaching, saying, "I should not have to apologize for (my quarterback) doing what he has been coached to do." (I won't name that quarterback here: He's a henchman, not the villain.)

Now that Rutgers is a consistent winner, that cowardly old bastard won't play us. Come on, Ratface, you deserve one last lesson in manners before you head off to that great press box in the... core of the Earth.

Among Rutgers' football opponents, there is no Number 2. Princeton? The last time Princeton football mattered at what we would now call the Division I-A level, I wasn't born yet, and besides, how can I hate Princeton? They have done nothing to upset me.

Syracuse? Nah, aside from their ugly uniforms, and that horrid carpet that passes for a field at the Carrier Dome, there's nothing truly offensive about them. Pitt? Well, Jackie Sherrill… Nah, he didn't piss me off enough. UConn? In football? Forget it. Probably the closest is Bobby Petrino from his Louisville days, but that was a brief interlude, much like the Mets-Braves "rivalry."

Paterno is eternal. An eternal evil. When he finally dies, the Shittany Lions will probably mummify him and turn the Beaver Stadium press box into their own version of Lenin's Tomb. They already call the stadium "Saint Joe Paterno Cathedral."

For longevity, for amount of defeats, for size of defeats, for style of defeats, for arrogance, and, yes, for ugliness (he really does look like a rat), Joe Paterno tops the list.

Congratulations, Penn State: You are Number 1. You dirty bastards.

UPDATE: You'll notice I wrote this 2 years before the scandal that brought him down, and probably ended his life months or years before it otherwise would have ended.

Yanks Roll, But Why Burnett's Head?

Yankees 8, Rangers 6. Chien-Ming Wang clearly isn't all the way back yet, but a five-run 5th inning helps. Two out of three from the surprising Texas Rangers, who are leading the American League Western Division.

But A.J. Burnett has been suspended 6 games for throwing close to, but not hitting, the Rangers' Nelson Cruz. This after Vicente Padilla twice hit Mark Teixeira earlier in the same game. Padilla was not warned, nor tossed, nor suspended, nor even fined.

Yet for throwing inside but not hitting Cruz, Burnett gets suspended 6 games? Even if that's only one start, how is that fair? I know the Yankees are rolling, but why is MLB discpline czar (and former Astro and Yank 1st baseman and Yank GM) Bob Watson making Burnett's head roll?

If Padilla is let off the hook for hitting the same player twice and Burnett is suspended for 6 games for throwing close to a batter, then something is very wrong.

I'm not saying that Bob Watson should be kinder to the team that got him his World Series ring. (As Yankee GM in 1996. Come to think of it, he didn't win a Pennant as a player in Houston, but did win one with the Yankees in 1981.)

But I am saying that, as a former hitter (and a good one, too), he should ask what he'd rather face: Getting hit with 2 pitches or almost getting hit with 1. And that he should base his disciplinary decisions on that choice.

How about this: In 1965, Giants pitcher Juan Marichal, batting against the Dodgers, claimed to be provoked by catcher John Roseboro throwing the ball back to pitcher Sandy Koufax so that it hit Marichal's ear. Words were exchanged, then Marichal repeatedly tried to hit Roseboro on the head with his bat. He got him enough times to open a two-inch gash on Roseboro's scalp.

When National League President Warren Giles reviewed the situation, he suspended Marichal for 8 games -- in other words, 2 starts. I looked it up: The Giants ended up splitting the 2 games where his spot in the rotation would have fallen. And the Giants lost the Pennant by 2 games, so that may have made the difference. (Marichal was also fined $1,750 -- or $11,800 in today's money, but a much bigger proportion of a player's salary back then.)

In a fit of rage, Marichal may have thrown away a Pennant, and appeared to have thrown away what should have been a sure election to the Hall of Fame until Roseboro publicly forgave him. That was 8 games. A.J. Burnett didn't even hit a batter, only came close... 6 games. Vicente Padilla actually does hit a player, twice... not even thrown out of the game he's in, and no suspension and no fine (so far).

Someone want to explain to me why "the Yankees always get help from the umpires and league officials?" Obviously, they don't.

