Keyboard Quarterbacks

By Mark La Monica

Ain’t no press conference like a Don King press conference because a Don King press conference don’t stop.

Nor does the inherent comedy involved in the sights and sounds that accompany The Don.

Caught up at the Hilton in midtown for the Online News Association conference today, I crossed paths with The Don. And Tessio. And Big P. And a bunch of other folks that made life on three hours of sleep worth living.

Sadly, The Don was not the keynote speaker. He was doing publicity for his roast by the Friars Club on Friday night.

After listening to a panel discussion about blogging, the blogosphere and every adjectival use of the word blog, I strolled the halls of the Hilton Hotel with Web friend Shawna.

We walked out into the foyer and there he was . . . The Don. In all his glory. In all his diamonds. In all his hair.

Not content with just being at a web conference –- translation: free day off disguised as occupational betterment -– I decided to act. It was time to blog.

“I think I should follow him,” I told Shawna.

I did. Up the escalator, into the press conference room, into what looked like the green room for some new reality show called “Gangsters and Gloves.”

Vincent Pastore was first up on stage for photo ops. You may know him as Angelo Ruggiero from the HBO film “Gotti.” But it’s more likely you remember him as Big P from HBO’s “The Sopranos.”

Why he was there, I’m not quite sure. But that’s a separate issue. He posed to the left. He posed to the right. Photographers shouted at him. They all wanted him to look into their lens.

“Hey, you want us to sing, too?” Pastore said.

The stoutness of a well-bred Italian man. The black suit. The black shirt. The black and red tie. This guy is a combination of Papa La Monica, Cousin Joe Manny and just about every guy I ever called Uncle.

His time on stage was done. But while sipping ginger ale at the fully loaded bar, he introduced himself to someone by saying “My name’s Omar Sharif."

Beyond ridiculous.

The madness continued.

Abe Vigoda strolled in. What Tessio from “The Godfather” has to do with this Don, I’m not at liberty to discuss.

The Don eventually made it on stage. His tuxedo shirt was roughly 12 degrees below zero, what with three diamond chains, an iced-out ring and matching American flag lapel pins. Diamond-studded, of course.

“Only in America, my man,” The Don boasted to no one in particular. He was a professional wrestler making his entrance. That was his tagline. Sort of like Hulk Hogan and his “What’cha gonna do when Hulkamania runs wild on you?”

Forget about the Stock Exchange at 9:30 a.m. This was the opening bell.

The Don didn’t have to speak. His presence walks into the room before even his hair. He smiled for anyone and everyone. And we do mean everyone. Gianni Russo, aka Carlo Rizzi from “The Godfather.” Leroy Nieman. Joe Frazier. David Dinkins. Danny Aiello. Michael Spinks.

Michael Spinks? I haven’t seen him since Mike Tyson destroyed him in 91 seconds back in 1988.

Then, slinking in from the side was Gilbert Gottfried. This was my nirvana.

“Hey, Johnny Crunch, what’s up guy?” I said.

“Oh, so you’re the one who saw the movie?” he said.

This was indeed the funniest and most surreal moment of my life. I just called Gilbert Gottfried by his character’s name in the Andrew Dice Clay movie “The Adventures of Ford Fairlane.”

He responded, even-keeled the entire time. Not sure if he appreciated getting checked like that, but he seemed impressed by the obscure reference.

Plus, Gottfried claimed the fifth spot on my Nicky Eyes Hit List. (Nicky Eyes has one line in “Goodfellas.” That line? “What’s up, guy?” Gottfried is the fifth celeb to be asked that question by me. This is monumental.)

Gottfried then asked if he should go up on stage and take a picture with The Don. Thinking of the joy that would bring to the masses, I encouraged such an endeavor. He obliged. Gottfried put on a pair of boxing gloves and pretended to punch The Don.

My life is one step closer to completeness.

By Mike Casey

Fans, I have a little confession to make: I wussed out.

I probably could have gone to the Garden on Thursday night to see the Rangers beat Isles, 3-1. But after last week’s exhausting home-and-home (now I understand why the players don’t like them), I decided to watch the game from the comfort of my attic. (Ladies, if you’re reading, it’s actually a "loft").

Being away from the rink, you miss the cursing and the energy. You don’t miss the long LIRR ride, the food, and the inability to yell and scream over every cross-check and drop pass.

It was a much-needed night off, if there is such a thing for a devoted sports fan. Still I managed to jot down a few observations that could make some tasty food for thought:

* What the hell was Marty Straka thinking? He was 72 games away from being the first NHL player to finish in the top 10 in assists without scoring a single goal. But he screwed everything up by slapping in a power-play tally in the first period. It’s like history means nothing to these guys.

* Miro Satan did not know he was playing against the Rangers. How do I know? Because he didn’t score a goal.

* Trent Hunter is one of the strongest players in the NHL. How do I know that one? Because he actually managed to pin Jaromir Jagr against the boards for a whole two seconds behind his own net. Strong like bull.

* During a break in play, I ran down the stairs to grab a glass of water. As I bounded off the last step, I slipped on the cold floor and inadvertently kicked my elderly cockerspaniel, Champagne. When I sat back down I discovered I had been given a two-minute penalty for obstruction. The friggin’ refs are calling it tight this year, man.

* Jaromir Jagr had two assists, giving him 17 points in 11 games this season. The last time Jaromir Jagr won the Hart Trophy was in 1998-99, when he scored 127 points for Pittsburgh. Guess how many points he’s on pace for this season? (Use the Windows calculator to help you out).

