Fake Thanksgiving

How many strikes does a person get before he's out? Well, in baseball, the answer is a simple three. But in real life, it's not so cut and dry.

You may have noticed that it's been a while since I mentioned the Yankees. Yes October maybe over with, but my silence here doesn't mean I haven't been following what's going on. The manager deal, the trade talks, A-Rod; I know it's all happening, but it's the news of Jeter's "tarnished image" that is compelling me to write today. After I read the I read Friday's New York Times story on how Jeter may have lied about his residency status to avoid paying city and states taxes, the cynic in me immediately came out. Ah ha, it cried, I told you, nobody is perfect.

I thought back to this book I read when I was younger, Sean Covey's "7 Rules of Highly Effective Teens." One of the early chapters explained how you should base your life around principles instead of things like material possessions or famous people. What happens when the famous people screw up, Covey asked? Where does that leave you? Even a seemingly flawless star is bound to have some skeletons that emerge from their closet. And while I've never thought of myself as wrapped up with the star shortstop, it did strike me a little odd that I didn't feel anything really, when I read the article. I didn't feel sad or angry or betrayed, and we're talking about the guy who got me into college here, remember.

I don't feel bad for him, that's for sure. I mean, the guy makes $14 million a year; he isn't exactly struggling to pay the rent. And the impression that I got was that he is a pretty frugal guy, not too much of a big spender. Then why in the world would he fudge around with taxes. I guess more than anything, the news left me curious. Mom said that at least it wasn't like he'd done anything bad on the field. But to me, cheating is cheating, and while I'll be looking out for more information on all this, I'm not exactly shedding any tears. That said, is he still my favorite player? Well yes, though I may not admire him as much as I used to if the allegations are true. But once again, none of us is perfect, and while I blame him for getting into the whole situation, I do give him (and most other famous people) credit for having to deal with every bad thing that happens to them in a very public way (though you'd think the millions of dollars they make is at least somewhat of a consolation to life in the public eye).

We had a similar discussion in journalism class today. Recently, the Post's classical music critic Tim Page sent a vicious e-mail to Marion Barry's office that was meant to request that Page's e-mail address be removed from a listserv, but ended up calling the councilman a "useless...crack-addict," We discussed to what level should journalists restrict themselves and debated what action should be taken against Page. All of us agreed that it was a stupid move on Page's part to send such a message over the internet and through his Post account, but almost all of us also agreed that Pulitzer Prize-winning Page doesn't deserve to be fired over such a thing. Obviously, some action should be taken, but seeing as the guy writes about classical music and not D.C. politics, perhaps firing him would be taking it too far. Prof said that increasingly nowadays, people's mistakes create a storm of controversy and you get hell for it for about a week, and then the brouhaha disappears and things go back to normal.

I don't think that's necessarily reserved for nowadays. Hasn't it always been like that, at least in terms of personal relationships. Sure, the technology makes it worse to make a mistake nowadays because the whole world can hear about it before you have a chance to wipe your hands off, but we've always had to deal with the shortcomings of friends and family and accept them for the flawed people they are.

This Saturday my friends planned a "Fake Thanksgiving" potluck, and I had intended on partaking in the festivities. But as the day went on, my mood soured until I got to the point where I had no desire to leave my room or speak to anyone for fear that I'd snap back. I couldn't even tell where the anger and frustration were coming from; true, earlier my roommates had tried to force me to see a movie I didn't want to, but I knew that wasn't the only thing that was bothering me. Needless to say I spend the evening in my room drifting in and out of sleep while they enjoyed the feast outside.

By Sunday I'd recovered and was back to my regular self. Around dinner time I opened the fridge, where, to my surprise, I found an aluminum-foil covered plate of food with my name and last night's menu printed on it. I smiled and popped into the microwave. Three minutes later I enjoyed the absolutely delicious (and I genuinely mean that - one day these girls are going to make some husbands very happy at dinnertime) meal they'd kindly set aside for me. It wasn't until later, when I told Mom about it, and she pointed out that they'd done that for me despite the fact that I hadn't asked them to and even though I'd maintained quite the frosty attitude throughout the day.