By the way, I'm still mad, 26 years later, about AL President (and former Yankee GM!) Lee MacPhail overturning both the rule and the umpiring crew that correctly called George Brett out in the Pine Tar Game.

*

Anyway, Texas goes out, Tampa Bay comes in. Bring on the Ray-volution. How's that going, by the way? Huh? Rays fans? Helloooooooo? Are you there? How's the Ray-volution going?

I guess the Rays weren't a fraud, like I said all last year. Instead, they're a fluke, 2008's version of the '05 White Sox, the '06 Tigers and the '07 Rockies. At least the ChiSox actually won their World Series.

The Mets got swept in Pittsburgh. This is a story from 2009. Not 1992. Not 1979. Not 1971.

Where's Rick Pitino when the Mets need him? "Barry Bonds is not walking through that door. Bobby Bonilla's not walking through that door. Dave Parker's not walking through that door. Bill Madlock's not walking through that door. Willie Stargell's not walking through that door. Roberto Clemente certainly isn't walking through that door!"

As the legendary Pirate broadcaster Bob "the Gunner" Prince would have said, "The Buccos had 'em all the way."

This would not have pleased my Grandma, who would have been 85 years old today had she lived. She would have hated the way the Mets are playing lately. But she would have loved Citi Field.

Now she gets to watch her teams, in the various sports she likes (including Saturday's Belmont Stakes), from the ultimate skybox. Where the peanuts are always salty, the hot dogs are always properly steamed, and the beer is always cold. Don't listen to those polka guys who sing "In Heaven, There Is No Beer."

Tex's Message: The Yankees DO Have Heart; Clint Smith, 1913-2009

The errorless streak is over -- fully one-ninth of an entire season -- but that's okay. Earlier in the season, I said that the Yankees have no heart. Well, it seemed true at the time. No more: Mark Teixeira has energized this team with no end in sight.

If this is what Teixeira is like in 2009, then we should have done whatever it took to get him after the collapse of 2004, by which point it was clear that Jason Giambi was not going to be what he had been, and Tex had already hit 64 home runs with 196 RBIs. He played every game in 2005 and led the AL in total bases. He played every game in 2006, too -- durability the Yankees haven't gotten from a first baseman since before Donnie Regular Season Baseball hurt his back. His rookie-year OPS was 811 and hasn't fallen below 50 points above that since.

I switched on the radio when I got home last night, and John Sterling mentioned that the Yankees got home from Cleveland at 2:30 in the morning the previous night, and said they must be jet-lagged, because they'd only scored 12 runs.

Hey, if it means the Yankees can score 12 runs on what appears to be a good Texas team, fly me to Cleveland and back, landing at 2:30 AM!

That's 16 out of 20. The Yankees are playing some sick baseball. Speaking of sick, how the Mets doing?

*

It's been a while since I updated this blog. In the interim, an era was fully closed when the last member of the 1940 Stanley Cup Champion New York Rangers died, 69 years later.

Clinton James Smith was born on December 12, 1913 in Assiniboia, Saskatchewan, Canada. Nicknamed Clint and, for a comic strip character, Snuffy Smith, he debuted with the Rangers near the end of the 1936-37 season, and became a regular thereafter.

A center, he usually wore Number 10. In 1939, Smith won the Lady Byng Trophy as the NHL's "most gentlemanly player." Seriously, a Ranger won the Lady Byng. It was a different time.

That the Rangers were capable of winning the Stanley Cup also marks it as a different time. They won it in 1928 and 1933, and reached the Finals in 1929, 1932 and 1937. In 1940, they beat the Boston Bruins in the Semifinals and the Toronto Maple Leafs in the Finals to win the Cup, taking both series 4 games to 2.

The Rangers celebrate their 1940 Stanley Cup win.

Clint Smith is at the far left. Lester Patrick is behind the bowl.

The trophy got its current shape in 1948.

Lester Patrick, the team's 1st general manager, still held that role. He had been succeeded as head coach by Frank Boucher, the biggest star player on the '28 and '33 Cups. Patrick's sons Lynn and Murray, a.k.a. Muzz, were on the team. Another pair of brothers on the team was Neil and Mac Colville. And Bryan Hextall, who scored the clinching goal, started a hockey dynasty that included his sons Bryan and Dennis, and the younger Bryan's son Ron.

