Really?
After the Flyers and Rangers played Game 1, last night, the best the NHL, NBC and Madison Square Garden could do was a Game 2, three days later, starting at noon on a Sunday — Easter Sunday? Really?
It’s not as if the Knicks needed the floor. And it’s not as if NBC doesn’t own other national networks on which to air Sunday’s other NHL playoff games.
The NHL couldn’t have told NBC, “Noon is ridiculously, disrespectfully too early to play on Easter Sunday”? NBC couldn’t have demonstrated there are, in fact, some things TV money prefers not to buy? Was there a need, in this case, for the separation of church and freight?
Reader Matthew T. Hardy: “I’m going to send a registered letter to Dolan — not Jimmy Dolan, but to Archbishop Timothy Dolan. I’m going to ask if we can celebrate Easter Sunday on Saturday night so we can watch the game.”
Tuesday on WOR AM, Howie Rose, working the Mets’ game from Arizona, said he was having a problem reporting who was pitching in other games because every player’s number on the scoreboard was coming up as No. 42, as per the anniversary of Jackie Robinson’s first game in the majors. Really.
Once again, MLB had proven that anything worth doing is worth badly overdoing, that it again had over-egged its pudding.
On April 15, 1947, Robinson played first base in the Dodgers’ 5-3 win over the Braves at Ebbets Field. He did not play every position. That was Bugs Bunny, “First base, Bugs Bunny, second base, Bugs Bunny …”
Had MLB, as a matter of historical and useful educational context — not to mention common sense — instead had every starting first baseman wear 42, then, instead of spending tens of thousands of dollars to dress every player, coach and manager in a No. 42, that jersey money could have been donated to the Jackie Robinson Foundation for scholarships.
On Wednesday night, Yankee Stadium was so empty for Game 2 of “the historic” Cubs-Yankees series that when Chicago infielder Starlin Castro hollered an expletive after popping up a 3-1 pitch, he was so loudly and clearly heard, he could have been in Michael Kay’s lap. Really.
Moments later on WWOR-TV, Kay encouraged us to watch the YES postgame, during which YES’ experts would “break down” both games the Yankees had played — a 3-0 and a 2-0 win.
Really?
How much “breaking down” would that entail? I’d rather have heard that they were going to “make it up” than “break it down.” Really.
In the afternoon game, bottom of the fourth, Alfonso Soriano hit a high fly down the first-base line that fell foul — but not by much. On YES, the last time we saw Soriano after he hit that ball, he was standing near home, watching.
Soriano ended that at-bat by swinging at a ball in the dirt. Then he was courteous enough to just stand there, waiting for the catcher to tag him out. He didn’t even make a move toward first that might have forced a throw.
But on YES, Al Leiter, who until then had analyzed nearly every pitch to the quarter-inch, apparently didn’t see either of Soriano’s least-he-could-do run-damentals. Leiter either missed both or chose to ignore them.
Oh, well, as in the case of Robinson Cano, the media will identify Soriano’s minimalist habits after he leaves the Yankees.
During the same telecast, Leiter blessed MLB’s new, expanded replay rules in part because those in MLB’s video command center are professional umpires. Really? Really. But who are the guys on the field, volunteers? The Four Tops?
Is this what MLB replay rule advocates had in mind? Was this MLB’s intention, or, like the NFL’s Frankenstein creation, has this rule already turned on its creator?
Again, what was supposed to provide instant cures to egregiously incorrect calls has been lost to protracted, microscopic, freeze-frame inspections of extremely close calls. The unintended use of new replay rules has — and predictably — become its most frequent application.
Really.
Also, predictably, the manager now must vacate his dugout to slowly approach the umps before arguing, thus stalling as someone inside views the tape, then determines if it’s worth a shot, then relays his decision back to the dugout and then to the manager, who now argues with umps by trying to position them so he can face his dugout in order to see the relayed sign.
And the folks on TV and radio, immersed in “getting it right” speeches and impractical ideals, continue to miss or ignore the point: Is this what everyone wanted from this new replay rule? Is this really what MLB had in mind? Is this how we want to watch baseball the rest of our lives? Really?
Predictable, too, have been the NFL-like discussions while awaiting the review outcomes, things such as: “Well, there has to be conclusive evidence to reverse the call, and I don’t think there is,” to which the sidekick agrees. But then the call’s reversed, surprise is expressed, the entire game changes, and then, back to the game. It’s all forgotten.
But these same fellas, the next game, repeat that they like replay because “it’s important to get it right.” Really?
Anyway, the Knicks signed Lamar Odom. Really. Needed him to mentor J.R. Smith. And the 38-44 Hawks made the NBA playoffs; the 48-34 Suns didn’t. Really.
Bubba’s wild save on crucial hole
Lost in Bubba Watson’s second green jacket (but seen on TV) is how, on just one hole, he tried to blow the Masters — make double or triple — but fate wouldn’t allow it.
On Saturday during Round 3, on the tee at 18, he hooked his drive into the trees (he’s a lefty). Yet, his ball hit a tree (“found a tree” in TV-speak), then wound up in the fairway (“found the fairway”).
Watson next hit his approach far left. But it bounced off some folks (“patrons”), then stopped (“came to rest”) close to the green. Watson then chipped to roughly 8 feet past the hole, leaving a tough, breaking downhill putt for (“to card a”) par.
But Watson caught his third big break in the hole when John Senden chipped even further past the hole, but on the same line. Watson got a perfect read off Senden’s putt, then made his putt (“well-holed” it) to save four.
We, who comprise golf’s common corps, know this as the kind of thing that only happens to us and for the other guy.