Hurts So Good

10-3! We beat The Scum 10-3! We beat The Scum 10-3! We beat The Scum 10-3!

Nick Johnson and Robinson Cano left the game due to injuries, incurred by Super Punk himself, Josh Beckett, hitting them. Johnson has gone on the Disabled List, while Cano is listed as day-to-day.

The injury bug has bitten the Yankees almost as many times this season as the Mets, and yet the Yankees keep winning.

This was due in large part to Beckett losing his control in last night's 6th inning. The Yanks put 6 runs on the board, going from a 3-1 to a 9-1 lead. Cano and Derek Jeter were both hit with the bases loaded. But, hard as it may be to believe, I don't think Beckett hit either on purpose, because he also walked home a run and threw a wild pitch in the inning. He did not have it last night.

Phil Hughes sure had it, holding the Sox to just 1 run over 7 innings in the little green pinball machine in the Back Bay.

Going back to last season, the World Champion Yankees -- who, don't forget, clinched the AL East last season with a home sweep of the Roid Sox -- have now won 11 of their last 13 against The Scum. Whatever "whommy" (to borrow a word from Stengelese) they had over us is as much history as whatever hold we previously had over them. That hold the Sox had on us? It is high, it is far, it is... gone.

In fact, last night was an awful day for Boston sports. The Celtics lost a Playoff game. At home. Got clobbered by the Cleveland Cavaliers. That would have been totally unacceptable not that long ago. And the Bruins, with a chance to finish a sweep of the Flyers in Philadelphia, lost in overtime.

The Yanks try again this afternoon, weather permitting, at 3:10 on Fox.

*

Speaking of the Cavaliers, I saw two interesting covers at the newsstand. One was the New York Daily News, showing what the Cavs' LeBron James would look like in a Knicks uniform. The other was Catherine Zeta-Jones on the cover of Allure magazine. If you're familiar with this blog, you know which cover I liked better.

Read my keystrokes, Knick fans: You have as much chance of getting LeBron as I have of getting Catherine.

The difference is, she actually lives in New York. (She and Michael Douglas have a place just off Central Park, and she just got nominated for a Tony Award for her role in the revival of Stephen Sondheim's A Little Night Music. Her costar is the legendary Angela Lansbury.) Of course, she and the old man also have homes in Hollywood, Bermuda and her native Wales.

But even if clearing all that cap space works, and the Knickleheads do manage to snag LeBron, that won't guarantee anything. A, he still hasn't won a title, and you get the feeling that if he doesn't do it this time with the Cavs, he never will. And B, when the 1985 NBA Draft Lottery was fixed, I mean held, and the Knicks got the top pick and used it on Patrick Ewing, the talk around here was not if Ewing would take the Knicks all the way, but how many times. How many turned out to be zero.

Who's to say that Knick management, which has been pretty bad since their last title in 1973 and absolutely hideous since their last trip to the Finals in 1999, will give LeBron what he needs to win it all at The Garden?

Put it another way: Since the Knicks' last trip to the Finals of their sport, the following New York Tri-State Area teams have made this many trips to theirs: Yankees 5, Devils 3, Giants 2, Nets (yes, the Nets) 2, Mets 1. If you count the WNBA, the Liberty have 2; if you count the MLS, the Red Bulls got to the Final of the U.S. Open Cup just 2 years ago.

Only the Jets, Rangers and Islanders have failed to get to their sport's Finals since the last Knicks trip there, and the Jets did at least make it to the AFC Championship Game last season. In fact, the Jets, who have only one game per round of Playoffs, have won 4 postseason games since 2001; the Knicks, zilch.

In fact, compared to the Knicks, even the Rangers have been rather successful. And, as we all know, the Rangers suck.

*

Days until the next Yankees-Red Sox series (after the current one): 9, starting Monday night, at Yankee Stadium II. Strangely, it's a midweek series, and only 2 games, The Scum's first visit to The Bronx this season after we've already played 6 games in their place.

Days until the 2010 World Cup begins: 33. A shade over a month.

Days until the World Cup Final: 64.

Days until Rutgers plays football again: 119.

Days until East Brunswick High School plays football again: 125.

