Hello, readers. This is Lastings Milledge. Lastings has gotten lots of press since he’s come up to the bigs. Lastings thought he’d get lots of press, as he’s had a great minor league career so far, and is bound to do great things in the majors. But the press Lastings has got isn’t the type of press Lastings thought he’d get. Seems like the press is waiting for Lastings to come correct for some misdeeds he’s perpetrated of late. Therefore, Lastings would like to come clean and apologize to everyone and anyone that feels they need an apology.

First and foremost, Lastings would like to apologize for high-fiving fans in the 11th inning of a game that was still up for grabs. Lastings didn’t realize that getting fans involved in the game was a bad thing, and would like to apologize to all the old veterans to whom such a friendly reach-out move would never even occur. Lastings would also like to apologize to readers of New York papers for all the commotion this fan-friendly move has caused in the papers. Lastings knows readers would prefer their sports writers to cover real sports stuff instead of big noisy nonsense like me making an innocent well-intentioned rookie mistake. Lastings knows that the road to Hell is paved with those sorts of intentions, and he would like to keep Satan’s DOT out of work for a long time.

Lastings also knows it’s tough for sportswriters to have to stop covering their regular beat to talk about things like innocent rookie mistakes. Lastings knows that if he was a sports writer, he’d want to talk about new things at every opportunity instead of beating things like Barry Bonds and steroids and rookie mistakes and other old stories back into the ground. However, Lastings also knows that writers have an obligation to do their best to cover a story to its fullest, and can understand why certain folks are giving Lastings’ story the headlice exam treatment. And Lastings is real sorry about that, for everyone involved.

While we’re here, Lastings would also like to apologize for the following things that sports writers have to talk about when talking about Lastings Milledge. Lastings apologizes for:

• having sex with a 13 year old girl that was two years younger than him; it’s a crime, and it’s a terrible terrible thing to do to a girl, and knows that no one that’s commented on this issue would ever do such a thing (especially now).

• buying a Hummer; Lastings realizes he is killing the environment, and will do everything in his power to rectify this as soon as Lastings can get to a dealer (preferably one endorsed by the New York Mets). However, Lastings will, under no circumstances, purchase a hybrid, as he feels those types of cars are for tree-hugging nerds that wouldn’t know what to do with a car if it was made of hemp.

• wearing a doo-rag; Lastings should know better than to make such a fashion faux-pas. Be happy to know, folks, that Lastings has forged a life-long friendship with Rickey Henderson (thanks to his involvement with the Mets with spring), and will be going shopping with Rickey when our schedules permit (either before or after Lastings gets a new car) (and when or if Rickey gets paid).

• wearing big gold hooptie-sized jewerly; it would be beneath Lastings to blame this on hip-hop, as Lastings is a great fan of hip-hop (especially the “crunk” and “gangsta” variety), but it’s true that Lastings was a big fan of Big Daddy Kane when he was a young man (before he started having sex with teenagers as a teenager). Lastings, however, feels that comparing his jewerly to Flavor Flav clocks is inappropriate, as Flavor Flav is wack as wack can get and stands second only to the-now-looney-tunes KRS-One in the Hip-Hop Glue Factory line.

• swaggering and “working on his own schedule”; Lastings has a slight hitch in his giddy-up (as Mr. Milledge would call it) that causes him to look like he’s cocky and full of himself, when it’s really a serious medical condition that causes him severe discomfort and makes him perpetually late. This is why Lastings pulled a Pedro in Spring Training. Lastings will get to a doctor to get this checked out when he can, and will work to make sure this is no longer a problem. The last thing Lastings wants to do is lose the respect of his peers and most importantly the New York press.

• spiking the son of Atlanta Braves GM John Schuerholz, whose name he can’t be bothered to remember because Lastings needs to get figure out what he’s having for lunch. If Lastings was a real Met (like those guys Rickey was teammates with that wore the ice cream helmet on their heads all the time, or former Met great John Franco), he would’ve gone for the throat, or even clotheslined or bodyslammed the third basemen into submission or traction. Instead, Lastings punked out like Shawn Estes against Roger Clemens, and (of course) apologizes to fans and teammates for such an unmanly action.

• throwing out Craig Counsell at home plate; Lastings doesn’t mean to show up any veterans when he takes the field, and hopes Mr. Counsell will recognize that Lastings realizes he made a big mistake in getting a respected ballplayer like Mr. Counsell tagged out at home by at least 10 feet. Next time, Lastings will make sure to hold onto the ball or make a throwing error so no feelings are hurt. These apologies will also be extended to Mr. Armando Benitez (a former Met that deserves more respect than I showed him) and any other pitchers I inadvertently get run-scoring extra-base hits off of. Lastings will consult with his teammates Endy Chavez and Kazuo Matsui, and try to single from here on out. You have his word, which is bond.

• being young and black. Lastings realizes that these are two things about himself that potentially lose the Mets lots of fans of the elderly, racist, or elderly racist persuasion. Lastings would change his skin color if he could, but feels using face paint or some other skin-coloring agents would either look like an insult to those folks he’s trying to appease, or cause severe acne and make him look like a chocolate Edward James Olmos. Lastings would like to tell the ageist folks, however, that he’ll be as old as Julio Franco (or at least Gerald “Ice” Williams) soon enough, and urges these fans to be patient.

