It was every Little Leaguer’s nightmare – failure most conspicuous. How many men in suits scurrying through the canyons of old New York carry the burden of losing the game as little boys because leather failed to secure the old spheroid? The ignominy must have led them to foist all those toxic assets on the unsuspecting masses.
Is Luis Castillo the new Marv Throneberry? Legend has it that Marv’s New York Metropolitan teammates threw him a birthday party in the clubhouse but didn’t give him a piece of cake because they were afraid he’d drop it. Renouncing his resolution not to go against the pinstripers at home, Kev had victory in his grasp as Mr. Castillo sidled under Mr. Clutch Alex Rodriguez’s pop fly with two outs in the bottom of the ninth. ‘Twas not to be. Two runs scored. Kev’s billfold asked “Can’t anybody here play this game?”
And how about Dwight Howard? He has become the bizzaro world Superman. Mr. Howard only had to make one of two free throws to put the game out of reach for the central Floridians. But no! as Howard Cosell used to interject during the half-time highlights on Monday Night football. One Lala land three-pointer and an overtime later, he of the glistening other-worldly shoulders was shrunk to a mere mortal.
Kev won’t speak for you, but he’s of the mind that we are all little boys. If Kev were Mr. Castillo or Mr. Howard, he would be crying like a 10-year-old who just struck out with the bases loaded or clanged the go-ahead free throw off the rim. But then again we are all odd fish. Failure makes some of us stronger, others of us despondent.
We want to castigate Mr. Castillo for his miscue that cost us greens fees this week, but can’t summon the nerve. He must feel bad enough.
Our cure for the “Mets”? Quit calling themselves the Mets. It smacks of the Cro-Magnon lumbering to extinction. They are the Metropolitans, lords of the universe, boulevardiers, bon vivants et raconteurs. Swagger, ye losers. After all, the pinstripers were pounding Mr. Rodriguez as if he had swatted it out of the park. Talk about a clutch “hit.” Some guys have all the luck.
Showing posts with label New York Metropolitans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York Metropolitans. Show all posts
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Game on!
The World Champion Philadelphia club of the National League brought the mighty American League pinstripers to their knees tonight, taking advantage of the mysterious winds of the Bronx bandbox, putting Kev in the plus column. We will forgive our taking the bloody socks of Boston against the glove-challenged Metropolitans of Queens, but Kawakami, alias KK, stood up brilliantly against Halladay in the home of Sherman’s gift to Lincoln. It must be hell for unreconstructed Confederates to see that statue at 59th Street with Nike hailing the victor astride his prancing mount. But it’s just a game, after all.
Just a game? What nonsense. Why, it is the very reason for living. If it were not for games, the world would be a dreary place, fit only for debtor prisons and dour sires and mares counting the pennies they earn while the mules in their harnesses plow the 20 acres allotted them.
God (your higher being or whomever) has now given us summer. A delicious sweat trickles on our brows. Shorts and polo shirts are required wear. A golf glove keeps the left hand noticeably paler than the rest of the exposed appendages. The same glove protects the mole on my index finger knuckle that has reminded me which is my left hand since I was a boy. I pray it doesn’t fade.
But I stray beyond what makes the world goes ‘round – fear and greed.
Just as the previous administration knew its bread was buttered by preventing another terrorist attack on U.S. soil, so does the present one know that economic recovery will define it. Fiscal and monetary policies have as their single goal reviving animal spirits even at the cost of soaring inflation down the road.
Bush, Cheney, et al., were willing to sink to waterboarding to prevent another 9/11. Obama, Geithner, Bernanke, et al., will risk all to get the U.S. fully employed again. The bet they are making is that growth will be robust enough to pay for the debt used to get it going. They could well be wrong, and the U.S. could be saddled with slow growth, massive inflation and a collapsing currency, but given that they hold all the reins of power, I wouldn't doubt that climbing out of the mess is all but certain, though it may land us in another mess.
In the meantime, though, staying with equities, oil and other commodities seems the path of least resistance.
And Lebron is indeed King James, the guy who ruled Britain when Shakespeare wrote “The Tempest.”