Days until the new Meadowlands Stadium (still unnamed) opens for football: 127. (The national soccer teams of Mexico and Ecuador played a "friendly," as a tune-up for the World Cup, there last night, in front of 77,000. I wonder how many were rooting for Ecuador? It ended 0-0.)

Days until the Devils play another local rival: 154 (estimate).

Days until the next East Brunswick-Old Bridge Thanksgiving clash: 201.

Days until Derek Jeter collects his 3,000th career hit: 388 (estimate).

Days until the Rutgers-Army football game at Yankee Stadium: 553.

Days until the last Nets game in New Jersey: 701 (estimated).

Days until the 2012 Olympics begin in London: 821.

Back to Scum City

The Yankees swept the Baltimore Orioles at Yankee Stadium II, 4-1, 4-1 and 7-5. Tonight, they head up to Scum City to face, well, The Scum.

Said Scum had been reeling. While the Yankees are off to a strong 19-8 start (and yet, still 1 game behind the Tampa Bay Duffel Bags), the Red Sox got off to an awful start. They are on a 4-game winning streak, but have needed all of that to get on the good side of .500, 15-14. They are 6 1/2 games out of 1st place, and 6 in the AILC (that's the All-Important Loss Column) behind the Yankees.

Tonight, 7:00 (or 7:05, or 7:07, or 7:08, or 7:10, who knows for sure): Phil Hughes (rather than the previously scheduled and seemingly hopeless Javier Vazquez) starts against Josh Beckett, Super Punk himself.

Tomorrow afternoon, 3:00 (or thereabouts), on the Fox Game of the Week, CC Sabathia vs. Clay Buchholz.

Sunday night, 8:00 (or thereabouts), on the ESPN Game of the Week, A.J. Burnett vs. Jon Lester.

*

Every time I see a Yankee Hater, I think of a scene from M*A*S*H. Major Margaret “Hot Lips” Houlihan (played by Loretta Swit) is changing the bandage of a wounded soldier, who's sick of the Army, and he tells her, "I hate your guts!" And without missing a beat, Hot Lips says, "My guts are not here for you to love."

Yankees Universe tops a Red Sox Nation any day. Besides, if there really is a “Red Sox Nation,” then we need to take all these “illegal immigrants” -- the ones with their Red Sox caps, who hang out at places like Professor Thom’s at 219 2nd Avenue (at 14th Street, next to a Yankee Fan bar called Finnerty’s at 221 2nd) and the Riviera Cafe at 225 West 4th Street (at 7th Avenue on Sheridan Square) -- and deport them.

*

I've tweaked this a couple of times, to better fit the Yanks-Sox rivalry. It is based on Arseblog, the most popular Arsenal FC blog on the planet, who wrote it to describe Manchester United and their fans -- and Man U aren't even Arsenal's biggest rivals, arguably not even their second-biggest. (First are Tottenham Hotspur, second might be Chelsea, and, remember, regardless of whether or not there's an S on the end of the club's name, they are to be referred to in the plural sense: Not "Arsenal is going to beat Fulham on Sunday," but "Arsenal are going to beat Fulham.")

And while I don't share the antipathy that "Arseblogger" has for cloves (but I might if I got to know them better), I do share his loathing for a certain bald English drummer-vocalist (I won't dignify him by calling him a "singer") who roots for 6 different soccer teams, the cunt. So here are my feelings on the subject, aided by Arseblogger (whose name I didn't know at the time, but not only do I now, I've since met him):

We are Yankee Fans. The Red Sox are the enemy. They are The Scum. They are deeply evil people. Their fans, even more so.

The Red Sox would rob your mother at gunpoint.

They would run over your puppy, and then point and laugh, calling it “wicked awesome!”

They would make you listen to Phil Collins.

They would insist on putting cloves on everything. Except their pizza. That, they would cover in oregano and garlic, which I wouldn't mind, except they would pronounce it "gaaahlic!" (Don't give me that look, because Massachusetts native Emeril Lagasse spells it that way on the jar label of one of his sauces, and I looked it up, garlic and oregano do appear to be the most popular pizza toppings in that city.)

They would offer you a Dunkin Donuts iced latte, and put so much sugar in it, it would crunch.

They would force you to watch Ben Affleck films. Films that don’t have either Jennifer Lopez or Jennifer Garner in them, so you don't even have something nice to look at.