* Jason Blake is officially the most annoying player in the National Hockey League. I can’t think of one time a Rangers player actually managed to check him. Watching teams try to check him is like watching me try to catch the guys who wear numbers like 99 and 66 in my roller hockey league. You get the idea.

* Newsday's Islanders beat writer Alan Hahn stopped by the other day for some friendly hockey discourse, and mentioned that in order for the Islanders to beat the Rangers, they would need to stay out of the penalty box. Next time I see him, I’ll have to ask him if giving up six power plays is good or bad in today’s NHL.

* Alan also touted highly-skilled Isles rookie Robert Nilsson, who sure enough skated around everyone wearing a blue jersey.

* Alan, however, did not mention our blog in his most recent mailbag. Proof that nobody’s perfect.

* The Rangers best defensive puckhandler may be Henrik Lundqvist. Every time an Islanders penalty killer gently slid the puck past a Rangers defender, Brian Leetch must have been giggling with glee.

* Last and possibly least, I am thrilled that baseball season over. That means I don’t feel an evil pang at my conscience to flip on a World Series game right now. All the long, dramatic games were costing me valuable hours of sleep. Good night, sports fans.

By Mark La Monica

First, the Boston Red Sox pull off three ridiculous things to win the World Series in 2004 after 86 years of misery, futility and ineptitude. (By the way, those three things were winning the ALCS from an 0-3 deficit, doing it against the Yankees and actually winning the World Series.)

Now, the Chicago White Sox, not even qualified to be also-rans when the season began, take the baseball world by storm and win the 2005 World Series after 88 years of nothing and 86 years of Eight Men Out.

What’s next, the Jets winning the Super Bowl? The Arizona Cardinals becoming a competent football organization? The Los Angeles Clippers winning the Western Conference?

Is nothing sacred anymore?

Sports used to be a place where we could count on certain inequities and revel in their peculiar but endearing charm. Some called it a curse. Some called it life.

Red Sox fans used to be the best people to talk to about sports. They had such a different view of life, as if a full commission gathered together in some sort of Apalachin-type meeting and conspired to slowly eliminate Boston from the sports almanac.

Now, they’re complacent. A bunch of incumbents resting on one laurel. All the charm is gone. They were once the epitome of LL Bean and Norman Rockwell. Sweet, innocent, endearing, heartfelt.

Now? They’re Wrangler Jeans and framed art at Target. No character. No appeal.

We still have the Chicago Cubs, for some reason considered more lovable than those ballplayers across town. With the events of the past two seasons, the Cubbies and their fans are next on St. Peter’s list.

Which makes them that much less endearing to our hearts now (true Cubs fan will likely disagree). If they win in 2006, they would be just another team exorcising demons. Where’s the enjoyment in that? No, we need the Cubs to wallow in misery a little while longer. A few more “Wait ’til next years.”

Let the Yankees or Dodgers or Cardinals win the next few World Series. Maybe even the Orioles or the Giants or the Braves. Heck, we’ll even settle for the Mets, the Athletics or the Marlins. Someone with some history of winning. Some tradition. Please!

Distancing miracles is what makes a miracle a miracle. Would the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team’s defeat of the Soviet Union be as historic if the U.S. won in 1976, too? Let’s just say if Kurt Russell wanted to be on the big screen in horrible checkered pants and non-matching sportscoats, he’d have done it as someone other than Herb Brooks.

Without distance, we lose historical perception. Without distance, they’re “Next.”

Cubs fans deserve better than that. Sports fans do, too.

By Mark La Monica

In honor of Tina Fey’s return to the anchor desk at “Saturday Night Live,” we bring back our sports version of Weekend Update for a special appearance.

* Who said Philly was a bunch of classless goons? Terrell Owens scored his 100th career touchdown and celebrated by pulling out a towel and acting as a waiter in a fancy restaurant serving the football on a silver platter. Not his best end zone dance, but it brought Philly up a notch in life. Mind you, this city booed Santa Clause, hates all their sports teams and once arrested Allen Iverson and charged with him making terrorist threats.

* Redskins running back Clinton Portis did a pair of cartwheels after scoring his second touchdown of the game against the junior varsity team called the San Francisco 49ers. He’ll likely be criticized for excessive celebration, but leave the man alone, please. His three TDs on Sunday were the first for Portis since last December. If anything, fantasy football owners should be doing cartwheels.

* Stat of the week, month and year: The Chicago White Sox’s coaching staff has more than 200 career at-bats against Roger Clemens. Heading into Saturday’s Game 1 of the World Series, the entire White Sox lineup had just 117 at-bats against Clemens. That’s crazy on so many levels.

* Have you seen Jeff Bagwell’s playoff beard lately? He is Chuck Norris.

* USC won again. Texas won again. The Rose Bowl looms.

* The Patriots had a bye this Sunday, meaning Adam Vinatieri can’t cause another city’s suicide hotline to go bankrupt from paying overtime to its employees.

* Uh oh! Eli Manning had another stirring fourth-quarter comeback. Ah, the game must have been played at Giants Stadium.

* Seeing Brett Favre’s fourth-quarter magic bite him in the patoot is always fun. Seeing the Vikings, coached by Awful Mike Tice, do it is never fun.

* A World Series between the Astros and the White Sox is quite exciting, if only because we New Yorkers don’t have to see or read stupid, non-story stories about a fan in a park wearing a Yankees hat. Gotta love the Angels for sparing us that monstrosity of “news.”

