Please make it tonight, Tommy!
Yes, I think the nerves have affected his pitching. Not enough to worry, or anything–I mean, this is Tom Glavine after all. But I’d like to get the big night over with so our Tom can finally relax.
In honor of what I hope will be his big night (please oh please!), here’s a Tomtastic post for your enjoyment.
I’m bringing my camera
On Rob’s recommendation, I sought out HBO’s documentary, Brooklyn Dodgers: The Ghosts of Flatbush. If you haven’t seen it yet, oh, do find it! Anyone with ties to Brooklyn or baseball can’t help but enjoy. I will definitely recommend the 2-hour documentary to my grandfather, who was in Brooklyn at the time, and a die-hard Dodgers fan. He still hasn’t recovered.
I grew up in the BK with no borough baseball team to root for, but I learned from HBO that history could have been easily rewritten–if not for that annoying, power-hungry Robert Moses. Dodgers owner Walter O’Malley fought dang hard to build a new stadium only one subway stop away from my childhood home:
Look familiar? Fifty years later, the area is getting its stadium. If Robert Moses had been more flexible, it could have already been Dodgers land. O’Malley would have paid for it. Paid taxes on it. He’d have given something truly special to Brooklyn.
Even cooler? The imagined ball park would have been a testament to ’50s architecture and optimism. Today, it might have seemed quaint–an almost Jetsons-like vision of progress. But at the time, it was thought (as the documentary says), "What could be newer than a geodesic dome rising up on the corner of Flatbush and Atlantic Avenue?"
You know, I bet my grandfather would have taken me to that ball park growing up. I’d have been a Dodgers fan. The Mets might never have existed. (Although, the documentary implies that the Giants would have moved anyway, to the midwest. And Robert Moses wanted a Flushing stadium, so it’s possible the Mets would have still moved in as a 3rd NY team.)
Really, though. From Brooklyn, to baseball, to race, to history, to class–every thrill and disappointment of the Dodgers from 1947 to 1957 has been captured perfectly by this film. Check it out!
Z (My mom likes to say, "You can take the girl out of Brooklyn, but you can’t take the Brooklyn out of the girl.")
I’ve been collecting these pics for a while, so why not share?
Fun with Teddy and Towely.
Keith’s feet. Because (apparently) once was not enough.
Gary’s wife, Lindsay, gives Keith his own Tootsie ‘Stache Head.
Paulie says: "Keith can’t do Towely like I can do Towely."
Last night, Mets buddy Rob invited me to the game, and at first, I happily swung back a Smirnoff Ice, gobbled an enormous Subway sandwich, BBQ potato chips, and a big ole’ ice cream cone. Then the second inning came along. Ouch.
The highlight of the entire game was Jose Reyes’s "Profesor Reyes" segment. Last night’s word? "Marinero," or "sailor." But the best part was Jose singing the lyrics to La Bamba’s chorus, "Yo no soy marinero. Soy capitan, soy capitan" or (and I did not know this) "I am not a sailor. I’m captain, I’m captain."
I was reminded of Thursday’s hilarious SNY segment where el Profesor tried to teach Kevin Burkhardt Spanish. Key word being "tried." Here are a couple fun outtakes for you to enjoy
And if you’ve never seen Shea’s "Spanish Academy," here’s one of my favorite Profesor Reyes moments:
Homeboy makes it so easy! Here is Keith, in a proverbial nutshell.
Despite yesterday’s less than thrilling loss (eh, it happens), the past few days of Mets-related TV coverage have had so many Pick Me Up Some Mets moments, that I’m running a bit behind. My 2 favorites will include videos, worry not
So stay tuned, lovely people.
As Tom Glavine’s exciting 300th win approaches, SNY’s going mad for the coverage. This shot popped up last night, along with a couple others. What a youth! The current uniform, of course, is much more attractive, Tommy.
In an interview with Kevin Burkhardt yesterday, a giddy Paul Lo Duca said he’d have to have his leg severed to miss Glavine’s 300th.
Note to Paul: the way this team’s been with injuries lately…maybe watch the peg leg jokes. At least you’re not an outfielder…
Matt’s mention today of the Playboy-sponsored party in honor of the All-Star game reminded me that my friend Traci, who works for Playboy PR, organized the big shindig. She sent me a couple pics of her and our boys, which of course, I will share with you.
On David, Traci reports that he’s the "nicest guy ever" and that "I don’t think that he realizes he’s a celebrity."
Traci calls Jose "so sweet and adorable."
But of course, Traci. Would we expect anything less from New York’s favorite All-Stars?
Wow. Where’s the offense gone? Hitting has been a struggle, yes, but worse? When our boys get on base, the lineup just can’t get ’em home. Last night against the Padres, the Metsies managed 1 run with 9 hits. Ouch.
Only one thing can be done about it.
Remember early May? The whole team-unity-head-shaving-extravaganza? Well, call up the Mets Spa, coaches. You know, that new phone in the dugout. The Emergency Line.
The head-shaving provided a couple weeks of Mets spark. But any gal could tell you–shaving doesn’t last.
Time for waxing.
Wax as a team, boys. Hold each others’ hands through the pain. Wax backs. Wax facial hair. Wax those bikini lines.
You’ll be so shocked, you won’t be able to think about recent lackluster performance.
Try that for feeling comfortable at the plate.