They would drive really slowly in front of you when you're in a hurry, then speed up so they get through the amber light and leave you stuck at the red.

They would chew gum loudly in your ear.

They would pick their teeth in public.

They would knock down old ladies.

If they ever put a Red Sox fan into space, he would probably fart in the airlock.

They are hypocrites: They would get hopelessly drunk, throw thing onto the field, and call you and your fellow Yankee Fans “fuckin’ faggots” and “the worst fans in the world,” and would call your team a bunch of cheaters for using steroids and outspending everyone -- and demand that you overlook that, until 2009, the two highest-spending teams ever to win the World Series were the 2004 and 2007 Red Sox, led by proven steroid freaks David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez (and possibly others).

They are not our rivals. They are not our competitors. They are not our peers.

They are the enemy. Treat them as such.

And in the face of such monstrous evil, such hideous, inebriated, tantrum-throwing, bigoted, monster-faced malevolence, make sure you let our boys know that they are fighting the good fight, on the side of truth and righteousness. For, after all, they are The New York Yankees. And we are Yankee Fans.

1918* Forver. Beat The Scum!

Da da da DAT da daaaa! Charrrrge!

Living Members of the Baseball Hall of Fame as of May 6, 2010

Just out of curiosity, following the deaths of Ernie Harwell and Robin Roberts, these are the living Hall-of-Famers that Major League Baseball teams can claim as their own, including players, managers, executives and (with the inclusion of recipients of the Ford Frick Award, which is not "officially" membership in the Hall but is considered by everyone else to be such) broadcasters.

Teams are arranged in alphabetical order, and some inductees can be claimed by more than one team. I'm not counting the not-yet-eligible, recently-retired or still-active, "sure Hall-of-Famers," because, as has already been proven by Pete Rose and Mark McGwire, there is no such thing as a sure Hall-of-Famer anymore. Not that I expect Derek Jeter or Mariano Rivera to mess up their chances, but then, I never expected Roger Clemens to do so, either, and now he's a question mark.

There are 65 living members of the Baseball Hall of Fame -- 79 if you count broadcasters.

Anaheim Angels, 3: Rod Carew, Reggie Jackson, Nolan Ryan.

Arizona Diamondbacks, none. As I said, we can't count Randy Johnson and Curt Schilling.

Atlanta Braves, 3: Hank Aaron, Phil Niekro and Frick Award winner Milo Hamilton.

Baltimore Orioles, 8: Frank Robinson, Brooks Robinson, Jim Palmer, Luis Aparicio (he was the starting shortstop on their '66 World Champs), Earl Weaver, Eddie Murray, Cal Ripken, and Frick Award winner Jon Miller. That's an amazing total considering the franchise is just 56 years old (in its Baltimore form), and I suppose they are lucky that all of these men are still alive, when some teams have HOFers younger than the Robinsons who have died.

Boston Red Sox, 7: Bobby Doerr, Carl Yastrzemski, Carlton Fisk, Dennis Eckersley (a pretty good starter before he became a great reliever), Wade Boggs, Jim Rice, Dick Williams (managed their '67 Pennant).

Chicago Cubs, 5: Ernie Banks, Billy Williams, Ferguson Jenkins, Ryne Sandberg, Andre Dawson. Why not Ron Santo?

Chicago White Sox, 2: Luis Aparicio, Carlton Fisk.

Cincinnati Reds, 6: Frank Robinson, Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Sparky Anderson, Tony Perez and Frick Award winner Marty Brennaman.

Cleveland Indians, 1: Bob Feller. Manny Ramirez, Jim Thome and Roberto Alomar remain to be seen.

Colorado Rockies, none.

Detroit Tigers, 3: Al Kaline, Jim Bunning, Sparky Anderson.

Florida Marlins, none. Andre Dawson played one season for them at the end of his career, but he's not thought of as a Marlin. I suppose Frick Award winner Felo Ramirez can be counted, although his best work was done for national Spanish-language networks for decades before the Marlins were expanded into existence.

