by Eddie Mayrose

The debate had raged throughout the summer. We’d grown used to the happy dilemma of choosing a name for a new baby, as it was, perhaps, the most exciting thing about expecting a child. None of us could wait for the November due date.  However, this time it was a little different.  This time, it wasn’t just my wife, Virginia, and me.  We now had four other opinions being tossed around the dinner table as our children, ages nine to fourteen, were each certain of their own ability to select the perfect name.

By late August, we were no closer to a decision.  It was then that Virginia, taking full advantage of her birthday privileges, put her foot down and announced to all of us that she had decided on a girl’s name – Caroline.  She then decreed that I would be responsible for selecting a boy’s name, and that she would abide by my decision without question.  Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have a particular name in mind.

September 11, 2001 was a day that boasted, in the words of  Dr. Archibald “Moonlight” Graham, “a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it.”  It was the last one I ever saw without being reminded of tragedy.  None of us will ever forget the terrible events of that Tuesday morning, so I will not recount them here. Our lives were changed that day, in ways that we could have never imagined.  But, through all the misery, a wonderfully inspiring story about an angel here on Earth provided a name for a beautiful little boy.

I didn’t know FDNY Captain Timothy Stackpole.  Never even met him, even though we shared a number of mutual friends.  Four months earlier, I had read about his miraculous return to active duty after suffering terrible injuries in a fire that claimed the lives of two of his colleagues.  I had also read about him on September 10th, as he had just been recognized as Irishman of the Year at The Great Irish Fair in Brooklyn that weekend.  However, it was everything I read and heard after he was lost that filled my heart.

At the time, I worked on the trading floor of the New York Stock Exchange.  We had been locked in when the first tower came down and had spent a few hours dealing with the worst fear I had ever known.  Thankfully,  we were many, and the camaraderie and support got us through.  We could only imagine what was going on just six blocks away and, sadly, even our darkest thoughts fell short of the reality.

In those next few days, as we learned the names of all of those we lost, Timothy Stackpole’s story became very prominent.  My very close friend, Joe Berg, informed me that he had gone to high school at  St. Francis Prep a year behind Timmy and was devastated by the news. “This was the best guy that ever graduated from the Prep”,  he told me.  “He was everything that was good about the Prep.”   Even though he hadn’t seen him in more than two decades, Joe drove more than an hour to attend the wake;  standing on line for another ninety minutes.  “I didn’t know anyone there”, he said, “but I just had to go.”

As Captain Stackpole was a legend in the Department, there was no shortage of stories about him in the days that followed.  The one that touched me, though, was an interview with his wife, Tara, just two days after the attacks.  The way she spoke of her husband and treasured the time they had together, actually made me smile through the tragedy.

“What a great marriage we had,” said Tara. “People had no idea what they were missing. What I had. When he got hurt in ’98, he should have died.  It was a miracle that he didn’t.  I believe it was part of God’s plan that he’d have three more years to touch people’s lives.  He changed people’s lives by how he lived.”  Even now, ten years after the fact, I am in awe of the love they shared.

Two weeks later, Tim was eulogized by his only daughter, Kaitlyn, at his funeral.   “I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I’ll always know where to find you: in our hearts.  My whole life, I’ve always known what a good person you are.  I believe God gave us three more years. There is a little bit of you in all of us, especially in Mommy, the boys and me,” she said.  “I love you.  Thank you, Daddy.”

I saved both of the newspapers in which those stories appeared and brought them home to my family.  I  told them that, were we to be blessed with a little boy,  his name would be Timothy.  Not so much to memorialize Timmy Stackpole as to inspire my son to be a good friend, husband and father.  To become a man of faith and service;  one who guides others down the same path.  To be a man that shares so much love with the people in his life that they are keenly aware of the good fortune that was theirs to know him, even in their deepest grief.

Timothy McGee Mayrose was born on November 6th, 2001.   He’s a very smart, kind and polite young man.  He loves sports, his dog, Smalls, and Harry Potter.  Mostly, though, he treasures the time he spends with his very large family.  We talk about how he was named all the time.  I think Timmy Stackpole would like him a lot.