And then I realized, no matter what stupid things you do, whether you cheat on taxes, blow a fuse at someone, or just plain ignore the people around you, most of the time, they aren't just going to write you off. Boy it's nice to know that people will stick around even when you're not at your best. So thanks girls for making my evening last night!

Nothing Wrong With Aiming High

During a break in one of my classes I was catching up on the Post's coverage of the Yankees loss Monday and came across Thomas Boswell's column. It was depressing, yes, to read that the Yankees"are the aging patient" and this last game " felt like a night-long vigil around a sick bed." But there was one thing Boswell wrote that really bothered me. While discussing how even the Yankees inflated payroll couldn't translate into a World Series win, Boswell wrote, "Luckily, in baseball, money apparently can't beat the best. Not anymore. Not, at least, under the Boss's ludicrous edict that anything less than a World Series win is a failure"

Now wait just one minute here.

Okay, maybe calling this season a "failure" is a bit extreme, but don't tell me there's anything wrong with expecting the best and only being satisfied with the best. Tell me, does it make any sense to tell your team, hey guys, why don't you just go out there and try to do well. It doesn't matter that we're investing all this time and money into your performance, just go out there and play. And then if you lose, we'll just pat you on the back and go grab a couple of beers and everything will be fine.

No. That's not how the world works. Nobody says, Hey team, let's aim for third place this year!
The whole 'winning doesn't matter' deal only works when you're teaching Little Leaguers how to play baseball. Not in the majors. In the real world, results matter.

Don't get me wrong. Losing is valuable too. There are certain things you can only learn from losing. And sometimes, yes, even when you put forth your best efforts, you fall short. And no, you should never resort to cheating to win. And yes I've heard enough about the big, bad Yankees who just buy all their talent and don't let anyone else share the glory of winning the World Series. To all that I say, first of all, a lot of their money comes from a fan base still willing to pay hundreds of dollars to see their games and buy their merchandise, despite the World Series drought. It's basic capitalism guys. Do I think any player is truly worth $250 million? Probably not. But hey, if that's how people want to spend their money, good for them. And secondly, yes, the Yankee are the winningest team in sports. But what's wrong with rewarding the best. What would you rather see, a cap on the number of titles someone can win? It takes work to win. With determination, hard work and a bit of luck, any of the other 29 teams can win it too.

In short, there isn't anything wrong with expecting nothing but the best from your team.

People sometimes accuse me of bandwagoning when they learn I like the Yankees though I lack a direct New York connection. Now I know exactly why I was drawn to them. They're a team that refuses to settle and will do whatever it takes to succeed. They expect nothing but the best from themselves, and neither do their fans. If only other people could think the same way. If only other people would stop settling for mediocrity when they're capable of so much more.

Yanks Rally Falls Short, Season Ends With Questions Looming

Well, it's over. They tried, but the Indians just outpitched them. Their offense hit a spark, but it was too little too late. The two game deficit proved too much for the Yankees to overcome, and it isn't just the end of their season, but it could be the end of an era.

Steinbrenner said Torre's job was on the line, and no one kids around with Steinbrenner. I'd be surprised if he didn't stand by his word, and while Torre led the Yanks to the postseason every year he has managed them, that seven-year drought is more than unacceptable to the most demanding owner in sports. A-Rod could opt out of his contract, Pettitte, Posada, Rivera, Abreu could choose not to return and Clemens is probably out for good.

It's disappointing, a complete downer to see the Yanks go out in the first round of the postseason for the third time in a row, and especially after the way they came back from the 14.5 game deficit earlier this season and the hope that yesterday's game brought. I absolutely have to hand it to the Indians though. They came into this series and they did what they had to do. Instead of letting the Yankees bats scare them, the Indians pitchers silenced them. We came alive at home in the Bronx, but it just wasn't enough.

But that's what comes with the territory of October baseball. Legends are made and expectations are beaten down. And besides, this ALCS between Cleveland and Boston should be an amazing one, because honestly, (and yes it pains me to say it) both teams played really well in their respective division series'.

