Theoldmole

The only thing I miss about our broadcast booth is no Bob Murphy. The Yankees only had one really classic announcing team (I mean, not going back as far as Mel Allen and Red Barber), and that was Rizzuto and White.

1. angry -- Eddie Stanky -- on edit - Larry Bowa 2. waste -- Doc Gooden 3. tirade -- George Brett (pine tar) 4. braggart -- Charlie Dressen 5. sunny -- Roy Campanella 6. big red machine -- there's only one 7. juiced -- the ball 8. cooperstown -- Abner Doubleday 9. afro -- Oscar Gamble 10. amateur -- Williamsport

I agree. Sterling and Waldman are decent on radio, tho.

That's the thing about O'Neil. He may not be one of the greatest Negro Leaguers ever, but his contributions to baseball are incalculable. It's like saying Bob Hope doesn't deserve the Congressional Medal of Honor because he never wiped out a tank battalion.

Then we'd have three Hall of Famers in one starting rotation. Maybe four. Pelfrey has not ruled himself out yet.

Beltran 5 Pelfrey 3 Nady 1 Valentin 1

Does "an ERA over 8" qualify as "struggling"?

Nady maybe saves the win for Pelfrey.

Julio Gotay's nephew. His dad had a minor league career.

]If they had made that decision, Foy and Ryan would have remained with the team. Otis and Ryan?

They're not gonna bring him up if he can't help them, so I don't see that as a huge problem. If he can help them, and they bring him up, I'll be glad to see him back. If not, I'm glad he's back in the organization, and I hope he stays in the Met family. He's one of the good ones.

David's foundation seems to support solidly worthy causes. I liked the part about Jaerock's mother telling him it was his filial duty to die, die, die.

Floyd 5 Oliver 2 Beltran 1.5 Wright .75 Delgado .75

Is Edgar Alfonso still working for the Mets?

Standing ovation lasting at least five minutes. Tears.

Roommates on the road was a good baseball tradition. And us oldtimers (or anyone who listens to Ralph) remember when Choo Choo roomed with Number 5.

I hope he stays with the Mets on some capacity.

Bannister, Brian 4 Delgado, Carlos 9 Floyd, Cliff 3 Glavine, Tom 8 Heilman, Aaron 5 Hernandez, Orlando 2 Maine, John 5 Milledge, Lastings 7 Trachsel, Steve 8 Valentin, Jose 4

Sure it wasn't his winning smile?

I always kinda liked it that the 1965 St. Louis Cardinals had a lineup in which the first five guys all had five-letter names: Flood Brock Groat Boyer White Later, they would add Tolan, Maris and Torre, but those 5 formed a consistent unit. Can anyone think of a similar lineup?

Hey, what can I tell you? I'm a sucker for stuff like this.

Interestingly, it's all one or the other -- the broken elastic look or the all-sock look. The stirrup look of the 60s and 70s -- really the best sartorial statement -- is completely gone. Does no one want to look like Roberto Clemente?

From Paul Lukas in the Times: ] Of this year�s 64 All-Stars, only five � Ichiro Suzuki, Barry Zito, Jim Thome, Alfonso Soriano and Brad Penny � routinely hike up their pants to expose a once-crucial element of the baseball uniform: the colored sock. If you think baseball hosiery isn�t important, think again. Back in the early days, when uniform pants were essentially knickers, stockings were the primary way for a team to show its colors. Note that we don�t have teams called the Blue Caps or the White Pants � we have the White Sox and the Red Sox. And during the McCarthy era, when the Cincinnati Reds were concerned that their team name might be associated with Communism, the team�s owners officially changed the club�s name to the Redlegs � a name that wouldn�t work today because not a single Red exposes his hose. Socks have also played a key role in baseball players� expressions of sartorial style. If you played Little League, you probably remember the special feeling you had as you adjusted your stirrup socks, perhaps in exactly the same style as your favorite player. Indeed, the particular ratio of colored stirrup to white undersock was the standard visual calling card for generations of ballplayers. In his classic memoir �Ball Four,� Jim Bouton reported that many players sliced the bottoms of their stirrups and had extra fabric sewn in, so the pants could be stretched ever higher. That way, wrote Bouton, �your legs look long and cool instead of dumpy and hot.� Nothing is dumpier than today�s baggy, full-length pants, which look like footie pajamas. While there are still a few high-pants holdouts, they�ve become increasingly rare, in part because of peer pressure. Mets third baseman David Wright wrote in his blog in May that the team�s veteran players gave him �a hard time� when he experimented with high pants for one game. �I guess the general feeling is that the pants-up look is a high school or college type of style,� he wrote. �Not that there�s anything wrong with that, but there�s a high value on looking and acting like a professional in this clubhouse.� The most interesting thing about Wright�s comment is that sock exposure is now seen as a youthful trend, when in fact it�s as old school as baseball gets. But sure enough, anyone watching last month�s College World Series saw a much higher proportion of players wearing their pants hiked up than in the Major Leagues. This could bode well for the next generation of big-leaguers � and for all of us who have to look at them � assuming �professionals� like Wright don�t talk them out of it. But don�t blame the players. The real fault lies with Major League Baseball�s higher-ups, who are legendarily persnickety about everything from sleeve lengths (must be standardized within a given team) to handwritten cap inscriptions (forbidden under any circumstances) but have allowed pant cuffs to migrate southward with nary a peep, with disastrous results for the game�s hosiery heritage. A bit of good news -- at the Renegades/Cyclones game, everyone on both teams showed sock.

