Over the weekend someone asked me what I do for fitness.
Most important, I think, is to step on the scale every day at about the same time (for me, first thing in the morning). Sometimes, multiple times. I'm currently in a phase of trying to add some muscle. A pound every month or so is enough. Weight fluctuates daily, but if I'm more than 2 pounds or so from where I want to be, it convinces me (helps trick my stomach, I suppose) into eating a little more or less that day.
These foods make me feel more full than others:
- Water. I drink two 20-oz tumblers of it within 15 minutes of getting out of bed. It replenishes what was lost overnight; kick-start fuels the systems for my foggy brain and stiff muscles. Since I sing, I also find that I need to do this about 2 hours prior to performance. Throughout the course of the day I drink at least 80 oz of water, sometimes as many as 120 oz. It depends how much I exercise; I lose as many as 5 pounds of sheer water after a half hour cardio workout. I can say with almost absolute certainty that my mid-day slumps are usually due to being under-hydrated. Sodas, coffee, soda, juices are much less effective than water. Am I sufficiently hydrated? Check for nearly-clear urine (sorry).
- Whole-grain wheat bread. I do eat my fair share of sugar in the form of peanut-butter sandwiches. Whenever I shop, I grab the less floury whole-grain style of bread. The fiber content is high, which fills the tummy. The peanut butter helps hit my protein goal.
- Apples or other fruit. Mostly apples though, just because I'm picky. But the fiber content here is also tremendous, the skin is rich with nutrients, and it's loaded with water too like many fruits and veggies. I rarely eat veggies, but they're valuable for similar reasons.
- Almonds. Recent teeth-cracking issues have slowed this down, but they're a fabulous source of nutrients that I'd recommend to anyone (the salted kind, anyway, the plain kind is blecch).
- Whole-grain cereal. Grains again. Honey Nut Cheerios is my go-to brand. Just enough sweet to be tolerable. If I'm in a must-pig-out mood, this is the food I allow myself to chow down until I'm reeling. Again, fibrous stuff passes through the body quickly.
- Milk, skim. Protein! And of course it washes down peanut butter wonderfully.
- Tyson pre-grilled chicken strips. Microwavable for the disinterested cook, I prep half a bag after every weight workout (and many of my cardio days) to pack on the protein without a disgusting amount of fat. This year I learned to consume within an hour of the workout to help muscles recover. It's worked.
My exercise is weekly. I aim for three weight workout days and three cardio days. They're almost all a half hour long. This allows me one day off a week, or two or three as long as I do a weight-cardio double session on another day (Note: I prefer to do weights before cardio on these days; research led me to this against my intuition that cardio is better for "warm-up.").
Weight workouts: 4 exercises in a set, 4 sets in a workout. The breakdown of a set: 2 "pulling" exercises (chin-ups, bicep curls, lat pull-downs, etc.) and 1 "push" exercise (bench press, tricep dips, etc.), and then 1 for the legs (recently, calf raises, to offset the quad-heavy exercises I do on cardio days). About 8-10 reps per exercise. I vary the type of exercise every workout, so that my mood can set the intensity and I don't get bored.
Cardio: Sometimes it's a 3-mile run outdoors or on a treadmill. Sometimes it's 30 minutes on a stationary bike. Lately, it's been making 100 baskets from all over the court to warm up for hoops season (I figure if I want to coach it, I'd better learn how to do it right!).
Monday, September 30, 2013
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Memories And Medicine: The Week In Thanks
It's been a week of pain and healing. Fortunately, I'd say, it's of the physical nature rather than emotional. The "kidney stone" kidney from back in May has been flaring up for six days. During a run this week I rolled an ankle and had some pounding knees. A thumb's had a sore ligament. A crown has been achy. Not only have most of those pains been easing (some gone completely), but I can trust that this body God's given me has near-miraculous tradition of fixing itself. With an assist from aspirin, cold compress, sensitivity toothpaste, blood test and CT scan, natch.
Of course, the gift of time and rest helps a body recover too. Retirement's afforded the luxury of an afternoon on the couch with my feet up, watching a marathon of "The League." This week I had one student cancel at the last minute, and another new prospect didn't show at all. In those moments I can be thankful that our ability to eat is not burdened by depending on others like this. It's also allowed me to fully enjoy the art of a good mid-afternoon nap; by the time my evening schedule kicks off my energy's peaking and mind is sharp, which is extremely helpful in teaching.
I should also celebrate the maladies I did not contract this week. I spent 90 minutes around a coach so sick he'd been on 3 hours of sleep for five nights. Today I sang between two ladies a-sneezin'. Yet I sit here completely clear-nosed and with a tickle-free throat.
I got a new student referral from a former co-worker at State Farm, yet another piece of fruit from my time there. It gives me a chance to try out my newest tool for customer relations - the thank-you note with business card and small gift enclosed.
When one of your students gets 100% on his first statistics test, it's a rush for a tutor!
I'm thankful for the GRE (grad school entrance exam). It's a required test that can be greatly improved by mastering some test-taking strategies. Perfect for a tutor; I start with a new student on Monday.