* Tim McCarver continues to be awful with his color commentary and lame jokes. Joe Buck continues to make fun of him. Checks and balances!

* Ricky Williams has carried 11 times for 7 yards. Five of those carries have gone for negative yardage. Two have gone for zero yards. One question: Has one of the best runners in recent years completely lost it or is the Miami Dolphins’ offensive line letting him know how they feel about his surprise retirement last season?

* Roughly 10 more days until the Knicks begin the season. How much longer until the Knicks become as irrelevant as they have been the past few years?

BY MIKE CASEY

I’ve been to Islanders-Rangers games before. I’ve seen ‘em at the Coliseum and I’ve seen ‘em at the Garden. But never on consecutive days, in different rinks.

The verdict? It’s highly recommended.

Though there were some minor drawbacks -- I have barely slept in the past 48 hours and my diet has consisted of hot dogs, pretzels, and Coors Light –- but the energy and excitement in the two buildings made it all worthwhile.

It's amazing how different the experience was in the two buildings. Madison Square Garden is built more like a church than a hockey rink – spacious, cavernous, and reverent. Nassau Coliseum reminds me of a large auditorium, or a college basketball arena. It’s homey, the acoustics are great, and the crowd noise is earsplitting.

At MSG, you ride the escalators and look out onto the bustling streets of Manhattan. At the Coliseum, you cruise up Hempstead Turnpike and watch a disco ball drop out of the scoreboard. Kitschy, yes, but good, campy fun.

Apparently the differences in the two buildings didn't bother any of the visiting fans. There were a LOT of Islanders fans at Madison Square Garden on Wednesday night. And there were a LOT of Rangers fans at Nassau Coliseum on Thursday night.

It was shocking to see, but I liked it. It made the game feel more like a local rivalry – like two high school teams battling it out at the local rink (of course, if you’ve seen the Rangers play in the past few years, that assessment seems even more valid).

If you want to go to a hockey game, pray that you don’t end up sitting behind thirty 10-year-old boys in the last row of Madison Square Garden. Mind you, it’s great to see kids out educating themselves on the finer things in life, but these little guys were more interested in candy bars and goodie bags than they were in the game. Ugh.

And another thing: There are way too many empty seats at hockey games. . . Last night’s game at Nassau Coliseum was not a sell out. A friend complained that ticket prices are too high and parking went up 75 cents. But somehow I don't think Messrs. Wang and Dolan have much interest in your gripes. Sorry guys, some things about the new NHL haven't changed at all.

Thinking cheerily for a moment, it was way too loud to hear the whistle in the press box Thursday night. So the 15,847 who did show up must have enjoyed themselves.

Fighting may be on its way out, but one time-honored pre-game tradition remains: Booing the referees. At least fans can still take out their unhealthy aggression on four middle-aged guys wearing zebra stripes. Now that’s entertainment.

Good move by Tom Renney starting Henrik Lundqvist at home and Kevin Weekes on the road. Renney would probably never admit it, but he had to be thinking about the potential danger of allowing Weekes to face what is quickly becoming a hostile Madison Square Garden crowd.

Weekes disappointed the first time he put on a Rangers jersey, allowing a goal on his first shot in a preseason game against the Islanders. It’s only gotten worse since then. Lundqvist dazzled and won over the fans during a recent hot streak, and Weekes exacerbated the situation with his cryptic, (not) race-related comments earlier this week.

I can confirm all reports that Weekes is an intelligent, likeable guy. But Madison Square Garden will not be a friendly place as long as he struggles and Lundqvist does his best Patrick Roy imitation. Sorry, Kevin. It doesn't have to be fair.

Looking around Nassau Coliseum Thursday, I couldn’t help but notice that a lot of fans have made the decision to buy the Islanders’ very orange third jersey. Am I the only one who wondered if many of them will regret spending $180 on a shirt they’ll be embarrassed to wear, even to a hockey game, in three years? Yikes.

Finally, kudos to the NHL for bringing back the rivalries. Teams in the same division will face each other eight times this year, up from six in past years. It's a good thing, too, because it gives me plenty of time to recoup the money I lost by picking the Rangers to win the first two games.

Three Stars (Islanders):

Jason Blake: He's a pest, but what team wouldn’t love to have him?

Alexei Zhitnik: I figured he was on the downside of a decent NHL career, but he played very well defensively in both games.

Rick DiPietro: Gets a little nutty with the puck sometimes (i.e., forgets he’s wearing pads and a goalie), but is starting to prove he’s an NHL starter. Now about that Boston accent…

Three Stars (Rangers):

Jaromir Jagr: He shoots, he scores. Simple, yet beautiful.

Martin Straka: Very, very fast. Has a chance to be the first NHL player to lead the league in assists without scoring a single goal. (Only 73 games to go!)

Jed Ortmeyer: He’s the poor man’s Blake. Hands of stone, skates like Brent Gretzky, but he hustles and blocks shots all over the ice.

The Final Countdown

10 -- Goals scored this season by Jaromir Jagr. He leads the NHL in goals and points (14)

9 – Hits by Brad Lukowich in the two games. Eight of them came in last night’s 5-4 win.

8 – Points for the Islanders this season. They are tied with the Devils for second in the Atlantic Division.

7 – Goals scored by the Rangers in the two games. The Rangers lead the NHL with 31 goals.

6 – Blocked shots by Janne Niinimaa in Wednesday night’s game at Madison Square Garden. He blocked four more on Thursday night at the Coliseum.

