View from the Press Box
78One of the more common emails I get in my day job will go a little something like this:
“Oh yeah, like you know. When was the last time you bought a ticket to a game? When was the last time you paid for parking? When was the last time you sat in crummy seats? You sit up there in the press box feeding your fat face, drinking beer on the ballclub’s dime, you have no idea what it’s like to be a fan who has to pay eight bucks for a beer, has to wait in long lines to go to the bathroom, has to get stuck in two hours of traffic after the game. How dare you tell us anything. And so on. And so on. I’m only a representative email, sort of like a composite character in a movie.”
I understand the sentiment. I do. It irritates me a little because it makes the assumptions people often make — that because I’m a sportswriter I get all sorts of free tickets (I don’t) and that when I bring my family to games I get free admission and valet parking and all sorts of special favors (we don’t get any of that) and that I get all sorts of free food in the press box (I don’t) and that I’m drinking free beer while writing my columns (understandable mistake, but no) and that I get police escorts in and out of stadiums or something. We as a family are about to go to see the Tampa Bay Rays play the Royals in St. Pete, and it’s going to cost us a fortune like always because tickets, as everyone knows, ain’t cheap (not even in St. Pete) and Katie, the youngest, will demand a different food group every half inning, and Elizabeth, the oldest, will want equal treatment, and Margo will remember having funnel cakes* when she was younger and she will just have to have ‘em and, yeah, we have the same fan stories as everyone else.
*Another new word: Pixifood. This is the kind of food that tastes absolutely delicious when you are young but is shockingly disgusting when you become an adult. It is named, of course, after Pixie Sticks, which I recall tasting a bit like heaven when I was 9 and now, I realize, is like pouring sugar down your throat. The idea alone makes me a bit ill. I don’t know if funnel cakes are a pixifood. I think Cookie Crisp cereal is a pixifood (but Cocoa Pebbles holds up quite nicely). I think Chef Boyardee’s mini ravioli may be a pixifood. I lived on that stuff and a few weeks ago I had some for the first time in years, it was gross, tasted like rolled up mud balls or something.**
**And I need a ruling: Is Kentucky Fried Chicken a pixifood or has the quality just gone way down? I can remember a time when absolutely nothing on earth tasted better than a Kentucky Fried Chicken drumstick. Now, um, not so much.
But I understand the assumptions … believe me, sportswriting is a good life. I travel all over the world to watch sporting events. I stay in nice hotels, and I get good seats to some of the biggest events in the world. I’m given more than reasonable access to the players, athletes, decision makers and so on. I really am, after more than 20 years in this crazy business, still in awe of what I get to do. But there’s a a whole lot of stuff I don’t get to do, and wouldn’t want to do, and so on.
And it’s worth pointing out that the press box experience is, uh, a little bit different than people might expect. Let me tell you about the most emotional baseball game I ever saw. It happened in 2001, of course, about a month and a half after 9/11. Every American has his or her own personal connection to 9/11, of course, and mine involved my daughter, Elizabeth, who was born on August 30th of that year. So she was 12 days old when planes hit buildings, and I can remember looking at her sleeping in her crib and wondering what kind of world she was coming into. Moms and Dads out there will remember those tenuous first few weeks, when you’re crazy with sleeplessness, when you’re trying to do everything right but have no idea what to do, when every hiccup and tummy ache seems like a national emergency, when every cry seems a signal that you’re drowning. Then in the middle of our little life story, a small army of zealots with boxcutters murdered thousands, and shattered our nation’s sense of balance and made us wonder what this new Millennium would really be like.
That emotion was still raw and exposed and pained on Halloween when the New York Yankees and Arizona Diamondbacks played Game 4 of the World Series. We had all gone down to Ground Zero — or as close as we could get — and we saw that it was still smoking. We all agreed that New York felt somber and a bit gloomy — the buzz and energy and edge that the city takes on during World Series was noticeably gone. Cab drivers weren’t talking about Tino. People on street corners weren’t selling photos of Paul O’Neill. Deli barkers weren’t screaming about Joe’s decision. Anyway, that’s the way it seemed. The funeral wasn’t over yet.
And the game began … I had what we sometimes called a “pushbutton” deadline. That means that the minute the game ended, I had to push the button to send my column. One thing I have noticed about sportswriters on television and in the movies … they never seem to have the sort of nightmarish deadlines that we have in real life. I realize that’s not an especially interesting part of sportswriting*, but it is without question the most consequential and material part of being a sportswriter. The job most days is not to write the best and most intensely interesting story. The job most days is to write the best and most intensely interesting story in the 20 minutes you have once the game ends.
*I say that deadlines are not especially interesting, but the stories of sportswriters freaking out on deadline are actually quite entertaining. There have been a few sportswriters through the years who have thrown their computers/telerams/typewriters out windows when, for some reason, they blew deadline. I had a deadline issue last year involving a spilled Coca Cola, an unhappy computer and a cell phone out of range. You probably don’t want to know.
So, I had a pushbutton deadline on the Yankees-Diamondbacks, and you might recall that game was close all night, which is exactly what you DO NOT want on a pushbutton deadline. You want a sense of what will happen, you want one team to score seven runs in the first inning, you want a direction to take the column since you are writing it as the action is happening. I was typing madly throughout so I don’t recall too much about the game. I remember Shane Spencer hit a home run early (third inning, I see) and that gave the Yankees a lead. And then I guess Mark Grace hit a home run to tie the game, and it went like that for a while — Schilling and El Duque matching eggs. And then, finally, the breakthrough, the Diamondbacks scored two runs in the eighth, and the game was OVER.
This was it. Byung-Hyun Kim struck out the side in the eighth, and my column was easy. It as done. The Yankees were dead. This loss would put them down three games to one, and that meant the series was over. I didn’t think the Yankees could beat the Diamondbacks three straight — two in Arizona — no way. Unit would pitch one of those games for sure. Schilling would be available. The Yankees were done, the dynasty was over (the Yankees, you will recall, had won three straight World Series) and I started writing the obituary.
