Nothing But Agita

  It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Sometimes, but not too often, there was some middle ground. Kinda sounds like the 2024 Presidential campaign, but this is a sports-themed blog and I am certainly not going there. Very diplomatic of me. 

My birthday was a day of happiness. It was the first day of the 2024 World Series. Long time opponents from the past—they hadn’t met in the Fall Classic since 1981. Lots of history here. Brooklyn and Ebbets Field; the LA Coliseum exhibition game which drew over 93,000 Angelenos to see Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra and crew; Dodger Stadium in Chavez Ravine, which first hosted the West Coast/East Coast version of this tableau. And of course the three versions of Yankee Stadium—the House That Ruth Built; the refurbished version of the late 1970’s; and this century’s monolith. 

I had hopes that this might be the year that the Yankees would once more win it all. I had never been solidly convinced that this squad was a worthy champion. Winning the American League in the manner that they did made me want to believe in them. Then again, pyrite isn’t real gold. Just fools gold. 

So, after cake for my birthday celebration, it was time for baseball. The Yankees took it to LAD behind Gerrit Cole and playoff monster Giancarlo Stanton, who hid during the regular season yet reminded us once more why he was a rising star in Miami with almost unrivaled power at the plate. 

It was a pitcher’s duel between Cole and Jack Flaherty, a late season addition to a depleted Dodgers rotation. By default, he became the ace of the staff. This was a Game 1 which would head to extra innings. 

New York took a lead in the top of the 10th inning. Only to falter in the bottom of the frame. Manager Aaron Boone made a critical miscalculation, brining starter Nestor Cortes, nursing an arm injury which ultimately might require surgery, to face LA first baseman Freddie Freeman. 

Freeman had starred in the World Series when he was in Atlanta. Although he was nursing an ankle injury at the start of the Series, he was out there to help the Dodgers. (It was also later disclosed that Freeman played despite a very painful rib injury, too)

Did he ever. With one gigantic swing, Freeman sent a ball flying into the right field pavilion for a grand slam home run. Nobody had ever hit a walk off grand slam in the history of the World Series. Game 1 to LAD. In actuality, it was World Series to LAD. 

New York managed to go ahead in Game 2, but there was Freeman with a home run. He would hit homers in the first four games, which, along with one in his last World Series game while a member of the Braves, set a record. The Dodgers recovered to win Game 2, now up 2-0 with the games switching to Yankee Stadium.

Yankees players talked tough and were relying on the extra man in the stands. Some took their job too literally, trying to yank the ball out of Dodgers’ right fielder Mookie Betts glove  when he went over the wall and into the stands to make a catch in foul territory in Game 4. 

Still, the Yankees bats weren’t coming alive while the LAD pitching was neutralizing much of the power. Sure fire American League M.V.P. Aaron Judge didn’t awaken from his disastrous at bats until game 4, and that was only momentary. 

With a 11-4 Game 4 blowout, NYY sought to do what no other team had done. When down 3-0, only four teams had made it to a Game 5. No team ever made it to a Game 6. The odds were stacked against the Yankees, no matter how much their power display gave its fans hope. 

With Cole on the mound, New York staked him to a 5-0 lead while he had given up no hits through four innings. Things looked promising, although I did say to my wife that this wasn’t enough runs. Was I ever prophetic. 

In an inning which will be remembered in World Series history like Boston’s Bill Buckner booting an easy grounder against the Mets which would have allowed the Red Sox to win in 1986, the Yankees completely unraveled. By the time the carnage was done—the errors in commission and omission—it was a tie score. 

NYY would forge ahead on a Stanton sacrifice fly. Only to have LAD come back to take the lead. For good. 

With Walker Buehler two days removed from starting in Game 3 coming on in the ninth inning to close the game out, the Yankees were finished. What epitomized the way the team petered out was how closer Luke Wilson ran out of gas in Game 5—over used and tired—finished in what was a game but futile effort. Season over. 

Now the Yankees have a lot of decisions to make about retaining personnel. Cole, Juan Soto, Anthony Rizzo, Gleyber Torres and Alex Verdugo may all be leaving the Bronx. The defense and fundamentals need to be shored up (see Cole not covering first on a Betts grounder to Rizzo which would have ended the inning without a run scoring instead of opening the flood gates). There cannot be intermittent power shortages, nor should reliance for extra base hits have been placed on the shoulders of young Anthony Volpe, whose grand slam ignited the Bombers in Game 4. 