There are probably more things Lastings could apologize for, and probably more things that he’ll do that will need apologies. But Lastings wants fans to know that he is here to help the Mets win games, and will do everything in his power to make sure that the focus on Lastings Milledge is in this context and this context only. Lastings will see you at the ballpark!

Look alive, Junior – I’m Izzy Mandelbaum, personal trainer to the stars, and I’m here to talk to you tubby turkies about physical fitness. You might remember me sticking it to that no-talent chucklehead Jerry Seinfeld. Now I’m sticking it to Major League Baseball, and they never had it so good. See that picture up there? That was me last week in the Keys hunting Great Whites. I’m 94 years old, and I run 10 miles every day before breakfast, and then I do 1000 push-ups. One-handed. With no break – cool downs are for Girl Scouts. And then I hit the gym for some cardio and weights. And then I run another 10 miles before I go to bed. Don’t talk to me about Jack Lalanne. Jack Lalanne is a pansy. You think he knows fitness? I betcha that butterball couldn’t pick up a cellphone without a forklift. That’s why I was hired by the San Francisco Giants, and that old flapper’s wrappin’ his gums around some strained peas. Don’t forget to change the colostomy bag, Jackie boy.

You hear all this mumbo jumbo about steroids and weight gainers and B-12 shots. Save that hogwash for the science fiction stories, Junior. I’m about natural fitness the way God intended, and that involves pain, something kids today just don’t get. I was raised in the shadow of WWI and Nazi Germany. Those are times that’ll test a man’s intestinal fortitude, and they made the US the envy of the world. Back then, life was good. The air was clean. Food was fresh. Bread was white. And you didn’t have all these drug addicts running around in Hollywood like a bunch of jackrabbits humping everything in sight. But nowadays, with your fancy Internet and your TV sets and your rock and roll music and your fancy-pants Cibula bread, no one knows the first thing about being a man. Well, I’m here to set you little pantywaists straight. It’s go time.

Let me tell you what I have these Fatty Arbuckles on the Giants doing every day. I start them off with windsprints. For a full hour. Carrying cement blocks. Feel that burn, Matheney? That’s all those Twinkies finally turning into muscle. Then I start with the medicine ball. I get those guys like Vizquel and Fassero tossing that thing back and forth at sixty feet. In another few years, they might be able to see their feet when they bend over to tie their shoes. If their pants don’t split. Then it’s time for something I like to call Grandpa’s Miracle Wonder Tonic Juice – it’s a mix of castor oil, egg white, garlic powder, some anise extract, and a secret Mandelbaum ingrediant I ain’t sharing with you loose lipped ratfinks. Took these spoiled little starlets a few weeks before they got over the gag reflex, but now they choke it down and ask for seconds. Hell, Moises asks for thirds!

That kid’s got spunk, lemme tell you. People give Moises a lot of grief for the whole peeing on the hands thing, but I respect him for that. It might seem like a weird radical thing to a lot of you highfalutin’ sushi-eating latte-sippers, but frankly I don’t think he goes far enough. Lemme tell you about Stan Musial, who we used to call “Ol’ Scat-N-Spit” … nah, you’re not men enough to hear that story. Maybe some other time when the backs of your ears ain’t greener than a policeman’s pizzle.

As for that other fancy Dan on the team – you know, the one with the big fancy chair and all the big fancy homeruns – it ain’t no surprise he’s all talk. He’s trying to tell me that Barry doesn’t need ol’ Izzy telling him what to do like he’s not talking about himself. And I tell him I ain’t takin’ that guff from some no-talent sticky johnson unless he can prove that he’s got what it takes. So I tell him, you think you’re better than me, you do more squat thrusts than me, and you can stick your can in a crock pot if you want. And that pansy didn’t even get to 500 before his knee gave out. Boo-hoo, Mrs. Bonds. And then he uses that as an excuse to miss a few spring training games. Lemme tell you – Mickey Mantle didn’t even have two legs to stand on for most of his career. He got shanked by some drain grate in centerfield, turned his knee into matzoh ball soup, and only went on to become a Hall of Fame player. That Bonds guy couldn’t fetch Mick’s ice if he was behind the bar and wearing a bowtie. And folks wonder why no one watches baseball any more.

Izzy Mandelbaum is the co-founder of Magic Pan Restaurants. His newest book – Dentures Are For Dandies – will be published by Pendant Publishing in January 2007.

Dear Baseball:

I would like to publically apologize for what I am being blamed for by Mr. Steinbrenner for throwing out both managers in Sunday’s important Blue Jays / Yankees game. I realize that these games in April are of great importance to both teams especialy the Yankees who need every win they can get even when they win. But please note that I was not playing favorites as I rung up Blue Jays manager John Gibbons also for doing the same thing. But I imagine the Blue Jays owner is thinking things like this too even if he is too busy to say anything because he’s busy doing owner stuff. I realize that it is hard to give a rookie like me a chance to succeed because it is a Catch 22 with experience not coming without experience and rookies having none.