Tonight begins a small group study with Eastview Church, to talk about what it means to be a "witness" for Christianity. Actually to be what they're calling a "dangerous witness." Outlets to meet people are exciting, especially when it seems to dangle the possibility that I might be stealth-attacked by ninjas when I enter. Or better yet, that I will be trained to use pointy objects in dazzling ways.
From this "Open" study I did have a favorite concept, that the most powerful witness of our beliefs comes through the way we live our lives. Whether they be religious or secular, we don't need to push our principles onto others through talk. If we live them, and others admire them, then in time behaviors will change.
Sadly, the technician who's done pedicures for me for the last few years is moving on to different work. How many in the salon business enjoy talking about sports more than just about anything else? How many have a near-photographic memory of the things you talked about a weeks ago? She's amazingly qualified at what she does, and I can only be grateful for the time and service I was able to have from her.
Today and this whole week has been another parade of sunny, pleasant days for outdoor reading. Some rain moved in last night, but the timing was ideal - just as we were sitting in the hot tub at Brett Cottone and Wendy Baugh's house at 11 p.m. during last night's Spelling Bee reunion party. So lucky to have been chosen for that cast and that play. Watching the video cracked us all up almost as if we were seeing it for the first time. Just a caring, creative, hard-working group of people and a remarkably witty script.
This week was Lori Short's birthday, which reminded us of three hijinks-filled months as roomies fresh out of college. Surrounded by junky cars, keg-pumping, music-blasting frenzy, it gave us a real taste of the kind of home we did not want to have. Not to mention innovative interior design like the random-pillowed "comfort corner" for guests to crash in. I would absolutely do it over again.
Alabama shut out Mississippi to move to 4-0 and keep their #1 ranking. My fantasy baseball team is rolling toward victory in the third-place match. I'm YouTubing a bunch of clips on basketball post moves so that, you know, I can teach them.
It's been a record-breaking month for Hidden Blog. Not only did it power past 6,000 page views this month for the first time ever but nearly broke 7,000. So in final thanks, to all of you readers and robots who somehow linked here, and as ever, may your time here keep feedin' what you're needin'.
Of course, the gift of time and rest helps a body recover too. Retirement's afforded the luxury of an afternoon on the couch with my feet up, watching a marathon of "The League." This week I had one student cancel at the last minute, and another new prospect didn't show at all. In those moments I can be thankful that our ability to eat is not burdened by depending on others like this. It's also allowed me to fully enjoy the art of a good mid-afternoon nap; by the time my evening schedule kicks off my energy's peaking and mind is sharp, which is extremely helpful in teaching.
I should also celebrate the maladies I did not contract this week. I spent 90 minutes around a coach so sick he'd been on 3 hours of sleep for five nights. Today I sang between two ladies a-sneezin'. Yet I sit here completely clear-nosed and with a tickle-free throat.
I got a new student referral from a former co-worker at State Farm, yet another piece of fruit from my time there. It gives me a chance to try out my newest tool for customer relations - the thank-you note with business card and small gift enclosed.
When one of your students gets 100% on his first statistics test, it's a rush for a tutor!
I'm thankful for the GRE (grad school entrance exam). It's a required test that can be greatly improved by mastering some test-taking strategies. Perfect for a tutor; I start with a new student on Monday.
Tonight begins a small group study with Eastview Church, to talk about what it means to be a "witness" for Christianity. Actually to be what they're calling a "dangerous witness." Outlets to meet people are exciting, especially when it seems to dangle the possibility that I might be stealth-attacked by ninjas when I enter. Or better yet, that I will be trained to use pointy objects in dazzling ways.
From this "Open" study I did have a favorite concept, that the most powerful witness of our beliefs comes through the way we live our lives. Whether they be religious or secular, we don't need to push our principles onto others through talk. If we live them, and others admire them, then in time behaviors will change.
Sadly, the technician who's done pedicures for me for the last few years is moving on to different work. How many in the salon business enjoy talking about sports more than just about anything else? How many have a near-photographic memory of the things you talked about a weeks ago? She's amazingly qualified at what she does, and I can only be grateful for the time and service I was able to have from her.
Today and this whole week has been another parade of sunny, pleasant days for outdoor reading. Some rain moved in last night, but the timing was ideal - just as we were sitting in the hot tub at Brett Cottone and Wendy Baugh's house at 11 p.m. during last night's Spelling Bee reunion party. So lucky to have been chosen for that cast and that play. Watching the video cracked us all up almost as if we were seeing it for the first time. Just a caring, creative, hard-working group of people and a remarkably witty script.
This week was Lori Short's birthday, which reminded us of three hijinks-filled months as roomies fresh out of college. Surrounded by junky cars, keg-pumping, music-blasting frenzy, it gave us a real taste of the kind of home we did not want to have. Not to mention innovative interior design like the random-pillowed "comfort corner" for guests to crash in. I would absolutely do it over again.
Alabama shut out Mississippi to move to 4-0 and keep their #1 ranking. My fantasy baseball team is rolling toward victory in the third-place match. I'm YouTubing a bunch of clips on basketball post moves so that, you know, I can teach them.
