Thursday, January 29, 2009

Brandon Jacobs To Attend Harvard Law

According to the Daily News, Brandon Jacobs is already making some pretty outrageous demands in order for the Giants to retain his services:

The big, free-agent-to-be running back endorsed that package deal Thursday during a promotional appeararnce [sic] at Super Bowl XLIII hype week. Jacobs promised that his friend, Burress, is a changed man after his recent brush with death, and he insisted that the Giants should give him a second chance.

"Oh, no question," Jacobs said. "If I'm here, I need 17 back on that roster."

You see, Brandon, that might not be the Giants' choice. Not sure if you heard, but your friend Plaxico committed a crime that carries a mandatory three year sentence.

You can't judge him for what happened because nobody really knows what goes on out in the street. A lot of people don't really know anything about what happened or how targeted we are. I'm not going to blame him from protecting himself. The guy is not a criminal. He shot himself. He didn't shoot no one else and I think we should get off his case. And I think anybody in that situation should get off and be able to continue his career.
Unholy Jesus. Do I really have to pick this apart bit by bit? I think I do, because every sentence is astoundingly idiotic.

"You can't judge him for what happened because nobody really knows what goes on out in the street."

Maybe I can't "judge" him, but a fucking Judge can and will "judge" him.

"A lot of people don't really know anything about what happened or how targeted we are."

Maybe if he was so "targeted" he shouldn't have been wearing a shitload of jewelry and going out to a strip club called "HeadQuarters" and a nightclub called "The Latin Quarter" in Midtown-fucking-Manhattan. Or, perhaps he could have used some of that $35M contract he just signed to hire a security detail instead of illegally carrying a gun (and then shooting himself with it). Steve Smith got robbed the week before, didn't have a gun and he was fine.

"The guy is not a criminal. He shot himself."

Actually, yes, he is a criminal because he fucking shot himself in the boro of Manhattan where it is illegal to carry a firearm, much less an unregistered one into a nightclub, you ignoramus.

"He didn't shoot no one else and I think we should get off his case."

I ain't going to ignore no double negative. That said, the Giants aren't the ones getting on his case. That would be the DA. And that would be an actual legal case. Because he is charged with a crime.

"And I think anybody in that situation should get off and be able to continue his career."

Tell it to the motherfucking DA or Mayor Bloomberg, I'm sure they would be thrilled to hear your rationale over an Earl Grey and some crumpets.

And from later on in the article, just for good measure.

"If we had Plax on our team, we go 15-1 and we win the Super Bowl."

Die of typhoid fever you massive fragile fuck. If you weren't constantly fucking injured that might have helped as well.

Probaby Not the Job Steve Donahue Signed Up For

Bronx Banter has an interesting tidbit from the Torre book on Clemens. I suggest you check it out.

The Bronx View (Act Now And It's Yours For $0)

Last night I wrote a post ripping ESPN radio for the terrible commercials on their online stream. It made me wonder why I still listen to it at all...

[Infomercial voice]
  • Do you find yourself wanting to strangle Colin Cowherd?
  • Turned off by Max Kellerman's smarmy assertions?
  • Think Cwhis Wusso's a weetawd?
  • Not too confident in Mike Francesa's sauces?
  • Like the Yankees, but think Michael Kay is a dummy?
We'll then you won't believe what I have in store for you!!1!!1!

[Turns off infomercial voice]

There are good alternatives to ESPN radio (or WFAN) out there, even if they don't stream all day long. The Bronx View podcast gives you about an hour of quality objective Yankee analysis roughly every two weeks during the offseason and once a week or more from April to October. Scott and Ian are two guys who can talk intelligently about all things Yankees without annoying you with the kind of ego it takes to usurp a prime-time sports talk radio slot.

The latest edition includes analysis of what Andy Pettitte means to the rotation, reactions to Joe Torre's new book, projecting the AAA rotation, and a 15 minute segment on Brad Ausmus. (One of those is not true).

The best part?

No commercials!

Number of Days Until Spring Training: Thurman Munson (#15)

Thurman Munson was the embodiment of the core values of a Yankee catcher. He was pugnacious, rugged, could hit and play great defense, had a mean-ass mustache, and hated the Red Sox. Boy, did he hate the Red Sox. I'd like to think that if he was alive today, old Squatty Body would have rather liked the name of this blog.