Los Angeles was the best team in baseball. In my mind, San Diego was second, the Mets third, then the Yankees and Cleveland round out the top 5. The National League was the better league—all of the NL playoff teams were good and Houston plus the AL wild cards— Baltimore, Detroit  and Kansas City—simply didn’t match up with Philadelphia or Milwaukee. 

It looks like Boone will be back for another year. Same with GM Brian Cashman. I don’t know how any of the coaches might fare. Whatever group emerges in Tampa next Spring, it will be different . What won’t be gone is the sting of such a bitter defeat. 

The New York Jets needed to play better. Heading to Foxborough to take on the New England Patriots, NYJ had a chance to get back into the playoff race. Except that the team which cannot get out of the way of itself, gave its fans a clunker. 

A battered and bruised 6-2 Houston Texans team came to Met Life Stadium for a Thursday Night Football extravaganza. The Jets played the first half in a trance, drawing the ire of those in attendance. “Sell the team” chants were heard loud and clear on the Amazon broadcast—a not so veiled indictment of how poorly this team played and how owner Woody Johnson simply did not hire the right people to make the right decisions. 

The a funny thing happened. The defense took over and the offense awakened. Ancient Aaron Rodgers benefitted from a miraculous catch by wide receiver Garrett Wilson for a spectacular touchdown confirmed by a shin hitting in bounds after a replay review, along with a sideline sprint after a pass for a TD by Rodgers’ Green Bay favorite, Davante Adams, who somehow escaped concussion protocol after hitting his head on the unforgiving Met Life turf after being tackled hard. 

I am no more enthused over the Jets chances going forward. The schedule isn’t daunting, beginning with a road game in Arizona. 

The mentality has to be one game at a time. With the history of this team—losing to Denver and New England in winnable contests—are their chances really that good? Stay tuned. 

I did manage to see Franklin and Marshall thoroughly out play an undermanned Mc Daniel team. As my daughter astutely said, it was going to be a long bus ride back to Westminister after being vanquished 24-0 in a yawner of a game. 

I once more saw F&M at Kean University this Saturday, a mere four miles from my house. Kean wass 2-5;  I hoped the team could play better on the road—unlike when I saw them lose at The College of New Jersey in September (for the  first time since college, I will have seen F&M play football in September, October and November thanks to a schedule which placed the team in NJ twice—which never have happened before in my lifetime). F&M prevailed by a 34-14 score. Kean was better than Mc Daniel, which was shut out 42-0 Saturday at home by 8-1 Ursinus.

My college roommate remarked that maybe I should stick to college football. Maybe he’s right. The pros I root for have given me nothing but agita.

Birthday Wishes

  The beginning of my seventy-fifth year starts on Friday. This ongoing journey began at Phoebe Putney General Hospital in the unlikely location of Albany, Georgia. My parents, both Jewish and from Coney Island, a well-known enclave in Brooklyn, were there because my father was fulfilling his Air Force duty after dental school; my mother had quit her position as a Business Education teacher at Sayreville, New Jersey High School to be with him. 

What they couldn’t have known is that the baby they brought into the world would become a sports-obsessed attorney who would create his own family of sports zealots who love to travel and who would shine in their chosen careers. And I don’t know if they would have approved. But that’s not my concern. 

Yeah, this guy loves sports. If he could have been a sports writer, athletic director or coach, that would have been a ton of fun. This is not to say that being a Government major at Franklin and Marshall College in Lancaster, Pennsylvania with an eye on going to law school and a career as an attorney wasn’t an admirable choice. It was a means to an end, which included sports. 

I fell in love with sports at an early age. Watching the games on my parents’ black and white set embedded in me a love for what seemed to be great stuff. Whether it was Mel Allen describing Yankees games on WPIX, Marty Glickman handling Knicks games, Chris Schenkel describing the play of the Giants or watching the Rangers on Saturday night, I was hooked. National broadcasts of the NBA and NHL added to my fervor. 

I saw my first Yankees game at age 7. My first Rangers game was at the old Madison Square Garden on my birthday 65 years ago. I saw Wilt Chamberlain and the San Francisco Warriors demolish the Knicks a year later. I saw my first pro football game in 1962 when the Giants and Philadelphia Eagles met in an annual pre-season battle in Princeton. Rutgers football was first on my plate in 1964 and RU hoops a year later. 