It's been a record-breaking month for Hidden Blog. Not only did it power past 6,000 page views this month for the first time ever but nearly broke 7,000. So in final thanks, to all of you readers and robots who somehow linked here, and as ever, may your time here keep feedin' what you're needin'.
Cool World
"The world belongs to the enthusiast who can keep cool."
We know about the stereotypical used car salesman with flashy charm and overbearing presence. Many people are trying to sell you something, whether it's their professional product, their beliefs, their worth as a person. How do they do it? Firestorms will quickly flame out; pressure wears down and breeds resistance. An easy, smiling manner can last, all the while the actions do the talking.
We know about the stereotypical used car salesman with flashy charm and overbearing presence. Many people are trying to sell you something, whether it's their professional product, their beliefs, their worth as a person. How do they do it? Firestorms will quickly flame out; pressure wears down and breeds resistance. An easy, smiling manner can last, all the while the actions do the talking.
Throwing Away Bad Thoughts
From Readers' Digest:
"Treat negative thoughts like old newspaper at the bottom of the birdcage. When students were asked to write bad thoughts about their body and then toss the paper in a garbage can, they were later more positive about their body image than those who hadn't discarded them. When they tucked positive thoughts about a healthy diet into their pocket, they were more likely to want to follow that diet later than those who threw such thoughts away. How you treat your thoughts affects behavior."
"Treat negative thoughts like old newspaper at the bottom of the birdcage. When students were asked to write bad thoughts about their body and then toss the paper in a garbage can, they were later more positive about their body image than those who hadn't discarded them. When they tucked positive thoughts about a healthy diet into their pocket, they were more likely to want to follow that diet later than those who threw such thoughts away. How you treat your thoughts affects behavior."
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Exit Sandman: Baseball Bids Adieu To Mariano Rivera
By Tom Verducci of Sports Illustrated:
One of the most iconic careers in major league history is ending: Mariano Rivera, two months from turning 44, 23 years removed from his start in professional baseball, will throw his last pitch.
Goodbye to the alltime leader in regular-season and postseason saves. Goodbye to his cut fastball, which belongs with Carl Hubbell's screwball, Sandy Koufax's curveball and Nolan Ryan's fastball on the Mount Rushmore of greatest pitches. And goodbye to that trim, tailored figure who could work the noisiest room the way Astaire or Sinatra could, with a preternatural, unhurried cool and a lightness of being that made the difficult look easy. Only the tuxedo was missing.
The son of a Panamanian fisherman became baseball royalty, though it was a hegemony hard-earned, not given. Rivera signed with the Yankees in 1990 at age 20 for just $3,000 and promptly made the first airplane trip of his life to report to spring training in Tampa. He injured his elbow in '92 and had ligament-repair surgery. He was left unprotected by the Yankees in the expansion draft later that year but went unclaimed by the Rockies and the Marlins, nearly was traded to the Tigers in '95 for lefthander David Wells and in '96 to the Mariners for shortstop Felix Fermin, and washed out as a major league starting pitcher with a 5.94 ERA in 10 chances in '95. Only then and in the bullpen, especially in October, did Rivera make his indelible mark.
The end to his career, however, is hardly the end of his imprint. Rivera's personage is so humble, godly even, that his legacy will go on. Few players in any sport have retired with more reverence from his peers. "Probably not since Koufax have we seen anyone leave the game with so much respect," says Joe Torre, Rivera's manager with the Yankees for four of his five World Series championships.
Like Koufax, Rivera has become an enduring ideal, a template of what it means to be a pitcher, a teammate and a friend. But the oral history of Rivera has only begun. This is the story so far, from some of the lives he has touched.
Glenn Sherlock, Diamondbacks bullpen coach, Rivera's first pro manager: This is in the Gulf Coast League, 1990. Mariano was a reliever on the Tampa Yankees. He was a very athletic kid. Very competitive. Threw a lot of strikes. Quiet. Although the pitchers didn't hit, Hoyt Wilhelm, our pitching coach, used to play a game with them. Mo was one of our best hitters and outfielders.
Toward the end of the season, Mariano had the lowest ERA in the league but needed a few innings to qualify for the ERA title. We asked [farm director] Mitch Lukevics and [coordinator of minor league instruction] Mark Newman if we could start him on the last weekend of the season to get him his innings. It was a seven-inning game as part of a doubleheader against the GCL Pirates.
He threw a no-hitter. I think he received a nice watch from the Yankees.
Rivera joined the Yankees at one of the organization's historic lows. From 1989 through '92 the Yankees fielded four consecutive losing teams for the first time since 1912 through '15. Yankee Stadium was more than half empty. The future of the franchise, however, was robust. The farm system in '91 included Jorge Posada, 19; Andy Pettitte, 19; Shane Spencer, 19; Carl Everett, 20; Sterling Hitchcock, 20; Rivera, 21; Russ Davis, 21; Bernie Williams, 22; Brad Ausmus, 22; Bob Wickman, 22; and J.T. Snow, 23. (Derek Jeter was drafted in '92.) At the end of that season, the Yankees sent a group of prospects to their Instructional League team in Tampa.
