8/13/3: Shades of Green

Bernie Williams, God bless him, throws like an old woman.  It looks like he's scared his arm is gonna fly off if he really lets one go.  Which might actually be kind of cool, assuming he could just go pick it up and pop it back into the socket.

I always felt it was OK to be stupid, as long as you were really nice and good.  Granted, it would be better to be smart, but being dumb and kind is acceptable.  Similarly, if you are really intelligent, you can probably get by with a little sarcasm and nastiness, because people will be drawn to your insight and wit.  But one thing you just can't be is stupid and mean -- when someone gives a really stupid answer, and does it with a condescending little grin, wow -- that person is a certain failure in life.  So explain to me how an angry nitwit like that got to be President of the United States. Just watching his little mannerisms -- the way he bobs his head, squints and smiles when he talks down to the press, while clearly terrified that the next question they ask may involve a country he's never heard of -- if you worked with a guy like that, you'd probably staple his newspaper together just to screw with him. 

In sports, is there anything more satisfying for an old guy than beating a young guy? Similarly, is there anything more infuriating as a young guy than losing to an old guy?

1993: It seems like another lifetime ago, a lifetime in which hitting 33 home runs was enough to make you feel good about your job, a lifetime when we still thought the Knicks were a threat to win it all, a lifetime when Ace of Base was all we had to worry about.  I guess you could say, "It was a simpler time."

I had just gotten back to NYC from Madison, WI that August and I was still going to the kind of bars I hadn't yet realized you didn't have to go to.  It had been a great baseball season, like all baseball seasons, and it ended in that classic 6 game series between the peaking Blue Jay dynasty and Lenny Dykstra's slovenly, nouveau-mulleted Phillies.  This was the last World Series before the year when there was no World Series.  Do you remember how much fun it was?  I was still such a naive young thing that I could watch every game of a World Series even when my fucking Yankees weren't in it. 

The night of that final game, I went to one of those bars that you don't have to go to -- Shades of Green on East 15th Street.  My friend Mike and I had taken a liking to it for some reason. It was a little too brightly lit, rarely populated, with a totally unhip jukebox that kept all the young cool dudes away -- a  pretty charmless place, really, with just a few small things going for it:

-the Party Mix, which was kept in giant clear plastic bags under the bar
-the $2 Miller Lite pints every night
-Mary the young Irish waitress with the ample bosom
-two different Irish bartenders named Pat, who never seemed to be there on the same night and seemed unaware of each other's existence
-always a couple of seats within eyeline of one of the TV's*
-the totally unhip jukebox, which kept all the young cool dudes away

That night, my friend (perhaps Mike, can't quite remember who) and I sat at the bar next to an incredibly obnoxious drunk in his late-50's/early 60's.  Smelly, opinionated, obese, saturated with liquor -- he was like a giant mirror tilted partway towards our own future, and we didn't like him one bit.  When the Phillies rallied from a 5-1 deficit to head into the 9th up 6-5 (thanks in part to a three-run HR by Dykstra, his 4th of the series -- does anyone remember what a tremendous player that little bastard was? How could the Mets let him go? He played in 2 WS and hit 6 HR's.), the loudmouth started flapping his stinky gums about how there was no reason to watch the end of the game, because he knew we'd all be back the next day for game 7.  "I guarantee it," he yelled, offering to bet anybody who had the nerve to shake his greasy hand (which turned out to be nobody).  He said he was going home, as this one was all over (what had he seen in Mitch Williams' performance so far that gave him such confidence?).  He stumble-waddled out the door, and we all sat up straight to watch what promised to be a tense ninth.

Then Carter hit the famous HR to win it, and we all went crazy.  Better yet, God sent the jerk back into the bar (in hindsight, I realize he had probably just been outside vomiting), and he was still in "I guarantee it" mode.  He hadn't seen Carter's HR, and we all informed him of the details as he walked by to get his umbrella or whatever he came back for.  It was sort of an anti-victory lap.

Just a couple of thoughts on that series:

-Carter's HR has been played over and over, I guess, but it's really one of the most dramatic home runs ever, if not THE most.  Mazeroski's in 1960 was a game 7 series-ender, but that game was tied -- Carter's team was trailing, although it wasn't a win-or-go-home situation, like Fisk's was in 1975 (although again, that game was tied, Fisk's team wasn't behind).  Still, I can't help thinking that Fisk's HR has gotten way more attention than any other, and his team didn't even win that series. You can speculate why Carter's isn't discussed the same way, and maybe part of it is the fact that the '75 series was so even all the way through, and it went 7 games, like all great series are supposed to, and it came on the ass-end of Vietnam and reminded people how much they loved baseball and America and white guys named Carlton Fisk, but I think 1993 was pretty special as well.  It's coming up on ten years ago, and I hope somebody still comes up to Joe Carter every day and asks him about that moment.

-I remember just being shocked at how bad Mitch Williams was, but also kind of feeling sorry for him, especially when Curt Schilling would appear wearing a T-shirt, in the dugout, that said, "I survived watching Mitch pitch."  Schilling is scum, and he showed it there, especially after he had safely pitched his masterpiece in game 5 and knew that the cameras would be on him.  I might be wrong about when he wore the shirt, but he definitely had it on in public during that postseason.  Great teammate.

-That Blue Jays team was loaded with talent, too: Carter, Alomar, Rickey Henderson, Molitor, Devon White, Olerud during his monster year, Fernandez, Sprague (didn't he have a hot wife the cameras kept showing?), Hentgen (who made $182,000 that year for 19 wins), Guzman, Stottlemyre, Al Leiter, Ward and Eichorn.  Perhaps even more interesting are the names of the hangin'-around old-timers and the not-quite-ready rookies on that team: Jack Morris, Dave Stewart, and Alfredo Griffin, who all got to drink a last little bit of champagne.  Shawn Green and Carlos Delgado, who shared a cappuccino that September and watched the series on TV. And...Luis...Sojo.

I stopped by Shades of Green last Friday, even though I didn't have to...it hasn't changed much.  Mary's about 26 months pregnant, but still looks young and pretty.  When I asked if the kitchen was open, she said it had closed already.  I resigned myself to my hunger, but then she came by a few minutes later with a bowl of that unmistakable mix.  If you go there, don't be calling out for the "mix," unless you gesture towards a bowl of it or something.  They might take it the wrong way.

* 5/25/05 Update: Mike D. Hunt has reminded me that I used to enjoy switching the bar TV to Channel 35 when nobody was looking. There is something rather amusing about a closeup of a woman's vachina on a TV in a cozy Irish bar. For me, anyway, not so much for the staff.