Houston Astros, 4: Joe Morgan, Nolan Ryan and Frick Award winners Gene Elston (who also broadcast for the preceding minor-league team the Houston Buffs) and Milo Hamilton. Despite all he achieved in Houston, Ryan is still thought of more as an Angel and a Ranger, and Morgan of course as a Red. It will take until the (almost certain) elections of Jeff Bagwell and Craig Biggio before the Astros have HOFers that are truly their own.

Kansas City Royals, 3: George Brett, Whitey Herzog and Frick Award winner Denny Matthews.

Los Angeles Dodgers, 6: Sandy Koufax, Duke Snider (he did stick around for a few years after the move), Tommy Lasorda, Don Sutton, Frick Award winners Vin Scully -- now the last of the old-time broadcasting legends -- and Jaime Jarrin.

Milwaukee Brewers, 4: Rollie Fingers, Robin Yount, Paul Molitor and Frick Award winner Bob Uecker (who is also in ill health -- get well, Uke).

Minnesota Twins, 2: Harmon Killebrew, Rod Carew.

New York Mets, 4: Tom Seaver, Gary Carter, and, if I can be verrrry generous here, Yogi Berra and Ralph Kiner (of course, elected to the Hall while a Met broadcaster but for his tenure as a Pirates slugger). Why not Gil Hodges?

New York Yankees, 7: Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford, Reggie Jackson, Dave Winfield, Wade Boggs, Goose Gossage, and Frick Award winner Jerry Coleman (who was a Yankee second baseman and then broadcaster before moving on to San Diego). Joe Garagiola and Tony Kubek have also won the Frick Award, but despite Kubek being a star Yankee player and Garagiola having been a Yankee broadcaster in the 1960s, both received the Frick mainly for their national work on NBC-TV. Lee MacPhail, now the oldest living member of the Hall, was the Yankees' farm system director and later their general manager, but he's best remembered as the President of the American League -- in which role he really hurt the Yankees in his last year of service, 1983. (see "Pine Tar Game")

Oakland Athletics, 6: Rollie Fingers, Reggie Jackson, Dennis Eckersley, Dick Williams, Rickey Henderson and Frick Award winner Lon Simmons. That's a lot of HOFers for a team that's only been around (in its current form) for 40 years and change, although only Henderson is listed here solely with this team, and Simmons is shared with the team across the Bay.

Philadelphia Phillies, 3: Steve Carlton, Mike Schmidt, Jim Bunning.

Pittsburgh Pirates, 2: Ralph Kiner and Bill Mazeroski.

St. Louis Cardinals, 7: Stan Musial, Bob Gibson, Lou Brock, Red Schoendienst, Orlando Cepeda (only 3 seasons but 2 of them Pennant winners and 1 an MVP), Ozzie Smith, Whitey Herzog.

San Diego Padres, 6: Rollie Fingers, Dave Winfield, Tony Gwynn, Goose Gossage, Dick Williams and Frick Award winner Jerry Coleman. "Oh, doctor," that's a lot for a franchise just over 40 years old, and I even thought of including Gaylord Perry. But only Gwynn played most (in his case, all) of his career with the Padres, and only Winfield among the others was there at anything close to his best.

San Francisco Giants, 7: Willie Mays, Juan Marichal, Willie McCovey, Gaylord Perry, Orlando Cepeda and Frick Award winners Lon Simmons and Jon Miller. Monte Irvin left the Giants before the move to San Francisco, having spent most of his career with them and with the Newark Eagles (he's the only living HOFer to have spent more than just the very beginning of his career in the Negro Leagues), so I can't count him with San Francisco. But considering they've only been around since 1958 and have in that time won only 3 Pennants and no World Series, this is an astounding total -- even more so, none of the HOFers who can be counted as San Francisco, rather than as New York, Giants have yet died.

Seattle Mariners, 1: Frick Award winner Dave Niehaus. No, you can't count Gaylord Perry. When Randy Johnson and Ken Griffey Jr. get in, you can count them. Presuming Ichiro Suzuki's Japanese start isn't held against him, you can count him, too.

Tampa Bay Rays, none. No, you can't count Wade Boggs, nor Fred McGriff if he makes it.

Texas Rangers, 2: Ferguson Jenkins and Nolan Ryan. Neither was mainly a Ranger, and the elections of Ivan Rodriguez and Juan Gonzalez, once considered sure, are now very much in doubt.