The above sequence is from a game at Fenway, on August 1st, 1973. Stick Michael was up to bat in the top of the 9th with the score tied, and failed to make contact on a suicide squeeze, unleashing Munson down the third baseline towards Sox catcher Carlton Fisk. Munson led with a left forearm and Pudge went low, sending the two tumbling over home plate. Fisk held onto the ball, Munson was out, and they quickly got to their feet and began exchanging blows.

Perhaps the seeds of Munson's hatred of Boston were planted, like mine, in the time he spent there as a young man. In the summer of 1967, Joe "Skippy" Lewis, manager of the Chatham A's of the Cape Cod Baseball League offered Munson a spot as their starting catcher, along with a side job with the Chatham Parks Department for $75 a week. In 39 games that summer, Munson hit .420 as a catcher, .65 higher than any other other player in the league, regardless of position. He was named MVP of the CCBL and the award for the batting title each year is named in his honor.

It was during his time on the Cape that he was discovered by the Yankees. They selected him with the fourth overall pick in the 1968 Amateur Draft, gave him a $75,000 signing bonus and a $500 a week salary.

Munson made his debut in 1969 but appeared in only 26 games. In 1970, he won Rookie of the Year, netting 96% of the vote after batting .302/.386/.415. While remaining solid behind the plate, Munson had two years in 1971 & '72 where he was above league average, but unspectacular offensively.

Although it was not recognized as such by the MVP voting, 1973 was Munson's finest year behind the plate. He raked 29 doubles, 20 homers and hit .301/.362/.487, good for a 141 OPS+. '73 also began Thurm's three year Gold Glove and six year All-Star appearance streaks. In each of those six years, Munson placed in the MVP voting and played 144 games or more behind the plate.

He was named Yankee captain in 1975, claiming a post that Lou Gehrig vacated with his farewell speech in 1939. In 1976, Munson clocked 17 homers, 27 doubles, drove in 105 runs and was rewarded with the AL MVP, receiving 18 out of a possible 24 first place votes. A testament to his hard-headed, competitive nature, that year he stole 14 bases, but was caught 11 times. In fact, over his career, he was actually caught more than he was successful, stealing only 48 bases in 98 tries.

Munson was behind the plate for Ron Guidry's legendary 1978 season, where he went 25-3 with a 1.74ERA. Guidry later said about Munson, "I went through the whole year never shaking him off one time. He always knew when to say something, and when to shut up."

Munson had three children who lived with his wife in Canton, Ohio, where he grew up. He often grew homesick and decided to take flying lessons to make it easier to commute back and forth to see his family. On August 2nd, 1979, he was practicing take-offs and landings at Akron-Canton Regional Airport, when he met his end.

On the approach to the runway, Munson dropped the flaps, but waited too long before giving the plane more power, which resulted in the Cessna Citation I/SP coming up well short of the intended target. Munson had failed to fasten his shoulder strap, was paralyzed during the initial impact and trapped inside the cockpit when the plane finally came to a rest after rolling and sliding for over 500 feet. His flight instructor, David Hall and his friend Kenny Anderson attempted to free Munson, but the plane caught on fire and they were forced to retreat. His last words were "Get me out of here! Please get me out!" A tragic and powerless cry for help, that in no way reflected the way he lived. He was 32 years old.

When someone dies young, they are enshrined in our minds in their youth. There is a different legacy left than when we watch a person decline with age, grow frail and forget people's names. We see the sad portrayal of modern day Muhammad Ali, but only remember the dynamic vibrance of a prime Jimi Hendrix.

Munson's number was retired immediately after his death and an empty locker with the number 15 was kept in the Yankees Clubhouse through the closing of the Old Stadium. Written by George Steinbrenner, his plaque in Monument Park reads:
Our captain and leader has not left us, today, tomorrow, this year, next ... Our endeavors will reflect our love and admiration for him.
Like Don Mattingly, the brevity of Munson's career will keep him out of the Hall of Fame, but that doesn't matter to Yankees fans, who have their own Hall of Fame in left field.