Now at this point I should mention that experienced sportswriter — that is, sportswriters smarter than me — have a little trick they use when on a pushbutton deadline. They write what I like to call the adjustable column. That is they write a column that leans one way but, in case of emergency, glass can be broken, verbs can be reversed, adjectives can be turned and so on. I did none of these things, of course. The ultra-rich Yankees finally going down — and to a team in only its fourth year of existence — deserved something more than an adjustable column. It deserved the works. And so I wrote it, the Yankees is dead, it’s been a nice run, the Diamondbacks had too much pitching, hell, I don’t remember it all but I know it was confident and unwavering and Kim got Jeter out on a bunt, he struck out Bernie, man on, two outs in the ninth and I was about to send the thing …
And you know what happened. Tino hit the home run. Yankee Stadium went nuts, I guess, though I don’t remember that. Here’s what I remember: Staring at my screen at all these little words I had written, words that now might as well be in Pig Latin, words that now looked like the code in the Matrix, words that could not possibly be more worthless. I remember that feeling … like my head was about to explode. I remember looking to see if I had left any adjustable sentences in the column (“The Yankees are NOT dead?”). I remember going into a few seconds of sheer panic. I had no column. Nothing. If the Yankees won the game (and of course they would win now) I had absolutely nothing to send to the paper.*
*I’ve had nightmares like this … seriously. A lot of sportswriter friends have had nightmares like this — deadline hits, and you have a blank screen and no idea what to write and no clue what to do. I think this is the sportswriter version of the go to work in your underwear dream.
So … what to do? Well, of course I started a new file and just began typing madly, something, anything, whatever thought came to mind, not unlike this blog I suppose. It was sheer stream of consciousness, nothing but typing, and when Derek Jeter hit his home run with two outs in the bottom of the 10th (off poor Kim, who must have done something to really tick off Bob Brenly), I had some sort of mishmash of words. My phone was ringing — SEND THAT COLUMN — so I sent it without even reading it.
And it was about that time that I looked around the stadium and noticed that no one was leaving. Instead, everyone in Yankee Stadium was standing, and they were all singing “New York, New York“ with Frank Sinatra. And when the record ended, it started up again, and still nobody left, still everyone stood at their seats and sang with Ol’ Blue Eyes, these little town blues, are melting away, and it was probably the most emotional thing I’ve ever been a part of as a sportswriter. It was all there — New York at midnight, Ground Zero still on our minds, a home run in the 10th inning, Sinatra singing, ”I want to be a part of it.“ I had another ten minutes or so to write what we call a write-thru — that is a column that they will put in the latest edition. A postgame press conference was on a television near my work station in the right field seats. I listened to a few words, wrote down a quote or two, then I went back to my column and read it and added a few things.
And that was my sportswriting experience. The next night the Yankees again tied the game with a two-run homer off Kim in the ninth, but this time I made no assumptions. And of course, in Game 7, the Diamondbacks improbably scored two off Mariano in the ninth and I never saw that coming and went through a mini-version of the Kim Panic. It’s probably fair to say that the greatest World Series since 1975 (did I mention I’m writing this book …) looked different from the press box.
Anyway, people sometimes ask me if I was at that game in New York when Derek Jeter hit the home run. I say I was there. They say, ”That must have been incredible.“ And I want to tell them this story, about how I really didn’t see much of the game, how I wrote three different columns, how I spent most of the night with my writing adrenaline roaring and my heart occasionally stopping and panic breaking out every now and again. But I also know that they are right. It was incredible.
* * *
I’ve added the column I wrote off Game 4 — not because it’s good but because I know that one of you people would look it up anyway. Here it is, the final version with all the mistakes and missed opportunities:
NEW YORK - That’s the game I fell in love with. Sometimes, you have to wonder about baseball. You wonder about a game where some cities have a chance when others don’t. You wonder about the game when people whisper seriously about killing off some teams, Sopranos-style, and meanwhile the kids are off playing video games. You wonder if time has just passed baseball by.
And then, Wednesday night at Yankee Stadium happens. The Yankees beat the Diamondbacks 4-3 in 10 innings. And that was the best baseball game I ever saw. That’s all. Baseball will never be as violent and exhilarating as football. It will never have the up-and-down fever of basketball or hockey. It can never take you on a tension ride like a great heavyweight championship fight.
But none of those sports can take you through as many emotions as that enchanted game on Halloween under a full moon.
Wednesday night began with Curt Schilling. He was pitching on three days’ rest. Everybody made a big deal out of that because, the last few years, pitchers throwing on short rest in the postseason have bombed. Maybe it’s a sign of the times. In olden days, pitchers used to throw every day. Now, even great pitchers like Greg Maddux and Roger Clemens flail helplessly when they don’t get their four days of rest.
People said Arizona manager Bob Brenly was throwing away the World Series by pitching Schilling.
But Schilling is an old-time pitcher. That’s what people refused to see. He’s all heart. Got that from his dad, an old army man, and his wife, who is beating skin cancer, and his son, named Gehrig, for a man who played in 2,130 straight games and died too young.
He pitched his guts out. It was mesmerizing. People kept waiting for him to fade. They kept waiting for him to run down. He never did. Schilling threw seven innings, and the only run he gave up was a little cheapie home run by Shane Spencer down the right-field line.
That was it. Yankee Stadium shook. People screamed whatever they could at Schilling. He would not relent. In the sixth, Yankees third baseman Scott Brosius led off with a double. The Yankees could not hit another ball out of the infield against Schilling. The seventh, the Yankees got their first two runners on. Schilling immediately got the double-play grounder. He struck out Dave Justice and left the field to boos of respect.
“What a horse,” Yankees manager Joe Torre would say. “He’s unbelievable.”
Everything was unbelievable. The stadium was so loud. Spencer made an incredible throw from left field to get Tony Womack at the plate. New York’s El Duque - Orlando Hernandez - kept getting in trouble and kept working out of it, magically sometimes, and he would walk off the field to the song “Duke of Earl.” Arizona’s reliever Byung-Hyun Kim came out of the bullpen and struck out the first three Yankees he faced. It was guts on display.
Every soul in Yankee Stadium sang “God Bless America,” during the seventh-inning stretch.