Toronto Blue Jays, none. No, you can't count Dave Winfield from the '92 World Champs, or Rickey Henderson or Paul Molitor from '93.

Washington Nationals, none. If Frank Robinson had managed them to contention, you could count him. From their former incarnation as the Montreal Expos, you can count Gary Carter and Andre Dawson. Harmon Killebrew is the only living Washington Senator in the Hall, and he was only there for 5 seasons before the team moved to Minnesota. And the Senators' original TV voice, Bob Wolff, is still alive, although no longer actively broadcasting for a sports team.

Robin Roberts, 1926-2010

Not a good week for baseball. On Tuesday, we lost Ernie Harwell, the voice of the Detroit Tigers. Now, I find out that Robin Roberts has died at the age of 83.

Aside from the coincidence of their name, and some athletic success, there is no connection between Robin Evan Roberts, the legendary pitcher; and Robin Rene Roberts, who currently co-anchors ABC's Good Morning America after establishing herself on ESPN.

There was a commercial a few years back, promoting Major League Baseball. In the San Diego Padres' dugout, Bip Roberts was talking about what a good investment baseball cards were. He opened a price guide, showing that his own rookie card was worth $600. Sitting next to him was Tony Gwynn, Mr. Padre himself, and Tony said, "Yo, Bip, you're looking at Robin Roberts. Your card is worth 4 cents." To which Bip protested, "Yo, T, 6 cents in good condition!"

So what did Robin Roberts do to get a value of 600 smackers for his rookie card? Well, he won 286 games. 234 of those were for the Philadelphia Phillies, from 1948 to 1961. For the first few of those seasons, the Phils were a good team. But for most of that time, they weren't. Still, from 1950 to 1955, Roberts won 20 games every season. That's 6 straight. How many pitchers, in this era of 5-man rotations and questionable bullpens, will win 20 in even 1 season? He did it 7 times, 6 in a row. For the pre-Mike Schmidt Phillies.

His 1st 20-win season was the Phils' 1950 "Whiz Kids" season, where they won their only National League Pennant between 1915 and 1980. In 1952, he won 28 for an 87-win Phils team. Think about that: 28 wins in 1 season. It's only been topped (or even matched) once since, by Denny McLain's 31 in 1968. Since '52, the only others to get 27 (or even 26) are another Phillie, Steve Carlton in '72; and Bob Welch with the Oakland A's in 1990.

Roberts pitched and won the 1950 season finale for the Phils, going 10 innings against the Brooklyn Dodgers in the bandbox of Ebbets Field. Had the Phils lost, there would have been a Playoff for the Pennant the next day. Instead, Dick Sisler (son of Hall-of-Famer George) hit a 10th-inning homer, and Roberts held off the mighty Brooks lineup in the bottom of the 10th to win. After just 2 days' rest, he started Game 2 of the World Series, and went 10 innings again, holding the Yankees to 1 run over the first 9, before Joe DiMaggio took him into the Shibe Park bleachers in the top of the 10th, for a 2-1 Yankee win.

On May 13, 1954, pitching against the Cincinnati Redlegs (this was the really stupid part of American history where we didn't even want to call a baseball team "the Reds" because of the implications of Communism), Roberts gave up a leadoff home run to Bobby Adams, and then retired 27 consecutive batters to win 8-1. So had he gotten Adams out, he could have had a perfect game. As it is, none of his 286 wins was a no-hitter.

After the conclusion of the 1961 season, Roberts was sold to the New York Yankees. On February 6, 1962, the Phillies announced that Roberts' uniform Number 36 would be retired by the team on March 21, when the Yankees would visit Clearwater to play the Phillies in a spring training game. It was the 1st uniform number to be retired by the organization. Roberts started for the Yankees that day, and gave up 4 runs in 3 innings, but was still the winning pitcher in the game which the Yankees won 13-10. However, he did not appear for the Yankees before being traded to the Baltimore Orioles.

Roberts pitched on until 1966, and never reached the postseason again, though he did help get the Orioles to within 2 games of the 1964 American League Pennant. He finished his career with the Houston Astros and Chicago Cubs, and ended up as the first player elected to the Hall of Fame who'd played for either the modern version of the Orioles or for the Astros.