And that's life - you win some, you lose some. But beyond the baseball blues, now I need to find a way to get my mind back into finishing this take-home exam, when all I want to do is sleep.

Yanks Are Back and Torre Stays

Nothing like the threat of losing your job to whip the best baseball team back into shape. It took them a little while but the real Yankees are back. I won't pretend like the last two games didn't worry me, but New York didn't fight back this season for no reason. Yes the Indians' pitching put a stronghold on the Yankees bats and those damn bugs screwed them up, but the Bronx Bombers are back and ready to fight. There's a reason why this was the only division series that wasn't swept, and there's a reason why this is the postseason. The offense is back, the pitching is on point and this right here is what I've been looking forward to all season.

So take that Mamu - you may love the Indians and hate the Yankees, but your team's not gonna get off that easily. This is the Yankees they're dealing with and we want this World Series bad.

(If only I wasn't a complete retard and left both my jersey AND cap at home last weekend....meaning I can't broadcast my Yankee pride to the entire campus tomorrow :(

Best News All Week

Yes, the Yankees have done it yet again - we're headed to October :)

Should Records Come With Asterisks?

The moment has now come and gone. We knew it was coming when the season began, and in the last hours of Tuesday August 7, it did. Whether the world wants to accept it or not, one powerful swing was all it took to inaugurate a new king of sports. Yes, it also took 755 other powerful swings and God knows what else to get him there, but Barry Bonds has done it.

Over the past day I've been trying to figure out how exactly I feel about the whole thing. I know, the truth about Bonds' steroid use is not exactly crystal clear, and he has always been looked at as one of the game's best players in history, but the whole thing still doesn't really sit well with me. When regular people come along and do amazing things, we should be able to look at them in wonder and awe. Their achievements are supposed to teach our children about the value of determination, hard work and integrity. But more and more often, broken records are scrutinized instead of praised. The "wow"s are being replaced by "what if"s and "why"s. As Michael Wilbon said in today's column, "I can't come to a definitive conclusion on what's fair and what's foul anymore." Of all the commentary I've watched and read, Wilbon's column is the one that articulates exactly what's been going through my head.

But the questions surrounding Bonds' shed light on the identity crisis that sports as a whole is suffer ring. Turn on Sportscenter or open to the Sports section and at least half of what you see has to deal with steroids, doping, betting, fixing. In a word, cheating. ESPN has a really interesting article on this degeneration of sports and for the next two days will be focusing on this topic and where the future of sports lies.

I've got more to write about this, so stay tuned.

Nocturnal News Update

So clearly, because I have nothing better to do with my time, (and well, let's be honest, neither do you if you're actually reading this), here are some interesting news tidbits that should keep you occupied for the next couple hours if you're also finding sleep to be elusive:

First, here's a guy whose not exactly in the running for father of the year; after all, he left his son behind while swimming in the Dead Sea.

Yankee Stadium was certainly the place to be this past weekend, what with A-Rod hitting his 500th homer on Saturday and Matsui getting his 100th long ball yesterday. However, can't say the same for things over on the west coast, where Angel Stadium seems to have a slight rodent problem (um, gross) and another record-breaking shot was greeted with a mixture of boos, cheers and nonchalance, on the part of commissioner Bud Selig.

But of course, life is more than just sports, so we turn now to the state of our country. There was a really interesting opinion piece in the Post about how the United States has slipped and fallen one too many times on the global stage, and something needs to be done.

While I was reading that article, a sad thought entered my head. Change takes a long time, and even if we start now, turning this country around is going to take fifty or a hundred years. And more likely than not, I'm not going to be around to see the effects of those changes. Think about it, George Marshall isn't around to see the legacy of his plan to reconstruct Europe in the wake of WWII. FDR isn't here today to see how dependent we've become on many of his New Deal Programs, especially Social Security. I guess when working in the government, you have to accept that no matter who you are, whether you're a lowly House intern or the president him(her) self, you're just one small piece in the jigsaw puzzle that makes up the institution. You've just got to have faith that the job you're doing now will someday make a difference to someone. If fame is what you're after, the government is the last place you should be looking.