And then, the magical ninth inning, the moment pulled right from “The Natural.” For posterity, we’ll note that Paul O’Neill was on first base, there were two outs, the Yankees were down two runs, and Tino Martinez wandered to the plate hoping only to hit a home run. He had nothing else on his mind. He wanted to see a fastball in the heart of the plate, and he would swing as hard as he could. Managers can make baseball sound really complicated. But sometimes, it’s that simple.
“I was hoping I would see something right down the middle,” Martinez would say.
The first pitch by Kim went right down the middle. Martinez swung as hard as he could. The ball soared deep to center field. At first, Arizona’s Steve Finley thought he had a shot. He ran to the wall. He was going to leap. But there was no point. The ball was gone.
Yankee Stadium has been through everything. But it’s hard to believe the place was ever as loud as it was that instant. Usually, you can hear people in the stadium screaming, but after Tino’s blast you could only hear one incredibly loud cheer. It was so loud, so impossibly loud, that you would not have expected people to have anything left for Derek Jeter’s game-winning home run in the 10th inning.
But they did.
Jeter ran around the bases to the same kind of cheer. The Yankees won. And after the cheering stopped, people did not want to leave. They always play Sinatra’s “New York, New York,” after Yankees victories, and usually by the second time through, the stadium is almost empty. Wednesday, they played it six times. And still people wouldn’t leave. Nobody wanted the night to end.
You know, during the incredible sixth game of the 1975 World Series, the story goes that Pete Rose turned to Carlton Fisk and said, “Isn’t this great?” And sometime during Tom Watson’s amazing duel with Jack Nicklaus at Turnberry in ‘77, Watson said, “This is what it’s all about.”
After this classic, nobody wanted to leave. The Series is tied. The Yankees are back. Baseball is back. Everybody just wanted to stay at Yankee Stadium, stay and sing “These little town blues are melting away” with Old Blue Eyes. And they did.
Until finally a man came out with a megaphone.
“Do me a favor,” he said in a hard accent that came from the heart of the Bronx. “Go home.”
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Great post Joe…you’re the best
Best World Series since 1975? No love for 1991? Two worst-to-first teams. All seven games were close. The beginning of the Braves bridesmaid dynasty. Kirby Puckett in game 6. Joe Buck’s “We’ll see you tomorrow night!” call. Jack Morris versus John Smoltz in game 7.
Pedro is leading the “Who Would You Pitch” poll. Pedro? Are you kidding me, Pedro? I think this site has been infiltrated by people who can’t see past their own red socks! I have seen all of these pitchers pitch in person minus Koufax, Seaver, and Gibson, and Pedro isn’t even in my top three!
Although, if George Brett was in a poll about “Who Would You Bat” poll, I am sure I would get accused of being a homer, too!
by the way, Gathright, Buck, Pena, and the little used German all started in the same game yesterday. How’s Luke Hochevar supposed to go out there and feel comfortable with that lineup backing him?
KFC is definitely Pixifood. Ate it as a child. Now, I’ve instructed a good friend of mine that if he ever witnesses me going into a KFC that he kill me first.
Now Popeyes…totally solid.
The answer is YES. KFC has become a pixifood! Greasy, thin, brownish ‘meat’ stuffed with hormones and fried in unclean oil. Perhaps it started to go downhill for KFC when the chickens they breed for our consumption became headless after years of forced selection and living in their own feces in beyond inhumane conditions. I would link to the now famous KFC poultry farm videos one of the animal rights groups captured. But I’ll spare you - It is the definition of hideous.
We were driving past one of the few remaining KFC’s outside of the poorest or most urban neighborhoods in town a couple days ago and saw that it had closed down. My inner child was bummed remembering those huge buckets of big legs and thighs that actually had white meat and flavor that the fam used to open up and dig into.
Now, even the side orders are inedible. RIP - KFC. (Although I hear they’re becoming huge in China.)
As for the other 99% of the post. Loved it as usual.
When did the commenters on this site get so angry? No one hates NYC more than I do — born in the Boston suburbs, I was trained that way — but this is lovely. Almost makes me want to be a part of it.
And someone is wondering about whether to pitch Pedro in a hypothetical game seven? (Incidentally: http://tinyurl.com/6z8ru9)
Andrew, I think this site has been infiltrated by people who can’t see past 217 IP, 128 hits allowed, 32 BB’s, and 284 K’s. Either that or 213 IP, 160 hits allowed, 37 BB’s, and 313 K’s. Yeah it’s probably one of those.
I was also at this unforgettable game and I hope you will indulge me my own long story of that night and that Series.
On 9/11 I could hear the second plane hit the south tower from my apartment. I went to the end of my block in Brooklyn and stood with hundreds of others and watched the towers burn. They looked to me like wounded animals, sick and pathetic and dying right in front of us. If you recall, the smoke from the tower blew east that day, and so right over our neighborhood there came a trail of thick black smoke, and within that smoke were thousands if not millions of pieces of paper from the towers. The sunshine that day was brilliant, and as the sunlight filtered through the smoke it hit the paper and caused it to glimmer, creating an otherworldly effect of shimmering black smoke. Anyone who was in NYC on 9/11 has a few indelible moments from that day. For me, the glittering black sky - so surreal and unfathomable - is a picture I’ll never forget.
The weeks after 9/11 were the most emotionally punishing of my life, and I can’t possibly convey them accurately here. There was immense, pervasive grief everywhere you went, and also a determined but always fragile effort to carry on. There were threats everywhere, real and imagined. For me at least there was also epic drinking and wild mood swings. Against this backdrop, the 2001 post-season took on simultaneous feelings of heightened importance and utter meaninglessness.
Yankee Stadium can be a lot of things but during those weeks it was raw and soulful. It had of course been the site of the city’s largest 9/11 memorial, and the playoff games were played underneath a tattered flag that had been recovered from Ground Zero (a detail that has become all but forgotten). 9/11 was an active presence at these games. At the first Division Series game against Oakland, after a gut-wrenching singing of God Bless America, a huge blue banner hanging on the upper tier that said “GO YANKEES” was turned over and the other side read “GET BIN LADEN.” I’ll never forget that.