Shortly after he was born, I wrote a letter to the Stackpole family to tell them about my Tim.   Even though I didn’t want to be intrusive,  I did want them to know that their wonderful father and husband was a role model for my son.  The contents of that letter are too personal to be written here.  What I will share, though, is my last thought to them; one that resonates within me today as powerfully as it did during those terrible weeks and months.  “God Bless our Timothys.”

by Eddie Mayrose

It should have been a baseball fan’s dream.  The game’s biggest rivalry, Yankees-Red Sox, taking center stage in the middle of August with the teams dead even atop the AL East standings.  In years past, each city would have come to a dead stop as the series played out.  This time around, however, in the dreaded era of the Wild Card, it was just another three game summer set.
There has been much excitement generated by the playoff format that was expanded in 1995.  Not only have teams that would have otherwise been eliminated enjoyed the added thrills and ticket sales generated by a pennant race, more than a few have manage to win the World Series. Iis there that advocates of the system point when extolling its virtues.

There is a dark side to this, though, one that the suits at MLB choose to ignore, and it made its annual appearance in the middle of the AL East race.  With both the Bombers and Bosox nine games clear of their closest Wild Card contender, each is virtually guaranteed a playoff berth already.  Thus, there is no urgency to juggle pitching rotations in order to create favorable matchups or rush injured players back on to the field.  Why bother?  The division title has been rendered meaningless by the playoff system that Bud Selig and his money grabbing minions have sworn to uphold.

Last season, with these same two teams neck and neck into the last week, it seemed as though the title was an afterthought.  Indeed, the Yankees’ matchup wit the Twins, one that resulted from their being the Wild Card winner, was infinitely more beneficial than Boston’s, who had to face Rangers’ ace Cliff Lee twice in a five game series.  Does MLB really want a situation t exist where a team can actually be better off by losing?

Here’s a simple solution.  Since Selig and his boys are so hot too add another playoff team, let’s give them one. At the same time, let’s restore some integrity to the divisional races.  Each league will now have two wild cards, and those teams will meet in a one game playoff on the day after the season ends with the winner advancing.  Want to make it important to win the division?  Float a winner-take-all playoff game in front of any team and see if they start to care a little bit more about the regular season.

Taking it a step further, no matter what the outcome of the All Star Game, no Wild Card team should gain home field advantage in the World Series.  In a SiriusXM radio spot I did shortly after the Yankees had, once again, dispatched the Minnesota Twins in three straight last October, host Mike Ferrin wondered about the merits of my proposal, thinking that it was too severe and overly punished the Wild Card team.  Punish?  Maybe.  But it certainly removes the window of opportunity a team might use to roll over and gain a weaker opponent in the first round.  More importantly, it restores the importance of late season games between divisional rivals; something we all want to see.

As I Sit and Think
Congratulations to Chris Mullin, Brooklyn-born St. John’s legend, NBA All-Star and Olympic Gold Medalist, on his induction into the National Basketball Hall of Fame.  The classic gym rat, Mullin spent a lifetime playing the game the right way.  That he never got to do it for the Knicks is a shame…  With Daniel Murphy out for the season and Jose Reyes, once again, on the shelf, is it finally time for the wheels to come off of the Mets’ bandwagon.  Maybe, but don’t bet on it.  If Terry Collins has done nothing else, he’s, at least, turned this group into a team of grinders that will battle until the last out… I keep hearing the same refrain from radio talkies about the Yankees’ rotation. “You just can’t take Burnett out of the rotation and replace him with Ivan Nova.”  Really?  Burnett is in the third of three seasons in which he’s underperformed spectacularly while Ivan Nova has done nothing but win whenever he’s been handed the ball.  The common logic says that Nova is a playoff risk because of his inexperience.  “You don’t know what he’ll give you”, goes the thinking.  That might be true.  The scary thing for Yankee fans, however, is that they, pretty much, DO know what Burnett will deliver.  Given the choice, I’ll take my chances with the kid… There’s no doubt that  the signing of RB Ahmad Bradshaw was a critical one for the Giants as they head into the 2011 season. However,  not much else has gone right for Big Blue since training camp opened.  The bitter contract battle between the front office and DE Osi Umenyiora stands to be a distraction that could last throughout the entire pre-season and beyond while the injury to their first round pick, CB Prince Amukumura, robs them of much needed help for a defensive unit that was one of the league’s worst in 2010.  With the Cowboys welcoming back Tony Romo and the much improved Eagles looming as a Super Bowl favorite, Eli Manning and Co. may have to put up a ton of points for the season to be successful… On the other side of the PSL aisle, the usual bluster about Super Bowls is, again, emanating from Jets camp in Florham Park.  Rex Ryan, to this point, has backed up his talk to some degree with two straight appearances in the AFC title game.  However, it’s hard to see where the Jets have improved enough to start booking hotel rooms in Indianapolis.  They’ve replaced WR Jericho Cotchery and Braylon Edwards with the recently paroled Plaxico Burress, who hasn’t played football outside of a prison yard for two years.  DE Shaun Ellis turned down Gang Green’s contract offer and, worse, headed north to the Patriots.  That gaping hole on the D-Line will be filled by untested Muhammad Wilkerson, a rookie out of Temple.  It’s a given that Big Rexy will put a playoff-worthy defensive unit on the field, but he’s betting heavy that Mark Sanchez will take that big step from promising youngster to elite quarterback.