5 – Times Islanders fans chanted ‘--—hole’ during Thursday night’s game.

4 – Goals scored by Jagr in the two games.

3 – Goals (including a shootout goal) scored by Miroslav Satan in the two games. He now has 15 goals all-time against the Rangers.

2 – Assists by Martin Straka in last night’s game. He leads the NHL with 11 helpers.

1 – Point earned by Stan Fischler Thursday night in the Rangers’ popular trivia contest. Sam Rosen ribbed Stan after the game for donating his point to Al Trautwig.

0 – Fighting majors in the two games. But there were at least two in the stands.

By Mark La Monica

Lawyer friend Steve flipped open his camera phone and aimed it at Vincenzo at the goal line.

I followed suit in perfect Kid ’n Play dance routine rhythm.

If Laveraneus Coles or Wayne Chrebet was going to catch a fade pass in the near corner of the end zone, we weren’t about to miss capturing the moment in cellular perpetuity.

Camera phones are not built for long-range photography, but when you’re sitting six rows from the field at Ralph Wilson Stadium in Buffalo, you really don’t care about such short-sighted design. Six rows from the sideline is like living in a zoom lens for a few hours.

Vinny Testaverde, the aforementioned Vincenzo, handed off to Curtis Martin who ran to the opposite side of our seats for a touchdown.

We lost the chance at a bad photo with a great backstory to show friends in bars at a later date. Who cared? The Jets actually scored a touchdown and were within 14-10 late in the second quarter against the Bills.

The Elmont Express was chugging right along and it was just a matter of time before the Jets assumed control of the game, the season, the AFC East.

Little did we know. Soon, we were bumming in Buffalo.

Testaverde became Testaverde in the second half, throwing a nasty pick in the third quarter and a nastier pick in the fourth. In between? A downright ugly fumble that crushed our dreams and put us right back in the Buffalo pit of despair.

They are some engulfing fans, these Bills folks. Lots of Takeo Spikes jerseys. Lots of wool hats. Lots of beer dripping down their chins and being caught by their goatees. A bit stuck on their mustaches.

Imagine staring into that pit on Tatooine that Han Solo and friends were about to be tossed into by Jabba the Hut in “Return of the Jedi.” That’s what looking up from Section 116, Row 6 at Ralph Wilson Stadium felt like to us Jets fans. Only, I think I’d rather be on Tatooine. Princess Leia in that outfit beats all the Jills any day. (The Jills are the Bills’ cheerleaders.)

And here’s the worst part of it all: Lawyer friend Steve and I were sporting no Jets gear. No jerseys. Not hats. Not T-shirts. No gloves. No Testaverde wigs.

We were polite fans. Just there to watch our preferred football team play a game. We spoke intelligently with a fan behind us. He said Testaverde stinks. We agreed. He said the Bills’ defense in the second half stinks. We agreed. I said J.P. Losman is worse than Rob Johnson. He agreed. We established a nice rapport, which is key in hostile territory. Humility is a necessity.

But there’s always one. Or in this case, two.

Two people next to us were battling each other for the intercontinental “That Guy” championship belt. Loud. Obnoxious. Drunk. Rocking the Jets jerseys. Bless their hearts, curse their brains.

Two against a sold-out stadium is just bad math.

Given our geography in Row 6 – Seats 1 and 2 – we were stuck in between seat-locked Jets fans to the left and roaming Bills fans to the right. Think Stone Cold Steve Austin on one side, Mr. McMahon on the other and the little referee stuck in between them. We were the referee. Luckily, the seats were made of plastic, not steel.

When Jonathan Vilma made a big tackle midway through the fourth, the Vilma jersey wearing fella to our left stood up screaming.

Trouble loomed.

“Hey sit down, I’m trying to watch the game,” a Bills fan directly to my right shouted at the top of his lungs.

Sure the Bills were leading 24-17 at the time, but that might be the worst fan taunt of all time. I mean, seriously. That’s just plain awful.

“C’mon guy, you gotta do better than that,” the Jets fan said. “You gotta do better than that!”

I agreed. To myself, that is. No sense inciting a riot, especially with the Jets losing, Ty Law being out of the game, Kevin Mawae being out of the game, Testaverde being in the game and a lovely seven-hour commute awaiting us.

Within minutes, the overtly inebriated Bills fans swarmed. Some guy several rows behind us came running down and deemed it necessary to scream at the Jets fan through my ear. If you’ve never had a drunken Buffalo accent catapulted through your cranium via a drunken Buffalo person, well then you’re just letting the worst thing in life pass you by.

By Mark La Monica

Al Capone. Roxie Hart. Doug Eddings.

The city of Chicago has its next notorious character.

Crime and Broadway weren’t needed this time around. Just some good ol’ fashioned baseball, which is as much a part of Americana as gangsters and musicals.

Eddings’ rise to infamy came about with his questionable call on a third strike in the ninth inning of Game 2 of the American League Championship Series between the White Sox and Angels.

But we’re not here to discuss the call. Enough people have already done that. (Ah, the beauty of 24-hour cable programming.)

Instead, we shall point our comments toward the funniest thing on television not involving Tara Reid partying in random countries on E!

At 12:30 a.m. Friday, ESPN2 re-aired “Quite Frankly” with Stephen A. Smith from Thursday evening. [Note: Stephen A. happens to be a very good journalist and his show is one of the few non-game programs worth watching on any of the ESPN networks, including “The Ocho.”]

