soft hands.

i'm feeling childlike, please disregard

stumbled bleary-eyed out of bed this morning to a shock of cool air that had me reaching for the closest battered old hoodie. there was a voicemail from a sox fan waiting for me, and after some well wishes ("i hope they get swept and you cry for days and days") he said something about the weather and then the magic words: "fall baseball." fall baseball. right now is full of possibilities sweet and painful, and maybe a little bit of both... and for the next forty five minutes or so i'm going to work on shedding all my pent-up cynicism and savor the taste of hopefulness.
7:42 AM :: 1 comments ::

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"A couple of the guys have already told me, 'You don't realize how much the [Boston] fans hate the Yankees until you go up there." Asked if anyone harbored a similar dislike for the Rockies, his former team, Chacon smiled and said, "The [Colorado] fans, maybe."

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7:31 AM :: 0 comments ::

lupe! :: permalink

why do i even bother reading anyone else? if she wrote every day, i probably wouldn't.

On the television behind Shawn Chacon, the Red Sox were down to their last out. It was the bottom of the ninth at Fenway, and a team that hardly ever loses at home was about to fizzle away for the second straight night.

Chacon never bothered to turn around and gawk at all the fuss. Other Yankees, especially the ones who have some experience in this phenomena, were peeking at the carnage and trying not to grin. It was like watching hounds being held back from chasing the fox. But Chacon didn't need to witness what he already understood to be a Yankee commandment, one that's etched upon the owner's rock-hard heart.

"I just know this weekend is the most exciting and most important weekend of my career," Chacon was saying after pitching the game of his life, a 2-1 win over Baltimore that, coupled with Boston's loss to Toronto, gave the Yankees a one-game lead in the AL East with four delicious days remaining in the regular season.

"I see what lies ahead," said Chacon. "It's win or go home."

It's onto the postseason, if we are to go by Chacon's good vibes and infectious karma. Forget about his previous existence in Colorado. Chacon isn't inclined to dwell on mistakes, a trait that makes him perhaps the Yankees' most precious starter in a season in which their pitching hasn't exactly set hearts afire. Chacon's only regret last night was the fat 2-0, second-inning pitch he threw down the gut that Javy Lopez lifted over the left-field wall. From then on, through another 20 batters, Chacon was like a character in a Kanye West video, all smooth moves and sly winks.

"He's Mr. Cool Cat, walking through the dugout with his hat pulled down, baggy pants down," said Joe Torre.

Baseball's nirvana commences this weekend in Boston, where anything can happen and probably will. Chacon has never pitched on three days' rest and probably won't, unless Torre has an epiphany between now and Sunday. How perfect that the season might come down to a guy who earns not much more than baseball's minimum wage taking the ball for this $220 million team.


8:13 AM :: 1 comments ::

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"Will the trail lead them to October? The bet here is on the rich guys with the dirty pants." -- lisa olson
12:51 PM :: 0 comments ::

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slightly misremembered quote of last night's game

kitty kaat: here's scout so and so, and here's scout so and so.... and they might be wasting their time if their team doesn't pick it up [good-natured kitty chortle] -- they're scouting for the chicago white sox.


[crickets chirp]

was pretty good too

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7:49 AM :: 1 comments ::

lupe! :: permalink

quote of the day

`It's like they lost their chemistry.'' -- Sarah Grady, chisox fan.



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The Yankees were smiling again, laughing and throwing around compliments as if they were dirty sweat socks. And when Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez intercepted Bernie Williams on his way to the visitors' side of the turf last night, that's when it became clear life as they know it had settled back into a familiar groove.

A-Rod reached for Bernie, to slap him on the back. Jeter mimicked Bernie's smooth glove, so quick for such a geezer. The fifth inning had just ended with aplomb, with Williams making a nimble, sliding stab to rob Jorge Cantu of what appeared to be a sure hit. As Williams sprinted off Tropicana Field, Jeter had to yell over the screams that were rippling from the dugout and up into the stands.

"I think he said something about me being his favorite player," said Williams as he walked into the humid Florida night, the Yankees' 17-3 spanking of the Devil Rays still very crisp. He grinned sheepishly and added, "I think he said I'm his favorite 37-year-old player." [lisa olson]


5:13 PM :: 2 comments ::

lupe! :: permalink

best blind item in the history of the world ever

On The DL:
This speedy outfielder has a problem... more than once this season, he has invited a female companion to come join him on a road series, and then met a new playmate in the away city and invited her to come "hang out", having somehow "forgotten" about the first woman. The first time he did this, he resolved the awkward situation by generously offering to send his original companion to the hotel room of his very popular, very single pitcher teammate. The woman whumped him good enough to put him out of action (on the field anyway) for a week. The second time it happened (not with any of the same women as the first time), the woman grabbed Speedy's cell phone out of his hand, dove into the bathroom, locked herself in, and had a nice long friendly chat with his wife.
4:42 PM :: 1 comments ::

lupe! :: permalink

huston street: red hot mama


skirt oughta be an inch or so shorter, though, with legs like that.
6:10 PM :: 2 comments ::

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qotd, likely mangled

tom seaver: larussa's good at including everybody, even the bullpen. [slight pause] as you may have noticed.
8:57 PM :: 1 comments ::

lupe! :: permalink

completely ignoring the things i don't like

and concentrating on the things i do. like.

hello eric duncan! let me help you with that.

and in other happy news, more completely scientific evidence that matt desalvo is a lefty trapped in a righty's body:
Matt DeSalvo fact #523: he doesn't stay in the dugout before games. He wanders through the stands and in and out of the pressbox. Wasn't even there when they called him out as a non-starter. Asked Mike where he was, he said: "Uh...wandering?" Asked Eric: "Er..He's not in the dugout."

have decided that someday i'm going to buy this desalvo fella a couple beers and undoubtedly have one of the most bizarre conversations in the history of the universe. which is saying a lot, considering the bulk of the conversations i have on a daily basis are with demented people.

thunder photos/tidbits courtesy of the lovely and talented kim.

