Tagged: New York

Fun in Arkansas With Cashman and Mr./ Mrs. Lee

As everyone knows by now, Brian Cashman flew down to Arkansas for a visit with Cliff Lee and his wife Kristen. Presumably, his goal was to express the Yankees’ keen interest in signing Lee as well as answer any questions the couple might have about life in New York – and, of course, to allay Mrs. L’s fears about boorish Yankee fans. But how did the meeting go? Nobody’s coming out with details, so I decided I needed to flesh things out for myself. Here’s how I think it went down today…
* Cashman drove up to Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s big new house, rang the doorbell and was greeted by the entire Lee clan, Southern hospitality being what it is.
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* He arrived bearing gifts – some toys for the kids with a slight subliminal message.
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* Mrs. Lee sent the children off to play with their presents and invited Cash to sit down for lunch. She had decided to use her favorite caterer.
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* Despite the fact that Cash watches his diet and almost never eats fried foods (especially chicken skin), he threw back a few legs and thighs while he described the joys of playing for the New York Yankees. He talked about the franchise’s history and tradition. He ticked off the names of all its legendary stars. He made a speech about how Yankee fans were the best ever, but he was interrupted by Mrs. Lee and the conversation detoured.
Kristen: “They spit at me and threw beer and shouted mean things. It hurt my heart.”
Cash: “I’m so sorry about that. But there are always a few bad apples at every ballpark.”
Cliff: “Mr. Cashman is right, honey. You know what happens when guys get all liquored up.”
Kristen: “They pass out, that’s what. These people didn’t pass out.”
Cash: “I can guarantee you, Kristen, that the same scenario would never happen if your husband came to pitch for us. You’d be treated like royalty.”
Kristen: “I don’t know about that. I talked to Karen Burnett the other day and she said the fans boo her whenever A.J. has a bad game.”
Cash (laughs): “Your husband will never have a bad game, so no worries.”
Cliff: “Nice of you to say, Mr. Cashman.”
Cash: “Brian.”
Cliff: “Brian. But sometimes it’s just not my day and I stink up the joint. What then?”
Cash: “Cliff, the fans will love you. I’m so certain of it that I’ll put a ‘boo clause’ in your contract. You’ll get an additional $50,000 for every game involving fans booing you or your wife. Fair?”
Cliff: “Extremely.” (Turns to his wife) “What do you say, honey?”
Kristen: “Very fair. But Brian, I have to be sure we’ll be happy with the Yankees. You understand.”
Cash: “I do. And I promise you that if you join the Yankee family you’ll never regret it. Look at me. I’ve been in the organization since I was a kid. The Steinbrenners are the best owners in baseball.”
Kristen: “Nolan Ryan said he was the best owner. He was here yesterday.”
Cash: “Did he make an offer?”
Cliff: “No. We just went hunting. Do you hunt, Brian?”
Cash (panicking): “Um, I play tennis. There isn’t much hunting in Connecticut, although we do have a lot of deer.”
Kristen: “Nolan said we should stay in Texas.”
Cash: “We’ve got better shopping up in New York. Ask Leigh Teixeira.”
Kristen: “I’ve never met her but Amber Sabathia says she’s super sweet.”
Cash: “They’ll take you to Saks and Neiman’s and Bloomie’s. You ladies will have a blast together.”
Kristen (bolting up from the table): “Designer shoes and dresses and everything! I want Cliffy to be a Yankee! Where do we sign?”
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And that was that. Mission accomplished. I think.

In An Empire State Of Mind

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My plane landed at JFK about 8:30 p.m. Eastern Time. I still hate flying and the trip was really bumpy thanks to the storm in the mid-Atlantic, but I survived. What’s more, the first thing I saw when I walked into the terminal was a shop selling Yankees gear. I was so excited. I mean, nobody sells Yankees anything in California. A few minutes later, at baggage claim, I saw tons of people wearing Yankees caps. I really was in New York with other lunatics!
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But the best part was when I got to my mother’s house in Westchester. She greeted me at the door wearing this.
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Did I mention that my mother is 92? I might just have to get her to model the shirt tomorrow on the She-Fan Cam. I’m sure she’ll have some opinions about the World Series. The question is….Will she weigh in on whether Cashman should re-sign Damon and Matsui or go after Lackey or pursue Curtis Granderson? Stay tuned.
(Sorry for the shorter than normal post, but I’m beat!)

