Game Seven, and nobody’s watching

Baseball is the greatest game on earth. It isn’t perfect – it would be if you didn’t have to refinance your home to take the wife and kids to the ballpark, and if they had a better selection of beer, and if they played the blues between innings instead of those hideous pop tunes – but, hey, it’s awfully damn close.

And tonight the greatest game on earth gets its signature moment, its pinnacle, it’s Ray Charles singing Georgia on My Mind:

Game Seven of the World Series.

A season that began on the first day of April will end tonight, seven months and some 175 games later. One game, winner take all. One guy gets to sip champagne. The other guy goes home and cries in his Bud. It doesn’t get any better than that.

Too bad nobody will be watching. Continue reading

Bronx cheer, 10/08/14

It’s been a delightful news week, once you get past Ebola and the Islamic State and all the other little things that threaten our existence on this planet, not to mention the assorted threats to the planet itself. But I say we all should try real hard to stick around for a while, because there’s so much fun stuff out there, none the least of which is that Sarah Palin can’t find the White House (though I’m sure she can see it from her home in Wasilla). Continue reading

Stop the plane? Not a prayer

where's waldo

Rockland County, N.Y., where I’ve lived for nearly 40 years, is home to the third largest population of Hasidic Jews in the world, trailing only the entire nation of Israel and New York City. Which explains why, in a previous millennium, when I was the Page One editor of The Journal News, the newspaper of New York’s northern suburbs, a reporter and photographer were assigned to cover what was either the bar mitzvah or the wedding of the grand rebbe’s son in New Square, N.Y.

Bar mitzvah or wedding. I’m not sure which one, because I wasn’t invited. On the other hand, I didn’t have to buy a gift.

New Square is a small hamlet (are there large hamlets?) accessed by a single road off a main road that runs through the county. Drive in a block or two and it suddenly feels like you’ve time-traveled back to 18th century Europe. Drive in on a Saturday – Shabbos – and you’re in the only car in town that’s moving. And that guy who looks like he just dropped in from Mars – thats you, because you’re the only guy in town who isn’t sporting a full beard and a long black coat and a wide-brimmed black hat. Continue reading

Bench Jeter! – Bronx cheer, 09/26/14

1411699642000-new-jeter2

Derek Jeter says last night’s Hollywood ending – let’s face it, it doesn’t get any better than that – wasn’t the end. He says he won’t play shortstop anymore, but “Out of respect for the Red Sox, their fans and the rivalry, I’m going to DH” sometime this weekend.

Meaning his past – there really is no future anymore, it’s all past now – is in Joe Girardi’s hands.

Derek wants to play, Joe. So it’s up to you to do the right thing: Continue reading

Nothing wrong with No. 2

re2pect-jordan-brand-pays-tribute-to-derek-jeter-last-season-01

I hated Derek Jeter. Hated him.

Not all the time, of course. How could anyone hate Derek Jeter all the time?

But you gotta understand … I’m a Mets fan, which meant that for six games a year (except for last year and this year, when it was four games, and 2000, when it was 11), I hated him. Continue reading

Bronx cheer, 09/24/14

There’s a whole lot of dumb stuff making the rounds today.

For starters, there’s this whole kerfuffle about the Obama salute.

The president, you see, was carrying a cup of coffee yesterday morning when he arrived in New York aboard Marine One. That’s a helicopter, by the way, which means Obama has learned to press his tie against his belt when he walks down the steps so it doesn’t fly around, whip him a few times in the face and make him look silly.  So there goes the left hand. Continue reading

The Air Force banks left

The U.S. Air Force reversed course today, deciding that you really don’t have to believe in God to hop aboard a plane and drop bombs on bad guys.

Specifically, the Air Force decided that, going forward, airmen will be allowed to omit the words “So help me God” from their oath.

OMIGOD! Now that I’ve heard this, so help me God, I want to . . .

Crack open a beer and celebrate. The Air Force got it right. Continue reading