I ask the question because Agassi IS getting into the Tennis Hall of Fame, according to Yahoo Sports. I’ve been watching the Australian Open lately, so tennis has been on my mind. When I heard about Agassi, I was happy for him but I started to think about the different sets of standards that sports have for their Halls of Fame. Agassi, you remember, admitted in his book that he used drugs and lied about it. Here’s the pertinent quote from the Yahoo article.
“Agassi revealed in his 2009 book “Open” that he was depressed in 1997, when he was using crystal meth and failed a drug test. The result was thrown out, he said, after he lied by saying he took the drug unwittingly.”
If Derek Jeter took crystal meth, failed a drug test and lied about it, would that disqualify him from – or, at the very least, hurt his chances of – getting into the Hall? I can’t imagine anything disqualifying him, but the baseball writers are pretty tough when it comes to drugs, aren’t they? Or do they just draw the line at steroids? All I know is that Agassi was such a fun player to watch and his matches against Sampras were great for the game. Talk about a rivalry.
Federer vs. Nadal is always exciting, but I thought Agassi and Sampras brought out the best in each other, given their completely opposite styles and personalities.
As for the women’s side, I miss Evert vs. Navratilova too. I mean do I really care about Wozniacki against Clijsters? At least the really noisy grunters are out of the tournament. I can’t even watch Sharapova anymore without muting the TV. Ugh.
But I’m talking about it anyway.
It’s official: I now hate the Rangers.
If I were a Yankee I’d go out there today and beat them into submission.
On the other hand, I hate that the Yankees left a billion runners on base the last two nights.
I hate that Brett Gardner’s hurt, that he’s been playing hurt, that he’s looked awful.
I hate that Swisher’s hurt, that he’s been playing hurt, that his numbers are down.
I hate that Jeter’s been playing like he’s hurt but is just “in a funk.”
I hate that A-Rod’s big hit in the eighth was wasted.
I hate when any Yankee grounds into a double play.
I hate that we’re stuck with Austin Kearns.
I hate that the arms of our relievers are probably as effective as wet noodles.
I hate that we lost and Tampa won – again.
I hate that Roger Federer lost the U.S. Open semis yesterday.
I hate that it’s raining on my last day in CT.
I hate that I have to fly back to CA tomorrow where there are hardly any Yankee fans.
But most of all, I hate that Mo blew the save. The very idea gives me nightmares.
Tonight’s whipping by the O’s was frustrating, disappointing and downright maddening. I was really hoping CC would be his usual dominant self, stop the Yankees’ little losing streak and notch his 20th win. But not only did he not get #20, he was bad. Like mediocre bad. So the question is, was he just having an off night or is there something more serious going on? Like maybe he has a phobia about the number 20, the way some people fear the number 13, and whenever he approaches a possible 20th win he thinks he’s being attacked by a flesh eating virus.
Well? I’m just trying to figure out why he’s never won 20 games before and why he stunk tonight. Of course the offense didn’t exactly contribute much, not even when the O’s made mistakes we should have taken advantage of. I hate losing, so I’m throwing myself into the U.S. Open where Venus and her pink sequined dress, Federer and his between-his-legs shot and Nadal and his famous wedgies are far more entertaining at the moment.
It was a day filled with tough decisions.
I was supposed to be at a screening of the new Johnny Depp movie, “Public Enemies,” at 11 a.m. But how could I leave the house when Roger Federer and Andy Roddick were locked in a tremendous battle for the Wimbledon men’s title, with Federer finally winning?
And what about the third game in the Yankees’ July 4th holiday series against the Blue Jays? I wanted to stay home and watch that too. But I figured I could record it and see it later. So I passed up Joba and chose Depp.
It was kind of fun to take a break from baseball on a sunny summer day and sit in a darkened theater. As for the movie? Depp stars as Depression-era bank robber/gangster John Dillinger, and he’s fantastic. If he doesn’t get an Oscar nomination, I’ll be shocked. The shoot-outs are unnecessarily long, but the cinematography is gorgeous – a must-see unless you faint at the sight of blood. Here’s the trailer.
After the movie, I had another decision to make. I’d been thinking about getting a “smart phone” and couldn’t choose between a BlackBerry or an iPhone, having heard about the pros and cons of both. But after an hour at Best Buy, I finally went home with this.
Of course, I have no clue how to use it, but there was no time to figure it out. I had to get home to see the Yanks.
I settled into a chair and watched the replay. I was hoping for a strong outing from Joba, given the weary bullpen, but was disappointed when I saw this.
Yeah, he was putrid. I mean, stinkin’. Throwing 86 pitches in just three-plus innings – and giving up nine hits and eight runs (Cody Ransom’s error aside) – doesn’t cut it. But what really bothered me were his comments after the game – a bloated, endless contest that resulted in the Yankees’ 10-8 come-from-behind win.