Jorge Posada, Yankees catcher from 1997 to 2011: I remember Mo running the 60-yard dash. There were guys like Carl Everett and Jovino Carvajal who could really fly. Mo just had [elbow] surgery, so he wasn't doing a lot of throwing. But there he was running with the outfielders, right there with Everett and Carvajal, the fastest guys in the Instructional League. I thought he was an outfielder the first time I saw him.
I really didn't get to know him until 1994. He was a starter, throwing 91, 92. Mediocre slider, mediocre changeup, but good, live fastball. Then in '95, all of a sudden he was throwing 95, 96. All fastballs. That's when he really took off. You could tell he was healthy, stronger. He was throwing hard with that same smooth delivery. We were in Columbus [in Triple A], and we hung out with the other Latin guys. There were a lot of veterans on the team, and they used to buy us lobster.
Mariano was always very humble, with great family values. He had a lot of energy -- good energy, a positive energy. Just a person you wanted to be around. He was always calling home. He talked about Panama a lot.
In the minors they say you're always just one phone call away from the big leagues, but it seems so hard to get there. Mariano would have none of that kind of talk. He was always very positive.
And he had the perfect body for a baseball player. Still does. He's probably two pounds heavier now than he was then. He was always very tailored -- even in the minors. We would blouse our pants, but he would always look perfect in his uniform. His jeans were perfectly tailored and he was always very well dressed. He would wear these leather sandals from Panama -- I remember because he has ugly feet. Don't tell him I said that. Now he gets manicures and pedicures.
Buck Showalter, Yankees manager from 1992 to '95: The year after his surgery, in 1993, he would throw on a back field at spring training, Field Number 3, with Whitey Ford and Ron Guidry. He was only playing catch at the time. I said to Stick [then general manager Gene Michael] one day, "I don't know about this guy."
Guidry chimes in: "I know I don't want to play catch with him anymore. The ball never goes straight."
His hand and fingers were born to pitch. He has really long fingers and the perfect wrist; he can't move his hand much side to side, but it's very flexible up and down.
Rivera made his major league debut on May 23, 1995, as a starter against the California Angels. He started against Chuck Finley, who had made his debut for the Angels in '86 in relief of Don Sutton, who had made his debut in '66 following Koufax in the Dodgers' rotation.
Rivera was knocked out in the fourth inning of a 10--0 New York loss. Six days later Jeter made his big league debut. Rivera made four starts, pitching to a 10.20 ERA, before the Yankees decided he wasn't ready. On June 11, 1995, immediately after he was pulled from a start after giving up five runs while getting only seven outs, the Yankees demoted Rivera and Jeter, who was hitting .234, to Triple A Columbus.
Between them Rivera and Jeter would combine for 26 All-Star Games and 10 world championship rings, but on this day they were failed big leaguers sharing a car ride over the George Washington Bridge to a hotel in Fort Lee, N.J., on their way back to the bush leagues.
Jeter: We went to eat at a chain restaurant across the street from the hotel. I was miserable. It wasn't like, We'll be back soon one day. We were devastated. You can say depressed. Once you come here, you never want to go back. And we had done all right—at least I thought so.
We got called into the manager's office separately. I got called in to see Buck and Willie [Randolph], who was a coach. We were taking a flight to Detroit after the game. I had a lot of family out there in Detroit waiting for me. They had to pull my luggage off the charter.
Mo was devastated. Absolutely devastated. He thought it was his fault we got sent down. Everybody wants to think, Oh, Mo, he's so calm. . . . Oh, O.K. We were damn near in tears! That was the first time we got demoted. And you never know when you're going to get another chance.
It wasn't exactly current times back then, you know what I'm saying? We had the Boss then. You don't do your job and he'll trade you in a minute. Kids have it easy nowadays. Seriously. It's so different now.
Mike Borzello, Yankees bullpen catcher from 1996 to 2007: In 1996 he became the setup guy, and John Wetteland, our closer, started talking to him every day. Wetteland knew Mariano would take over for him the following year. That's something that got lost—how important Wetteland was to him. The closer doesn't usually take the next closer under his wing. Wetteland did, and Mariano did [the same] with every reliever that came through.
Mariano became their mentor. He schooled the relievers one by one. He would sit with each one separately at times and do what Wetteland did for him to make sure they had a better chance at -success. I always marveled at that dynamic. If someone had a tough outing, I saw him talk to them about how to let tough situations go. I always thought that was impressive. Wetteland triggered it, but Mo had the intelligence to absorb it and take it to another level with all the guys through the years.
So many guys get distracted about other things, especially off the field: money, their own personal achievements. I never saw that in Mo. He was always focused on the team, on "What do you need me to do?" In 12 years with him I never heard him mention anything about his contract, his number of saves, his ERA or any personal achievement. I'd say, "We've got to get to 40 saves," and he'd go, "How many do I have now?" He really didn't know.
Joe Girardi, Yankees manager, and Rivera's teammate from 1996 through '99: I'll tell you one of the most amazing things about Mariano. In all the years I caught him, he never threw a ball in the dirt. I don't ever remember having to drop to my knees to block a pitch in the dirt. I know he never threw a wild pitch that bounced. His control is that good.