I went to every Yankees home game that post-season except one - Game 3 of the World Series at which President Bush famously threw out the first pitch. It had all just come to be too much. I knew the security presence would be insane and I needed to just watch one on TV. The next night we were back in the Bronx for Game 4.
What I remember most about that game is that in the bottom of the seventh the Yankees had first and second and nobody out in a 1-1 game. The next hitter was Posada, facing Schilling. No bunt atempt was made and Posada grounded into a double play. The next batter, Dave Justice, whiffed. Then Arizona scored two in the eighth and appeared to have the game and the Series in hand.
In the ninth inning, fans in our row - me included - were destroying Torre for not calling for a bunt in that seventh inning situation. I vividly remember my friend Jon, one of the biggest Yankee fans I know, saying “This team is arrogant. They’re just arrogant. They think they can just show up and win because they’re the Yankees. Arizona is going to clinch this Series on our field tomorrow night and we deserve it. We deserve to watch them celebrate on our field.”
The next hitter was Tino Martinez.
I started to type that after Tino’s home run there was bedlam in the ballpark and strangers hugging strangers, but really, there were no strangers in New York City in those days. After Jeter won the game we were so energized that we went downtown to hit some bars. It was Halloween night - remember the clever “Mr. November” sign that one fan held up after Jeter’s homer? - and for the first time since 9/11 the city seemed ALIVE. The vitality that makes New York what it is was back, at least for one night.
And then the next night it all happened again. The flag and the singing and the Paul O’ Neill chant and poor B.H. Kim and another game-tying homerun. The two most thrilling consecutive nights of baseball I’ve ever seen or will likely ever see.
I don’t know. I’ve been lucky to see a lot of great sports events. Not as many as Joe, I’m sure, but enough to think I have some perspective. The 2001 post-season has a special place in my memory. I’ve been to better games, but none that were so emotional and that so vividly represented everything that I think makes sports worth our time and attention. It’s exaggerating it to say that those games “healed” New York, but they brought a lot of people together at a time when people desperately needed a community and something to rally behind and just an excuse to watch a ballgame and drink beer and holler for a couple hours. When I think back on that month, Games 6 and 7 seem like such an afterthought, almost like the actual outcome of the Series was beside the point. I think I’ll always remember 2001 as the World Series that the Yankees lost but New York won.
I wish I could go back and watch that 2001 Series over again without the memory of 9/11 still pounding in my head. I watched the Series, but I just don’t remember it being all that important at the time.
1.) Never been to a KFC. Everyone has their one “never done” thing.. KFC has been mine.
2.) 01 was the best WS ever. Though I can’t wait for the ‘75 book to come out and read what you have to say.
3.) I love how your opinions on Jack Morris seem to be reflected in the poll results.
With respect to the point in your column, about not wanting a great sporting event to end, I was watching the Nadal-Federer match with my dad yesterday, we both looked at each other and expressed the wish that it would never end. It almost never did…
During the 4th set tiebreak, we were both furiously rooting for Federer, not because we wanted him to win necessarily, but because we just wanted this fantastic exhibition to continue. My mother burst in demanding when it was going to be over, because my dad was supposed to go with her to buy new flooring or something. It was championship point. I said “it might just be over in about 10 seconds”. But then I added, half under my breath, “or it might last another 3 hours”.
Bologna and Cheese sandwich
pixifood
BTW, we need to come up with a list of contenders so Joe can have a “Which food is the pixiest?”
This is a plea for help. I’m not sure how to get the following note to the Kansas City Royals. I tried to post it in a “Message Board” at the Royals’ website. Naturally, it wouldn’t let me. There’s a “waiting period” during which “new members” are not allowed to post. The site does not seem to have a “contact us” page. Anyhow, here it is:
Dear Kansas City Royals,
Here’s an account of my attempt to purchase tickets for an upcoming game on your website. I’m not sure how many of the problems I encountered are due to MLB.com’s campaign against baseball fans and how many are due to the Royals’ incompetence, but I thought that someone might actually care enough to check into these problems.
My first attempt to purchase three tickets for the July 13th game against the Mariners—yes, I am the sort of baseball fan who will go even to the game featuring the worst team in the league, even on the getaway day for the All-Star Break—failed when the website reported “internal problems” (or something like that, I cannot recall the precise verbiage) and then (upon my attempting again) told me that my purchase had “timed out.” Bad luck, perhaps.
So I tried again, and this time things went relatively smoothly, though it would not let me purchase parking. (I’m not sure how nervous to be about that. I’ve never been to Kauffman stadium before, and I’m a bit wary of stadiums that are surrounded by nothingness and so do not present a wide variety of transportation and parking options. But perhaps, contrary to every expectation, there will not be a disastrous traffic jam.)
Anyhow, the real difficulty set in only when I tried to print my tickets, and the barcode on each ticket overlapped with other text. I worried about whether these tickets would lead to a hassle at the gate, and so I called the customer service number given by the link on the webpage I’d just been using to buy the tickets: 1-800-6ROYALS. I was on hold for quite a while—par for the course, I suppose, these days—but was especially struck by the looping message that played while I was on hold, all of it encouraging me to buy season ticket packages that would include Opening Day and some of it telling me that single-game ticket sales would be available later this winter. Wow, I thought, those Royals ticket sellers are really on the ball!
Eventually, I spoke with a person, who was very nice, but told me that I needed to call a different number for my problem: 1-877-6ROYALS. Lovely.
So I called that number, and fortunately, I reached another nice person, who suggested that I might try printing my tickets from the link in the email sent to me instead of from the links provided at the end of the purchasing episode. I gamely tried, and the results were the same. So I asked if the tickets might not be available at will call. Yes, she said. Excellent, I thought.
And then it occurred to me, “Why isn’t that option listed on the website where one buys the tickets?” It is on the Cardinals’ site, which is where I buy most of my MLB tickets these days.
If you are attentive, you will notice several easily fixed glitches here. If you care, you might do something about it. But if you do, don’t let the commissioner’s office know that you’re making it easier for fans to enjoy major league baseball. We know how they feel about that.