Goaltender Dave Kerr won the Vezina Trophy. Left wing Kilby MacDonald won Rookie of the Year, which was renamed the Calder Memorial Trophy after the 1943 death of Frank Calder, the 1st President of the NHL. Smith, Lester and Lynn Patrick, Boucher, Hextall, Walter "Babe" Pratt and team Captain Art Coulter all made the Hockey Hall of Fame.

Lester Patrick died in 1960, Kerr in 1978, Lynn Patrick and Ehrhardt "Ott" Heller in 1980, Hextall in 1984, MacDonald in 1986, Neil Colville in 1987, Muzz Patrick and Pratt in 1988, Phil Watson in 1991, Coulter in 2000, Mac Colville in 2003, Alex Shibicky and Wilbert "Dutch" Hiller in 2005, Stan Smith in 2007, and Alf Pike this past March 1, leaving Clint Smith (no relation) as the last survivor.

Clint remained with the Rangers until 1943, and was traded to the Chicago Blackhawks, with whom he won another Lady Byng and reached another Stanley Cup Finals in 1944. He was named the Hawks' Captain in the 1944-45 season, although he gave up the C when John Mariucci returned from World War II.

For 10 years, from the Autumn of 1937 to the Spring of 1947, he hardly missed a game, including playing through The War, since he was never called up to serve his country, Canada, or the British Empire. He scored 161 goals in his 10 full NHL season.

In 1947-48, he was a player-coach for the minor-league Tulsa Oilers, and was named Most Valuable Player of the United States Hockey League; from 1948 to 1951, for the St. Paul Saints (named for the minor-league baseball team of the same name); and in 1951-52, for the Cincinnati Mohawks, although he only played 2 games for them at age 38, and retired.

Earlier this year, the book 100 Ranger Greats was published. Smith was ranked Number 35, despite last playing for the team 66 years earlier, before the television era, and well before the era of preserved videotape.

Clint Smith, posing with the Stanley Cup in 1994

Clint Smith retired to Vancouver, where he was involved in hockey at all levels, and died there on May 19, 2009. He was 95 years old, the oldest former NHL player.

Meet Citi Field... But Will You Meet the Mets?

I made my first visit to Pity Field -- excuse me, Citi Field -- on Friday night. The Mets won, 2-1 in 11 innings, over the Florida Marlins. Mike Pelfrey pitched very well, but the Mets just didn't hit for him. Omir Santos, the new catcher, homered in the 5th and singled home the winning run in the 11th. Not a bad game, although a bit of a frustrating one, especially since I had to choose between rooting for the Mets or rooting for a Miami team. Ew.

Now that that's out of the way...

The ballpark itself is great. Looks good, good layout, good views, very good food. And, unlike the Phillies, who took three months to clear away the rubble from Veterans Stadium in 2004, the spot where Shea Stadium stood is now a fully-functioning parking lot, which a ballpark badly needs. The bathrooms were awful at Shea, but at Citi Field they were plentiful and suitable for occupancy.

Everybody who worked there was helpful, although they have had a few weeks to try, as opposed to my first visit to the new Yankee Stadium, where I was in attendance at the 4th game, and even the longtime Yankee ushers, themselves used to the old yard, were still a little unsure. Surely, by now, they're familiar enough to be helpful. The Citi Field employees were fantastic.

I have to say this about one of Citi Field's signature features: Shake Shack is good. Not sure why Met fans made such a big deal about it, but as a Yankee Fan, I didn't know it existed until Met fans started talking about it in connection with Citi Field. It took me an entire inning to get to the front of the line -- naturally, the 5th, when Santos hit the home run -- and I had flashbacks to visits to Great Adventure. But once I got there, the service was good, and the food?

The burger was small, but pretty good. The black-and-white? To paraphrase John Travolta from the film Pulp Fiction, I don't know if it's worth $6.50 ($5.25 at their original location in Madison Square Park), but it's a great freakin' milkshake. Even Daniel-Day Lewis would like that milkshake. He'd drink it up!