Oh yeah, broke 100 the other day with a brilliant display of course management. I’ll insist on nothing less in the future
Just a game? What nonsense. Why, it is the very reason for living. If it were not for games, the world would be a dreary place, fit only for debtor prisons and dour sires and mares counting the pennies they earn while the mules in their harnesses plow the 20 acres allotted them.
God (your higher being or whomever) has now given us summer. A delicious sweat trickles on our brows. Shorts and polo shirts are required wear. A golf glove keeps the left hand noticeably paler than the rest of the exposed appendages. The same glove protects the mole on my index finger knuckle that has reminded me which is my left hand since I was a boy. I pray it doesn’t fade.
But I stray beyond what makes the world goes ‘round – fear and greed.
Just as the previous administration knew its bread was buttered by preventing another terrorist attack on U.S. soil, so does the present one know that economic recovery will define it. Fiscal and monetary policies have as their single goal reviving animal spirits even at the cost of soaring inflation down the road.
Bush, Cheney, et al., were willing to sink to waterboarding to prevent another 9/11. Obama, Geithner, Bernanke, et al., will risk all to get the U.S. fully employed again. The bet they are making is that growth will be robust enough to pay for the debt used to get it going. They could well be wrong, and the U.S. could be saddled with slow growth, massive inflation and a collapsing currency, but given that they hold all the reins of power, I wouldn't doubt that climbing out of the mess is all but certain, though it may land us in another mess.
In the meantime, though, staying with equities, oil and other commodities seems the path of least resistance.
And Lebron is indeed King James, the guy who ruled Britain when Shakespeare wrote “The Tempest.”
Oh yeah, broke 100 the other day with a brilliant display of course management. I’ll insist on nothing less in the future
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
The Name Is Bond
Oh the humanity! Retail sales -- all that stuff we buy -- fell 0.4% last month, the Commerce Department tells us, and Miss Market gave us a quick backhand slap across the face. Who are we to argue? She responds as she will and we must take it like men. “For king and country…” as James Bond (alias Sean Connery) famously reported as his reason for dallying with a cold war spy.
But all will be forgiven. I can see Connery canoodling with the Bond girl in the lifeboat after defeating Dr. No and Auric Goldfinger and crushing Smersh, or was it Spectre?
Oh well, whomever the foe, the rally will resume, I think.
Consider that Ford, though we shareholders suffer from the dilution, has enough confidence to test the appetite of equity investors (aka, gamblers) with its intention to bolster its balance sheet from the sale of new stock.
Consider that banks are champing at the bit to be rid of TARP dough so they can again compensate their brilliant employees as much as they want.
Consider that oil is flirting with $60 a barrel.
We are leaving our secret lair as if all were going to plan. Obama, Bernanke, Pelosi, Reid, Geithner (or whoever will eventually replace him) will not be denied, despite the gnarled remonstrances from the ancien regime.
We are also working on our hideous short game. If I chunk too many tomorrow, then so be it, but staying with F, PALM, AMD (getting a boost from the EU sanction against Intel), DXO. Money supply and deficit spending will get it going
Kev (yes, he’s still a third person and green-shoots guy) is looking to make it four in a row. Chipper Jones and Martin Prado are my heroes today. You can look it up.
But all will be forgiven. I can see Connery canoodling with the Bond girl in the lifeboat after defeating Dr. No and Auric Goldfinger and crushing Smersh, or was it Spectre?
Oh well, whomever the foe, the rally will resume, I think.
Consider that Ford, though we shareholders suffer from the dilution, has enough confidence to test the appetite of equity investors (aka, gamblers) with its intention to bolster its balance sheet from the sale of new stock.
Consider that banks are champing at the bit to be rid of TARP dough so they can again compensate their brilliant employees as much as they want.
Consider that oil is flirting with $60 a barrel.
We are leaving our secret lair as if all were going to plan. Obama, Bernanke, Pelosi, Reid, Geithner (or whoever will eventually replace him) will not be denied, despite the gnarled remonstrances from the ancien regime.
We are also working on our hideous short game. If I chunk too many tomorrow, then so be it, but staying with F, PALM, AMD (getting a boost from the EU sanction against Intel), DXO. Money supply and deficit spending will get it going
Kev (yes, he’s still a third person and green-shoots guy) is looking to make it four in a row. Chipper Jones and Martin Prado are my heroes today. You can look it up.
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