G-Fafif

Kinsler must have watched Utley earlier.

bmfc1 wrote: The wristband gives him admission to the asshole only section. Oh wait, that's EVERY section. Surprised they're not wearing them in the home dugout.

bmfc1 wrote: http://twitpic.com/2z4pd1 Note the fundraising wristband. What's the cause -- Dickstrong?

What the fuck do they have this video review rule for if not to review balls on which MFY assholes extend their hands into the airspace of an opposing fielder going after a ball while in descent? Fucking asshole, chickenshit, MFY-loving umpires. The fucking fix is in as usual. Presumably Lee will be assigned to the MFYs by Game Six. Motherfucking bullshit. Per fucking usual.

FWIW, I assume this "Burnett is terrible!" caterwauling is all one big setup.

Matt Yallof on MLBN -- didn't care for him on SNY. Still don't care for him. Nor Matt Vasgersian. No offense to the Matts of the world, but they suck at this particular discipline.

Centerfield wrote: The Don Draper piece. Wow. Great, great stuff. Thanks CF!

Brian Wilson called it a "marvelous pitching duel". How Dickeyesque.

Three-man, three-hit shutout! Phillies down 2-1. I mean Giants up 2-1.

Cain through seven, no runs, 119 pitches, presumably done. Fabulous (though he shouldn't have [crossout:3sk96dgo]taunted[/crossout:3sk96dgo] reacted to the Citi Field crowd when they booed him for beaning Wright).

Cody Ross playing in front of the equivalent of five home crowds that he's used to.

And his name is Dan Uggla! Or Chase Utley. In the field, hard to tell them apart.

Sandy Alomar Jr. talking to Jays about managerial vacancy.

Rooting for a team that includes Pat Burrell, Cody Ross and Matt Cain. That team could only be playing one of two teams.

Dan Shulman and Dave Campbell > Joe Buck and Tim McCarver. Eff Cablevision. Eff Fox.

Hope that $3.1 million punch to the girlfriend's father's face was worth it, big boy.

Angell, visiting San Francisco, 1975: I dressed all wrong for it, of course. The game that Stoneham and I had fixed upon was a midweek afternoon meeting between the Giants and the San Diego Padres in late June � a brilliant, sunshiny day at Candlestick Park, it turned out, and almost the perfect temperature for a curling match. I had flown out from New York that morning, and I reported to Stoneham's office a few minutes before game time. He shook my hand and examined my airy East Coast midsummer getup and said, �Oh, no, this won't do.� He went to a closet and produced a voluminous, ancient camel's-hair polo coat and helped me into it� [When] we went back to Stoneham's office, I took off the polo coat, and Stoneham hung it up in the closet again. I suddenly wondered how many Giants games it had seen.

Staring contest: vs. In any event, expanded, updated version Pettitte = Immortal here. Thanks to all for the conversation that provided the inspiration.

In defeat, it is Andy Pettitte who emerges as the authentic winner.

Willets Point wrote: Striking out with a runner in scoring position. That's Jetership. After all it gives opportunities to other batters in the lineup to drive in a run. He's just that selfless. Jeter? That guy's got an edge.

Frayed Knot wrote: Two jobs filled as LaGenius re-ups for the short term and the Mariners get a Wedgie] The Seattle Mariners: Getting pantsed at the bus stop since 2002.

The stare from beneath the cap coupled with him being a member of the core four gets him in....... Well, that settles it: The stare. It's not the thousand-yard stare of battle, but it is battle-hardened. This stare's ultimate gaze measures 139 miles, the distance from the Bronx northward, clear up to the humble hamlet of Cooperstown, New York, where humility is appropriate given the quiet sincerity of the gentleman warrior who will be making his way upstate five years after his adoring public wipes away the final tear it sheds from absorbing the news that he will pitch in Pinstripes no longer (although it may require a case of Kleenex to thoroughly dry that much melancholy). Andy Pettitte's looking at induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame. It's as clear as the stoic stare on the tested Texan's face. You may not see it in his stats, but leave his numbers where they belong, on the page. Look, instead, into Andy Pettitte's dark, brooding eyes. It's what opposing batters and national television audiences have been doing nearly every fifth autumn evening since 1995. It's been their pleasure. Oh, those eyes. Within them you are granted entry into the soul of specialness. It's like being on a first date with Yankee greatness, a date you wish would never end. The good news is it won't. There will be no awkward "will he or won't he?" scene at the front step, no kiss-off of this superlative southpaw. The Baseball Writers Association of America, having been given the time of its life across so many Octobers (and not a few early Novembers), will invite Andy Pettitte upstairs for coffee. And he'll be staying the night. Baseball fans everywhere will sleep easier knowing Pettitte is forever snug in immortality's embrace. He's earned it, just as surely as Mariano Rivera has earned the soft rain of adulation. The Captain, Derek Jeter, led them here. Jeter brought Pettitte, Rivera and Jorge Posada to this core foursome, this unsurpassed quartet where the price of admission is five World Series rings and a lifetime of memories. Now they will hold hands in Cooperstown for as long as there are fans who hold baseball -- Yankee baseball (is there any other kind?) -- dear in their hearts. It is an unbreakable bond, a chain of excellence in which Pettitte's link is secure. The only question that remains is when will the voting writers wake up? When will they smell the triumphant coffee and add Bernie Williams, Paul O'Neill and Jim Leyritz (a Pete Rose type who never gambled but always cashed in) to their menage a tremendous? And how much longer will it take until The Boss -- tapping his wristwatch, waiting impatiently, but inevitably glowing that warm paternal pride born of victory and love -- is there to greet them? Can it really be a Hall of Fame if a Yankee -- any Yankee -- is ever excluded from the induction each and every one of them so richly deserves?

I thought this was a thread about that longstanding class action suit filed by Met starting pitchers suing for nonsupport.

Let's just cut down on the paperwork and have these writers vote on whether non-Yankees can be voted into the Yankees five years after they retire.

When the Sun was still in the newspaper sky and Tim was the toast of the advanced statistics crowd, he did a Q&A with Metsgeek here. Explains his fanship in the context of being a sportswriter: I grew up in Richmond Hill, and I was eight in 1986, so of course I was a Mets fan. The whole cynical sportswriter bit is a giant scam. Someone is going to pay me to attend the Caribbean Series. Baseball is fucking great. When I start disliking it I�ll get another job. Generally came at the Mets from an advocacy journalism point of view. I think that's legitimate. It was sort of refreshing to see the approach gain a little currency. In the context of what he's written about for years, in which he's an admitted Mets fan (this is 13th day of sobriety) and wants them to do well, his revelation or whatever you might call it about not feeling it any longer makes sense. We may not agree with it (though I certainly get what he's saying), but it's not just out-of-the-blue noodling about how "I don't care" anymore. I wasn't really a member of the Chowder & Marchman Society, as it were, when he was at the Sun, not in the way there were bloggers who swore by him. He wrote some good pieces, others didn't register for me. But he tended to seek the different angle and did it, I thought, with a little style (as opposed to Mike Sielski in the Journal who also seeks to be Not a Beat Reporter from a non-traditional outlet and isn't that graceful about it).