MISTER JOHN, ON AND ON, PITCHES A TIMELESS GEM
Movie stars will come and go. New songs are old by morning. But get lost at sea for 20 years, let them find you on a raft in the South Pacific, and when they revive you, and you mumble, “Uhhh . . . what did Tommy John do yesterday?” surely somebody will...
Coles: So High, So Low
The phone call came in the morning, and by noon he had emptied his locker at Tiger Stadium and was headed for the parking lot. Nobody was around. That was fine. That was better.
“Throw some stuff in the car, hit the road, and I’m outta here,” said Darnell Coles, making a herky-jerky motion with his arm. “Goodby to this place.”
Tigers, Yanks (And Jays) In A League By Themselves
Listen, I have this idea. Let’s call Minnesota and Cleveland and Kansas City and the rest of those teams and say, guys, hey, sorry, can’t make it, maybe next year. And then the Tigers and Yankees can play each other the rest of the season.
Every night. Tigers-Yankees. Don’t you agree? Don’t you? Wasn’t Thursday night the way baseball is supposed to be? Huge crowd, lines at the bathrooms, bleacher fans engaged in “TASTE GREAT!” vs. “LESS FILLING!” debates.
FRIENDSHIP AND TRUTH NOT ALWAYS A GOOD MIX
I first met Jim Eisenreich in a Florida parking lot in 1984. Perhaps “met” is not the proper word. He was walking out of a spring training game, and I was sitting in my car waiting. I had driven 200 miles. I wanted to talk to him. But as he passed the car,...
JIM EISENREICH REVISITED STILL A HARD STORY TO TELL
I first encountered Jim Eisenreich three years ago in a Florida parking lot. He was walking out after a spring training game, and I was sitting in my car, waiting. I had driven 200 miles. I wanted to interview him. But as he passed, I just sat there. After a minute, I...
This Round Goes To Yanks, But What Of The Next One?
NEW YORK — The series was complete, the bus was waiting outside, and the Tigers players, still wet from the showers, dressed quickly, pulling on their socks and shoes. The clubhouse was quiet; it is always quiet after a loss. But no one was sulking. You don’t sulk in the middle of the fight.
As Gibson Knows, This Is No Time For A Close Shave
NEW YORK — Whiskers look good on a soldier. They suggest a mind locked on battle, on the hunt, not on such trivial matters as keeping a face clean. Like dirt stains and bloody knees, the beginnings of a beard somehow say to us:
“effort.” They look nasty, raw, not to be trifled with.
THERE’S NO SPLITTING HAIRS ABOUT GIBSON’S INTENTIONS
NEW YORK — Whiskers look good on a soldier. They suggest a mind locked on battle, on the hunt, not on trivial matters such as keeping a face clean. Like dirt stains and bloody knees, the beginnings of a beard somehow say to us: “effort.” Nasty. Raw....
For The Next 10 Days, The Rubes Must Be Rude
NEW YORK — You say: “What a nice day.”
I say: “Drop dead.”
You say: “Can I help with your luggage?”
I say: “Drop dead.”
You say tomato. I say stuff the tomato. I am rehearsing my lines. It is part of my plan. I am following the strategy of every general from Napoleon to MacArthur. Know your enemy. Think like your enemy. My enemy is the New Yorker. From now until a week from Sunday. Ten days. Seven baseball games. Tigers versus Yankees. I seek a New York state of mind.
“What a nice suit,” you say.
“Drop dead,” I say.
Stay Connected
The only newsletter dedicated to updates, exclusive content, and giveaways of Mitch's books!