The Little Boy Is Overjoyed Once More

  I was so fixated on my subjects last week that I missed sharing something. It might sound self-serving, but I believe we can all relate to this.

        On July 17, 1958, a seven year old Mark Sperber went with his father, an established dentist in Edison who had time on his day off, to Yankee Stadium. This was young Mark’s first trip to the Bronx which he could remember. 

        I had discovered baseball at the age of five. First in the backyard of our small Edison home, then when, in 1956 we moved to a dead end street in Highland Park, in an upscale neighborhood. 

        My love affair with the game took hold in Highland Park. I had my Rawlings Charlie Neal glove. Neal was among the handful of black players who played for the Brooklyn Dodgers; I am sure the long defunct Two Guys from Harrison store on Route 18 in East Brunswick had purchased a load of these gloves cheap, knowing that the Dodgers were likely to abandon the East Coast for Southern California. 

I looked for anyone to play catch with—my father, the neighbor who attended New Brunswick High School and would go on to be a cardiologist, or just throw a ball at a wall or in the air. Similarly, I had old broken bats which I used stones to hit into fields adjacent to our property. Anywhere I could, I would play baseball in some form—or what I perceived to be baseball. 

I went to the summer day camp at the high school and evidently the people running it saw my raw ability along with my love to play catch, Whiffle Ball or any other kind of baseball. For somehow, in the Summer of 1958, seven year old Mark joined many older kids on the Police Department Midget League team. As an infielder in a uniform which was way too big.

Another great influence were the Yankees broadcasts on WPIX. Seemingly every game was being shown from Yankee Stadium. Our televisions were black and white models, yet I did not discern the difference; I was color-blind to baseball, I guess. 

Anytime I could watch, I did. With great enthusiasm. You could guess that Mickey Mantle was my favorite player—he was why I learned to switch hit as a batter and wanted to play centerfield. But I knew all of the players on the roster, along with the coaches. And I supplemented my burgeoning knowledge with the paper of the day; The Daily Mirror; The Daily News; The Sunday Times; The Journal-American; and The Home News, the local paper. 

So when my father said we were going to Yankee Stadium, I was overjoyed. I can recall the ride in his 1956 Chrysler, taking the New Jersey Turnpike to its then-terminus at Route 46, which took us to the George Washington Bridge. There was no lower deck; thus the Manhattan skyline gleamed in the not-too far distance. 

I recall that my father went big-time with box seats on the side with the Yankees dugout that cost $3.50 each. What stunned me was the enormity of the ballpark, the cacophony of colors from the awning extending from the roof, to the billboards on the back wall, to the blackness of the outfield walls. The grass was immaculate and the dirt infield had been watered down and looked pristine. 

Then there were the sounds. The legendary Bob Sheppard announced the lineups. The breaking of bags. The cheers and the boos. The smashing of seats. I had never experienced so much beautiful noise. 

The Yankees, in their white pinstripes, hosted the grey-clad Detroit Tigers. Detroit players Harvey Kuenn and Hall of Famer Al Kaline stood out for me, along with left-handed pitcher Billy Hoeft who absorbed the loss.

I saw Mantle single. Catcher Elston Howard hit a homer. Right fielder Hank Bauer had three hits. Art Ditmar, a pitching favorite for my Yankees, pitched well enough to win. Final score: New York 4 Detroit 2. And here began a lifetime addiction to live sporting events. 

Now there is another thing I loved to do as a child. Which has carried on into adulthood. Follow schedules. Whether it was baseball at first, which I would make up my own on Saturday mornings, or other sports, I loved to see how the games would unfold. So much so that I would love to sit down with a schedule maker to see that exactly it takes to put together a logical and coherent plan for a season. 

I was fascinated this week when MLB decided to have some rivalry games on the docket. First and foremost for me was the second part of the Subway Series with the Mets coming to Yankee Stadium for two games. Along with the New York City tussle, Oakland and San Francisco met perhaps the last time in SF as Bay Area rivals; the Cubs and White Sox resumed the Windy City hostilities at Guaranteed Rate Field; Texas’ two teams played in Houston; Miami traveled to St. Petersburg to take on the Rays; and the Braves went from former home Milwaukee to Boston, the franchise’s original location, to take on the Red Sox. 

This weekend’s series have a different flavor for some matchups. The scheduler went with old school meetings in the respective leagues. Original American League franchises New York and Baltimore (St. Louis) and Cleveland And Chicago meet. In the National League, the Reds play the Dodgers; the Cubs journey to St. Louis; and interstate foes Philadelphia and Pittsburgh clash. 

Whoever decided to do this has my gratitude. These are the kind of mid-summer delight which baseball can effectuate, while resonating with the seven year old inside of me.