Stephen A. starts his show with a segment called “Three and Out” where he does quick-hit sports news items. Tops on that list was Eddings’ call.

Who does Stephen A. trot out to comment on the home plate umpire’s call? Oh yes, that’s right. The arbiter of home-plate umpiring. The beacon of balls and strikes. The king himself. Eric Gregg!

(Turn on inner voice now.)

Did he just write Eric Gregg? . . . He just wrote Eric Gregg!

(Turn off inner voice now.)

Watching Gregg comment about umpiring is like watching someone wash their car in the rain. It’s utterly ridiculous and pointless, but you can’t turn away.

For those whose memories don’t (or no longer) go back that far, let’s take a refresher course.

Gregg was the home plate umpire in Game 5 of the 1997 ALCS between the Florida Marlins and the Atlanta Braves. Livan Hernandez went the distance for Florida, striking out 15 Braves en route to the 2-1 win.

Half those pitches didn’t even finish up on the television screen and Gregg was calling them strikes. It was worse than when Frank Drebin called strikes before the catcher caught the ball in “The Naked Gun.”

"If they want to call strikes on pitches two and three inches outside all day, fine with me. It'll speed up the game," Braves manager Bobby Cox said after that game. "But we had pitches six, seven, 11 inches off the plate."

Gregg refused to budge. He was as strict in his self defense as he was loose in his strike zone.

"The strike zone has been the same for 100 years," he said then. "My strike zone has been like this for 25 years. Did you see anybody throwing helmets? Did you see me eject anybody? Everybody went along well. It was the same for both sides. It was no problem at all."

When the umpires used mass resignation to help spark labor negotiations in 1999 then tried to get their jobs back during the next two years, Gregg was continually rejected. Hmmm?

[This Moment in History: The mass resignation on July 14, 1999, orchestrated by Richie Phillips, then head of the Major League Umpires Association, was the stupidest move in sports labor history, if not all negotiations.]

Fast forward to Oct. 13, 2005, and another umpire’s controversial strike call. Gregg appeared on Stephen A.’s show to defend Eddings. He did, then said the replays were inconclusive, then said the umpiring crew got it right.

Huh?

Rewind!

Gregg appeared on Stephen A.’s show to defend Eddings. He did, then said the replays were inconclusive, then said the umpire crew got it right.

Eight years removed from the worst called game in baseball history, Gregg still can’t get it right. How many arm angles did Stephen A. use to ask these questions?

On Bernie Williams . . .

You should have said, “This man could not throw William “The Refrigerator” Perry out while trying to stretch a routine single into two.” HE WAS AN AVERAGE PLAYER WHO BENEFITED FROM THE WORLD SERIES WINS.
-- Stephen T., New York City

Dear Steve,
Easy does it with the ALL CAPS there, fella. No need to scream. I used to think the same way. Then I went back and looked at his career numbers. He had a five-year stretch of spectacular seasons. Sure, that's partially a byproduct of the lineup, but in those years, Williams was the feared bat. However, I'm still upset about him not taking a pitch in Game 5 of the 1997 ALDS. Paul O'Neill is still clutching onto second base waiting for his hamstrings to catch up to him on that single he made a double.

On the Yankees in general . . .

MVP! MVP! Does it stand for May Valuable Player?
-- Anonymous, Parts unknown

Dear Anonymous,
Such hatred for A-Rod, or as message board visitors prefer: May-Rod. The title of "Mr. May" already belongs to Dave Winfield and that's way too good to reuse on A-Rod. Surely, in time, Alex will earn his own nickname. I suggest the following phrase be prevalent at Yankee Stadium next season: "Now batting for the Yankees . . . third baseman . . . John Starks." A 2-for-15 series from the plate is not much different than a 2-for-19 game from the field.

Nothing better to see the Yankees get beat.
-- Frank T., Parts unknown

Dear Frank,
Four years ago, I'd trace your IP address and come looking for you. I'm more mellow now, a product of advancing age and Atlanta Braves-esque apathy toward the postseason. Plus, I enjoy the fact that I have much less work to do now that the Yanks are out of it. Nonetheless, it's always fun to walk around in the Big Apple and feel the World Series buzz during random parts of the day. But that won't happen this year, so let the Yankee haters rejoice. They really should unionize and throw a parade down 5th Avenue.

On Chad and the Jets . . .

I made the mistake of wearing a Chad Pennington jersey to a Patriots game in Foxboro last year - one of about three green jerseys in the whole place. I was purposely jostled (body-checked would be more accurate) in the beer line and subject to a lot of verbal abuse from above and below.
The people next to me -- three old New Englanders -- gave me some good-natured ribbing throughout the game. The best line: "I don't have to remember where I'm sitting. I just come out and look for Chaaaad!" Go Vinnie.
-- Mark Mahoney, Parts unknown.

Dear Mark,
Best thing to do in that situation is locate the nearest cop, stand behind him then start mouthing off like only a good New Yorker can. I applaud your inner strength for wearing a Jets jersey in New England. I'm sure you were furious over the $35 parking fee. Damn New Englanders! They win a Super Bowl or three and now they think they're Julius Caesar.