Because he pitched prior to 1953 and into 1966, he was able to become the only pitcher to defeat the Braves in Boston, Milwaukee and Atlanta.

He was honored with the retirement of his number by the Phillies and the modern versions of 2 minor-league teams he pitched for: The Wilmington Blue Rocks (Delaware) and the Vermont Mountaineers. He is also a member of the Michigan State University Hall of Fame, and in his hometown of Springfield, Illinois, the minor-league ballpark is named for him.

When the Phillies began the Philadelphia Baseball Hall of Fame in 1978, Roberts and longtime A's manager-owner Connie Mack were the first 2 inductees. A statue of him stands outside the 1st-base entrance of Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia. (Check the link to Philly sports blog The 700 Level off to the side of this one, and there will be a link to a picture of the statue.) In 1999, The Sporting News named him Number 74 on their list of the 100 Greatest Baseball Players, and he was a nominee for the Major League Baseball All-Century Team.

I was at Veterans Stadium in 2003 when the Athletics came in for an interleague series, their first appearance in Philadelphia since they moved out in 1954. Along with a few surviving A's stars (including Gus Zernial, Bobby Schantz, Eddie Joost), Roberts was on hand, signing copies of his book My Life In Baseball. The fans seemed more interested in him than in the current Phillies. He'd earned that. (Of course, so had they: This was before Jimmy Rollins blossomed, before Ryan Howard, Chase Utley and Cole Hamels arrived.)

It's been a good era for Phillies fans, but also a sad one, losing Harry Kalas last season and now Roberts. Dallas Green, take care of yourself!

UPDATE: Robin Roberts has no gravesite; he was cremated. Dallas Green lived on until 2017.

So Long, Mr. Ernie: 1918-2010

William Earnest Harwell passed away yesterday, at the age of 92. "Mr. Ernie." I can't think of him by any other name.

He was a native of Atlanta, and in 1948 he was the voice of the minor-league baseball team, the Atlanta Crackers. He was asked to substitute for Brooklyn Dodgers announcer Red Barber during Red's illness, and impressed enough for the crosstown New York Giants to hire him.

Harwell was at the Polo Grounds when the Giants played the Dodgers in a Pennant-decider on October 3, 1951, broadcasting it nationally over NBC-TV. We all know what Giant broadcaster Russ Hodges said: "The Giants win the Pennant!" over and over again. Mr. Ernie? NBC didn't save the footage, so he liked to say, "Only Lulu knows for sure." (Lulu was Mrs. Harwell.)

In 1954, the St. Louis Browns became the Baltimore Orioles, and Harwell and Chuck Thompson became their first radio announcers. Thompson became beloved in Maryland, but Michigan would be where Harwell made his mark, as in 1960 he was hired by the Detroit Tigers.

More than Ty Cobb, more than Al Kaline, more even than Tiger Stadium itself, Ernie Harwell was the Detroit Tigers for millions. From 1960 to 2002, he was that metro area's "voice of summer." Detroit summers can be long and hot, and dangerous. Mr. Ernie made you feel like everything was all right, even in the Motor City.

There was one season in there where he didn't broadcast for the Tigers: 1992. The Tigers' ownership had hired former University of Michigan football coach Bo Schembechler as team president, and Bo fired Ernie. Now, how do you want to be remembered: AS the man who rebuilt one of the nation's greatest college football programs, and made it that again, and educated hundreds while making millions cheer; or as the man who fired Ernie Harwell? Bo went to his grave insisting that he didn't fire Harwell, radio station WJR did -- which was, well, I'm not going to use a word that Mr. Ernie would never have used, not in an entry paying tribute to him, but you can guess what that word is.

When the Tigers were sold that year, the new owner, Mike Ilitch (also owner of the NHL's Detroit Red Wings and Little Caesar's Pizza) hired him back. (That may have been secondarily a tribute to the most popular figure in Michigan sports, and primarily a swipe at the old owner, Tom Monaghan, who ran rival pizza company Domino's.)

Ernie Harwell served in the U.S. Marine Corps in World War II -- as did a contemporary, Chicago sportscasting legend Jack Brickhouse. I have no problem imagining Brickhouse as a Marine, and, of course, there's no such thing as a "former Marine," only a discharged one.