by Eddie Mayrose

Tell the truth. Last February, if you’d somehow found out that the Yankees would be without Rafael Soriano and Joba Chamberlain in the back of their bullpen, that Mark Teixeira would be hitting just .240 in July and that Alex Rodriguez would have just 13 HR in an injury-plagued season, you’d have been hoping for a third-place finish in the AL East. At best. Yet, here are the Bombers, without one truly reliable pitcher in their rotation after C.C. Sabathia, sitting just a game-and-a-half behind the Red Sox in the game’s toughest division while enjoying a seven-game Wild Card lead over its closest rival. How? Look no further than General Manager Brian Cashman.

Cashman was vilified over the winter for his perceived disloyalty to the Yankee organization — first, by refusing to be suckered into bidding against himself for the services of Derek Jeter, then, for not falling in line behind the signing of Soriano, which was orchestrated over his head. Jeter, despite the incredible fashion in which he eclipsed 3,000 hits, has been muddling along with a batting average below last year’s, the worst of his career, while registering just 17 extra-base hits. Soriano, after disappointing early, is on the DL with no return date in sight. At this juncture, Cashman looks anything but disloyal; rather, he seems to have had a crystal ball. Maybe the baseball decisions should be left to the baseball guys.

Despite their success, the Yankees are still very much in need of that mid-season deal that Cashman has become so proficient at making. There is no doubt that at least one more pitcher must be added to the rotation and the names have already started to fly. Ubaldo Jimenez, 15-1 over the first half of 2010 and quite ordinary ever since, is one hurler rumored to be on the block. With the Rockies still in the NL West race, however, his availability raises a red flag. Why would Colorado move him if he wasn’t damaged goods? Look for Cashman to instead turn his attention to the south, where one or more lefties may be available. Houston’s Wandy Rodriguez has been more than a solid performer over the course of the last few years, flying under the radar as the Astros wallow in the standings. His lack of star quality may allow the Yanks to grab him without losing top catching prospect Jesus Montero.

As for the other possibility, don’t be surprised if the wily GM tries to coax Andy Pettitte from retirement. He’s had almost a year off, is well rested and shouldn’t take very long to round into Major League form. A longshot? Yes. But it’s just the type of move that a top exec like Cashman would make.

As I Sit and Think…

The only positive thing I see coming from this ridiculous NFL lockout is that the retired veteran players, long forgotten by the NFLPA, will receive much improved benefits going forward. As for the rest of the partygoers? I would have been perfectly content to watch college football … When your blood starts to boil that Casey Anthony may profit by selling her story to Hollywood, remember that we created the monster. If not for the success of the hideous reality trash currently drawing huge audiences on TV, there wouldn’t be a market for this crap … Plaxico Burress to the Jets? I thought that, by now, Gang Green didn’t have any more room for players that are impossible to support …If the fire sale has truly started in Queens and Sandy Alderson is set to sell off all of his assets, then it’s time to find out what the kids have. There’s no sense in shipping K-Rod out of town and handing the ball to a washed-up Jason Isringhausen. Let’s see what Beato and Parnell can do … As disappointing as it was for the United States to lose the World Cup final, the run to the championship game still should be viewed as an incredible achievement, something lost on ESPN tapehead Steve Levy, who previewed an upcoming segment on the game’s highlights as, “more on the U.S. women’s collapse” … With the trade deadline rapidly approaching, New York lost one of its best to Philadelphia this weekend as Danny Mayrose, fresh out of college, took his many talents into the business world. Go be great, Dan.

Eddie Mayrose, a member of the Baseball Bloggers Alliance, appears every Sunday on the Fantasy Sports Network with Craig Mish at 3 p.m. Sirius channel 210, XM channel 87.

by Eddie Mayrose

It was a long and difficult season. I had been coaching the fifth grade CYO basketball team in my parish for five campaigns and that year’s version was, by far and away, the smallest. There was not a single team in the league that didn’t have three players taller than our biggest guy and it showed in our winless record.

We played hard every week, ran our offense, trapped all over the floor on defense and rarely lost by more than five or six points. But, we did always lose.