Food and parking were two areas in which the Mets always had an edge on the Yankees. The parking issue doesn't effect me. But the food at Citi Field is first-class. The food at the new Yankee Stadium? It's good but not particularly special. The Mets still have the edge there.

I have two complaints with the park. One, the Mets couldn't do anything about: Once they decided to build across from Shea, and to not have a fully-enclosed stadium, no dome, then it was set in stone that the airplanes would remain a problem. In fact, I think it may even be worse.

But there was another problem that the Mets can do something about: They seem to ignore their own history.

After the Mets won the 1986 World Series, they placed notations of that and their 1969 World Series wins on the outfield wall at Shea. By the 1990s, they had four "pennants" on the wall in the right-field corner, also including their 1973 Pennant and their 1988 Division Title. Once won, they added notations for their 1999 "NL Wild Card & Division Series Winners," their 2000 Pennant and their 2006 Division Title. But at Citi Field, the only signs of their success are the flags in right field, and if there's not enough wind to blow them out to their full length, you'd never know that they'd won four Pennants (something half the teams in Major League Baseball, 15 out of 30, haven't done) and two World Series (13 out of 30 haven't done it).

In the right-field corner, where you can look into the visitng team's bullpen (with a pretty good screen to make sure you can't throw anything at the relievers), the Shea "pennants" are on display, and so is the old Home Run Apple. I have to admit, they look a lot smaller close-up. But a lot of Met fans desperately wanted to save that apple, and it has been saved, and they like to get their picture taken next to it. The new apple, in center field, looks about as big as the old one looked.

But that's about it. The retired number signs are in the left-field corner, as they were at Shea. But hardly any reference to Met history, which is quite colorful (and I don't just mean blue and orange), and has had some, to borrow a word, Amazin' moments. At Shea, at the outside edge of the right-field stands, there was a large mural of the 1969 World Series; in left, 1986. Shea had some reflections of its history. But Citi Field? There's the exterior, which purposely resembles Ebbets Field. And there's the Jackie Robinson Rotunda, which is a terrific tribute to the most important athlete in American history. But... but... but...

To paraphrase Mark Twain... Dear reader, suppose you knew nothing about baseball history. And suppose that you were a Met fan. But I repeat myself.

If you knew nothing about the Mets -- say, if you were Britain's Prince Harry, who visited New York this weekend, as did the much more baseball-familiar President and Mrs. Obama -- you could spend 11 innings at Citi Field, and you'd never know that the Mets gave New York the Miracle of '69, Tom Terrific, the Black Cat Game, the "Ya Gotta Believe!" Pennant of '73, Darryl's tape-measure blasts, Doctor K, Dykstra's Playoff walkoff, Game Six (the Mookie-Buckner one, not the Fisk one), Ventura's Grand Slam Single of '99, and, of course, the 2000 Pennant accompanied by "Who Let the Dogs Out?"

In the 8th inning, the Mets dropped "Sweet Caroline" -- allowing the Red Sox to continue playing a song by New Yorker Neil Diamond, rendering them even more ridiculous -- for the original 1962 theme song, "Meet the Mets." Much more appropriate.

But as far as a first-time visitor to a Met game could see, you'd have no way of knowing this wasn't an expansion team. You'd never know this was a team approaching its 50th Anniversary.

The Mets used to be good about celebrating themselves, particularly when they became a hype machine from 1984 to 1990 or so. They'll never match the Yankees for history and achievement, but they don't have to. They have enough great moments to celebrate. They don't have to have a "Monument Park" (as I suggested in a previous Musing), but at Shea they had banners with photos from their past lining the concourse. Why not bring those back? They have a team Hall of Fame, why not have a display of it with the pennants and the old Apple?

At the new Yankee Stadium, the Yankees celebrate the Yankees. At Citi Field, the Mets celebrate baseball. Nothing wrong with that, but if you're going to "Meet the Mets" -- whether it's for the 1st time or the 1,001st time -- shouldn't you have a feeling for what the Mets have been and are?

UPDATE: In 2010, the Mets dedicated a team Hall of Fame to the right of the home plate entrance. So they corrected this major oversight.

