Home Run Apple headed to DL?

At first, the Mets said it was nothing. The Home Run Apple just needed a few seconds to reset, that's all. Now management is hoping that the All-Star break and following road trip will give the Apple enough time to heal and avoid the disabled list.

Already the finger-pointing has begun. Some claim that that the Home Run Apple felt pain when it rose for Brian Schneider's homer, but the Mets sent it right out there again when Fernando Tatis hit one out two batters later. They say the Apple tried to do too much too soon.

Others blame the Home Run Apple's conditioning, noting that The Apple's outfield home is dangerously close to Shake Shack.

Now the Mets are frantically searching for a supersize MRI machine. And the Home Run Apple plans to get a second opinion from a specialist in microfracture surgery.

The Mets appear to have no interest in bringing the old Home Run Apple back. In fact, the once-beloved local icon is on the verge of signing with the rival Phillies.

If the Home Run Apple is out for any length of time, the Mets may have to look for help outside the organization. Don't expect any help from the farm system - Buffalo's Home Run Grape has been on the shelf since May.

The lost weekend: Yankees get touched by the Angels

This is one weekend I'm glad I didn't get to see much of the Yankee games. What a nightmare. Especially given that the Mets won two out of three of the Reds series, and Squawker Jon is preening.

Then again, his team's vaunted Home Run Apple had a wardrobe malfunction. What's the deal on that?

So now we head to the All-Star break. And three Yankees - Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter, and Mark Teixeira - are representing the Bombers in the game. I'm so glad that voters picked Teix over Youk!

Squawker Jon saw a headline about how Dustin Pedroia begged off the All-Star team due to personal reasons. Jon sardonically suggested that my campaign against Pedroia for the All-Star team depressed Dustin so much, that he couldn't face playing! Actually, Pedroia is taking care of his pregnant wife. But I'd like to think he was also anguished that I can't stand him!

On a completely different note, I'm looking forward to finishing "Munson," the great book by Marty Appel about the Yankee catcher. You can read an excerpt of the book here.

What do you think? Leave us a comment!

Same stuff, different day: Yanks lose again to the Angels

It's getting ridiculous. How many times are we going to see the Yankees lose to the Angels? And to have them blow a four-run lead?

When you have two of your players - Eric Hinske and Alex Rodriguez - each hit two homers, you should win the game. But the Angels seem to have the Yankees' number. Not cool.

It's like "Groundhog Day" or something. Sheesh.

When is Joba Chamberlain going to get his attitude adjustment?

Note to Joba Chamberlain - nobody wants to hear about how the other team has good hitters. Especially when two of the Angels' best hitters - Vladimir Guerrero and Torii Hunter, are on the disabled list.

In addition to the long slog Joba games have become, it's getting frustrating seeing him give up a big hit right after somebody makes an error. It seems to happen every game Chamberlain pitches these days.

But what's nearly as frustrating as Joba's pitching are his delusional postgame comments. Each time he has one of these lousy outings, he tips his hat to the other team, and insists his stuff is terrific. And bet your bottom dollar, he will tell us about how the sun will come out tomorrow. For the second start in a row, he channeled Annie:

"There's no excuses, but what are you going to do about it?" Chamberlain said. "You can't change it. The sun will come up tomorrow and I'll be the same person I was the day before."

That's what I'm afraid of!

Unlike other young players, who seem to - shocker - learn from their mistakes, Chamberlain seems to have regressed this year. And what makes it all the more disturbing is that he seems to think he's doing great.

And no matter who is doing the catching, whether it be Jorge Posada, Francisco Cervelli, or Jose Molina, Chamberlain seems to do the same annoying nibbling. Good grief.

In the second inning, Chamberlain threw (29!) pitches, but didn't seem to think it was a big deal:

“In the second, I mean, they only scored one run,” he said. “I think I walked one guy that inning. They just went deep in the count and they put their plan together.”