Yankees Still In the Game

And this, my friends, is why I'm a Yanks fan. No matter what the season looks like now, come October, anything can happen.

Happy Birthday Derek Jeter!

Every girl has her famous future husband and if you hadn't already guessed, Derek Jeter is mine. Okay, he may be turning 33 and I'm about to turn something significantly less than that, but hey, it could still happen. I haven't lost hope yet (That'll happen when he hits his 40s and then it'll just be weird.)

I like to say that Derek Jeter got me into college. The essay question was about a conversation you would have with someone and my essay detailed my interview with him after winning the 2012 World Series. Even reading it today I think it's one of the best things I've written. (Don't roll your eyes, at least I didn't write about how being biology club president changed my life.)

But I bring up Jeter for a reason (besides the fact that it's his birthday.) I've always considered myself a huge Yankees fan, but when talking to others, there was always one small fact that stood in the way of their accepting me as a true fan. I've watched countless games on television and have seen the Yanks play at a couple of different ballparks. Except the most important one. Yes, it's true, I'd never actually seen a game at Yankee Stadium. Oh stop shaking your head in disbelief, I can explain. You see, I'm not exactly a hometown fan, and it's not as though I haven't tried. But every time I've traveled to New York City, the Yanks have been in Detroit playing the Tigers. Every single time.

So finally, my fellow fan and also Yankee-Stadium-deprived friend Megan and I got to talking and decided that no longer would we allow our support of the Yankees to be tainted by our lack of attendance at the ballpark in the Bronx. We hashed out a plan to go visit our friend Aley in New Jersey and then the three of us would head on over to the Bronx to catch some bomber action before they change stadiums. So, we bought tickets for the Yankees-Pirates game and boy what a game it was.

Looking back, that day was one of the best I've ever had. That morning, we packed a big red bag full of turkey sandwiches, pita chips and cherries, met up with some of Aley's friends and had a picnic in Central Park. A picnic in Central Park! It was a hot, sunny day and we were sitting in front of a playground. Somebody, presumably park maintenance had set up a sprinkler at the edge of the playground by the path, and, surprisingly, several minutes went by before one mischievous little boy discovered it. He picked it up and began aiming it in all directions, until he finally left it positioned so that the water sprayed right onto the walkway, soaking anyone in its path. Kids of all ages were everywhere, playing on the swings, the monkey bars, running after each other in fast paced games of tag. A group of kids in matching t-shirts was walking through the park on a field trip, and moms pushing strollers periodically went by. A group of kids began playing catch and frisbee near us, and there were more than a few close calls.

Quite a few other people had the same idea to lunch in the park. Some couples were sitting together, either on vacation or off work. Many people were on their lunch breaks, sleeves rolled up and suit jackets at their sides. Just looking around made me wish desperately that I could be one of those city dwellers who had the chance to lunch in Central Park each day.

But before long, lunch was finished and the three of us were off to explore. Aley's friends left to run some other errands, so we proceeded to stroll on through the park. We saw a movie shoot and a large pond where people were boating. There was also a big fountain, and this one woman was getting her picture taken while standing inside the fountain, under the falling water, and holding an umbrella, off of which the water was bouncing away from her and leaving her perfectly dry. After sufficient meandering, we decided to head over to the Met, where neither Megan nor I had been.

Walking down the streets, the three of us garnered quite a few stares, as we were all decked out in our Jeter jerseys and Yankees caps. At least Megan and I were finally in a town where we weren't yelled at for showing our true colors.

The Met was really cool; my favorite part was definitely the roof. As we were up there, sipping lemonade and staring off at the skyline of this amazing city, I wondered what it would be like to attend a cocktail party for some exhibit opening up here. Can you just imagine putting a little black dress on, sipping a cosmo and looking out at the buildings outlined against the dusky sky? Yes, I really need to move to this city once I graduate.