My exposure at the scholastic level began at summer day camp at Highland Park High School, my hometown school. I got to know the players and I rode my bike to practice and games at Johnson Park for football and Donaldson Park for baseball. I even saw games in the old gym which, by the time I reached ninth grade, had been converted into the band room, where I would blare my trumpet badly.

Whatever newspaper my parents would read, I devoured the sports pages. And any sport I watched, I tried to play. I fell in love with baseball, and I wasn’t too bad at it. I could throw a football and my father installed a basket over the garage door. I even had hockey sticks and I would have my sister play goalie, shooting frozen tennis balls at her in our driveway. I dropped 30 pounds my freshman year of high school and took up weightlifting to be better at what I tried to play. 

I didn’t know I was undersized at 5’5” until hit hard at freshman football practice by a much larger human being. Which led to my being adept at keeping score and statistics for baseball, football and basketball. To this day, the concepts I learned as a child I rely on while watching a game. 

Any game I could go to, if able to, I would. Taking used stubs and heading into the visitors stands at Rutgers football games began a robust career of watching college football live. 

I have seen Michael Jordan play. I have been to the US Open in golf and tennis. The World Series and two MLB All Star Games. The Stanley Cup and NBA Finals. I have seen Notre Dame, Army, Ohio State, Wisconsin and Texas all perform in football; North Carolina, UConn, Syracuse and Villanova in men’s hoops. I go to plenty of college baseball games and have seen minor league ball at all levels. I’ve been to hockey games in Canada. Heck, I have seen the Vancouver Canucks and New Jersey Devils practice.

This lifelong addiction to sports sent me to the Halls of Fame for baseball, football, basketball. I made a pilgrimage to the old Boston Garden to watch the Celtics. It sent me to ballparks related to 29 of the 30 MLB franchises, plus a number of Spring Training sites. 

Wherever we go, I visit college campuses. And of course, go to famous stadiums or arenas. I have walked into Notre Dame Stadium; Ohio and Michigan Stadiums; the Charlotte Coliseum; the Dean E. Smith Center at the University of North Carolina and Cameron Indoor Stadium at Duke. I have shot baskets at Princeton, Clemson and Rutgers. 

Even more compelling was the fact that I played college baseball. Not permitted to freely play at Highland Park after a very troubling set of incidents relating to my height and being Jewish, I made my mind up that I would play at F&M. I made my presence known freshman year by working out every day and that caught the attention of coaches. Who knew that the kid who made up for not playing any organized baseball after his freshman year would actually start in college for two years before injuring his shoulder foolishly wrestling for his intramural team. And I still attended a Baltimore Orioles tryout camp and got a hit in their game for prospects. 

Baseball got me my job as a Public Defender, as they needed a player for the softball team.  True story. I met the future Secretary of Agriculture for the Carter Administration while playing softball on his House of Representatives team during my congressional internship in D.C. in 1971. Talking with my future wife when we first met, I told her I had a New York Jets playoff game the next day at Shea Stadium and we began a two hour talk which blossomed into a great love story—based on sports as one of our foundations. 

I can go on endlessly about my history over the past 74 years. And here I am, as I start another year, on the precipice of watching my beloved New York Yankees play the Los Angeles Dodgers in the World Series. 65 years ago, I saw my first National League game in Philadelphia as the Dodgers, who would become World Champions, played the Phillies at Connie Mack Stadium. (I did see the Yankees lose to the eventual American League champion Chicago White Sox earlier that year but I have never seen LAD play NYY)

My misplaced faith in the New York Jets as a season ticket holder since 1977 is once more in the toilet after a loss to Pittsburgh Sunday night. Recreating the Aaron Rodgers Green Bay Packers won’t work—not with Rodgers nearly 41 years of age. 

And Rutgers lost to a very average UCLA football team at home. They just aren’t getting over the hump and playing like an elite team. At least I was promised to see the good men’s basketball team play UCLA this year—this will be the second time I have seen the Bruins after watching then-Lew Alcindor demolish St. John’s in the 1969 Holiday Festival at MSG. 

When I blow out the candles on my birthday cake, I am going to cheat a bit. I am going to make a number of wishes beyond health and happiness. 