What's Chamberlain's game plan, other than nibbling and being in denial? He needs a new one, and soon.

Speaking of Yankee disappointments, What's up with Brian Bruney? He's been horrible since coming back from the DL.

What do you think? Leave us a comment!

Mutts and Jeff: The Francoeur trade

It's becoming a tradition - when a team gives up on a highly-touted young player, they send him away for Ryan Church.

First the Mets traded Lastings Milledge for Church and Brian Schneider. Now the Braves have acquired Church for Jeff Francoeur. In both cases, the flashy young player's star had fallen so far that his team was willing to trade him within the division.

When the Mets traded Milledge after the 2007 season, they probably had no chance of getting Francoeur, only a year older than Milledge but coming off back-to-back 100-RBI seasons during which he hit a total of 48 homers. Now Milledge has been sent to the minors and traded yet again, while the Mets have Francoeur and Schneider to show for him.

So from the point of view of the Milledge deal, this latest deal is a good one. But it is far from clear that the Mets would not have been better off keeping Church, who hit .307 in 75 at bats in June and was one of the few solid parts of the lineup - that is, when Jerry Manuel deigned to play him.

Trading Church for Francoeur is a desperate gamble. The Mets badly need a power hitter, but Francoeur's 29-homer season was three years ago. Last year, Church actually out-homered Francoeur, 12 to 11. And Francoeur had twice as many at bats as Church - 599-319. Omar Minaya touts Francoeur's arm and defense, but Church was strong enough on defense that the Mets sometimes used him in center.

Ryan Church got a raw deal with the Mets when they mishandled his concussions. Then he seemed to end up in Jerry Manuel's doghouse. Let's hope this move was exclusively to improve the team and not in part to get rid of Church.

But desperate times do call for desperate measures, so gambling on the upside of Francoeur may not be that bad an idea. You never know when a team gives up on a young player too soon.

Friday's Pittsburgh Post-Gazette reported that the Giants were apparently willing to trade pitcher Jonathan Sanchez to the Pirates for second basemen Freddy Sanchez. The Giants had dropped Sanchez from the rotation and the article described him as a reliever.

Last night, Sanchez was summoned back to the rotation after three weeks in the bullpen because Randy Johnson was placed on the DL. And he pitched a no-hitter. Bet the Giants are not trading him now!

Sanchez, by the way, is a young lefthander who gets a lot of strikeouts but gives up a lot of walks. Kind of like another young player whose team gave up on him - and traded him to the Mets.

It's been three years since Omar Minaya acquired Oliver Perez and saw him follow a 3-13 season by going 15-10 the following year. Even the prospect of a similar turnaround from Francoeur has already made this dismal season more interesting.

Yankees are in first place - for now at least

Getting ready to watch the first-place Yankees - at least for today - play against the Angels tonight. How cool that is to see that, even if the Bombers do have to share that title with the Boston Red Sox.

I missed most of yesterday's win (I went to see the movie "Up"), so I don't have much to say about it. It is amazing, though, how much the Yanks have dominated the Twins this year.

Did see that the Yanks are bringing back up Mark Melancon, and sending down Jonathan Albaladejo. If it were up to me, I would DFA Brett Tomko instead. Bu that's me.

As for the potential of the Yankees to trade for Roy Halladay, I just don't see it happening. The Yanks would have to give up the likes of Joba Chamberlain, Phil Hughes, and Austin Jackson, and that would probably be just for starters!

What do you think? Leave us a comment!

Make Daniel Murphy lineup follies more fan-friendly

What does Daniel Murphy have to do to get a chance to stay in the lineup? Even after a great game on Wednesday night, he finds himself on the bench because Jerry Manuel keeps trying to recapture last year's magic with Fernando Tatis.

Manuel cannot use the Dodgers starting lefty Randy Wolf last night as an excuse. Murphy is hitting .281 this year against lefties, as opposed to .237 against righties.