But I would like to say that it is standard operating procedure for an umpire to ring up managers that argue balls and strikes because those are judgement calls I must make as an umpire. This is what we are taught in umpire school and it is drilled into us when we umpire games from home plate. Having managers flagrantly question my authority on these judgement calls is a slight against my authority as an umpire so I need to show them that they should respect my authority even if they think I have none. Whether I am right or wrong I am the final authority on these matters and should only be questioned in a certain way that is respectful of my position as the authority on calls like balls and strikes. I would not go so far as to say we are the law or the game but we are the ones that ultimately determine what will happen in a game and as such have a very hard job that isn’t made easier when we’re assaulted verbally by managers that think they can do our job. If they could do our job they should do our job and see how hard it is to do our job that they think we can’t do.

This has been a rough time for umpires of late especially because players are feeling free to flip bats at us for what they think are questionable calls. We are spit at or insulted repeatedly and it is part of the game but it is also something that we shouldn’t have to deal with. And it makes our job that much more difficult especially with machines in addition to players and managers and press reporters judging us repeatedly. It is getting to the point that I don’t even think about these sorts of things like blown strike calls and missed outs because thinking about them too much makes me dwell on things I might have done wrong and limits my ability to do my job effectively. (I know I am only a rookie so I can only speak for myself but I feel like I know what my umpiring brothers have gone through all these years so please keep this in mind when I am talking for myself and everyone that I work with.)

Anyway, I am sorry for doing my job to the best of my ability that people think isn’t enough and I am sorry to Mr. Steinbrenner for making him think that I can’t do my job and also to future managers or people that think I can’t do my job any better than a one-eyed donkey or their dead uncle. I can only give what I have to give every time I go out on the field and I only wish that people could understand this better so us umpires would be able to do our job in peace. We’re working stiffs too, you know, and we punch the clock the same as anyone working in a sheet metal plant or at a Chick-Fil-A. I hope that the next time we meet on the baseball field we can meet as friends or at least contientious co-workers that hate each other’s guts but act professional about it when called for. Thanks for your time.

Sincerely,
Umpire Adam Dowdy

I don’t know if you folks have been paying attention to the calendar, but it was one year ago today that I kicked off this whole Yard Work thing. We’ve come a long way since that E$PN-sponsored Blogspot site, and I’d just like to take the opportunity to thank everyone that’s written for us, and read us, for all their support and great work. Next to being able to retire as a lifetime .300 hitter, and do it with honor, this is the proudest I’ve ever been of anything I’ve done. Well, there was that World Series, but we screwed that pooch – thanks again, Mild Thing! Anyway, this ain’t Steel Magnolias, and I sure ain’t Julia Roberts, or even Doris Roberts, so let’s get down to business.

I have one question to ask the big-market Boston Red Sox: how does it feel to know you traded away the 2006 NL Cy Young Award winner and MVP? I mean, seriously, what were they thinking? When I heard that Theo (or whoever was GMing while Theo was in his gorilla suit) traded away Bronson Arroyo for Wily Mo Pena, I knew the Reds were going to make out like bandits in the deal. But what I didn’t know is how much they were going to make out like bandits! This is some Ocean’s Eleven-type of pickpocketing going on (speaking of Julia Roberts). This is actually the sort of stuff the Red Sox used to be known for, back when they were stealing guys like Jason Varitek and Derek Lowe and Dante Bichette.

But what’s Bronson Arroyo done for the Reds? Well, gee, how does a 4-0 record with a 2.34 ERA and almost a K an inning sound? Sounds pretty good, right? Sounds even better when you get that production in a trade where you give up a 4th outfielder. And when that guy you trade for acts like Babe Ruth at the plate, then it’s freakin’ unreal. When’s the last time a PITCHER had a slugging percentage of .615? 1918? That’s just stupid. Guys like Barry Bonds and Manny Ramirez would kill to be able to hit like that. And, to add to this, both those homers came against their longtime divisional rival, the Chicago Cubs. That’s clutch.

You can bet for sure that he’s the biggest reason the Reds find themselves only a half-game behind Houston in the NL Central. And that’s why he’s going to sweep the board come October when it’s time to hand out the hardware. Now, folks might think I’m jumping the gun here, thinking this guy’s going to continue on his winning ways. Yeah, sometimes these early season performances are just flukes. But guys that know the game have an eye for this sort of thing, and I can tell by the confidence he exudes on the mound and at the plate that this isn’t a fluke. Some guys take a while to find themselves and become what they can be, and looking at what he’s done so far, Bronson’s no different than late bloomers like Travis Hafner and Ken Caminiti and Lenny Dykstra.

This guy’s been a second banana on a team chock full of talent for a long time. He got jerked around between the bullpen and starting rotation for lots of years, playing the role of the team guy, not wanting to rock the boat. Now he’s finally getting a chance to shine like he’s headlining his own stadium rock tour with the Fabulous Thunderbirds. He’s in the spotlight, and he’s ripping off 15-minute guitar solos like it’s nobody’s business. And that’s what you want from a Cy Young Award winner. And an MVP. And I can’t see how Bronson will not win both, at this rate. You can count on it.