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7:58 PM :: 0 comments ::

lupe! :: permalink

dear lisa olson: write more often

from today's daily news:

This loss offered additional proof that these Yankees cause more head-scratching than the nastiest bout of lice. Maybe they'll find a pulse when the Red Sox bus pulls up River Ave. today for a weekend series that could very well determine the AL East landscape. Or maybe the Yankees will add another layer to the coats of perplexity that have thus far defined them.

"They're a completely different team (than Tampa Bay)," Jeter said of the Red Sox, as if Boston would bring some sense of normalcy to this confounding season.

These Yankees strut around in T-shirts that say "Grind It" on the front, while the back says, "There is no trying. There is only doing or not doing." To which a good editor would reply: Show me, don't tell me.

and later:

Nobody remembered to ask Torre if the Yankees would bunt on Curt Schilling, tomorrow's starter.

like anyone even has to ask? he wouldn't do it the first and most crucial time, i highly doubt he's going to do it now.


7:37 AM :: 1 comments ::

lupe! :: permalink

game summary

"i'd rather listen to an audiobook of heart of darkness as interpreted by harvey fierstein while i have a brazilian fucking wax than be subjected to another minute of this maddening horseshit" x 9
9:20 PM :: 0 comments ::

lupe! :: permalink

omg you guys

a sports gossip site! with a groupie section! which on second glance looks a little lacking, but there's hope.

hello deadspin:

We cover sports here. We’re not interested in gambling lines, fantasy football or injury reports; we’ve got Oddjack for that. And we’re not some lame-ass ESPN Hollywood Tom Brady’s-schtupping-Annabeth-Gish “Culture of Sports” pap either. We see sports as an endless well of stories, on-field and off, where the athletes are fascinating whether they’re being tackled, being arrested or being lap-danced. It’s a world we feel that you don’t see enough of; we’re here to try to change that.

thx to CSTB for showing me the way.

lorena's expert assessment: "TOO MUCH FOOTBALL!" indeed, lor. indeed.
5:35 PM :: 0 comments ::

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did i accidentally tune in to the world series of little league rejects last night? because what i saw was some profoundly stupid baseball.


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had mike and the mad dog on during the car ride home today and somewhere inbetween all the football blather heard an ad for a tell-all by one of the former mrs cansecos. i'm sure it's every bit the riveting, well-written tale juiced was, but being a slore for books that deal with the seamier side of america's pastime (see also: high inside by danielle gagnon torrez; home games by nancy marshall and bobbie bouton), i'll be waiting impatiently for my copy to arrive.

When nineteen-year-old Hooters trainee Jessica Sekely meets Jose Canseco -- one of the most famous baseball players of his time -- she falls in love with the slugger and everything about him. He is larger than life, from his bulging muscles and multimillion-dollar contract to his huge homes and hot cars. And he is as handsome a man as she has ever seen. But his sprawling house in Florida becomes her gilded cage when Jose is on the road, hitting home runs and bedding women in American League cities from Anaheim to Boston. Jessica blames herself and does everything she can to keep Jose faithful—nose jobs, new breast implants, and even going so far as to bring other women into their home for threesomes. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Through it all, she breaks through the icy stares of the wives and girlfriends of Jose’s teammates and learns to honor the code of the baseball sorority -- If you see a ballplayer with another woman, keep your mouth shut!

While Jose, author of Juiced -- the #1 New York Times bestseller about steroids in baseball -- seems intent on self-destruction, Jessica willingly goes along for the ride. Their turbulent relationship careens from steroids to pregnancy, from marriage to the birth of a precious baby daughter, from private investigators to divorce attorneys -- with a black eye. This is the story of a beautiful young woman who falls in love with a hugely successful professional athlete, and who becomes addicted to him and to everything that his success seems to represent. It is also the story of a woman who spends the better part of ten years trying to beat that addiction, and who finds her true self in the process. Jessica Canseco's story is for every woman who has ever fallen for the wrong man. But unlike many such tales, this one has a happy ending.
6:54 PM :: 0 comments ::

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quote of the day

"Oh, by the way, this is also a team with three Jewish players (Gabe Kapler, Kevin Youkilis, Adam Stern), and Kapler may well be the most popular player on the team." -- Peter Gammons

uh huh, and some of my best friends are colored people!


7:43 AM :: 6 comments ::

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love gawker

from a recent gawker stalker:

Saw Derek Jeter and Tino Martinez at Sutton Place. Not sure why I was at such a frat/hoochie-friendly place, let alone them. They were surrounded by recent NYU grads and Derek's "trainer" was shepherding the cute ones inside the bodyguard loop.

yeah, WHATEVER could they have been up to at a hoochie-friendly place? gosh!
12:57 PM :: 5 comments ::

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portrait of a player as a young mark bellhorn

10:08 AM :: 3 comments ::

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