Can you think of any way the Jets could have alienated their fans more? Signing a 99-year lease with New Jersey and moving the practice facility there! As a former season ticket holder I refuse to pay $80 a ticket, $15 to park plus the 5 hours worth of gas to get to and from the game. Unfortunately this deal seals the fate of the soon to be New Jersey Jets. This is probably the saddest day in the history of New York Jets fans. I am disappointed in both the team and the NY officials for their inability to agree on stadium plans that would have kept the Jets close to their fan base.
-- John S., West Islip

Dear John,
I feel your pain. Trekking to Jersey to watch the Jets is quite an endeavor. Getting out of the stadium is like trying to taking off wet UnderArmour leggings in less than 10 seconds. Nothing anyone can do about ticket prices except suck it up and pay for the right to watch 4-yard passes on third-and-5. Plus, it's only 8 days a year, and neither one of us will live to see the end of the lease, so let's just enjoy the tailgate.

Just read your weblog on newsday.com and was wondering how you could leave out the guest appearances of such Jets greats as Tony Eason and Glenn Foley.
-- Mike R., Formerly of Ithaca

Dear Mike,
You'd think the foibles of Eason and Foley would be inculcated in my brain! But alas, even the brightest among us need someone to build a bridge to our suppressed painful memories.

On the U.S. Open . . .
Thanks for the humorous words about the US Open. Why are the players wearing the same outfits match after match?
Kerby H., Tulsa, Okla.

Dear Kerby,
Glad to see my humor translates well in Oklahoma! It's really a shame to see the players wear the same outfits each match. This occurs mostly with the women's players, since their fashion gets called into play almost as much as their tennis during the New York fortnight. Personally, I'd enjoy seeing Miss Sharapova mix it up a little more. Then again, I'd enjoy seeing Miss Sharapova in sweatpants, leg warmers, a Sergio Tacchini windbreaker and an Easter bonnet, but hey, that's just me.

On Willie Gault . . .

Just read your June piece about Willie Gault and his track and field prowess. He is also somewhat of a financial whiz it seems. Another thing former pro football players are not known for. He is soon to be part owner of the airline I fly for, Aloha Airlines.
-- Ken C., Former Newsday paperboy 1968-71

Dear Ken,
He practices all day, dances all night, he's gotta get ready for the Sunday flight!

E-mail Mark La Monica

This man walked to the plate in the eighth inning as 56,226 people strained their vocal chords to express their devotion for him.

This man lined out to centerfield, and 56,226 people still strained their vocal chords to express their devotion for him.

This man jogged back to the dugout after making an out for the fourth time in the game, these same 56,226 people lauding him.

The screaming continued. It reached its crescendo when this man – Bernie Williams – came to the top step of the dugout – his dugout – and greeted 56,226 fans with a wave of his arm.

This man may have played his last baseball game in Yankee Stadium. Or, this man may have played his latest baseball game in Yankee Stadium.

We will learn of the Yankees’ fate minutes before midnight Monday when Game 5 of the ALDS concludes in Anaheim. We will of Bernie Williams’ fate as a Yankee in the days and weeks ahead.

The Yankees already declined his option for next season, but Williams can still re-sign with the team, sign somewhere else or retire a Yankee.

He’s a pinstripe lifer, all 15 of his seasons played for the Yankees. In centerfield. As a designated hitter.

Yankees fans have watched Williams grow up. In 1991, he was a scrawny, all-legs outfielder who was fast enough to make Yankee people think he should hit leadoff, but never fast enough to steal bases consistently.

In 1997, he became a Gold Glove-winning centerfielder. In 1998, the American League batting champion. That same season, he won his second Gold Glove and World Series title, becoming the first – and only – baseball player to win those three in the same season.

By the end of this season, Williams ranked in the top seven on the all-time Yankee lists for hits, at-bats, runs, home runs, RBI, doubles, walks and games played.

It’s a testament to his longevity and much as his talent. Since that first game on July 7, 1991, Williams has hit in every position in the lineup.

Watching Williams get benched this season hurt many Yankee fans as much as it did him. It was necessary, though, making it even more painful to watch. Williams may not be the best baseball player, now or ever, but he’s revered in New York and has been a wonderful addition to the history, tradition and legacy that is centerfield for the New York Yankees.

Williams started Game 4 as the designated hitter, a sign of his advancing age and declining ability to perform at a level that made him an All-Star every year from 1997-2001.

In the eighth inning, Williams moved into centerfield. Why Joe Torre puts in a player who is usually taken out in the late innings for defensive reasons is why players love playing for Joe Torre.

The Game 4 crowd chanted “Ber-nie Will-yums!” in a reverent but subdued tone. They wanted to acknowledge Williams for his contributions to this city and their lives. But full acknowledgement meant the Yankees’ season would end either that night or tonight.

Williams went 0-for-4 in Game 4. And he lined out to centerfield in the eighth inning of 3-2 game. He was cheered for making an out. How many Yankees can say that?

E-mail Mark La Monica

Some sights and sounds (and a few thoughts) on Game 3 of the American League Division Series between the Yankees and Angels:

Print people. So glad I am one of them. The television media had to stand in the rain during the pregame as they did their stand-ups.

Green apples. That's all that was left in the complimentary food section for the media when I got there. Guess I missed out on the pre-made turkey sandwich in a box.

Puddles in the dugout. Who cares, I'm in the dugout at Yankee Stadium. Been there before, but I never will fully come to grips with my unworthiness of occupying such a latitudinal place in this world.

The out-of-town scoreboard. CWS 5, BOS 3. That was on the scoreboards the entire night. Ah, sweetness.

The Stadium. It has such a regal presence in October as much as any other month. There really is no place like Yankee Stadium. Even in the rain.

Bad pretzels. A shame, really. For $4, you'd like to think the pretzel would show up and earn its money. Perhaps it's not unlike the starting pitcher for the team whose stadium sold it.