“That’s actually the best I’ve felt all year,” he said, according to the Daily News. “But they have a great lineup.”
Huh? Sure, the Blue Jays are a good team and a tough division rival. But did he not notice that his pitch counts were atrocious and his command not exactly sharp? He’s become a nibbler, and it’s as if he’s traded places with Phil Hughes, who used to nibble but now attacks the strike zone. Hmm.
Luckily, the Yanks had their bats in gear. Jeter had four hits, including a go-ahead two-run shot in the fifth.
Posada and Matsui were hitting stars too, and Cano, who’d been dropped down to seventh in the order, produced as long as nobody was on base. (Calling Dr. Phil?)
But the star of the game had to be Alfredo Aceves, who pitched four innings of scoreless relief. What an asset he’s turned out to be.
Taking three straight from the Jays is major. Do the Yanks have one more “W” in this series for a sweep? It would be sweet.
The evening got off to a pleasant enough start, even though my husband Michael and I were watching TV in separate rooms.
I was in the bedroom, glued to the Australian Open final between Federer and Nadal. I was rooting for Federer, so I was sorry to see him lose in five sets. I was even sorrier when, during the presentation of the trophies, he broke down at the mic and couldn’t stop crying.
Talk about the agony of defeat.
“You should have seen Federer,” I said as I walked into the living room, where Michael was glued to the Super Bowl post-game show. “He -“
I was about to describe Roger’s crying jag when I noticed that one of the Steelers, Hines Ward, was crying about beating the Cardinals.
Talk about the thrill of victory.
Over dinner we discussed whether crying in sports was becoming more prevalent.
“I don’t think so,” he said.
“I do,” I said and launched into a list of prominent criers.
“And remember when Edwar Ramirez had that meltdown after he got shelled?” I pretended to sob. “The Yankees practically had to MedEvac him out of there.”
“I don’t see the big deal. These guys are human beings, not robots. Human beings cry. Men cry. It doesn’t make us weak.”
“Who said it makes you weak?” Yikes. He was being awfully crabby, so I did my imitation of Mike Schmidt choking up at his retirement speech, hoping to coax a smile out of him.
“You’re making fun of him,” said Michael.
“I am not. I love Mike Schmidt. I had a crush on him before I even met you.”
“You had a crush on everybody before you met me.”
“Oh, really?” So he was, what, jealous? “You had a crush on Michelle Pfeiffer before you met me and I’m not getting all wigged out about it.”
“I’m not wigged out.” He took a gigantic bite of his burger and then started talking with his mouth full.
“I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“It was nothing.”
“I hate when men say ‘nothing.'”
“You hate when men cry too.”
“I do not! It makes me sad when anybody cries. In fact, the second I see somebody tearing up I get -“
At that moment I flashed back to Game 4 of the 2007 ALDS against Cleveland, when the Yankees lost the series and were ushered out of the post-season; I had a meltdown of my own in the Upper Tier.
I put down my fork, my appetite gone, and succumbed to this. Losing never gets easier.
The tennis world announced its Hall of Fame winners the other day, and Monica Seles was a no-brainer. I don’t know if anybody else on MLBlogs is into the sport, but I’m a big fan and former player and I enjoyed watching Seles over the years.
As everyone knows, she was riding high on the women’s tour, only to be stabbed in the back – literally – by a crazed fan of Steffi Graf.
She made an attempt at a comeback, then sort of faded away, never really retiring (shades of Bernie Williams). Now she’s looking good, wouldn’t you say?
While I’m on the subject of tennis, the Australian Open starts next week.
The story lines include:
Will Roger Federer be successful in his bid to tie Pete Sampras’ record of 14 Grand Slam titles? I love the guy, so I hope he does it. Talk about talent. There’s isn’t a shot he can’t execute.
At the other end of the draw is Rafael Nadal, the tournament’s top seed. Very dangerous player.
I pick Federer to prevail on the fast surface in Melbourne. What’s amazing about these two is that they have a great rivalry and couldn’t be more opposite, and yet they like each other. What a concept. Not Yankees-Red Sox at all. Can you picture Youkilis and Joba posing together?
On the women’s side, we have the Williams sisters. Will they face each other?
Turns out they’re in the same half of the draw, so only one of them can win the hardware.
Standing in both their paths is the top-seeded Jelena Jankovic, who is nothing if not acrobatic on the court.
Missing in action this year is every guy’s poster girl, Maria Sharapova.
She’s been sidelined with – what else? – a shoulder injury. (See my last post about pitchers.)
I’ve been following tennis for a long time, as I said. It’s always fun to see new players make a name for themselves on the tour, but I can’t help missing this guy.
He’s great in the television booth, but those tirades on the court? He could really shake things up.
Here’s a little trip down memory lane.
First, we have the “Please Tell Me” video.
And now, the “Answer the question” incident.
And my all-time fave, “You cannot be serious.”
Peace, Johnny Mac.