Eric Brown
I figured I’d respond to KFC now before I read the rest. KFC is not a pixifood in the sense that it tastes bad. I still love it. I just do it maybe once every two years because it’s a greaseball that has enough fat etc to last you about that long.
The ultimate pixifood to me is cotton candy.
The quality of KFC varies wildly from “eh” to “There is no God”. It has definitely declined. I use as a basic my parents who would be immune from pixifood bias.
Great column, Joe.
(As far as the voting, I’m shocked Clemens got so little love. I voted Pedro #1 for a single game in his prime, but c’mon, 1997-1998 Clemens was insanely great.)
A few weeks ago, I had a taste for some KFC. Yeah, I still get those. So I drove to the local one by my house, but on the way, I saw a friend of mine jogging on the street. He saw my car and waved to me, so I pulled over. He was in his workout gear, dripping sweat, and still doing that annoying “jog in place” thing that people do when they’re waiting at a stop light or something (or talking to someone at the window of their car). I hate that. So he says to me “where you headed?” and I say “to the gym” and he says “oh yeah? which one?” and I say “Cardinal” and he says “no kidding, I didn’t know you were a member. My brother is working there right now.”
So I say “I’m lying, I’m going to KFC……well enjoy your workout.”
Then I drove away.
You won’t see that in a KFC commercial.
Joe Buck’s “We’ll see you tomorrow night!” call.
Attributing that classic line to whiny Joe Buck is a slight to his father’s legacy.
Pixifood. I love it. What a great word. We were taking a poll, and I think KFC isn’t quite as good, although the pixiness of it (new word?) may skew that view.
I think McDonald’s, however, is unquestionably the pixiest of the pixifoods. I really can’t stomach Mikki-Ds anymore, and yet I loved it when I was a kid.
I’m actually just now realizing that Taco Bell is much the same way. Or maybe that’s just drunkfood, which I think its a different definition but maybe the same idea.
Great post Joe.
Many people don’t understand what it takes to write up that game story while still catching the excitement of the game that’s rushing through your brain with the adjectives to describe it. Then have it ruined, in consecutive games no less, by one swing of the bat and your game story is gone to hell.
REWRITE!
Most fast food is pixifood in my book, except for Wendy’s. The hot and spicy chicken sandwich just tastes too good. The frosties and french fries are also pretty decent.
My nomination for a pixifood is chain Chinese buffets. You know the ones. Places like “Amazing Buffet” with the strangely printed menus that look all the same. I used to love that stuff as a teenager. Now that I’m an adult, I can’t eat it without thinking it’s terrible. The sauces stink, the meat is stringy and dry, way too much salt…
But these terrible ones just underscore how really, really good it is when someone hits the mark. My favorite polynesian buffet is the Hukelau in Chicopee, MA (right off the turnpike) mostly because it’s fresh and actually pretty good. It’s not just Chinese; there’s also some Hawaiian and Filipino treats as well.
Another great post as always.
I think KFC lost it a few years back when they officially got rid of the “fried” in their name and became KFC instead of Kentucky Fried Chicken. I think they’ve since tried to reclaim the old fried mantra and the Colonel image, but it may be too late. Church’s and Popeye’s have gone after them pretty hard with the die hard fried chicken set. If you ate fried chicken a lot anyhow its not likely you weren a part of the health-nut vegan segment that KFC was aiming for.
Also, the ultimate push-button deadline must have happened to Max Mercy, the syndicated sports columnist, in The Natural when Hobbs hits the dramatic homer to win the pennant. Just moments before that we see Mercy working on his sketch of Hobbs striking out and being the goat. I wonder how Mercy made up for that? The cartoon looked like it took a long time to draw.
Oddibe ~ excellent
KFC is amazing. I go there way too much. I never had it as a child, but now I crave it constantly.
Pixifood– a great concept. Pixie Sticks are the icon, to be sure. Chef Boy-ar-dee, same thing. Not KFC, though, because it actually used to taste good.
I would also nominate those frozen Pepperidge Farm cakes.
2001 was a great World Series, as was 1975. How can you choose?
Great column, as always.
More Pixifoods:
Big League Chew or BubbleYum
Capri Suns and most other fruit juice boxed drinks
Atomic Fireballs
I definitely second the mention of bologne (loved it as a kid, can’t even look at it now) and McDonalds, especially the “chicken” McNuggets.
So why is Joakim Soria not listed in the poll?
Also, the ultimate push-button deadline must have happened to Max Mercy, the syndicated sports columnist, in The Natural when Hobbs hits the dramatic homer to win the pennant. Just moments before that we see Mercy working on his sketch of Hobbs striking out and being the goat. I wonder how Mercy made up for that? The cartoon looked like it took a long time to draw.
SPOILER ALERT!
In much the same way that serious students of film have concluded that Rick Deckert (Harrison Ford’s character in ‘Blade Runner’) was actually a Replicant himself, the consensus among film scholars is that the final two scenes in ‘The Natural’ (the home run and the final scene with Roy and his son playing catch in a field) don’t actually happen — they are a psychotic episode that takes place only inside Roy’s head.
In actuality, Hobbs strikes out to end the game, the bribe offer to throw the game is leaked to the press, and the story ends with Hobbs sobbing on a curb while an astonished newsboy gives him the ’say it ain’t so’ treatment. The evidence for this? The ending just described is the actual ending of Malamud’s book.
Pixifoods need some ground rules:
1. must not be solely marketed to children. Everything meant for children exclusively, such as Pixie Sticks and Cotton Candy, is obviously going to be Pixifood. This is too easy.
2. must not be impacted by quality, value or price. If you like hamburgers, but the only hamburger you can afford comes in a little box, you probably wouldn’t consider it pixie food.
3. must not be impacted by our developing sense of nutrition and health. I’ll call this the Mac & Cheese provision. There’s some damn fine Mac & Cheese out there, but it’s pretty hard to eat that stuff on a regular basis and maintain a belt notch. This should not make it pixifood.