I had two signs with Mo: one for the fastball, and a wiggle if we wanted the fastball up. I would also give location -- in or out. One day a kid named Mike Figga comes in to catch. I tell him with Mo it's simple: Just one [finger] and wiggle. Well, he thinks wiggle means what it does for other pitchers: a changeup. So he wiggles his fingers, gets ready for the changeup, and instead a high fastball goes flying past him. We were all cracking up.
He was so easy to catch because he always put the ball right there. I don't think there's ever been a pitcher that great who was so easy to catch.
Borzello: I don't think he ever threw a ball that bounced in my 12 years of catching him in the bullpen. He would pitch up and down and in and out but never in the ground. It's the most amazing thing. He wasn't trying to strike you out. He was looking to get you out in one or two pitches by shattering your bat.
Rivera has pitched in 96 postseason games and lost just once: Game 7 of the 2001 World Series against the Diamondbacks. The game was played just seven weeks after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, under such heightened security and national tension that the manhole covers outside Bank One Ballpark in Phoenix were welded shut.
Leading 2-1 entering the ninth, and having already taken care of all three outs in the eighth inning, Rivera was undone by an odd string of calamities. The rally began with a single by Mark Grace with the stadium clock reading 9:11. With the field moist thanks to a freak desert rainstorm, Rivera threw away a bunt for only the second error of his career. And Luis Gonzalez, who in five previous at bats against Rivera had never gotten the ball out of the infield, much less gotten a hit, dumped a broken-bat single over Jeter's head, barely onto the outfield grass, to drive in the winning run.
Joe Torre, Yankees manager from 1996 to 2007: I'm not sure how long my tenure with the Yankees would have been if not for Mo pitching the seventh and eighth innings in 1996. He allowed me to manage just six innings of a game.
In 2001, before Game 7 in Arizona, we were struggling to score runs. I was looking for something to elevate the mood. I asked Gene Monahan, our trainer, to speak to the team. Gene is always very stern. Even when he is funny, he does it in a stern manner.
After he was finished, Mariano asked if he could speak. I said, "Go right ahead." He was very spiritual, talking about putting trust in ourselves. It was really all about his spirituality and that we had to go out there and win this ballgame. Just because a guy is very spiritual doesn't mean he's not competitive. One thing about Mo: When he feels something needs to be said, if he thinks a player is in need of some attention, he's not shy. He'll say what needs to be said so that they understand they are a part of a team.
Gonzalez: I choked up on the bat after he struck me out earlier in [Game 7]. I never choked up. I was trying anything off that guy. If you've got a good bat you really like, you don't use it against him because there's a good possibility he's going to shatter that bat.
I have so much respect for that guy, not just what he's done but more for his on-field demeanor. You look at guys closing games out now and they're untucking their shirt, shooting a bow and arrow, all kinds of antics. With him it was always Mr. Smooth. There's no show, not any kind of animation.
I was very fortunate to get that hit off one of the best of all time. I think a lot of relievers would have been crushed by that loss. With Mariano, that was just a small bump in the road that didn't slow him down any.
My home is in Tampa, and a few years later [in 2007] I was back home during spring training when I was with the Dodgers. One day I was walking in the International mall, and who do I run into? Mariano at the mall. We both said hi. We never discussed baseball—just out of mutual respect. 2001? We didn't discuss any of that.
Jason Zillo, Yankees director of media relations: I remember that night in 2001. He had showered -- he always showers before he talks to the media -- and he had a suit on. He's in front of his locker. He stands up so the first wave of 30 reporters can hear him. Then he does the next wave of 30 reporters, and so on and so on. He just kept toweling off, with the lights on him and still being amped up after the game. He answered every question.
That night we fly back to New York. Everything is still on high alert after 9/11. When we landed the airport was packed with police, state troopers, military . . . these guys had shotguns and weapons drawn. Mo and I are waiting for our luggage. It was hours after the most disheartening loss you ever can have on a baseball field, and we're surrounded by police and the military and the sun is just coming up. Everybody was kind of numb and thinking, What is going on around here? And he just puts his arm around me and says, "Don't worry. It's going to be all right." I never knew what he meant and I didn't ask. But whether he meant the game or the post-9/11 world, I just knew that it would be O.K. I don't write much. But when I got home I wrote that sucker down -- the whole scene with Mo.
Borzello: When I was with the Dodgers [in 2010] I asked Mariano to meet Jonathan Broxton. He was our closer and had had a rough postseason the year before. So we're shagging at Dodger Stadium, and Mariano comes running over, and they start talking about Matt Stairs. Broxton had walked Stairs on four straight pitches [in the 2009 NLCS, against the Phillies]. Mariano immediately brings that up. He says, "Last year I was watching the game and there was nobody on and you walked him on four pitches." Broxton wound up giving up a double [three batters later] to Jimmy Rollins that ended the game.
Mo asks him, "How come you walked that guy?" Brox goes, "I don't know." And Mo goes, "No. You know. You walked him because he hit a homer off you the year before to win a game."
Brox goes, "Yeah." And Mariano says, "One thing you have to do as a closer is if a guy beats you the day before, he has to be the guy you want to face the next day. It's, O.K., you got me, but let's go again."