I learned a lot from that team; still, to this day, my favorite. We came to practice twice a week and worked hard — running drills, improving skills and supporting each other. We, as a group, became so focused on getting that first win that we bonded like no other team I’d ever had. Personally, I felt like I was right in there with them, a member of the team rather than its coach; wanting more than anything to see these determined ten-year-olds enjoy some measure of success.

Don’t misunderstand. This was a talented bunch that saw eight of its nine members go on to play in high school. They were just so … so small. When games would get tight in the fourth quarter, they couldn’t get a rebound, no matter how hard they tried. Yet, they’d show up at practice two days later as if it was the season’s first.

Whenever I hear a coach describe a losing season the way I just did, I wonder if  he described the moral victory in an effort to sugarcoat an otherwise fruitless endeavor and it wouldn’t surprise me if my own recounting is viewed in much the same way.  It shouldn’t be.   Last Saturday night, fully a decade after we played our last game together, I was given the greatest gift for which any coach could hope.

My son Ryan, who was on that squad, threw a surprise birthday party in our backyard for his girlfriend (Happy 21, Simone!). While we were waiting for her to arrive, I had a chance to catch up with Steve Mondelli, one of Ryan’s oldest and closest buddies. Now 6’2” and heading into his senior year at Oneonta State, he was as tiny as the rest of his teammates back then. We’d been talking for a few minutes when a lightbulb seemed to go on above his head.

“Oh, Mr. Mayrose, I knew there was something I wanted to tell you. You’ll never guess what I did this year in college.”

And, as he told me, every loss from that long ago season washed away.

This would probably be a good time to mention that I am very devoted to St. Jude Thaddeus, patron Saint of lost causes and desperate cases. As part of my coaching program, I would require that each boy bring a quarter to practice. If they practiced in such a way that made them bad teammates, my idle threat was that the quarter would be used to call a parent and take them home. If not, it went into the till for St. Jude.

We attended mass together on the feast day of St. Jude and said a quick prayer to him before each game. At the end of the season, I’d write a check to the St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital in Memphis on behalf of every player. I was always happy to introduce the kids to St. Jude and it was very important to me, but I never harbored any illusion that they shared my devotion. Until Saturday.

As it turns out, Steve is a member of St. Jude’s Giants at Oneonta. Not just a member, actually, but a newly elected member of the Executive Board. I was smiling from ear to ear as he told me about the process by which he was selected.

“I had to go in for an interview, which made me a little nervous. Then they asked me how I came to know about St. Jude. I told them about my fifth grade basketball coach, the masses, the prayers, the donations; I just got on a roll.”

He then went on to tell me of all the work the group does, quoting statistics about how many children are helped each year by the hospital and how he’s keeping his fingers crossed that the Board will make a trip to Memphis this year to visit the hospital. It made every difficult loss of that season worth the while.

I’ve written a number of times in this space how my life has been influenced by the generous, kind men that gave me the gift of their time and expertise when I was playing ball as a kid. I’m grateful to all of them, and equally proud of my friends that have followed that example by giving back to their kids. What I’ve mentioned far too infrequently, though, is how much those kids give to all of us that are lucky enough to coach them. How they can light up your day by simply calling you “coach.” Or, even 10 years after the fact, let you know that they cared enough about you to simply pay attention. There isn’t a championship in the world that can top that. Thanks, Steve.

Eddie Mayrose appears every Sunday on the Fantasy Sports Network with Craig Mish at 3 p.m. Sirius channel 210, XM channel 87. He can also be seen, with Tom DeAngelo, on “Down in Front,” a weekly sports talk show available to Fios customers in Brooklyn and Queens. Check local listings.

By Eddie Mayrose

Before you read any further, you should be aware that my wife, Virginia, is of the opinion that I shouldn’t often be out in public, as the commonly accepted idiosyncrasies of normal people tend to drive me crazy.

She’s right. I can’t get a handle on why people lunch on the free samples at Costco, spread out four across on a sidewalk when I’m walking toward them, or buy $50 worth of Lotto tickets while I’m waiting in line for a Metrocard to get to work.

While these and many other things tend to put me over the edge, I’m fully aware that the onus is on me to assimilate; I’m the one with the problem. Except, that is, when these wonderful little oddities invade my own sacred bastion: baseball. That’s where I draw the line. I will not suffer thoughtlessness well when it gets in the way of my enjoyment of the national pastime. And any who might disagree with my opinions on the subject can kick rocks — get your own column!