But I can't imagine Mr. Ernie as a Marine. He was just so, well, un-Marine-like. He was an ordained minister, who never seemed to have an unkind word for anyone, and vice versa. If a player was in a slump, he would say the player was struggling. But he never said a player had blown it, or was to blame for a defeat. I don't know what he was like in the service (or if he saw combat, not all Marines did, even then), but he seemed... gentle. He was certainly one of the kindliest souls anyone ever knew. Tigers pitching legend Denny McLain, who had several people's shares of ups and downs and was no stranger to reprobate behavior, said that in all the 45 years he knew Harwell, he never heard him use a profanity -- not even "damn" or "hell." That's freakin' unbelievable.

Harwell was also a songwriter. In his role as a minister, he wrote hymns. He wrote poetry. As a Tiger broadcaster, he wrote "There's Never Been Any Like Denny McLain" during the Tigers' 1968 World Championship season, as McLain won 31 games, a total not seriously approached since. As an Atlanta native, he wrote "Move Over Babe, Here Comes Henry" in 1972, as Hank Aaron approached the all-time home run record.

War hero, minister, songwriter, chronicler of one of the great sports institutions of this country, and yet nothing that can be said about this man can suffice. His goodness surpassed whatever we can say about his greatness, and that's the best legacy anyone can have.

I've only been to Detroit once, making it to Tiger Stadium in that farewell season of 1999, and although the city was in no better shape now than then, and the Tigers got pounded by the White Sox that day, I had a great time, not least because I could hear Mr. Ernie on my Walkman and see him in that nice close press box.

His decency touched the heart of a demented Yankee Fan from 700 miles away, and made me tune in every once in a while, even though I have no particular reason to root for the Tigers (except when they play the Red Sox) and, at 760 AM, WJR is right next to a New York superstation, 770 WABC. I made the effort to tune him in anyway. How's that for an achievement?

When we had that flood on March 13, and my bookcase collapsed, one of the books I was very upset about losing was Ernie's Tuned to Baseball, written just after the Tigers' 1984 World Championship, their 4th and the 2nd he broadcast. I bought it at a sidewalk stand on Michigan Avenue, after coming out of Tiger Stadium that day, May 30, 1999. His writing style was much like his broadcasting style: He treated you as if you were intelligent enough to read the words of an educated man, but also as if you were forever young, or else why would you love the game of baseball enough to read a book about it?

To have the mind of a 40-year-old, knowing that this game will often disappoint you and you shouldn't let it get to you too much; but to also have the heart of an 11-year-old, still full of hope that "This is the year," and to admire those, like Mr. Ernie, who do their best to bring it to you? That's a pretty good definition of a baseball fan. And even at 92, Mr. Ernie Harwell was that kind of person.

Yes, Ernie Harwell was forever young, young enough at heart to always begin the first spring training broadcast of each season with a reading from the Bible's Song of Solomon, Chapter 2, Verses 11 and 12, choosing (as one would expect an educated man of his age to do) the King James text: "For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land."

When the Tigers closed down Tiger Stadium on September 27, 1999, after playing there for 87 seasons -- before moving to Comerica Park, which has a statue of him outside -- the last words were those of Ernie Harwell. And they are words we can have for him, too:

"So long, old friend. We will remember."

UPDATE: Mr. Ernie was buried at Oakwood Cemetery in the Detroit suburb of Farmington.

Can the Real Mets Stand Up?

Will the real 2010 New York Mets please stand up? Can they? I doubt it. They took a serious haymaker last night. Or, since they were in South Philadelphia, perhaps I should say, in the tradition of Rocky Balboa, a left hook.

All the Flushing Heathen who dared not show their colors since the end of the 2007 season showed their blue & orange again these last 2 weeks, as the Mets soared to 1st place in the National League Least with a 9-1 homestand. And when they won the 1st game of that series in Philadelphia against the Phillies -- more of a real nemesis to them than the Atlanta Braves ever were -- a lot of people were thinking, "Hey, maybe the Mets can actually contend for the Playoffs. Maybe they can even win the NL East!"

