Showing posts with label Pavano. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pavano. Show all posts
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
A Parable
I'll preface this tale by saying that I am not a brave man and I don't handle pain well.
Last night, in a co-ed rec league softball game, I pulled a hamstring in the 3rd inning after landing funny on first base. I couldn't really walk after that, much less run. But since we had no extra players, I stayed in the game, pitching even though I couldn't really stride toward the plate. I batted, and just stood in the batter's box after hitting the ball. I iced my leg between innings, limped out to the mound, and dealt with the pain until the end of the game.
THIS WAS FOR A CO-ED REC LEAGUE SOFTBALL GAME THAT I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT MUCH ABOUT. And, I'm kind of a pussy.
Now, what's the lesson here, Pavano?
Last night, in a co-ed rec league softball game, I pulled a hamstring in the 3rd inning after landing funny on first base. I couldn't really walk after that, much less run. But since we had no extra players, I stayed in the game, pitching even though I couldn't really stride toward the plate. I batted, and just stood in the batter's box after hitting the ball. I iced my leg between innings, limped out to the mound, and dealt with the pain until the end of the game.
THIS WAS FOR A CO-ED REC LEAGUE SOFTBALL GAME THAT I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT MUCH ABOUT. And, I'm kind of a pussy.
Now, what's the lesson here, Pavano?
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Domo Arigato, Mr. Pavano
So before we end and then begin
We'll drink a toast to how it's been
A few more hours to be complete,
A few more nights on satin sheets,
A few more times that I can say…
I've loved these days.
A few more hours to be complete,
A few more nights on satin sheets,
A few more times that I can say…
I've loved these days.
A sad day in Yankeeland, as the great Carl Pavano's days in pinstripes have drawn to a close. We are all wondering the same thing today: how do we keep on going? How do we wake up every day, knowing that we will never again witness the golden right arm of Carl Pavano in the home whites or the road grays? What is the point...of sports fandom, of life, of the universe...without him? Why go on?
Simply, because we must. We must go on. We must fight through each hard moment, each dark afternoon. We must find reservoirs of hope deep within our miserable shells of humanity. We must keep on with the business of living, and assume, for our own sanity, that somewhere out there, on some gravelly ballfield in Brooklyn, or Idaho, or China, somewhere a young boy is limping off a mound who can take his place. A young Pavano, bravely willing to give three percent for his teammates. He must be out there...somewhere...mustn't he?
The indefinable Mr. Pavano's final line for the Yankees:
111.1 IP, 5-6, 141 H, 20 BB, 60 K, 4.77 ERA.
For $40 million.
Thank you, Carl, you have shown us all what heart and courage really are. And good luck to you in your future endeavors, whether that means laying on the couch watching your "stories," or napping contentedly on your hammock.
Just don't forget: Carl Pavano Day at the Stadium next July 11. Think about what you want on your plaque.

Simply, because we must. We must go on. We must fight through each hard moment, each dark afternoon. We must find reservoirs of hope deep within our miserable shells of humanity. We must keep on with the business of living, and assume, for our own sanity, that somewhere out there, on some gravelly ballfield in Brooklyn, or Idaho, or China, somewhere a young boy is limping off a mound who can take his place. A young Pavano, bravely willing to give three percent for his teammates. He must be out there...somewhere...mustn't he?
The indefinable Mr. Pavano's final line for the Yankees:
111.1 IP, 5-6, 141 H, 20 BB, 60 K, 4.77 ERA.
For $40 million.
Thank you, Carl, you have shown us all what heart and courage really are. And good luck to you in your future endeavors, whether that means laying on the couch watching your "stories," or napping contentedly on your hammock.
Just don't forget: Carl Pavano Day at the Stadium next July 11. Think about what you want on your plaque.

Tuesday, April 3, 2007
I Know They Won and All, But...
1996. Yankees' home opener. Andy Pettitte glaring out from under the brim of his cap as snow cascaded down in the Bronx, ushering in a new era of championships, toughness and heart.
2007. Yankees' home opener. The coaching staff unzips Carl Pavano from his gimp suit and shoves him in the general direction of the pitching mound. Pavano stares blankly at his surroundings, confused, hesitant, afraid, ushering in a new era of...?
2007. Yankees' home opener. The coaching staff unzips Carl Pavano from his gimp suit and shoves him in the general direction of the pitching mound. Pavano stares blankly at his surroundings, confused, hesitant, afraid, ushering in a new era of...?
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