Cee Cee Comes to New York

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He’s in town, and he’s ready for action. Since I’ve already described the tour of Westchester County that he and A-Sab will likely take as they look for a residence in the bucolic suburbs, I’ll concentrate on Cee Cee’s other reason for visiting: his physical. He has to pass one before he’s introduced as an official Yankee on Thursday.
Luckily, I was able to fly to New York for his trip to the doctor and bring you exclusive coverage.
The appointment took place at the Manhattan office of Yankees team physician, Dr. Stuart Hirshon.
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Cee Cee was escorted to an examining room by the receptionist and instructed to change out of his clothes and into one of these.
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The gown didn’t fit, so he had to wear two that were tied together.
He sat down on the examining table and waited for Dr. Hirshon, only to discover that he was the unsuspecting target of a drug company’s advertising campaign.
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As if he needed such a product. He was not amused.
“Hello, Mr. Sabathia,” said Dr. Hirshon, striding in with a smile and a stethoscope.
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“Call me Cee Cee,” said the Yankees’ newest star. “This is all just a formality, right? I mean, you’re not really gonna do anything to me.”
Dr. Hirshon chuckled and handed Cee Cee one of these.
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The pitcher was puzzled, but he did as he was told.
“Now we’ll get started,” said the doctor, who listened to Cee Cee’s heart, palpated his abdomen and stuck one of these in his mouth.
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“So far, so good.” Next, the doctor examined Cee Cee’s eyes and ears, looked inside his nose and tapped on his right kneecap with this.
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Cee Cee’s leg flew up with such violent force that it accidentally drop-kicked Dr. Hirshon into the wall.
“This hasn’t happened to me since David Wells,” the doc said. He straightened his lab coat, cleared his throat and composed himself. “I think I’ll let Tammy take over from here.”
“Tammy?”
“My nurse.” He opened the door and shouted, “Room five! Stat!”
Within seconds, his nurse hurried in.
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“Hey there,” she said in a breathy voice that reminded Cee Cee of his favorite actress, Anna Farris, from Scary Movie 1, 2, 3 and 4. “I’m just gonna take your blood pressure. O.K., big guy?”
He tried to stay calm as she wrapped the cuff around his biceps, but he could feel his pulse race.
“Not good,” said Dr. Hirshon looking over Tammy’s shoulder at the reading. “We’ll need to bring that way down.”
Tammy took a few vials of blood.
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Cee Cee hates needles and fainted just as she was finishing up. It took four other nurses to lift him off the floor and back onto the examining table.
At Dr. Hirshon’s insistence, Tammy administered more tests, at the end of which the doctor shook his head ominously. “It’s the weight, Mr. Sabathia. You need to lose 25 pounds. To start with, I’m prescribing plenty of exercise.”
Cee Cee smirked. “I’m a professional ballplayer, remember? I already get plenty of exercise.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, young fellow. You’re a pitcher. You don’t even take batting practice.”
Cee Cee didn’t bother to say that he used to, when he was in the National League. He thought he was in perfect shape and resented being told otherwise.
“You’ll have to change your diet too,” said Dr. Hirshon. “No more junk. Just fruits, vegetables and broiled salmon.”
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Cee Cee hates fish almost as much as he hates needles.
He stood up from the table, defiant. Gone was his sunny disposition. “I don’t need more exercise. I don’t need to change my diet. I don’t need to do what you Yankees say.”
“You’re well over 300 pounds, Mr. Sabathia. My guess is 315 or even 320.”
“Am not!”
Dr. Hirshon motioned for Cee Cee to step into the corner. “Come on then. Let’s see.”
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Cee Cee’s moment of truth arrived. The Yankees had signed him for an unprecedented $161 million based on the weight he’d claimed on his previous medical form: 290 pounds. He was in deep trouble.
He sucked in his stomach and stepped o
nto the scale. The sheer force of his…
Well, this happened.
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Remarkably, no one was hurt. But Cee Cee Sabathia’s status with the Yankees remains unclear as of this writing.

Jays Trade Halladay to Yankees!!!!!

O.K., so it hasn’t exactly happened yet. But Dan Graziano’s item in the Newark Star-Ledger the other day got me obsessing about the Blue Jays. 