Nobody is saying Murphy is the next Albert Pujols. But at least give him consistent playing time to give him a chance to show what he can do. Fernando Martinez got that opportunity, even when it was clear that he was not ready to stay in the majors.

As long as Manuel seems to be pulling lineups out of a hat, why not turn it into a fan event? Put the names of all of the possible first basemen and outfielders into a hat, and the first four pulled out get to start. Manuel can decide what positions they play and where they bat in the order - he is the manager, after all.

Or the Mets could turn the scoreboard truck race into a battle for playing time between Murphy, Tatis and Nick Evans.

I would suggest having the Mets do their own version of the Milwaukee sausage race, in which Murphy, Tatis and Evans race around the field in a battle to get in the lineup, but knowing this team, somebody would pull a hamstring.

Farewell to Francisco Cervelli - for now, at least

Since Jose Molina was activated before last night's game, Francisco Cervelli was sent to AAA. The catcher, who had never played above AA until this year, made quite the impression with Yankee fans, including this one. I'm very sad to see him get sent down. It was great to have his youthful energy and catching smarts on this team.

Fellow blogger New York Sports Jerk writes:

... the Yankees hate using kids as backups at the Major League level, which is why 33-year-old Cody Ransom is allowed to make error after error without contributing at all with the bat, while Ramiro Pena is down in Scranton for "seasoning."

What the Yankees should be doing is evaluating which players make their 2009 team better.

While at least Molina is a very good backup catcher, Cody Ransom is terrible. Since this is a win-now team, I don't understand why Pena doesn't have the chance to play up here. His contributions to the team are much better than Ransom can provide. Yeah, Pena can play every day in Scranton, but the Yankees are a better team with him than with Ransom. And I'd rather see one of the Yanks' young arms get a chance over Brett Tomko.

Are the Yankees better with Molina or Cervelli? I think the case can be made for either of them. I like Molina, but if the Yanks could use him in a trade, I'd be okay with that. Ransom and Tomko, on the other hand, need to hit the bricks.

* * *

Missed the first half of last night's game - we went out to dinner at Bob'z Ribz on Staten Island. I was excited to see A.J. Burnett continue to pitch well, even when he didn't have his best stuff. How great is it to have a one-two punch of aces like CC Sabathia and Burnett?

Speaking of aces, hope Alfredo ACEves pitches like one today!

Book Excerpt: 'Munson: The Life and Death of a Yankee Captain'

If you're looking for some great baseball reading this summer, pick up a copy of Munson: The Life and Death of a Yankee Captain by Marty Appel. Even if you think you knew all there was to know about Munson, you'll learn more from this book.

Thanks to Doubleday, we're doing our first-ever Subway Squawkers book excerpt. Here's the first chapter of Munson: The Life and Death of a Yankee Captain:

Baseball wasn't cool in the 1960s.

During the "Summer of Love" not many young people were talking about Carl Yastrzemski. No one at Woodstock wondered whether the Mets could really go all the way. Few among my friends were particularly impressed when I took a summer job answering Mickey Mantle's fan mail for the Yankees in 1968. And it was the same when I was offered, and accepted, a full-time position in the public relations department midway through my senior year in 1970.

I was one of two people in my college who subscribed to The Sporting News (my roommate was the other)--but I couldn't watch baseball on Sundays in the fall when the one TV in the dorm was tuned to the NFL--even during the World Series!

As Mantle, Banks, Clemente, Mays, Aaron, Mathews, Maris, Killebrew, Koufax, Drysdale, and Colavito moved toward the twilight of their careers, few stars appeared to replace them. The mid- to late sixties gave us Reggie Jackson, Johnny Bench, and Tom Seaver, but not many other attention-getters.

But then, in the midst of this decidedly uncool period of baseball, the once proud Yankees, now mediocre and dull, found a player named Thurman Lee Munson to proudly take them to their tomorrows.