The Fun Is Back in The Bronx

Happy Birthday to my favorite athlete of all time, Mr. Reginald Martinez Jackson. Impossible... Reggie can't be 63 years old! To give you an idea of how old that is, that's the age that Mickey Mantle was when he died, and Mickey was a player who started in black-and-white film.

It really does stun me how much time has gone by. Reggie's 1977 World Series heroics are now as far back in time as Joe DiMaggio's feats were in 1977. That is stunning to me. It is also stunning to realize that I am now older than Lou Gehrig and Thurman Munson lived to be.

I guess I'll really start to feel it when the 1976-81 Yankees start dying of old age. Thurman was killed in a plane crash, Catfish Hunter developed, of all things, Lou Gehrig's Disease, and Jim Spencer died of a heart attack when not especially old. But most of the major players from that team are still around, and many of them are still actively involved in baseball in some form or another.

But let's get back to the present. It's getting to be pretty good.

I don't know if any team has ever swept a three-game series with walkoff hits in every game. Melky Cabrera's single in the 9th on Friday night. Alex Rodriguez's homer in the 11th yesterday. Johnny Damon's homer in the 10th today.

Mark Teixeira has benefited from A-Rod's protection and made a fabulous play at first to save 2 runs in the 8th today. And we got good pitching in all three games. And the Minnesota Twins are a good team, too.

If the Mets had gotten something like this, their fans would be in full "We're taking over New York!" mode over it. (Hell, some of the Flushing Heathen think they already have taken over. Idiots -- if Red Sox fans don't mind me using that term on Met fans!)

My favorite game from the weekend was the Friday nighter. Going from a tie to a win in extra innings is great. Going from losing to having won in one swing in the bottom of the 9th, even if it's a "mere" single, especially when it's by a guy who was almost run out of town (Melky, not A-Rod) but has come back to deliver big-time, is more satisfying. Especially since it made the A-Rod and Damon walkoffs less surprising. But no less enjoyable.

Right now, the Yankees are playing like the 2006 Mets were said to play. Except the 2006 Mets had Aaron Heilmann and Billy Wagner. The 2009 Yankees have Mariano Rivera, and even a slightly diminished Rivera is still the best closer in the game.

That the Yankees have considerably loosened up breaks one of the biggest criticisms of the team, that they were too uptight, too "corporate." Maybe it's Damon's former Boston "idiotness" rubbing off on them. Maybe it's Teixeira proving that the early criticism didn't faze him. Maybe it's the new blood on the mound, the Initial Boys, CC Sabathia and A.J. Burnett. (Still not sure why Sabathia dropped the periods.) Maybe it's Melky rediscovering what Kevin Costner taught us in Bull Durham: "This is a fun game. Let's have some fun, damn it!"

In the Subway Squawkers blog, Squawker Lisa tempered her usual good writing with continued gushing over A-Rod and yet another criticism of Derek Jeter, saying that Captain Clutch talks in a "Peanuts Teacher Monotone." You know: "Wha-WHA, wha-WHA, wha-WHA-wha-wha-WHA!"

I have to admit, she's right. Aside from the way he plays baseball, he's actually fairly dull. At least, when he's not dating a gorgeous actress. (Megan Fox has left Brian Austin Green. How long before she shows up at some Meatpacking District club with Derek?) But Derek can talk any way he wants,as long as he still helps the Yankees' opponents say, "Auuuugh! I can't stand it! My stomach hurts! I'm depressed, Linus!" As well as the aforementioned, "Good grief!"

It's just as well. Anyone who hates the Yankees should be addressed as, "You blockhead!"

(UPDATE: Fox and Green got back together, got married, and had 2 kids... before splitting up again.)

I Still Don't Like A-Rod; Chuck Daly, 1930-2009

I was in New York today, and considered going to the Yankee game. But the weather made me decide against it.

The Yankees had a 3-2 lead over the Minnesota Twins, in the top of the 8th, and soon it was 4-3 Twins, thanks to Phil Coke-and-no-smile, blowing a nice start by Joba Chamberlain. But they tied it up in the bottom of the 8th, and went to the 11th.

