There could be no more orgasmic theater than that for Red Sox fans, watching a Yankee be banished to the corner, dunce cap in tow, the beer-soaked crowd shouting their vulgar salutations. Michael Pineda earned every octave.
And the hypocrisy of pro basketball goes on. It’s a players’ league until the players lose. Then it’s the fault of the fella who didn’t take one shot all year. But Phil Jackson still had to can Mike Woodson.
They had to. The Jets, who have been sitting on a stack of cash and cap space for reasons we can’t fathom, have finally burped a few bucks on a bona fide baller.
The salary cap has planted an eternal turnstile at every team’s front door. But the Jets are missing something you can’t find in the first or third rounds. An identity.
We are sure of one thing: The Knicks are eulogized every April, a yearly ritual as natural as the Asters popping pink in Central Park.
If you’re looking for any kind of contrition over Michael Pineda’s mysterious substance from the Yankees, Yankees fans, or New Yorkers … Fuhgeddaboudit. Especially if the demands come from the Red Sox, Red Sox Nation, or Bostonians.
Manny Pacquiao, one of the few boxers to still move the needle, fights Timothy Bradley this weekend for the WBO welterweight title.
When we see Hammerin’ Hank, we see more than a baseball dignitary. Aaron is the face of fairness, which led to his greatness, and still makes him the greatest.
Opening Day, Bronx, New York, USA. And yes, we still get chills, no matter our age or wage.
Masahiro Tanaka, who landed in the Bronx like other high-end Japanese players — wrapped in a foreign flag, mystery and millions — pitched with the chutzpah of a native New Yorker. He was tough, talented and unrelenting.
Calipari embraces the sordid system, uses it, and dominates. He doesn’t pretend he’s taking kids for the leafy campus life, for the diploma that will never arrive, or even for a few classes. He wants talent. And talent he gets. And talented he is.
Murphy missed the first two Mets games — both losses with or without him — because he wanted to be with his wife during the birth of their boy. And it feels like far too many New Yorkers have a problem with it.
Will we ever see another Jeter? Will there every be another household name with his house in such impeccable order?
We’re being told this is a classic tournament, with juggernauts about to collide like meteors over Texas, and a classic Final Four in store for us. Depends on your view of classic. Does an Arizona – Florida Finals sound unprecedented? Is that must-see TV?
It’s hard to fathom the frothing resistance over Michael Vick. To hear the more jaded Jets fans talk about it, you’d think they just signed George Blanda or Charles Manson. He’s either washed up or worn out his welcome.