Thurman was a throwback; a lunch-bucket kind of guy who was all jock and no rock. He wasn't going to win over New York by being Joe Namath or Clyde Frazier. He liked Wayne Newton music and, in what was arguably the worst-dressed decade of the twentieth century, the 1970s, he was the worst of the worst. His wardrobe featured clashing plaids and checks made of the finest polyester. Socks were optional.

It was an everyman look that went with his regular-guy demeanor. He liked to pump his own gas, even in New Jersey, where you weren't allowed to, and even when he became famous. On occasion, thinking he was the attendant, someone would pull up next to him and say, "Fill 'er up"--and he would! He'd pump the guy's gas, collect payment, and hand it to the station manager. I was with him one day when he even washed a guy's windshield while filling up his gas tank. I suspect the guy drove away thinking, That gas station guy looked a lot like Thurman Munson.

No, cool wasn't his game. He was going to win them over the old-fashioned way--with gritty determination and a focus on respecting the game and playing it with heart. He would honor the tradition of the Yankees and wear the uniform dirty and proud, and would not tolerate mediocrity from his teammates. He would restore the Yankees to their prominence in the sports universe, the place they occupied when all seemed right in the world.

We would fall in love with his game and realize, watching him, that cool didn't have to count in baseball. Thurman Munson made it a virtue to be uncool, winning over the young and the hip with his decidedly unhip approach to his profession.

He wasn't Mickey Mantle--he wasn't born with those looks or that body, or that particular style that made "the Mick" a pinup boy for baby boomers. But he was Mantle's heir. Mickey retired in spring training of 1969. Munson made his debut later that season, giving the Yankees continuity in their ongoing parade of stars.

By 1970, my first year as assistant public relations director, New York had begun to latch on to his Ohio grit and guts. And since my career began along with his, he would become "my guy," the player I would grow up with in the Yankee organization, the one I'd write about and collaborate with.

I loved watching Thurman Munson play baseball. He just knew how to play the game, knew how to win the game, knew how to lead. He was grumpy but he had a great sense of humor and a magnificent sense of self. He was the kind of guy you wanted to be friends with.

As kids we had the same glove. His first glove was made by Hutch, as was mine. When I asked him whose model it was, the coincidence broadened--we both used the same model, a Billy Goodman infielder's glove. I remembered mine as a pancake that didn't really fold to trap the ball; he remembered his as a "good old mitt." Clearly, he made better use of his than I did of mine.

I was there when he made his first appearance at Yankee Stadium in August 1968, when the Yankees brought the Binghamton team to the stadium to play Waterbury, Connecticut. While some of his Binghamton Triplet teammates like Steve Kline and Frank Tepedino walked out to the monuments in center field for a look, Thurman was detained near the infield for some media interviews and photographs. He was clearly the guy everyone wanted to see.

At one point, he just decided to walk over to the Yankee clubhouse and say hello to Mickey Mantle. What the hell. The other guys could look at monuments to dead guys. Thurman would say hello to a future monument, still living.

Mantle, in the final weeks of his eighteen-year career, was seated on his stool by his corner locker, dressed in his baseball underwear, wrapping his legs in long Ace bandages, as was his custom.

"Mickey, I'm Thurman Munson," he said, his voice perhaps revealing that he was nervous but determined just the same. Since he was wearing his Binghamton uniform, he didn't think it was necessary to say who he was other than his name. Mick responded with a firm handshake and asked, "How ya doin'?"--hardly the stuff of highlight reels, but enough to make Munson's day.

Mantle had heard of him. Everyone in the organization had. He had been an elite high school athlete in three sports, and then went to Kent State, where he was the consensus All-American college catcher in his junior year. The Yankees felt fortunate that he was still available in the first round when they made him the overall fourth selection in the amateur draft. He was "_fast-tracked" by the scouting department for a ticket to the majors.