Auxiliary press box. A pretty cool place to watch a game. There's nothing fancy about it. It's the last two sections of the loge section in fair territory of right field with plywood for tables and some power outlets. Great view. Good overhead coverage.

Deafening chants. "MVP! MVP!" when A-Rod stepped to the plate in the exciting fourth inning. "Booooooooo" on a number of occasions when Randy Johnson's pitches hit the Grand Concourse.

Mama La Monica. Wish she were around calling my cellie with "He stinks" and "That's my Derek" and "Why is he still pitching?"

Mama La Monica, part II. I should have known. She had a 6:30 a.m. wakeup call at the hotel in Sorrento, Italy. "Did they win?" No, Mama La Monica, they didn't. "Oh, no, really?" Yeah, Ma. Now go enjoy the rest of Italy.

Bunting. I am again reminded why I've always wanted to hang it in my apartment during the playoffs.

Jimmy Leyritz. The star appeal wore off long ago, but every now and then, I catch myself saying, "Be a professional, not a chickenhead." Walking by Jimmy "The King" Leyritz on my way from the media room to the field was one of those times. I wanted to shake his hand and say thanks for the homer in Game 2 of the 1995 ALDS and the destruction of Mark Wohlers' career in the 1996 World Series, but I refrained. Professionalism must always reign above all else.

Bathroom lines. More than 30 people waited on line for the men's room in the 7th inning. On principle, I left.

Bathroom lines, part II. More than 20 people waited on line for the men's room in the 8th inning. For biology, I stayed.

Straight lines. Several fans in the right-field loge section were not walking in them.

E-mail Mark La Monica

The surprising Rangers are 1-0-1 with three points in their first two games. Here’s a look at how each of their players has performed so far:

JAROMIR JAGR: He may not be the captain, but he is the man. After dominating Wednesday’s game against Philadelphia, he found little open ice against a suffocating Montreal defense. Still, he found a way to get involved, dishing off some nice passes, controlling the puck deep in the Montreal end, and cycling well with linemates Martin Rucinsky and Michael Nylander.

MARTIN STRAKA: Fits in well amongst his Czech counterparts, but needs to reach another level as a scoring threat. Straka has the talent to be the Rangers’ No. 2 sniper behind Jagr. If he and his linemates can establish a presence on the second unit, it will take a lot of pressure off the Jagr one-man show.

MICHAEL NYLANDER: Before the year is out, he’s going to drive some people nuts with his unwillingness to shoot the puck. He’s a terrific playmaker and has great chemistry with Jagr. But please Michael, just once before the end of the season, shoot the puck on goal.

MARTIN RUCINSKY: Rucinsky has so far been pretty much the same player he was during his stay with the Rangers in ’03-04 – smart, heady, and reliable in the offensive zone. He provides a good balance between the playmaking of Nylander and the goal-scoring of Jagr.

MARCEL HOSSA: Showed some good flair with the puck against Montreal and made a nice tip-in in Wednesday night’s win. The former first-round pick clearly has some offensive skills. But the question is, can he keep it up?

STEVE RUCCHIN: He hasn’t looked out of place playing between Straka and Hossa, which is something of an upset when you consider he’s not Czech. He once centered Paul Kariya and Teemu Selanne, so he knows what to do with the puck. He made a nice dish that Jamie Lundmark missed on Thursday night. In the defensive zone and on faceoffs, Rucchin has looked very solid. A good choice by Tom Renney as an alternate captain.

JAMIE LUNDMARK: Nice goal against Philly, but still struggles to assert himself offensively. Had a chance to score against Montreal and missed an empty net. He needs to put those away. In the meantime, he’s been more aggressive physically, which is nice to see.

RYAN HOLLWEG: He’s gotten under the opponents’ skin with his forechecking and aggressive physical play. He’s also taken some penalties, which he’s going to have to cut out if he wants to stay in the NHL.

JASON WARD: You hardly noticed him in the preseason, but he’s quickly established himself as a good penalty killer alongside Blair Betts. He hustles to the puck and is not afraid of contact, making him an ideal third or fourth line winger. The one drawback: He has no elegance to his game, which means he won’t do any scoring.

BLAIR BETTS: Has already proven to be a good faceoff winner and a very good penalty killer. Seems to have a good mind for the defensive game. But again, no offensive instincts whatsoever.

DOMENIC MOORE: He looked nervous and jumpy with the puck at times, but he’s played well defensively. Maybe he’ll relax after scoring a fluky goal to tie the game up on Thursday night.

JED ORTMEYER: To no one’s surprise, Ortmeyer has hustled all over the ice, taken the body well, forechecked, and played unselfishly in his own end. No one expects him to put up any numbers, but he’s been a leader on the Rangers’ energetic third and fourth lines.

FEDOR TYUTIN: The Rangers’ top defensive prospect has been alright – not outstanding – in his first two games of the season. He still seems to be feeling out the new NHL. His level of physical and positional play is down a notch from where it was at the end of the 2003-04 season. But let’s give him some time pick things up.

MICHAL ROZSIVAL: Who? He sat out the preseason with a knee injury, and hasn’t had much of an impact in the first two games. Like to see him do more with the puck on the power play.

TOM POTI: Poti seems out of place on the new Rangers. He’s made some decent passes, and some bad ones. Pretty much what you expect from him.

MAREK MALIK: Did a great job killing penalties on Thursday night, but he’s got zero offensive ability. He’s not a great skater and he’s committed some bad giveaways already. Maybe the Rangers use him strictly as a penalty killer.