That eliminates all the suggestions made thus far (except Bologna, which is a good one), so, have at it again. I might recommend spare ribs. That’s all I wanted when we ordered in the chinese. I haven’t had the desire to eat a rib of any quality since I was about 10 or so, but, there it is on the menu, next to the T-bone, porterhouse, strip and sirloin, so somebody must be ordering it.
“Also, the ultimate push-button deadline must have happened to Max Mercy, the syndicated sports columnist, in The Natural when Hobbs hits the dramatic homer to win the pennant. Just moments before that we see Mercy working on his sketch of Hobbs striking out and being the goat. I wonder how Mercy made up for that? The cartoon looked like it took a long time to draw.”
Something like “Results of the Pittsburgh-New York playoff game were not available at press time.” Followed by the running account of the game up until that point, or maybe some sort of holding story designed to fill space in the event of rain.
As a former member of the Fourth Estate, I remember some serious scrambling on the night when Francisco Cabrera lined a hit to left field in Game 7 in Atlanta.
Great story. Very good deadline column. A tiny bit purple, but pretty goddamn good for what - 25 minutes’ notice?
Chef-boy-ardee is probably pixifood, as I am finally getting sick of that stuff (and I get to eat outstanding NYC Italian from time to time), but I just discovered the Hormel version of all the chef foods, and I am hooked on those things.
The chicken part of KFC has probably gone downhill (how about that rumor that they call themselves KFC, because due to genetic engineering, it’s not really chicken anymore), but the breading is still good, just a bit much for old farts.
I live in England and the KFC sucks. They give fries instead of other sides (you have to ask for them: the slaw is terrible, the corn isn’t worth eating, and no mashed potatoes) unless you want beans instead. And no biscuits? What’s that about? How can you eat at KFC and not get a biscuit?
I need a care package from home!!!
I had Cookie Crisp for breakfast yesterday, I am 25, and it is delicious. It has some of the best post-cereal-milk ever, right up there with Cinnamon Toast Crunch. You know what we really need a word for? Post-cereal-milk.
Matt I disagree with your rules because the spirit of a pixiefood seems to be food that kids love, but once you reach adulthood you realize that it is only a step above dogfood. My nomination is ramen noodles. I had them a couple of years ago and had to toss them after two spoonfuls. I remember loving them as a kid.
It came down to Pedro vs. Sandy and I went with Sandy simply because Sandy could go the distance. I am not sure Pedro could last that long.
Just reading about those games again brings tears to my eyes. I was living in Brooklyn, just resigned from a job in WTC 7, watching it all fall away on TV. Several memories stand out: the beautiful weather on tht 9/11 in NYC, I mean the sky was so clear and blue, it was such a contrast to the horror of the planes.
Also, I was on the phone with my girlfriend who was still at her Times Sq. office as the second building fell, and a car on my street in Brooklyn burst into flames. At that moment, I truly thought the world was coming to an end. Neighbors and I rushed onto the street, luckily it was just an old jalopy with a burned up battery. But the fear at that moment was the greatest I’ve ever felt.
Also like Mikey, I remember the burning papers. On my front steps were dozens of singed papers from old actuary tables that had floated across the east river from WTC.
All of us in NYC walking around like zombies. The eerie quiet of a city completely shut down. No buses, no cars, nobody on the streets. Nothing to do and nowhere to go. The newfound fraternity amongst neighbors and fellow NY-ers.
And then the WS!!! That magical night!!! The deep fear that it was over, the dynasty done. The way it was so matter-of-fact. Schilling dominating, ground outs, losing to the Arizona Freaking Diamondbacks. And then hope. Tino’s bomb and suddenly we’re tied. I’m jumping up and down, but I can’t scream because my girlfriend is asleep in the other room.
Jeter’s game-winner and I exploded. Tears of joy, tears of grief. So proud to be a NY-er, all of the fans screaming, hope, disbelief, anger. One of the most magical nights of my life. And then the next day, Brosius hits a magical homer and Soriano gets the winning RBI in extras. Everyone knows what happened in game 7. But what a ride it was. Oh my, what a ride.
I’m a Yankee fan and voted for Pedro. I firmly believe that he was the most talented pitcher we have ever seen.
Pixiefood: DintyMore Beef Stew. Loved it when i went camping as a kid. Smells like dog food now.
>>>1.) Never been to a KFC. Everyone has their one “never done” thing.. KFC has been mine.<<<
How (or where?) does one grow up in America and never eat Kentucky Fried Chicken?
I haven’t read all the other comments, and maybe somebody’s already said this, but that’s an amazing article. Maybe you wrote it under the tightest deadline ever, but I wish I’d read it at the time. It would have been special for me.
Eric, but then everything marketed to kids would be pixifood. Cookie crisp, fun dip, valentine hearts, jawbreakers, gummy bears, Kix–it’s way too easy.
Dinty Moore Stew is a good one. In fact, Dinty Moore anything. That actually appears to be marketed to families, but what adult is eating that?
What about good ‘ole PB&J? I still love it, but I think I am a little unusual in that respect.
Agree with David on the quality of the deadline article hustled out. I dare say there are many “knights of the keyboard” who would be hard pressed to match how well it captures the moment, dashed off in 20 minutes or a day.
My Pixifoods: Pop-Tarts, Hot Pockets, Totino’s Pizza Rolls, Hawaian Punch.
I think I’m the only non-Red Sox baseball fan in America who was still actively cheering against the Yankees in 2001. Yes, I spent all of 9/11 afraid that this was it; someone else was going to hit us somewhere else and then we would respond by nuking someone and that would be the beginning of the end. Yes, I felt profoundly sorry for the city of New York. I gave money as well as blood to the Red Cross. I cheered when the announcement came that we were bombing Afghanistan.
They say that sports is a way of escaping from reality. Well, my inner-sports fan must have been very effective in seperating itself from the real horrors happening outside. Because, for all of that, I still hated, hated, HATED the Yankees. I still curse Jeremy Giambi and the awful Seattle bullpen for letting the Yanks even make the World Series…AGAIN. I jumped up and down in the living room in front of my Yankee-loving friend and his father and celebrated along with the D-Backs when they finally finished off the Empire.
Am I a bad American?