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What if they can’t or don’t even try to re-sign A.J. Burnett and, as a result, decide to cut payroll? Roy Halladay is supposed to make $30 million over the next two years. Will the Jays be up for that? And will Doc himself have any interest in staying in Toronto without his buddy in the rotation? He looks pretty depressed just contemplating it.
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Graziano said: “Toronto did some quiet snooping around the trade deadline to see what kind of package they could get if they did put Halladay on the market.”
Excuse me? They actually floated the idea of trading Harry Leroy Halladay III? The best pitcher in the American League? The Cy Young award winner and five-time All-Star? The guy who throws complete games? They thought about trading him and no one told She-Fan?
“Halladay might not want to stick around,” Graziano theorized. “And he’d bring a treasure trove of talent in a trade.”
Did you read that, Cashman? The Yankees should forget about CC, A.J., D-Lowe, and all the other pretenders and go for the hurler who not only has the best nickname in baseball but strikes fear in the hearts of batters all across this great land of ours. Sure, it’s a long shot, since the Yanks and Jays are in the same division. But you have to try. We got the Babe from the Red Sox, remember?
The one glitch is the treasure trove of talent Graziano mentioned.
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We don’t have one. Offering the Blue Jays a package of Cano, Melky, Hughes, and Kennedy won’t make this deal happen.
But I’m not giving up and neither should Cashman. Because we do have treasures we could put on the table. They just aren’t wearing pinstripes.
For example, we could give the Blue Jays some diamonds.
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And rubies.
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And emeralds.
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Even gold bullion. We probably have enough left from what they used on the lettering at the new Stadium.
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See? Who says we don’t have treasures. And there’s more!
We could ship some New York landmarks to Canada.
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And, although a lot of people cross over it to get to and from the Bronx, we could part with it for Roy Halladay. They can take the Lincoln Tunnel, for goodness sake. Or the Holland.
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And then there are the quintessential New York luminaries we could send them. Like him.
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And him.
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And them.
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Oh, I suppose we’d have to toss in a Steinbrenner. Not Hal, of course, now that he’s our Control Person. And not Hank, because he’s such fun. How about one of the girls? Perhaps we give them Jessica Steinbrenner, bless her heart.
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It’s clear that we can come up with a more than satisfactory package, isn’t it? So please, Cashman. Think about this. Roy would be the answer to our prayers. To mine, anyway.

Calling All Free Agents (The Really Good Ones)

With reports that CC Sabathia and Jake Peavy prefer to remain in the National League, that Derek Lowe longs to return to Boston and that Mark Teixeira wouldn’t mind landing in his home state of Maryland, I’m feeling slighted. What’s wrong with playing for the Yankees, people? They’re a first-class organization with a brand new ballpark and 26 World Championships. Plus, they pay well. You could do worse, believe me.

So in case CC, Jake, Tex, A.J. and others are reading this, I’ve put together a little “Why You Should Sign With the New York Yankees” post for you.
For starters, I found you a house. Well, it’s kind of a mansion.

l215c033f-w0m.jpgIt’s in Westchester County, where lots of rich Yankees live (about 25 minutes outside the city). It sits on its very own peninsula overlooking the Long Island Sound, so you’ll have plenty of privacy. There are 4 bedrooms and 6 baths – 8,531 square feet of luxury. All for a mere $16.5 million. Sound good so far?
You’ll also need a place in Manhattan, and I found you just the spot – in the apartment complex where lots of celebrities live right next to Central Park.
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Impressive, huh? You’ll be neighbors with Denzel Washington (big Yankee fan), Sting and NASCAR’s Jeff Gordon. You’ll have a workout facility, sauna and spa treatment rooms, a 75′ pool, even an in-house private chef. It’s a pricey address, but you’ll be able to handle it.
Now, let’s show you what NY has to offer, beginning with food. Girardi doesn’t let the players have candy in the clubhouse, but the city will more than meet your cravings.
You like steak?
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We’ve got The Post House, Sparks, you name it. How about a nice pastrami sandwich?
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Get ready for tons of great Jewish delis. And how about some real New York cheesecake?
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Yum. Oh, and if you want an elegant French dinner (say, if you’re trying to impress the guys who knew you before your big contract), take them to Daniel.
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Swanky, swanky place. And hey, you’ll need great clothes when you go out. You don’t want to look tacky next to Jeter and A-Rod.
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No need to shop at one of those big-and-tall men’s stores. New York has Armani. (Can’t say that about Baltimore, can you, Tex?)
And New York has nightlife.
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O.K. I’m trying to be discreet with that last picture. We’re talking about a “gentlemen’s club,” where there are over 120 exotic dancers. Lap dance responsibly, please. 
And finally, I’d like to remind you that if you become a famous, beloved Yankee, you just might get your own restaurant like The Mick did.
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Maria
no Rivera has a restaurant too. Anything can happen when you put on the pinstripes.
Hope I’ve convinced one or more of you to sign. It’ll be fun, I swear.