Then the Phils gave Roy Halladay about 10 times as many runs as he needed on Saturday. And then last night, Johan Santana, staked to a 5-2 lead, did his best Javier Vazquez impression. The Phils tallied a few times in the bottom of the 4th. How many times, Ed Rooney? "Nine times!" Final score: Phillies 11, Mets 5.

Meanwhile, the Yankees took 2 of 3 from the Chicago White Sox, with Phil Hughes pitching 7 shutout innings yesterday afternoon.

Remember after the 2007 season? The Mets got The Great Johan Santana after both the Yankees and the Red Sox decided that the prices the Minnesota Twins were demanding from them were too high.

The Yankees were asked to part with... Phil Hughes. And Ian Kennedy. Well, Kennedy is gone now, anyway, and appears to be no great loss. But Hughes turned out to be a key figure in last season's World Championship, and at the rate Vazquez is going, Hughes is going from 5th starter to 4th starter real fast. And, behind CC Sabathia, A.J. Burnett and Andy Pettitte, that's a nice spot in the rotation to have.

Okay, show of hands: How many people still think the Yankees made a mistake by refusing to trade Hughes as part of the package for Santana?

Anybody? Anybody? Bueller? Bueller?

It's no shame that Santana was not the best pitcher to have pitched in that series, as Halladay might be the best in the game right now. The shame is that Santana was not the best pitcher in his own game. Jamie Moyer was.

Jamie Moyer. He was not IN both Phillies World Championship parades, 1980 and 2008. The native of Sellersville, Bucks County, Pennsylvania, was, however, AT the 1980 parade, and in the 2008 edition.

Moyer may not be the best starter in the Phils' rotation, but he sure was the best pitcher in yesterday's game. Santana really ought to be ashamed of himself, walking in a run with the bases loaded. When the batter was a pitcher. And 47 years old.

The Mets are now a half-game out of first place, but they are every bit as pathetic now as they were when they were 4-8.

It's getting to the point where New York Daily News columnist Mike Lupica is suggesting that the Yankees trade Vazquez to the Mets, which would solve both teams' biggest problems: The Yanks would be rid of a guy who can't pitch in the American League, and the Mets would get a starter who can pitch in the National League -- which is more than can be said, for the moment, of Oliver Perez.

The clock is ticking on manager Jerry Manuel and general manager Omar Minaya.

Washing the White Sox, Vazquez Also a Washout

Friday: Yankees 6, White Sox 4. Yet another good Andy Pettitte performance.

Saturday: White Sox 7, Yankees 6. This after the Yanks came back from a 5-1 deficit to lead 6-5, but lost anyway. I don't blame the bullpen, though.

I blame Javier Vazquez. He had a lot of trouble finding the plate. And when he did find the plate, he was serving up more meatballs than the Olive Garden (which I also don't ever want to see again).

Remember Felix Heredia? I thought his name sounded like a skin condition. Somebody on a message board I was on at the time said he was "throwing meatballs," and, since he was a reliever instead of a starter, I started calling him "The Meatball Sub." Vazquez being a starter, I can't call him a "sub." But he has been a bit of a meatball.

Sunday: Yankees 12, White Sox 3. Actually, it was 12-0 before Mark Melancon, who pitched a scoreless 8th in relief of a fantastic Phil Hughes, gave up a homer in the 9th. But the bats unloaded, with Robinson Cano striking again, and Mark Teixeira gettin 4 hits to snap out of his slump. Yet another April in which a Yankee 1st baseman can't hit the ground if he fell off a ladder; yet another May in which a Yankee 1st baseman suddenly remembers he's the holder of the legacy of Lou Gehrig.

The Yankees are 16-8. That's a pace for 108-54. Like Casey Stengel used to say, "The Yankees don't pay me to win every day, just 2 out of every 3."

Without Vazquez, we're 15-5. That's 3 out of 4, or a pace for 122-40.

And yet, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays keep winning as well. Well, we've already taken 2 of 3 from them in St. Petersburg, so we have no reason to fear them. As Jackie Earle Haley (then "Rohrshach" in Watchmen, now the new Freddy Kreuger in the Nightmare On Elm Street remake, but way back when the star of The Bad News Bears) would say, we're not locked in here with them... They're locked in here with us!

Ozzie Guillen got thrown out again today. So those of you who had Sunday in the pool, go collect.