] Wright and Reyes have reached full-blown stardom together this season and each was voted a National League starter for the All-Star Game. Along the way, out of view of the fans, the two have worked to forge a friendship to complement their partnership on the left side of the Mets� infield, solidifying a tandem the Mets hope will last well beyond the planned opening of their new stadium in 2009. Despite their distinctly different backgrounds, Reyes, a Dominican, and Wright, a Virginian, are, at essence, talented 23-year-olds who understand they have a responsibility to each other and to an organization that is banking a considerable part of its future on them. On the field, at shortstop and at third base, they are positioned 20 feet apart; in the clubhouse, the distance between them is maybe half that. Slowly and surely, a bond is forming. ... Reyes understands that his job is to score runs, steal bases and hit triples. Wright crushes homers and anchors a powerful heart of the lineup. They are part of a larger Mets constellation of standout players, and they are growing increasingly aware of each other. They do not infringe on the other�s turf. Their paths intersect, but they do not collide. �You have two kids from two separate worlds, and you would never know it because they get along so well,� General Manager Omar Minaya said. Even on days when Pedro Mart�nez prances around wearing a Yoda mask, it is the interplay of Reyes and Wright that invigorates the clubhouse. On a recent afternoon at Fenway Park in Boston, Wright started poking fun at Reyes�s halting, though rapidly improving, English. Reyes retaliated by reminding Wright that he knows more English than Wright knows Spanish. �Ooh, touch�,� Ram�n Castro said. For his part, Reyes has taught Wright some Spanish, though not enough to guide him through a breathless phone call from one of Reyes�s cousins, a huge Wright fan. But he�s improving, Reyes said. �We communicate great already,� Wright said. �But I�d like to learn more. I�d like to do anything that would make our relationship stronger.� Asked how he is feeling, Reyes does not change his answer. He is always good, papi. Tranquilo. He would make a great companion on a roller coaster, laughing at each stomach-turning loop. His mere entrance into the clubhouse prompts hoots and snorts. He struts in, often with a cellphone to his ear, wearing an outfit perfect for a nightclub: designer jeans, trendy sunglasses, garish shirt and jewelry that overflows from his Gucci slip-ons. Cliff Floyd calls Reyes the Dominican Lenny Kravitz. Wright calls him a rock star. But after games, Reyes retreats to his apartment in Bayside, Queens, where he lives with his parents, and his girlfriend and their 18-month-old daughter, Katerine. Wright, like his handshake preferences, is understated. He pulls off the fraternity look with ease: flip-flops, madras shorts, a pastel polo shirt and a visor that conceals an often unruly head of hair. A bachelor, Wright receives marriage requests by the gross. But he seems to have a sense of perspective, having established a charitable foundation and making a noticeable effort before games to sign autographs and pose for photographs. Dominican and Virginian, leadoff hitter and slugger, their evolving friendship seems too good to be true, as if it were from a children�s book. �But it isn�t,� Wright said. �We never played on the same team in the minors, but we were always aware of each other, you know? We understand that this is a job, but we can�t not have fun out there together. We keep each other loose.� Wright said he might surprise Reyes and accept his open invitation to visit him in the Dominican Republic this off-season. �Just show up on his doorstep,� Wright said. �I�d love that,� Reyes said. �I�d show him around the cities, introduce him to my family. We�d have a great time.� And there would be one other thing on the agenda. By next season, Reyes said, they will have advanced from their current handshake. Something a little more intriguing is in order, he said. �We�ll have a new one next year,� Reyes promised. �I�ve already got something in mind.