I get excited when the NHL schedule is distributed, for I know which New Jersey Devils game my son and I will see in Canada. Being a Jets season ticket holder, I want to know how September to January will play out in my life. And with the NBA, I look to see where the Golden State Warriors might be, lest I get the chance to see Steph Curry. Call me a schedule nerd, I guess. 

I also look at Franklin and Marshall College schedules to see when I might see my alma mater in football, men’s basketball and the sport I played while there—baseball. I integrate the F&M contests into the myriad of other sports I watch—Rutgers men’s basketball and baseball.

When the 2023 slate for F&M football was announced this week, I was stunned. No longer were Juniata, Moravian and Susquehanna opponents for the Diplomats. Instead, Kean University, The College of New Jersey and Montclair State University replaced those three schools. It was the first time that the trio had not been on the schedule since 2003. 

F&M usually blasted Juniata; Susquehanna had a rich football history going back to Amos Alonzo Stagg, and they gave the Diplomats trouble in the latter years. Moravian was easy to travel to and the weather usually cooperated in late October or early November, so that was a big personal loss. 

Having added three New Jersey schools, I now had the luxury of two being within very reasonable driving distance—Montclair State this season and Kean next year. Even better than going to the closest opposition schools—Moravian and Muhlenberg. I want to thank the administrators at those schools for being as far-sighted to let the Landmark Conference expand to football for its members, releasing Juniata, Moravian and Susquehanna, while the Centennial Conference and the New Jersey Athletic Conference joined together in a 2022 agreement to jointly address football scheduling needs. 

The little boy in this 72 year old body is overjoyed once more. Like he was 65 years ago at Yankee Stadium. 

At Least There Is Soccer

  Last Sunday was both euphoric and depressing. An emphatic ending at Wimbledon and the self-destruction of the New York Yankees in Colorado. 

The nearly five hour men’s final between Carlos Alcaraz and Novak Djokovic was epic. Young, hungry tiger with lethal shots versus the great master, perhaps the G.O.A.T., who played at as high a level as he could.

The duo traded points on Centre Court in a spell-binding manner. One game in the third set lasted 27 minutes. What looked like a walk over for Djokovic in the first set proved to be just window dressing for a marathon match. One which will be etched in the annals of Wimbledon lore.

In the end, the younger man took control of the deciding fifth set to win his first All-England Championship. His smashing forehands and acrobatic, athletic movements were too much for his opponent. 

At times, I found myself rooting for the energetic Spaniard. Other times, I wanted the Serb, not my favorite human being, to rebound, which he did in the fourth set to extend the match.

It was exciting, captivating tennis. A great way to begin a Sunday morning that stretched into early afternoon on the East Coast of the United States. 

Then there was the sad saga of the Yankees. The team began the restart of the season after the All Star Game with a thud. 

With the team’s offensive woes and the bullpen showing signs of wear from overuse, it seemed to be an ideal landing spot for New York when they arrived in Denver to play the last place Rockies. Except that the team hasn’t really awoken from its slumber.

On Friday, the somewhat toothless Yankees lost to Colorado 7-2. On Saturday, the team turned things around and looked fairly good with a 6-2 victory. 

Then came Sunday. Ace Gerrit Cole, fresh off of his nice start in the ASG, went to the mound. And he pitched like an ace would. In six innings, Cole surrendered two hits, was tagged for one earned run and struck out 11 Colorado batters.

Yet the Yankees were equally inept, only pulling ahead 3-1 in the top of the seventh inning. The team had a chance to leave Colorado and head to California with a series win. 

Except that the roof caved in. Not once but repeatedly. In the bottom of the eighth inning, normally reliable receivers Tommy Kahnle and Clay Holmes surrendered four runs to put the Rockies on top. 

Somehow in the top of the ninth inning, the Yankees eked out two runs to forge a tie. Colorado helped with some sloppy fielding. But in what would be an omen for the afternoon  Harrison Bader hit into a sacrifice fly to tie the score, which bad base running made into a rally-killing double play.

Head to the eleventh inning. New York plated two runs to take control again. Unfortunately, this is a bad New York Yankees team.

Relievers Nick Ramirez—I don’t like him in high leverage situations—gave up the tying run via a home run. Then more reliable Ron Marinaccio, the New Jersey native with the usually lethal changeup, allowed another homer. Game over. 

What could have been a significant win, buoyed by a magnificent performance by Cole, turned into a disaster. Instead of having some swagger, the team limped into Anaheim to face the Angels, a team sliding since Mike Trout injured his hand, requiring surgery.

New York wasted a superb performance by Luis Severino on Monday night. Severino had not been pitching well and he provided six solid innings, holding the Halos to one run.