That shows how Mariano is. Mariano really believes that. He's not afraid. He always believes, You got me that time, but I'll get you the next.
One of the most iconic careers in major league history is ending: Mariano Rivera, two months from turning 44, 23 years removed from his start in professional baseball, will throw his last pitch.
Goodbye to the alltime leader in regular-season and postseason saves. Goodbye to his cut fastball, which belongs with Carl Hubbell's screwball, Sandy Koufax's curveball and Nolan Ryan's fastball on the Mount Rushmore of greatest pitches. And goodbye to that trim, tailored figure who could work the noisiest room the way Astaire or Sinatra could, with a preternatural, unhurried cool and a lightness of being that made the difficult look easy. Only the tuxedo was missing.
The son of a Panamanian fisherman became baseball royalty, though it was a hegemony hard-earned, not given. Rivera signed with the Yankees in 1990 at age 20 for just $3,000 and promptly made the first airplane trip of his life to report to spring training in Tampa. He injured his elbow in '92 and had ligament-repair surgery. He was left unprotected by the Yankees in the expansion draft later that year but went unclaimed by the Rockies and the Marlins, nearly was traded to the Tigers in '95 for lefthander David Wells and in '96 to the Mariners for shortstop Felix Fermin, and washed out as a major league starting pitcher with a 5.94 ERA in 10 chances in '95. Only then and in the bullpen, especially in October, did Rivera make his indelible mark.
The end to his career, however, is hardly the end of his imprint. Rivera's personage is so humble, godly even, that his legacy will go on. Few players in any sport have retired with more reverence from his peers. "Probably not since Koufax have we seen anyone leave the game with so much respect," says Joe Torre, Rivera's manager with the Yankees for four of his five World Series championships.
Like Koufax, Rivera has become an enduring ideal, a template of what it means to be a pitcher, a teammate and a friend. But the oral history of Rivera has only begun. This is the story so far, from some of the lives he has touched.
Glenn Sherlock, Diamondbacks bullpen coach, Rivera's first pro manager: This is in the Gulf Coast League, 1990. Mariano was a reliever on the Tampa Yankees. He was a very athletic kid. Very competitive. Threw a lot of strikes. Quiet. Although the pitchers didn't hit, Hoyt Wilhelm, our pitching coach, used to play a game with them. Mo was one of our best hitters and outfielders.
Toward the end of the season, Mariano had the lowest ERA in the league but needed a few innings to qualify for the ERA title. We asked [farm director] Mitch Lukevics and [coordinator of minor league instruction] Mark Newman if we could start him on the last weekend of the season to get him his innings. It was a seven-inning game as part of a doubleheader against the GCL Pirates.
He threw a no-hitter. I think he received a nice watch from the Yankees.
Rivera joined the Yankees at one of the organization's historic lows. From 1989 through '92 the Yankees fielded four consecutive losing teams for the first time since 1912 through '15. Yankee Stadium was more than half empty. The future of the franchise, however, was robust. The farm system in '91 included Jorge Posada, 19; Andy Pettitte, 19; Shane Spencer, 19; Carl Everett, 20; Sterling Hitchcock, 20; Rivera, 21; Russ Davis, 21; Bernie Williams, 22; Brad Ausmus, 22; Bob Wickman, 22; and J.T. Snow, 23. (Derek Jeter was drafted in '92.) At the end of that season, the Yankees sent a group of prospects to their Instructional League team in Tampa.
Jorge Posada, Yankees catcher from 1997 to 2011: I remember Mo running the 60-yard dash. There were guys like Carl Everett and Jovino Carvajal who could really fly. Mo just had [elbow] surgery, so he wasn't doing a lot of throwing. But there he was running with the outfielders, right there with Everett and Carvajal, the fastest guys in the Instructional League. I thought he was an outfielder the first time I saw him.
I really didn't get to know him until 1994. He was a starter, throwing 91, 92. Mediocre slider, mediocre changeup, but good, live fastball. Then in '95, all of a sudden he was throwing 95, 96. All fastballs. That's when he really took off. You could tell he was healthy, stronger. He was throwing hard with that same smooth delivery. We were in Columbus [in Triple A], and we hung out with the other Latin guys. There were a lot of veterans on the team, and they used to buy us lobster.
Mariano was always very humble, with great family values. He had a lot of energy -- good energy, a positive energy. Just a person you wanted to be around. He was always calling home. He talked about Panama a lot.
In the minors they say you're always just one phone call away from the big leagues, but it seems so hard to get there. Mariano would have none of that kind of talk. He was always very positive.
And he had the perfect body for a baseball player. Still does. He's probably two pounds heavier now than he was then. He was always very tailored -- even in the minors. We would blouse our pants, but he would always look perfect in his uniform. His jeans were perfectly tailored and he was always very well dressed. He would wear these leather sandals from Panama -- I remember because he has ugly feet. Don't tell him I said that. Now he gets manicures and pedicures.
Buck Showalter, Yankees manager from 1992 to '95: The year after his surgery, in 1993, he would throw on a back field at spring training, Field Number 3, with Whitey Ford and Ron Guidry. He was only playing catch at the time. I said to Stick [then general manager Gene Michael] one day, "I don't know about this guy."