Michael Grossbardt, a Kramer-like character in the Seinfield vein, was the Yankee photographer. He was under orders from PR chief Bob Fishel to get some good "posed action" pictures of Thurman, which could be used as publicity stills. Grossbardt would go on to photograph most of Thurman's career, shooting thousands of pictures of him at bat and behind the plate, as well as baseball card photos for the Topps Company, family pictures for his personal use, and magazine covers.

I walked behind Fishel, his assistant Bill Guilfoile, and Michael, out to the area behind home plate for the photos. We took turns shaking his hand, and I was flattered that Bob took the trouble to introduce me. Munson had a chubby look, almost unathletic, and he wasn't much taller than I was, but he had those big forearms you always see on baseball players. His flannel hand-me-down Yankee uniform, converted to a Triplets uniform, was baggy and unflattering. The schedule called this a Waterbury home game, so he was in the drab gray road uniform. He seemed to know how to pose, and there was a confidence to him that I would seldom see among rookies, as it grew to be part of my job over the years to get them all photographed in spring training. Amazingly, you can always tell a rookie photo from a veteran photo by the poise or lack of poise on display. Thurman had some poise.

I had asked Bob if we were going to call him "Thurm" going forward in our press notices. Remembering that, he asked Munson if he went by any nicknames.

"None that you'd want to print," he laughed, a typical ballplayer answer. And indeed, he never really developed one that stuck with the public.

Howard Berk, our vice president for administration, had come down onto the field as well. "We really needed someone to capture the fans' imagination," he said later. "We were so hoping this would be the guy. And we liked him from the start. He was always very cooperative with me; always went on our Winter Warm-Up radio shows to help boost off-season ticket sales for us."

He did all that and more in the decade he played for the Yankees until his untimely death in 1979. By the time I wrote his autobiography in 1977, he had accomplished enough to fill up a plaque in Cooperstown. The book was a traditional baseball life story with little controversy, particularly given his place in the turmoil of the so-called Bronx Zoo. He offered an equally small amount of personal insight. "Does it have to get personal?" he asked, when I approached him with the idea.

What a strange question, I thought, from a man considering an autobiography.

The book sold a lot more copies after he died than before. I've received a lot of compliments on it over the years, particularly from Munson fans. His wife, Diana Munson, was especially admiring. "Thank you for writing it, thank God we have this," she said to me on the eve of his funeral in her home in Canton.

But as I have reread that book over the years, I've always felt that Thurman held back too much, skirting over personal matters, as was his right. The publisher was pleased with the final product, so I felt I had met my obligation to give them both the book they wanted. But I was never really satisfied with it.

I was also perplexed. Why were his comments so unenlightening? For example, there was the matter of his ancestry. I wrote he was of German stock. His sister told me later that the family was mostly English-Welsh, and only part German on both sides. Why didn't he correct me? Why didn't he care about getting his life right? Why did he have so little to say about his childhood?

Diana had asked me whether he brought up much about his childhood. She hadn't been in the room when we were doing the tapings. I told her I had brought up the subject but the conversation didn't go very far. I think she was just curious to know how much he had opened up.

Obviously, he hadn't. In the three decades since Thurman's death, I have wondered why a man who gave so much of himself on the field would withhold so much off of it. This book is an attempt to fill in the gaps that Thurman left in telling his own story to me in 1977-78. In the course of revisiting the details of his life and his death, of visiting his family and friends, I have thought back to the way he presented himself in the Yankee clubhouse in the last years of his career.

He had pretty much stopped talking to the media. Still, there were times when the glare of the Bronx Zoo fell squarely on his thickset body. Maybe it was something the Boss, George Steinbrenner, said. Maybe it was something Reggie Jackson said. Maybe it was something Billy Martin had done. Thurman was the captain, the go-to guy for the press, the steadying influence, the voice of reason. And so they had to ask him about it.

Munson would lower his gaze, refusing to make eye contact, walk through them all, and say, "I'm just happy to be here."