Michael King, one of the better Yankees’ relievers, showed that his slumping pitching was continuing, as he gave up a no doubt home run to the inevitable M.V.P., Shohei Ohtani to tie the score.

Then in the tenth inning, manager Aaron Boone opted for Ramirez to pitch. Bad choice. He allowed a hard hit single to left field which score the winning run. Final Score: LAA 4 NYY 3. 

Domingo German, he of the perfect game against Oakland, didn’t have his pitching rhythm, which was sorely needed, because the Yankees only managed two hits—scoring the lone run in a 5-1 defeat via a Gleyber Torres home run.  

Carlos Rondon, the pitcher GM Brian Cashman signed to be the second hurler behind Cole, had his second straight abysmal start after starting the year on the IL. When he was booed off the field by the throng of Yankees supporters in the stands, he blew kisses to them. A fitting end to  disastrous sweep by the Angels, the first over New York since 2009.

No matter that Manager Aaron Boone implored Cashman to bring in Sean Casey, his good buddy from their Cincinnati days, to recharge the hitting. While Casey had an over .300 lifetime batting average and sports a mustache in honor of former Yankees great Don Mattingly, his favorite childhood player, the former MLB analyst has a monumental task ahead. 

Giancarlo Stanton and Anthony Rizzo have been in prolonged slumps. Rizzo’s power outage has been of concern—it is the longest of his fine career. From two-time batting winner D.J. LeMahieu has been hovering in the nether regions of .220 for the bulk of the season. Rookie Anthony Volpe has had droughts, then spurts; his game-ending throw to third base on Friday night was a savvy veteran move. 

Look at the lineup. Guys on the field include Billy Mc Kinney, Franchy Cordero, Oswaldo Cabrera and Isiah Kiner-Falefa. Not names which create much fear among opposing pitchers. These guys are role players at best. Torres is the top hitter, sporting a .264 average in the midst of a nice twelve game hitting streak. 

Moreover, Jose Trevino, an All Star catcher and a superb pitch framer, is gone for the season with a wrist injury which has persisted since the spring. Kyle Higashioka will share the catching duties with Ben Rortveldt. Not awe-inspiring. 

Plus starting CF Harrison Bader is injured again, having been plunked in the ribs earlier in the week. His status is day-to-day. He personifies the lack of a solid core reliable lineup.

Pitcher Clarke Schmidt has become more relaxed and is not as much a liability. But outside of Cole, the starters and bullpen is not that formidable. Coupled with hitting which is subpar, this is a desultory season thus far—one which has landed New York in the unaccustomed position of last place in the AL East, even sporting a 53-47 record after three wins over moribund Kansas City at Yankee Stadium.  

The Yankees are only two games out of the last AL Wild Card slot. Aaron Judge has been ramping up his rehab, even with the damaged toe still hurting him. He took batting practice early on Sunday against rehabbing reliever Jonathan Loaisiga on Sunday in a first step (ignore the pun) towards a badly-needed return to action. 

This team needs a jolt. Judge might provide some, but I suspect he will not be the M.V.P. caliber player he was before his injury. Will Cashman find the right players—without going after a Josh Donaldson type who is on the IL, gone for the season and was a bust? Is Torres trade bait, even if he is currently the team’s best hitter? 

Heading into the trade deadline, the Yankees are home to Kansas City, then meet the equally dreadful Mets at Yankee Stadium for two games, before heading to Baltimore to face the first place Orioles (they have been holding their own against the Dodgers and the slumping Rays). How these games play out and what is available in the market will likely dictate how Cashman proceeds. 

Of course, he could go for a rental like Ohtani—yeah, sure, like that’s going to happen; the Angels would be foolish to part with the slugger-pitcher who is en route to an all-time season for anyone.  But, stranger things have happened before. 

Tennis was sublime. Baseball is bordering on horrible. 

Thankfully, Lionel Messi dramatically scored the game winner for Inter Miami on his debut on Friday night. Manchester United and Arsenal sold-out Met Life Stadium for a “friendly” on Saturday evening. And the American women are trying for a three-peat with a revamped squad in the Women’s World Cup.

At least there is soccer. Even if it is winter Down Under. 

One Can Only Hope

  I naively thought Big Ten universities ran a tight ship at its respective member schools. They were not to be confused with some SEC or Big 12 schools which routinely seem to be under an NCAA cloud. 

Look at the University of Tennessee. Over 200 violations and more than $8 million dollars in fines levied against the Volunteers. Shameful.

Or perhaps the the University of Georgia where the school is still feeling the reverberations of the fatal car accident right after the National Championship win in football. Tragic. 