Guidry chimes in: "I know I don't want to play catch with him anymore. The ball never goes straight."
His hand and fingers were born to pitch. He has really long fingers and the perfect wrist; he can't move his hand much side to side, but it's very flexible up and down.
Walter Iooss Jr./SI
Rivera made his major league debut on May 23, 1995, as a starter against the California Angels. He started against Chuck Finley, who had made his debut for the Angels in '86 in relief of Don Sutton, who had made his debut in '66 following Koufax in the Dodgers' rotation.
Rivera was knocked out in the fourth inning of a 10--0 New York loss. Six days later Jeter made his big league debut. Rivera made four starts, pitching to a 10.20 ERA, before the Yankees decided he wasn't ready. On June 11, 1995, immediately after he was pulled from a start after giving up five runs while getting only seven outs, the Yankees demoted Rivera and Jeter, who was hitting .234, to Triple A Columbus.
Between them Rivera and Jeter would combine for 26 All-Star Games and 10 world championship rings, but on this day they were failed big leaguers sharing a car ride over the George Washington Bridge to a hotel in Fort Lee, N.J., on their way back to the bush leagues.
Jeter: We went to eat at a chain restaurant across the street from the hotel. I was miserable. It wasn't like, We'll be back soon one day. We were devastated. You can say depressed. Once you come here, you never want to go back. And we had done all right—at least I thought so.
We got called into the manager's office separately. I got called in to see Buck and Willie [Randolph], who was a coach. We were taking a flight to Detroit after the game. I had a lot of family out there in Detroit waiting for me. They had to pull my luggage off the charter.
Mo was devastated. Absolutely devastated. He thought it was his fault we got sent down. Everybody wants to think, Oh, Mo, he's so calm. . . . Oh, O.K. We were damn near in tears! That was the first time we got demoted. And you never know when you're going to get another chance.
It wasn't exactly current times back then, you know what I'm saying? We had the Boss then. You don't do your job and he'll trade you in a minute. Kids have it easy nowadays. Seriously. It's so different now.
Mike Borzello, Yankees bullpen catcher from 1996 to 2007: In 1996 he became the setup guy, and John Wetteland, our closer, started talking to him every day. Wetteland knew Mariano would take over for him the following year. That's something that got lost—how important Wetteland was to him. The closer doesn't usually take the next closer under his wing. Wetteland did, and Mariano did [the same] with every reliever that came through.
Mariano became their mentor. He schooled the relievers one by one. He would sit with each one separately at times and do what Wetteland did for him to make sure they had a better chance at -success. I always marveled at that dynamic. If someone had a tough outing, I saw him talk to them about how to let tough situations go. I always thought that was impressive. Wetteland triggered it, but Mo had the intelligence to absorb it and take it to another level with all the guys through the years.
So many guys get distracted about other things, especially off the field: money, their own personal achievements. I never saw that in Mo. He was always focused on the team, on "What do you need me to do?" In 12 years with him I never heard him mention anything about his contract, his number of saves, his ERA or any personal achievement. I'd say, "We've got to get to 40 saves," and he'd go, "How many do I have now?" He really didn't know.
Joe Girardi, Yankees manager, and Rivera's teammate from 1996 through '99: I'll tell you one of the most amazing things about Mariano. In all the years I caught him, he never threw a ball in the dirt. I don't ever remember having to drop to my knees to block a pitch in the dirt. I know he never threw a wild pitch that bounced. His control is that good.
I had two signs with Mo: one for the fastball, and a wiggle if we wanted the fastball up. I would also give location -- in or out. One day a kid named Mike Figga comes in to catch. I tell him with Mo it's simple: Just one [finger] and wiggle. Well, he thinks wiggle means what it does for other pitchers: a changeup. So he wiggles his fingers, gets ready for the changeup, and instead a high fastball goes flying past him. We were all cracking up.
He was so easy to catch because he always put the ball right there. I don't think there's ever been a pitcher that great who was so easy to catch.
Borzello: I don't think he ever threw a ball that bounced in my 12 years of catching him in the bullpen. He would pitch up and down and in and out but never in the ground. It's the most amazing thing. He wasn't trying to strike you out. He was looking to get you out in one or two pitches by shattering your bat.
Rivera has pitched in 96 postseason games and lost just once: Game 7 of the 2001 World Series against the Diamondbacks. The game was played just seven weeks after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, under such heightened security and national tension that the manhole covers outside Bank One Ballpark in Phoenix were welded shut.
Leading 2-1 entering the ninth, and having already taken care of all three outs in the eighth inning, Rivera was undone by an odd string of calamities. The rally began with a single by Mark Grace with the stadium clock reading 9:11. With the field moist thanks to a freak desert rainstorm, Rivera threw away a bunt for only the second error of his career. And Luis Gonzalez, who in five previous at bats against Rivera had never gotten the ball out of the infield, much less gotten a hit, dumped a broken-bat single over Jeter's head, barely onto the outfield grass, to drive in the winning run.
Joe Torre, Yankees manager from 1996 to 2007: I'm not sure how long my tenure with the Yankees would have been if not for Mo pitching the seventh and eighth innings in 1996. He allowed me to manage just six innings of a game.