I didn't actually hear the end, but it probably sounded something like this. Mr. Sterling?

"Theeee pitch, it's swung on! And there it goes! Deep to center field! It is high! It is far! It is GONE! BALLGAME OVER! YANKEES WIN! THEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE YANKEES WIN! It's an AAAAAAAA-BOMB! from AAAAAAAA-ROD!"

Oh, spare me. I'm happy about the win, but did it have to be Alex Roid-riguez who hit it?

I wonder if Michael Kay got that tingling feeling up his leg.

Once again, attendance was about 45,000. Seems just about every seat in the new Yankee Stadium (yeah, I typed it, but it still made my skin crawl) has been sold for every game so far -- except for the $2,500 seats! Excuse me, the $1,250 seats. They're still empty!

Even more than Dodger Stadium nearly half a century ago, it's the House That Greed Built. It's truly impressive, but it's not a park for the fans, and it still doesn't feel like Yankee Stadium. It's like a holodeck simulation of the old, pre-1976 renovation Yankee Stadium on Star Trek.

"Baseball is more than a game of strength. It's... it's about faith. And... it's about courage. And... it's about heart!"
-- Captain Benjamin Sisko (Avery Brooks), Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Of course, this is the same actor who stood on the Brooklyn Bridge, built in 1883, and, in a commercial for IBM filmed incongruously in black-and-white, said, first quizzically, then angrily, like a man who had been totally stiffed by what "the future" turned out to be, "It's the year 2000. Where are the flying cars? I was promised flying cars!"

Ah, the year 2000. Yankees over Mets. And the country was prosperous and safe under a trusted government good times. And A-Rod was in Seattle, taking steroids and never bothering Yankee Fans at all.

Had I known then that the future would include losing a World Series to the Arizona Diamondbacks, losing another to the Florida Marlins, losing an ALCS to the Red Sox, losing two Playoff series to the Whatever They're Calling Themselves This Year Angels of Anaheim, another to the Detroit Tigers and another to the Cleveland Indians, losing the only Yankee Stadium I'd ever known (I guess that was inevitable due to George Steinbrenner truly loving money more than winning), and watching the Red Sox win two World Series... and the Yankee name being sullied by steroiders Alex Rodriguez and Roger Clemens -- and, to a lesser extent, Gary Sheffield and Jason Giambi -- I might've preferred to build a holodeck simulation of 2000 to endlessly repeat.

And had I known that, nine years later, I still wouldn't be called "Daddy" or "Husband," I might've jumped off the World Trade Center. While I still could.

Of course, I now know that I'm called "Michael" -- not yet "Uncle," let alone the name I've chosen for myself in the title for this blog -- by the 2 best little girls a man could ever have for nieces, and that the Bush years are over and the Obama years are underway, I guess the future is looking up.

I've never liked Alex Rodriguez -- despite having been in the ballpark for his 500th * career home run, and I don't think I ever will. I've never trusted A-Rod in a clutch situation -- despite having been in the ballpark for his walkoff grand slam against Baltimore in 2007 -- and I don't think I ever will.

Yeah, thanks for the walkoff win today, Alex. Now do it again in October, you useless twat.

Yeah, I'm still reading those blogs out of the British Isles, about the game we call soccer and they call "football." Today, Arsenal finally got their act together and held Manchester United scoreless for 93 minutes, but didn't score, either, and the tie was all ManUre needed to clinch their 18th League title, tying Liverpool for the most all-time, and their 3rd straight. Bastards.

And congatulations to Rachel. No, not my niece, but Rachel Alexandra, the horse that, today, became the first filly since 1924 to win the Preakness Stakes. And to jockey Calvin Borel, who'd won the Kentucky Derby aboard 50-1 longshot Mine That Bird -- winning the first two legs of the Triple Crown on different horses. I don't think that's ever happened before.

*

Chuck Daly died a week ago. Born July 20, 1930 in St. Mary's, western Pennsylvania, Charles Jerome Daly played basketball at Pennsylvania's Bloomsburg University, served in the Korean War, coached high school ball in the groundhog town of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, and assisted Vic Bubas on 3 Final Four teams at Duke University in the 1960s.