Rutgers has had its incidents. Former basketball coach Mike Rice lost his job for the bullying and intimidation of players. The years with Kyle Flood as head football coach led to self-reportable violations. 

Look no further than Penn State and the notorious situation with the legendary Joe Paterno and the sexual abuse within his football program. His denials of knowledge and his inaction cost him his job and jail time for administrators. 

Taint within athletic programs is too common. The  price for winning as opposed to losing is great. The emphasis on maintaining a culture which promotes success is difficult—even at the winningest schools. Or for that matter, at the more academic schools.

Which brings me to the fiasco at Northwestern University. Along with the University of Michigan, Northwestern is considered to be at the top of the conference academically. 

Yet the football and baseball programs are now reeling after disclosures from student-athletes that hazing and racial bias was evidently permitted without caring about the consequences. This has led to the dismissal of both head coaches.

At first, Northwestern University President Micheal Schill suspended former Wildcats star linebacker and head coach Pat Fitzgerald for two weeks after an investigation by an independent law firm disclosed an abusive situation. That came with Fitzgerald’s denial of any knowledge of what was going on inside of the locker room or at pre-season camp. 

Only because investigative reporting from the student-run newspaper, The Daily Northwestern disclosed a far more serious pattern of physical hazing and abuse did President Schill reverse his course and fire the very popular Fitzgerald, and on the heels of additional allegations in the baseball program, that coach was axed. 

I firmly believe that any head football coach is a CEO of his program. He may delegate many tasks to effectuate smooth operation of that program, but he is solely responsible for what happens within the confines of his leadership. 

Denial of knowing what goes on inside of the locker room is unbelievable. These coaches micromanage every aspect of practice and the day for their players and coaches. 

Football is a rough sport. The culture within the locker room is one which supports violence and at the same time seeks team unity. 

Traditions rooted in high school and college about how the players interact is more commonplace than one would want to hear. Hazing at the high school level is many times ignored. 

Thus it is no surprise that such outlandish behavior is integrated into the fabric of a college football team. For years it was not acceptable to do anything else but allow the unwarranted punishment to promote a unified locker room. Complainers were ostracized. 

When Pat Fitzgerald acted like he had not idea what was going on within his team, I found that to be incredible. I really doubt very much that someone like Nick Saban, perhaps the G.O.A.T. of college football coaches, didn’t have the pulse of his Alabama football teams, including the machinations inside and outside of the locker room. 

Fitzgerald was Northwestern’s head man for 18 seasons. He actually brought the Wildcats to levels of respectability within the Big Ten, although the 2022 season was a disaster, with the team winning only one game. 

No one was looking to fire Fitzgerald. He was so beloved that he only received that initial two week suspension. Concurrently, recommendations were to be implemented that would clear up the problems.

Instead, the confusion about what really transpired has led to chaos in the athletic department and a big shiner for the school. A school revered for its academics and beloved by its alumni for its membership in the Big Ten looked as two bit as any less prestigious football program. 

It is going to take years for the Northwestern football and baseball programs to emerge from this cloud of disrepute. With the money invested already into the program to make it competitive with the likes of the big boys in the Big Ten and the future renovations of the ancient Ryan Field to the tune of $800 million, this is a disastrous turn of the university which is fully engaged in big time athletics. 

Recruits are going to shy away from Northwestern until it is shown that the program is going to rebound. A new head coach needs to be selected and a host of safeguards be integrated into the life of the football and baseball programs as well as across the entirety of Northwestern athletics. 

Fitzgerald will possibly sue the school for his abrupt firing. This will likely result in a settlement. He will probably resurface as a coach in the NFL—his name had repeatedly been linked to the Chicago Bears as their head coach. He will walk away okay from this tragedy even with a stain on his reputation.

What Fitzgerald will have to think about are the lives of those players he was entrusted to lead and how traumatic their lives will be for years to come. That is the greatest toll in this catastrophe. Fitzgerald and the athletic administration failed them.

Will this stop other schools from having bad cultures evolve within their programs? Perhaps temporarily. Could it lead to more schools becoming more vigilant about how the players lead by exam? Maybe.

The cheating and malfeasance at the Division I-A level will continue as long as there remains the pressure to win coupled with the absurd costs offset by the equally ridiculous amount of TV income generated. Given the fact that the football schools would really like to police themselves, will there ever be an end to coaches committing infractions or turning their heads to keep the best available players enrolled and on the field? 

It hasn’t been stopped before and it won’t be stopped now, even with the hideous behavior at Northwestern. But if that vaunted institution can get its act together and insure that instances like this never occur again, then maybe there will be a learning experience which will results in victories being produced in the right manner for the correct reasons.

One can only hope.