[...] View from the Press Box Schilling immediately got the double-play grounder. He struck out Dave Justice and left the field to boos of respect. [...]
“(except Bologna, which is a good one)”
I win! I win!
Also, Andy’s pop-tart suggestion is spot-f$%&ing-on.
I’d also add combos to the list. The last time I had a combo (with or without the “S” for singular?) was about 5 years ago, and they were absolutely revolting.
EABINSTL:
1. This is not a Royals site.
2. There IS a will call option when you buy your tickets.
3. Parking at the K is very easy, but a little confusing to get out of if you haven’t been there before.
4. Your printer is the problem or your printing margins.
5. You aren’t very technologically inclined are you?
6. Why bring this up in this post about 9/11 and the Yankees?
Everyone else:
2001 will always be remembered for GAME 7. Schilling starting and The Big Unit getting the win. It was an emotional world series, but I had completely forgotten about those dramatic yankee wins, although part me of remembers Kim as a choker.
But I still eat, and truly enjoy, Pop Tarts! The s’mores ones are…OMG, just get some.
Of course, maybe the pixi-part is the toasting. I remember I used to eat them while walking to school, right out of the package. Now it always has to be toasted.
Mikey — I’ve read a lot of incredibly great stuff on this blog, but your comment is up there with the very best of it. Thanks.
‘91 was a better series than ‘01. Sorry, but the ‘01 Series was only close because Kim melted down twice in two games. I think of that series and I see a series AZ should have wrapped up much sooner than it did.
Bologna with Miracle Whip on white bread. Hard to believe that’s all I ever wanted for lunch as a kid.
Also, Jeno’s Pizza Rolls-loved ‘em. I fondly remember their great commercial with the lone Ranger and Tonto created by Stan Frieberg.
Wow, as always, Joe….amazing stuff.
(still think ‘91 warrants a STRONG mention of the best WS of all time..correct me if I’m wrong, but I think 4 of the 7 games were one-run affairs and a 5th was a 2-run one…add in the epic game 7 smoltz v. morris duel and it = ALL TIME CLASSIC)
The ‘75 Series is still tough to beat. I wish someone would write a really good book about it …
I was had friends in the WTC, some (thankfully all but one) got out of there, but not without problems, but I was intelligent enough to separate sports from tragedy at the time, and still am. It’s a tragedy that our current President is still using that day on 2001 as an excuse for all the travesty of death and destruction that has occurred since then.
As far as taking food when the shadow of 9/11 is there, sorry, but I can talk all day about food, but not when 9/11 is the main background of the chat.
And to include the Yankees, when they were at their APEX of being hated, it’s not a fair way to get chat going, it’s too easy to pick on them.
Overall Joe, as far as your blogs go, not one worth commenting fully on–and I am the LEAST PC person you may ever meet, it’s just not worth the effort, energy or problems.
I DID have friends–pardon the typo–because I am sure some anally retentive type will pick on my typo–so SO sorry…
Joe, either I’ve got strange psychic powers, or you’ve told this story before. Not that I mind, because it’s one of those stories worth repeating.
Mikey… your comment is worthy of this blog. Well done.
The 2001 Yankees were two outs away from the championship, despite having been outscored 35-14 in the series. That was pretty remarkable. Of course, what happened next was pretty remarkable, too.
And let’s shed a tear for Alfonso Soriano, the World Series hero that never was. He’s at the Oh Well Table, next to John Smoltz and Dave Henderson.
When I think of that World Series, I mostly think of how Brenly handled Kim. Unreal.
To Andrew and others who are surprised to see Pedro leading the poll…
Go back and look at those numbers. In his prime (say, 1997 through 2003), Pedro was simply the best pitcher ever.
Everyone listen to Rob, no talking about food since 9/11 happened. Are you people animals! Don’t you know 9/11 happened? And now you’re talking about pop tarts and other food products!? Looks like the terrorits won Rob.
Yeah, I read Rob’s comment a couple times and I still don’t get it. I liked his last line though where he said this post wasn’t worth commenting on. Glad he didn’t go and do that.
Jon Morse: Joe has DEFINITELY written about this before, I distinctly remember him talking about his busted deadline and the repeated singing of “New York, New York”.
Good call.
My pixiefood is Hostess Creme-Filled Cupcakes.
I think to be true pixie food it’s gotta be one of those things you outgrew long enough ago to forget why until, ten or fifteen years later, you see it in the store and buy it for nostalgia’s sake.
I probably hadn’t eaten a Hostess cupcake since the early 80s until I saw them at a c-store while driving cross-country last fall.
Exactly like they used to be. The white squiggle of frosting is always perfect. Perfectly awful.
Sometimes I’m similarly tempted to melt a bunch of Velveeta and salsa and break out the Doritos, but I’ve resisted for the past decade or so.
Thanks Ben. Thanks Jon Morse. I appreciate you reading it.
Remembering 9/11 is quicksand for me and for a lot of people I know. You can get pretty deep pretty fast and then it’s hard to get out, so I try not to go there too often.
And you never know how people will respond. It’s not fair to criticize people for still being sensitive, and it’s not fair to criticize them for not still being sensitive either.
And my pixiefood is Pizza Hut pan pizza.
I still occasionally eat Pizza Hut pan pizza, and I do it the way other people buy porn or score drugs: always alone, with shame, then loving every minute and swearing I’ll never do it again.
I’ll take the 99-2002 Randy Johnson(186,181,188,197 ERA+) over Koufax’s best seasons(63-66) (159,187,160,190 ERA+). Neutralize their stats or take a look at their ERA+
Pedro’s best stretch (99-2003) blows them both away in terms of ERA+ (243,291,189,202,210) etc, but Koufax and Johnson both threw more total innings in their 4 year stretches than Pedro did in 5.
If I need 9 innings out of my game 7 starter if’s going to be Koufax who completed 89 of his 153 starts in those 4 years.
Johnson completed 31 of 139 starts in his best 4 year span. if I had Eckersley in his prime closing, I’d take Unit.
Pedro completed 18 of his 135 starts in his best 5 year span. If I had Dan Quisenberry closing (more than 1 inning closer) I’d take Pedro.