He then got the head coaching jobs at Boston College and then the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, whom he led to 4 straight Ivy League titles and the Elite Eight in 1972 -- the last Ivy League coach to get a team that far.

Chuck was an assistant on the Philadelphia 76ers team that reached the NBA Finals in 1980, coached the Cleveland Cavaliers in 1981-82, and then built the Detroit Pistons' "Motor City Bad Boys" that won the 1989 and 1990 NBA Championships. For winning those 2 titles, the Pistons retired their Number 2 for him, even though he never wore a professional basketball uniform.

He then left the Pistons, and coached the U.S. "Dream Team" at the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona. He coached the Nets in the 1993 and 1994 seasons, and made them better than they'd been at any time since coming into the NBA. He closed his coaching career in 1997 to 1999 with the Orlando Magic.

He died of pancreatic cancer on May 9. He was 78. He is in the Basketball Hall of Fame, and in 1996, he was named to the NBA's 50th Anniversary 10 Greatest Coaches.

UPDATE; Chuck was buried at Riverside Memorial Park in Jupiter, Florida.

When It Rains, It Pours; Jack Kemp, 1935-2009

I always get a thrill when I see the tarp getting taken off the field to end a rain delay. But last night they should have left it on.

Plate umpire Jerry Meals served a nice meal to Red Sox pitcher Jon Lester: A strike zone the size of The Bronx. And he gave Yankee starter Phil Hughes a strike zone the size of a nickel. Hughes said, "I couldn't throw to where the strike zone was" -- not "I couldn't throw to the strike zone." He knew. And manager Joe Girardi rightly argued, and got thrown out of the game.

Jorge Posada, off to a relief-inducing great start, hurt his hamstring. You know hamstrings: The most easily re-injured part of a baseball player's body.

Alfredo Aceves became the latest Yankee reliever to not get the job done.

And while Mark Teixeira hit 2 homers -- the 1st completing back-to-backs with Johnny Damon -- and looked like he was getting out of his slump, the Yanks again couldn't complete a comeback against that prick Jonathan Papelbon. Red Sox 6, Yankees 4. Now 0-4 against The Scum this season. (Yes, the Sox are The Scum, not the Mets.)

I know the reasoning behind trying to get the game in: A few times in the last few years, once resulting in that five-game series at Fenway in August 2006 that the Yanks ended up sweeping, early rainouts have led to day-night doubleheaders between the rivals. Those are a good way to seriously deplete pitching staffs, and both wanted to avoid it.

But last night's game never should have been played. Just about everything that could have gone wrong for the Yankees did.

Mickey Rivers, the center fielder of the late 1970s dynasty, said, "Ain't no sense in worrying about things you got control over, 'cause if you got control, ain't no sense worrying. And there ain't no sense in worrying about things you got no control over, 'cause if you got no control, ain't no sense worrying."

I'm going to take a wild guess and say Mick the Quick didn't see last night's game, because the Yankees had no control, either over the Red Sox or the umpires.

And it's raining again as I type this. Another disaster?

Am I being overly dramatic? Can any loss to the Red Sox in April be a "disaster"? Uh, yes. Any loss to the Red Sox is a disaster.

Time for a little disaster relief. Shred the Sox!

*

Jack Kemp died this week. Born on July 13, 1935 in Los Angeles, he was a high school classmate of trumpeter and music producer Herb Alpert and future big-league pitcher Larry Sherry. He went to that city's Occidental College. (As did, briefly, a man who actually did go on to become President: Barack Obama.)

The Pittsburgh Steelers signed him in 1957, but cut him after the season. He was not the only quarterback cut by the Steelers in that decade: They also had, and cut, Johnny Unitas and Len Dawson. This is not a recommended way to run a football team.

Kemp was signed by the Giants, but never got into a game in 1958, sitting on the bench for every game, including their NFL Championship Game loss to the Baltimore Colts. He spent the 1959 season with the Calgary Stampeders of the Canadian Football League.