First, I am going to wish that the Yankees win World Championship number 29. It’s been an amazing and frustrating ride to get this far. The Dodgers are formidable opponents. But I can’t help myself agonizing over every pitch. Because that’s who I am. 

Next, and this is complicated. I am going to hope against hope for a reversal of fortune for the Jets. I know how unlikely that is. The schedule isn’t daunting and the addition of Davante Adams at wide receiver and Haason Reddick at defensive line makes the impossible seem possible. Even if it isn’t. Moreover, I will yearn for management to draft a real game-changing quarterback and supply him with competent coaches and complimentary personnel on offense and defense. 

I wish that the RU men’s basketball team will fare well this season. I always think a run like in 1976 to the Final Four is possible. 

Another big wish is for F&M football to get past the top four and go to the NCAA’s; that men’s basketball be as relevant as it was under legendary coach Glenn Robinson; and that baseball reach championship heights again and again under Ryan Horning’s leadership. 

I want Travis Kelce, Patrick Mahomes and the Kansas City Chiefs to win it all again. And that Kelce and Taylor Swift have a long and lovely life together. If KC cannot win it all this year, I am rooting for Detroit to win—because the last time the Lions won the NFL crown was 1957. (A correction to be noted here: in last week’s blog, I indicated that Cleveland, Detroit, Houston and Jacksonville were the only teams not to have won a Super Bowl—those teams are the four never having played in the big game; 12 haven’t won the trophy) 

Plus I wish that my son’s idea to see the Golden State Warriors in San Francisco comes to fruition. I need go to see Steph Curry another time in person, for when I saw him in New Orleans, he left the game early with an injury. 

I wish for the success that the New York Liberty reached after 28 years of futility for Caitlin Clark and her Indiana Fever, although Sabrina Ionescu’s shooting for the Liberty on Sunday night in Game 5 was dreadful. After we get through expected labor strife for the 2025 season. (The women are grossly underpaid) 

Finally, I want to thank the people who take the time to read my rantings. My last wish is that you continue to do so, enjoying the words I put to paper which my intrepid editor make sensible. And that your wishes come true, too, at least in the sports world.

That’s it. Birthday wishes.

Could Have. Should Have. Would Have.

  Could have. Should have. Would have. Those are great words to express a fan’s take on sports—especially when their team failed to do something critical. 

I know that those words apply to the New York Jets. Owners of a 2-4 record after losing to Buffalo on Monday night, there has always been a lot of second guessing and misgivings associated with this team through the years—and now again in 2024.

The Jets would have won the game had kicker Greg Zeurlein not hit two uprights attempting field goals in the swirling winds at Met Life Stadium. Zeurlein is a good kicker but his failures cost the team a win. Not that Buffalo’s kicker didn’t have his own troubles when he missed a field goal and extra point. These were kicks the two should have made. 

Rodgers threw a pass near the end of the game which was intercepted. Former LA Chargers wide out Mike Williams seemed to slip when reaching for the ball. Had he caught it, New York would have been in great position to tie or go ahead. Fans were lamenting about what could have been. 

New York finally was able to trade with Las Vegas to obtain disgruntled wide receiver Davante Adams. Adams was the top receiver for Jets quarterback Aaron Rodgers when the two were together in Green Bay. They formed a dynamic duo. If the team comes up just short of making the playoffs, Jets fans will cry about what would have been if Adams had not been absent for the six games he was still in Vegas. 

Former New England head coach Bill Belichick now gives his opinions about the NFL for good money. He has no regard for the Jets and, in particular, owner Woody Johnson. So forget about any rumors of him coaching the team next season. It’s not going to happen.

Where it is much more likely that Belichick will resume coaching after his one year sabbatical, if he so chooses, is Dallas. There is a team with great expectations—seemingly every year—that has been hoisted by its own petard. 

In Dallas, owner Jerry Jones controls the team. He is the General Manager and he has final say on all personnel matters. Jones is receiving much greater criticism this season for his team’s shortcomings—which rightly falls on his head. 

It is just a question of whether Belichick wants to strut into a toxic situation only to be constantly criticized by his boss. Hadn’t he had enough of that in New England with Robert Kraft? And are the Cowboys really good enough to win the Super Bowl—are they once more merely pretenders? I think the latter is applicable here.