Pop Tarts is a good one, but how about this… the crust is reverse Pixiefood. I used to break off the crust just so I could eat only the sweet, soft insides, and some frosting. Now, when I do eat them, I carefully eat at the edges and take a big enough bite of the middle stuff so that I don’t get left with a final bite that has no crust left with it.
KFC Still rules, but I’ve never tried Church’s or Popeye’s. If they’re better than KFC, I don’t even want to know. It
s kind of like If you found out the Hot housewife down the street has a thing for you. It’s good thing, but I’d be better off not knowing.
Ramen still rules, but now I buy the original Sapporo Iciban from local asian markets instead of the junk in the supermarkets.
My reasoning for choosing Pedro as the only choice for this is because when it all came down to it, Pedro was a monster when he had everything going. I will never forget the most dominant outing that I’ve ever seen, when Pedro pitched against the Yankees and gave up one hit - a Chili Davis homer, and struck out 17. The Yankees never had a chance in that game.
I also remember him coming out of the bullpen and throwing 6 no-hit innings in the playoffs. Before he got hurt and lost his best stuff, I never witnessed anyone who could go out there and just completely dominate like Pedro.
“*And I need a ruling: Is Kentucky Fried Chicken a pixifood or has the quality just gone way down?”
My wife and I got a bucket of strips two weeks or so ago, and it was very good. And I’m a REALLY picky chicken eater. It may just be that the KFC near you is going to hell.
If you’re going to eat fast food franchise food, make sure to try ALL of them in your town, because there will be a vast difference in quality.
“Joe, either I’ve got strange psychic powers, or you’ve told this story before. Not that I mind, because it’s one of those stories worth repeating.”
I have the exact same feeling. It’s like deja-vu all over again.
I agree that it’s a great story and it’s always fun to read it again, but I could swear I’ve read it before.
“I think I’ll always remember 2001 as the World Series that the Yankees lost but New York won.”
Mikey, that was awesome. I bow to you, sir.
Andrew wrote:
***
“Pedro is leading the “Who Would You Pitch” poll. Pedro? Are you kidding me, Pedro? I think this site has been infiltrated by people who can’t see past their own red socks! I have seen all of these pitchers pitch in person minus Koufax, Seaver, and Gibson, and Pedro isn’t even in my top three!”
***
I’m a Red Sox fan who was an impressionable 13 years old in 1967. I chose Gibson No. 1. That man was ANGRY. 3 CG, 3 runs in the Cards-Sox Series.
Digression: Does anybody else remember the cartoon in the Record-American — I think — after Game 7 in ‘67 showing the dejected kid with a Red Sox cap writing on a fence “Hulian Havier is a herk”?
Koufax is my No. 2 but that may be from hazy memories of the ‘63 series, the 4-0 Dodger sweep with Sandy giving up three runs in two CG. It was the first time I ever watched at least part of every game of a World Series, running home from school to catch the late innings of the two New York games.
Hard to believe that Seaver is getting so little support in the poll. I had him and Pedro battling for No. 3.
Joe: Superb column. Deadline stories. Can’t get enough of ‘em.
-30-
Joe has told this story before. I remember it too. It’s still great hearing it again. Oh, and you’re thrown-together-very-quickly article for the game is outstanding. Amazing that you threw that together so quickly. Just speaks to your talent as a writer.
Mikey, awesome, awesome, awesome, awesome post. Got a little dusty in the cubicle reading that and thinking back to everything that happened in those two games (especially the Paul O’Neill chants). “I think I’ll always remember 2001 as the World Series that the Yankees lost but New York won.” What a quote. Wow, man. Just wow. Thank you for posting that.
Found Joe’s other post about this game……
http://joeposnanski.com/JoeBlog/2008/01/12/awards-jeter-at-midnight-you-tubing/
The 2001 World Series was the ONLY time that I ever rooted for the Yanks…. It just seemed the team to pull for after 9-11. Of course being the only time in my life I pulled for them they lose. I quickly regained my senses. 1975 was the World Series that made me fall in love with baseball.
Matt- your rules against pixiefood more or less define pixiefood, not gonna work.
Craig- your absolutely right, we need a word for post-cereal-milk, my favorite is fruity pebbles, maybe just PCMilk or MLK+ I’d rate Frosted Flakes a 100 MLK+ (industry average) and we can go from there or maybe PCMmmmmm.
and I still love PB&J with a glass of milk (I’m 30).
I agree with the poster that said that KFC (which, in my neighborhood is actually going back to “Kentucky Fried Chicken” is very dependent on the store. That said, Popeye’s is definitely better — the seasoning makes all the difference.
Whoever said food targeted at kids can’t be pixifood — well then we’d have to have a different name, because Pixie Sticks wouldn’t count.
As for my suggestions:
Candy Division — Fun Dip (god that stuff is horrid), candy buttons on paper, Peeps, and the wax tubes with colored and flavored liquid.
Beverage Division — Sunny D, Welch’s Grape Soda, Orange Crush, and for any of you who went to sumer camp — bug juice.
Fast Food Division — McDonald’s burgers. Seriously, within 5 minutes of my house in Vegas, there is In ‘n Out Burger, Fatburger, Sonic, Carl’s Jr., Jack in the Box and at least 3 casino coffee shops that make a terrific, cheap burger — why in the world anyone would go to Mickey D’s, I have no idea. Frankly, when there’s Fatburger available, all of the rest except In ‘n Out really can’t even compete.
Miscellaneous Division — American cheese, yellow mustard, Twinkies
Many threads going on at once, here . . . I feel as though I’m seated between clusters at a party at my wife’s work.
As to pixiefood (spectacular term, Joe), mine is the Swanson’s TV dinners - specifically the Salisbury “steak.”
It was my folks’ go-to treat when they were going out and we had a sitter. I tried one about ten years ago, and even the redfruitish cobbler was troubled (the “steak” inedible - no way was the recipe the same from the early 70s).
One more, though it’s a topping, and not a food: cake frosting, even good bakery-level. Once upon a time, I wanted the frosting flowers/balloons on my slice. Now, it makes my teeth hurt.