The American Football League gave him his chance. In their founding year of 1960, he was signed by his hometown team, the Los Angeles Chargers. They moved to San Diego in 1961, and he remained with them through 1962. Then came his big change: The Buffalo Bills traded for him. In 1964 and 1965, he led the Bills to the AFL Championship -- each time, beating the Chargers in the Championship Game.

He remained with the Bills through the AFL's final year, 1969. He often joked, "I sustained 11 concussions while playing football. Nothing left to do but to go into politics!"

He also said, "Pro football gave me a good perspective: When I entered the political arena, I had already been booed, cheered, cut, sold, traded and hung in effigy."

Although he has never been elected to the Pro Football Hall of Fame, he has been elected to the Bills' Wall of Fame and the Greater Buffalo Sports Hall of Fame.

*

In 1970, he was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives from a district centered on Buffalo. He held that seat for 18 years, and became known as a conservative Republican seeking tax cuts, restrictions on abortion, and a decidedly anti-Communist foreign policy. He and Senator William Roth of Delaware submitted the Kemp-Roth Bill, a.k.a. "the Reagan Tax Cut," that President Ronald Reagan signed into law in 1981.

But he differed from the rising Reagan wing of the party by embracing civil rights and legal immigration. Urban Enterprise Zones, city shopping districts where the local sales tax was cut in half to aid poor people to afford to buy things, were his idea, proposed in 1980, passed by Congress, and signed into law by President Jimmy Carter.

It may well be that his background, having gone to a mostly-Jewish high school and played alongside black players, made him, in his own words, a "bleeding-heart conservative." The joke was that, "Jack Kemp has showered with more black people than the other Republican Presidential candidates have met."

He did have 2 drawbacks, but he had enough of a sense of humor to joke about them. One was a perceived ego: "People say I'm arrogant. But I know better!" The other was a tendency to talk too much: In his 1996 debate with Al Gore, he was told he had 90 seconds to answer a question, and he said, "I can't clear my throat in 90 seconds!"

With his oft-cited good looks, his charm, his ability to win over what had been a Democratic district, and even his initials -- Jack French Kemp became known as "the Republican JFK" -- he was seen by many as the ideal successor to Reagan in the 1988 election. And he did run, but he finished 3rd in Republican delegates behind Vice President George Bush (we had no reason to use the "H.W." initials at the time) and Senate Minority Leader Bob Dole.

Bush won the election, and named Kemp to be Secretary of Housing & Urban Development. "HUD" had been beset by scandal in the Reagan Administration, and Kemp won plaudits for cleaning the Department up. When Bill Clinton defeated Bush in 1992, a lot of conservatives hoped Kemp would run against him in 1996.

He didn't, but when Dole got the nomination, he chose Kemp to be the Vice Presidential nominee. As fate would have it, the Convention was in San Diego. And Dole was proud of his plan for a 15 percent across-the-board tax cut -- 15 having been Kemp's uniform number with the Chargers and Bills. They had a rally outside the San Diego Convention Center, wearing Chargers jerseys, Dole with Number 96, Kemp with Number 15.

Left to right: Pete Wilson, then Governor of California,

and a former Mayor of San Diego; Dole; Kemp.

The pair had been at odds before, with Dole a deficit hawk and Kemp a tax-cutter, and had, as I said, been primary competitors in 1988. But they smoothed over their differences (Dole, so often ridiculously cited as "not a true conservative," needed the kind of people who would have preferred that the Dole-Kemp ticket be the other way around), and campaigned hard. Kemp held his own in his debate with incumbent Vice President Al Gore, and it certainly wasn't his fault that Clinton-Gore overwhelmingly beat Dole-Kemp.

He enthusiastically endorsed George W. Bush in 2000 and 2004, and John McCain in 2008, but never ran for office again after 1996. Nor did the younger Bush, in spite of his admiration for him, appoint him to any post in his Administration. He was, however, regarded as an elder statesman of conservatism.

Jack married Joanne Main, his college sweetheart, and they were married for 51 years. They had 4 children: 2 sons, Jeff and Jimmy, both of whom followed their father as professional quarterbacks; and 2 daughters, Jennifer and Judith.

Jack developed cancer last year, and passed away 3 days ago. He was 73.