A tough Detroit Lions team demolished the Cowboys in Arlington on Sunday. The Lions looked like one of the teams to beat in the NFC and, for that matter, in the NFL. That was until star defensive lineman Aiden Hutchinson went down with a gruesome leg injury which required immediate surgery at a Dallas hospital. If Detroit misses the opportunity to finally win a Super Bowl—they are one of four franchises (Jacksonville, Cleveland and Houston are the others) not to have walked away with the trophy—their long-suffering fans will rue the day Hutchinson was injured.  

I did watch much of the Washington-Baltimore game on Sunday. It was a battle between a team which has Super Bowl aspirations and one which seems to be ahead of schedule in coming back from the doldrums. With a riveting performance, he Ravens’ Lamar Jackson reminded everyone why he was a M.V.P. winner. 

However, Washington rookie QB Jayden Daniels, the reigning Heisman Trophy winner, once more showed how much of an up side he has in leading the Commanders. With no clear cut favorite to win the NFC East, his on the field heroics have given DMV fans a lot of reason to believe in their team—now. 

in college football news, Texas remains at the top as they prepare for their battle with #5 Georgia in Austin on Saturday night. It should be a doozy. 

Speaking of doozies, #2 Ohio State traveled to Eugene to face #3 Oregon. This was a back and forth contest between two highly-ranked Big Ten teams. (It’s still hard to think about Oregon, USC, UCLA and Washington being in the Big Ten)  

Had OSU QB Will Howard—a really gifted player who I think will have a nice future in the NFL—not decided to run on the final play and slid a little earlier, OSU might have been in position to attempt to kick the winning field goal. Instead, time ran out for OSU. Moreover, an offensive pass interference penalty on a long completion didn’t help the Buckeyes’ cause. 

And a slick move by Oregon placing 12 players on defense at the end of the game, which would have been a dead ball foul and not cost yardage but instead allowed greater pursuit of Howard was another nail in OSU’s carcass.  There is a great example of could have, would have and should have. I wouldn’t have the courage to say that in Columbus. Conversely, there is plenty of elation in Oregon with the big win. 

A quick comment about Rutgers. What looked to be a promising start for the Scarlet Knights has devolved into the same old, same old. Wisconsin, a very average Big Ten squad, demolished RU Saturday in Piscataway. Head Coach Greg Schiano, a very nice man and solid recruiter, might be on shaky ground if the team doesn’t get better in its final six games, especially with a new AD coming in. There is only so much the downtrodden Rutgers fans can take. 

Caitlin Clark was named First Team All-WNBA. Rightly so. The WBA Rookie of the Year deserved the accolade. 

Right behind her, on the second team, was Sabrina Ionescu. You might remember that she went head-to-head with Steph Curry in a three point contest at the NBA All Star Game, pushing the greatest long-distance shooter to the limit before falling to Curry. 

Ionescu’s New York Liberty is facing the Minnesota Lynx in the best-of five WNBA finals. With the teams tied 1-1 after the first two games in Brooklyn, the Liberty found themselves tied with the Lynx as the time ran down. The ball was in the hands of Ionescu, who deftly executed a feint to create space from her defender and heaved a shot from nearly the center court logo. 

Nothing but net for the WNBA star and after that dramatic win, Brooklyn now has a chance to close it out on Friday. She showed her inner Curry on that one—a brave shot executed with great confidence like the one Curry hit at the recent Olympics. 

Besides the Jets, no greater place for what might have been is in New York. That goes for the Giants, whose fans are always in an uproar over their quarterback and head coach. 

Same applies to the residents of Madison Square Garden. The expectations for the Knicks and Rangers have always been high, even if the number of championships in my lifetime—soon to turn 74 next week—is two for the Knicks and one for the Rangers. The amount of bellyaching that goes on after each frustrating lost season is enormous. 

But where the biggest scrutiny is in baseball. Mets fans are always arguing every bad move or play that prevents the team from its third World Series title. I feel a little for them. 

For Yankees fans are too spoiled with 28 World Championships and the mantra of late owner George Steinbrenner channeling his best imitation of the late, great Green Bay Head Coach Vince Lombardi that winning is the only thing. If Aaron Judge, Juan Soto, Gerrit Cole and the rest of the Yankees underwhelm and don’t win a title, the amount of howling over the littlest of things and the calling for the heads of General Manager Brian Cashman and Manager Aaron Boone will sound worse than a swarm of cicadas. 

Could have. Should have. Would have.