But soon enough it was time for us to begin heading over to the stadium. As we walked down the streets toward the subway, I saw a sign on one of the lampposts that read "No honking, $300 fine." I really wanted to take a picture of it, since I wondered how often those instructions would be enforced, especially in this city.

Soon enough we reached the subway station and packed ourselves onto the standing-room-only train, with me awkwardly squished between the pole and three people. Of course, one or two stops later, we get stuck inside a tunnel. I'm used to trains stopping for a moment in the tunnel, the metro here does it all the time when there's another train ahead, so I didn't really worry at first. But the moments stretched into minutes, and a voice came onto the PA system and announced that we were stopped because of smoke in the station ahead. Everyone groaned, and I began to worry. Would we get there on time? It was about 4:30 or so; I had wanted to get to the stadium early to potentially try and get someone's autograph (I know I know....but I'm still a kid at heart :) Anyways, I start knocking the bill of my cap against the pole to keep myself busy, since I can't even talk to Aley or Megan because they were standing a couple people behind me and I had no room to turn around. I remember staring at one of the ads lining the car, about a brand new condo tower called something like The Oro opening up in Brooklyn and found myself wishing I could buy one.

Ten minutes went by, 15 minutes went by, and the smoke in the station up ahead turned into the fire in the station up ahead. We were told at the next station the train would go out of service and we had to empty the train. We got out and a there were people in Yanks gear everywhere. A Jamaican woman told us she knew how to get to the stadium and walked us to the nearest train station. But when she explained us how to get there, we didn't quite understand the route, so we asked a cop. He didn't know either, and recommended we wait out the train problems, which would probably clear up in half an hour. We said no thanks and decided to catch a cab. But of course, the hoards of fans outside had the same idea and the one cab we saw go by was quickly claimed by a group of guys. We found one guy who told us of another subway station a couple blocks ahead that would take us to the stadium, so we began the 8-block trek. As we were walking, I realized I was walking through Harlem, and if Mom knew that she would probably have a heart attack. We even walked by the Apollo Theatre, but I was too preoccupied with getting to the stadium to care. The sun was beating down on us, and I turned to Aley and said, "I wish the sun would just go dow...uhhh stay up," almost forgetting where we were and how screwed we'd be if I got my wish.

Finally, after finding the right train, we reached our destination and entered the stadium. I can't even begin to tell you what it felt like to step out into the ballpark and see that Yankees logo freshly painted behind home plate. We found our seats out in left field and took in the sights around us.

The stadium looked smaller in real life, but it was still an incredible feeling to look out at the sea of blue seats around us, the bullpen and Monument Park, which we unfortunately didn't have enough time to see, on our left. Seeing the white grandstand fencing above the bleachers and the flags waving in the wind, it made me feel right at home. A couple of Pirates fans were seated on one side of us, and a family of four, with two young boys were on the other side. I looked at them and hoped that eventually I’d be taking my family to see some Friday night baseball in only the best stadium in the league.

Soon enough the game started and I couldn’t have asked for a better one to attend. The first couple innings were slow; I was really hoping we’d at least score, so I could justify the cost of the trip to Mom. But I had a feeling the Yanks wouldn’t let us down. And of course, when Matsui sent that ball flying, the roar of the crowd was music to my ears. The 7th inning though, that’s when the fun began. The energy in that stadium was electric. The crowd was yelling, screaming, pumping its fists. We were coming back strong after the crazy inside-the-park-homer the Pirates had. The game was tied, and I noticed the family beside us had left, since their younger son had fallen asleep. Now that’s something I hope I won’t have to do in the future – leave in the middle of such a great game.

Anyways, by the 8th inning or so, Megan and I were getting really excited at the prospect of extra innings. Free baseball, we kept thinking, free baseball. And what a show we got. Mariano Rivera had come out to pitch, the Pirates were changing pitchers every second batter, and it was none other than Jeter himself who hit the game-winning single. Seriously, Megan and I could not have asked for anything better. I even got her to scream “We love you Derek Jeter,” with me. Yeah, Aley pretended she didn’t know us.

But now this post has gotten waaaaaaay longer than I meant it to be, so I think it’s time for me to go do something productive...