DARIUS KASPARAITIS: Another Ranger who seems somewhat out of place on this rebuilt team. He’s thrown some big hits, but he’s committed some lazy penalties. Says here he’ll be playing somewhere else before the end of this year.

JASON STRUDWICK: Everyone who picked him to score the Rangers’ first goal of the season, raise your hands… Yeah, I didn’t think so.

KEVIN WEEKES: Talk about a mixed bag. Weekes has allowed seven goals in two games, but he’s made some big saves with the Rangers trailing in both games to keep them in it. He allowed an OT cheapie on Thursday; but the Rangers don’t get to overtime if Weekes doesn’t stand on his head in the third period of that game.

Some thoughts on Game 1 of the American League Division Series between the Yankees and the Angels:

* Robinson Cano and stud are interchangeable words, unless of course, the conversation is about defense.

* Wonder if the Arizona Diamondbacks scout who said Cano was nothing special is still gainfully employed as an Arizona Diamondbacks scout.

[UPON FURTHER REVIEW: Baseball friend Anonymous reports that this scout is now employed by the Mets, a team that used six different second baseman in 2005. As a group, they hit .254 with 17 home runs and made 18 errors, regardless of position. Cano hit .297, 14 home runs and made 17 errors.]

* How shocked were you when Luis “Send ’em home” Sojo held A-Rod at third in the second inning on Jason Giambi’s liner down the right-field line?

* When will Joe Torre and Mel Stottlemyre understand what the rest of baseball-watching America came to know several years ago? Tanyon Sturtze stinks. A 4.73 ERA for a middle reliever is terrible. A 10-year career with a 5.18 ERA in 784 innings is unemployment-worthy.

* Gary Sheffield is the Karl Malone of Major League Baseball. He’s huge. He continually excels offensively. He gets publicity but is not overtly marketed by the league. One major difference: Sheff has a championship ring.

* Tom Gordon gave up no runs in a postseason relief appearance. That is news!

* Watching former stars age ungracefully is always sad. Bernie Williams not starting in centerfield in the playoffs for the first time ever qualifies, even if you still can’t forgive him for swinging at the first pitch in the ninth inning of Game 5 of the 1997 ALDS against Cleveland after Paul O’Neill – playing with no hamstrings – stretched a single into a double in a one-run game.

Voluntarily stuck in a bar on the north side of Chicago on Saturday afternoon, I cleansed my soul.

Inside Timothy O'Toole's Pub, a wonderfully delightful bar and grille, I cheered for my Yankees to win a baseball game against the Red Sox and clinch an eighth straight American League East division title.

Why is this newsworthy? Simple. Since September started, I have been at the forefront of a one-man revolt against the Yankees. No playoffs for the Yankees meant infinitely less work for myself each October night.

Be careful what you wish for, you just may not get it.

Having been found guilty by a jury of my peers and Mama La Monica of conduct unbecoming a New York Yankees fan, my sentence begins Tuesday night at 8 p.m. The Yankees face the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim of California of the United States of America in Game 1 of the AL Division Series. The pages of Newsday.com will be loaded with stories, sidebars, columns, photos, flash graphics, fan message boards and more. I am responsible for doing this, my penance for conduct unbecoming a New York Yankees fan.

Part of my sentence recommendation by the Baseball District Attorney includes allocution in an open weblog. Here goes:

I never once actively rooted for the Yankees to lose. I never prayed for an A-Rod error with the bases loaded, or a Matsui strikeout with runners on second and third. I never condoned the placement of Alan Embree on the mound at any point in the game.

I merely kept an eye on the standings and checked the in-game box scores for 30 straight days. If the Yankees lost and the Red Sox won, I felt I could live with that.

Who among is now without their flaws? I merely sought a much less stressful October, one full of wondering about the Jets' quarterback woes and little else. I believe we can all relate to the concept of seeking an easier occupational workload for a limited amount of time. Surely, I'm not alone.

View my actions not as treason. I still wore my Yankees hat proudly. The hat I purchased during the magical 1998 season and have yet to replace. Remember John Wetteland's nasty, sweat-, dirt- and pine tar-laden hat from 1996? My hat is that hat on steroids.

I stood in that bar with a group of friends watching the crawl on the top right corner of the screen during the White Sox-Indians game, clapping and cheering each time the number to the right of 'NYY' increased. [Both Yankees-Red Sox and White Sox-Indians were the national game of the week and when you're in Chicago, New York becomes secondary.]

I called Mama La Monica for in-game updates. I huddled around Weatherman friend Mike's cell phone for more info.

I joined in 'Let's go Yankees!' chants with Giants fan Brown, Doctor friend Ese Hombre and Short-yardage specialist friend Pete.

I screamed 'MVP! MVP!' with Party promoter friend Jann and Consultant friend Jason when A-Rod caught that pop-up for the second out in the ninth inning.

I whooped it up in the face of Chicagoans as the Yankees reveled in the face of Bostonians.

I nodded in thanks toward The Lovely Tracy, wife of Short-yardage specialist friend Pete, who understood my plight and expressed her happiness and condolences.

Your honor, with the Yankees in the playoffs, I assure you and the fans across this great nation that my allegiance is in its proper place. I shall root for the Yankees to hammer the Angels into oblivion and return the favor from 2002.

Bring on Vlad Guerrero. We'll make him look like Wilton Guerrero before the series is over. Bartolo Colon? Bartolo Colonoscopy!

E-Mail Mark La Monica