In 2001, before Game 7 in Arizona, we were struggling to score runs. I was looking for something to elevate the mood. I asked Gene Monahan, our trainer, to speak to the team. Gene is always very stern. Even when he is funny, he does it in a stern manner.
After he was finished, Mariano asked if he could speak. I said, "Go right ahead." He was very spiritual, talking about putting trust in ourselves. It was really all about his spirituality and that we had to go out there and win this ballgame. Just because a guy is very spiritual doesn't mean he's not competitive. One thing about Mo: When he feels something needs to be said, if he thinks a player is in need of some attention, he's not shy. He'll say what needs to be said so that they understand they are a part of a team.
Gonzalez: I choked up on the bat after he struck me out earlier in [Game 7]. I never choked up. I was trying anything off that guy. If you've got a good bat you really like, you don't use it against him because there's a good possibility he's going to shatter that bat.
I have so much respect for that guy, not just what he's done but more for his on-field demeanor. You look at guys closing games out now and they're untucking their shirt, shooting a bow and arrow, all kinds of antics. With him it was always Mr. Smooth. There's no show, not any kind of animation.
I was very fortunate to get that hit off one of the best of all time. I think a lot of relievers would have been crushed by that loss. With Mariano, that was just a small bump in the road that didn't slow him down any.
My home is in Tampa, and a few years later [in 2007] I was back home during spring training when I was with the Dodgers. One day I was walking in the International mall, and who do I run into? Mariano at the mall. We both said hi. We never discussed baseball—just out of mutual respect. 2001? We didn't discuss any of that.
Jason Zillo, Yankees director of media relations: I remember that night in 2001. He had showered -- he always showers before he talks to the media -- and he had a suit on. He's in front of his locker. He stands up so the first wave of 30 reporters can hear him. Then he does the next wave of 30 reporters, and so on and so on. He just kept toweling off, with the lights on him and still being amped up after the game. He answered every question.
That night we fly back to New York. Everything is still on high alert after 9/11. When we landed the airport was packed with police, state troopers, military . . . these guys had shotguns and weapons drawn. Mo and I are waiting for our luggage. It was hours after the most disheartening loss you ever can have on a baseball field, and we're surrounded by police and the military and the sun is just coming up. Everybody was kind of numb and thinking, What is going on around here? And he just puts his arm around me and says, "Don't worry. It's going to be all right." I never knew what he meant and I didn't ask. But whether he meant the game or the post-9/11 world, I just knew that it would be O.K. I don't write much. But when I got home I wrote that sucker down -- the whole scene with Mo.
Borzello: When I was with the Dodgers [in 2010] I asked Mariano to meet Jonathan Broxton. He was our closer and had had a rough postseason the year before. So we're shagging at Dodger Stadium, and Mariano comes running over, and they start talking about Matt Stairs. Broxton had walked Stairs on four straight pitches [in the 2009 NLCS, against the Phillies]. Mariano immediately brings that up. He says, "Last year I was watching the game and there was nobody on and you walked him on four pitches." Broxton wound up giving up a double [three batters later] to Jimmy Rollins that ended the game.
Mo asks him, "How come you walked that guy?" Brox goes, "I don't know." And Mo goes, "No. You know. You walked him because he hit a homer off you the year before to win a game."
Brox goes, "Yeah." And Mariano says, "One thing you have to do as a closer is if a guy beats you the day before, he has to be the guy you want to face the next day. It's, O.K., you got me, but let's go again."
That shows how Mariano is. Mariano really believes that. He's not afraid. He always believes, You got me that time, but I'll get you the next.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Compliment Of The Day
"You
are such a dynamic leader. Thank you thank you for making this event so
positive and relevant for the LMC! We are blessed to have you back
this year!"
A Key To Success: Grit
The MacArthur Fellows were announced Wednesday, and among the astrophysicists, choreographers and paleobotanists awarded the
unrestricted $625,000 so-called “genius grant” was one research
psychologist whose work should be of great interest to leaders.
Angela Duckworth, a former McKinsey management consultant, high-school math teacher and current University of Pennsylvania researcher, studies the psychology of achievement. And though she primarily focuses on education, her research on the role of grit and self-control tells us a lot about how persistence may matter more than raw talent in many fields.
In studies of subjects ranging from West Point cadets to salespeople to National Spelling Bee participants, she found that grit predicts success over and above standardized test scores or cognitive intelligence tests.
A recent speech of hers:
http://www.ted.com/talks/angela_lee_duckworth_the_key_to_success_grit.html
Angela Duckworth, a former McKinsey management consultant, high-school math teacher and current University of Pennsylvania researcher, studies the psychology of achievement. And though she primarily focuses on education, her research on the role of grit and self-control tells us a lot about how persistence may matter more than raw talent in many fields.
In studies of subjects ranging from West Point cadets to salespeople to National Spelling Bee participants, she found that grit predicts success over and above standardized test scores or cognitive intelligence tests.
A recent speech of hers:
http://www.ted.com/talks/angela_lee_duckworth_the_key_to_success_grit.html
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