It was as though he were Mr. Magoo, walking blindly through the turmoil, oblivious to it all. Of course, Thurman wasn't oblivious at all. He was well aware that his home wasn't like the homes of his classmates and teammates. He didn't want his coach to drop him off at home and see it. He didn't want readers to see inside those walls. And he certainly wasn't going to reveal himself to the media. No, he would pretend everything was fine, and that life would go on--la de da--no matter what chaos surrounded him.

The story Munson didn't tell is how his childhood had in fact prepared him for the Bronx Zoo. I see him now walking through the tensions of the Munson home and saying, in his own way, "I'm just happy to be here."

* * *

Thurman Lee Munson was born on June 7, 1947, in Akron, Ohio, the tire and rubber capital of the United States.

He was the youngest of four children. Darla, the oldest, was born in 1941, and Janice came along eleven months later. Duane, the oldest son, was born fourteen months after Janice. After those three children in twenty-five months, there was a four-year gap between Duane and Thurman.

When Thurman was four, the Munsons moved as tenants to a farm in Randolph, a half hour east. When he was eight, they moved to the city of Canton, a half hour south. When Thurman was in second grade, the family moved to 2015 Frazer Avenue NW, between Nineteenth and Twenty-first streets. Canton, the state's eighth largest city, would always remain Thurman's hometown, even after fame and fortune would come his way. He was comfortable and well respected there, partly from his Yankee fame but also from his schoolboy fame, when he was one of the best athletes the town would ever see.

The Frazer Avenue home was a modest two-story home (plus an attic) with a gable roof and bevel siding, and a homey, brick-bordered front porch. There was a side entrance, and about thirty feet of front lawn along the modestly trafficked street. The houses on the block were set close to one another, and represented a comfortable standard of living for a working-class family.

"We moved around quite a bit," Duane Munson recalls. "Thurm was probably too young to remember much of those years, and sometimes they're pretty vague on me too. We were very active kids and got into our share of trouble, but nothing very serious. When Dad did find out that we were bad, he let us know it with his leather belt.

"We lived on Ido Avenue in Akron, and that would have been where Thurm was born. I vaguely remember my grandfather and my mother having polio or having had polio, but beyond that, Akron is a blur."

"When I finished my chores, I'd play ball mostly," said Thurman. "I loved to play and I'd come home at night where my collie, Fritzy, was waiting for me.

"I started playing as a kid and I was 'littler' than most. This may sound corny, but I remember seeing a lot of horses back in Ohio and baseball reminded me of a stallion just running free. There was a freedom to the game. No matter what your problems were and what you had on your mind, when you played baseball you forgot about it."

Excerpted from Munson by Marty Appel Copyright © 2009 by Marty Appel. Excerpted by permission of Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

ESPN no longer laughing at Daniel Murphy

A couple of days ago, ESPN offered up a montage of the worst plays of the Met season. Daniel Murphy came in for his share of abuse. After showing a clip of Murphy butchering a fly ball in St. Louis, the laughing ESPN announcers explained that was why Murphy was being tried out at first, as well as "the pine."

Well look who's laughing now! After his incredible behind-the-back flip Wednesday night, Murphy not only led ESPN's Web Gems as the play of the night, his play was mentioned as a candidate for play of the year!

Murphy has actually looked pretty good at first base for the most part, especially compared to some of the other Met fielders. Still, Murphy making the play of the year is about as unlikely as Oliver Perez being the stopper - against the team with the best record in baseball. Yet both things happened in the same night.

Since nothing comes easily for the Mets these days, they nearly blew a 5-2 lead, holding on to win, 5-4.

The last time the Mets won a game by more than one run was the 11-0 win over the Cardinals on June 24, 14 games ago. Since then, the Mets are 4-9. All four of the Met wins have been by one run. All nine of the Met losses have been by more than one run. In fact, seven of the nine losses have been by at least three runs, and four of those have been by at least five runs.

But while this win turned out to be another squeaker, it did offer up a play that will be shown over and over again. Best of all, it's one of the first times this season that such a play won't make Met fans cringe.