Monday night, the Fourth of July, my wife and son Tim showed up at Richmond County Ballpark to watch the Brooklyn Cyclones take on the Staten Island Yankees. The place was packed, as it always is, because the Yankees have a brilliantly creative marketing department that offers an endless parade of ingenious promotions, from all-you-can-eat tickets to batting practice with the team to “Fireworks Night,” which, obviously, was being held on Independence Day. The tragic downside to all of these promotions, however, is that very few of the more than 7,000 usually in attendance are there to watch a baseball game. Worse, they make it virtually impossible for me to watch.

Don’t get me wrong; I understand that the NY-Penn league is as far from the big leagues as you can get in professional baseball. But, the small ballpark offers a wonderful opportunity for a dad to pass on the finer points of baseball to his kids. That is, until the children are either distracted by the guys in poodle skirts dancing on the dugouts, or completely obstructed by the Cub Scouts parading back and forth to the concession stands. Knowing this, I always try to grab a seat somewhere down the line, away from the mayhem. No such seat was available on Monday, however, and the show was on.

No one seemed to care that the game started at 7 p.m., as people continued to arrive in droves well into the third inning. One of those was Andy Pettitte, or, at least, a heavy drinker wearing a Pettitte jersey. He and his buddy, clad in a T-shirt that read “God fearin’, Bible believin’, Gun packin’, America lovin’ Conservative,” made enough trips to the beer stand to qualify my seats for obstructed-view status. They couldn’t hold a candle, however, to the four people directly in front of me, who were taking photos of the sunset and harbor for most of the contest.

“Excuse me, sir, can you lower your hands so that I can explain to my son why the runner on third takes his lead in foul territory?” That remark only got me the stink eye from Virginia, as she knew I was starting to boil. The fact that I directed the request to the wife didn’t win me any points, either.

The Cyclones’ starting pitcher was perfect through three, with a terrific fastball and a bender that was keeping the Yankees on their toes. As I started to explain to Tim what “spotting the fastball” meant, the catcher was suddenly hidden from view. It seems that Dorothy something-or-other was a neighbor of the woman in front of us. She stopped by to chat because they hadn’t seen each other since they’d gotten in their cars and driven to the game. After two batters of biting through my tongue so as not to get myself in more trouble with my wife, she turned around and asked, “Oh, am I blocking you?”

“For quite a while,” was my reply, just before I got kicked as a reminder to behave. Hey, it was better than what I wanted to say: “Not at all. I’m too distracted by the plumber’s crack your husband keeps showing us every time he stands up.”

Finally, we got to the seventh inning, and the all-you-can-eat stands closed down. Now, we could settle back and watch some baseball. Even though the game was a laugher, with Brooklyn up 10-3, the crowd was still excited after the riveting ferry race on the scoreboard that was immediately followed by the two dolts running around the bases wrapped in inner tubes. I was just starting to enlighten Tim as to why the first baseman plays behind the runner with a big lead when, off in the distance, the Macy’s Fireworks show started in Manhattan.

“Hey, dad. This is just like the Fourth of July scene in The Sandlot.”

He was right. It was beautiful. Sadly, though, we got to enjoy it for about a minute, as the hordes of people sitting in the lower sections started making their way up the steps to get a better view while climbing all over us. It was at that point that I realized that the 18 guys on the field were merely a distraction that was delaying what these people had actually come to see. I slumped in my seat, awaiting the inevitable, and, in the top of the eighth, I got it: The Wave.

Let’s be clear about this. I don’t just hate the wave. I believe there should be snipers on the roof of every ballpark that fire paint balls at anyone standing up for the wave. Ushers should then swoop down on these paint-stained fans and remove them from the stadium forever.

Look, folks, you want crazy races and contests? Go to a picnic. You want to answer trivia questions and watch silly cartoons? Then Jeopardy and Nickelodeon are for you. Just keep the nonsense away from the ballpark. Some of us are trying to watch the %#@$! game!

Eddie Mayrose appears every Sunday on the Fantasy Sports Network with Craig Mish at 3 p.m. Sirius channel 210, XM channel 87. He can also be seen, with Tom DeAngelo, on “Down in Front,” a weekly sports talk show available to Fios customers in Brooklyn and Queens. Check local listings.

by Eddie Mayrose

It’s been a wild couple of weeks for the Washington Nationals. First, and foremost, they’ve opened eyes around the baseball world by putting together an incredible hot streak that saw them register 12 wins in 13 games, raising their record above .500 at a later point in the season than at any time since they were the Montreal Expos.

Then, in a very bizarre twist, the Nats saw their skipper, Jim Riggleman, take his ball and go home when he couldn’t secure a contract extension. It was an act of virtual career suicide, as it’s hard to imagine any other franchise hiring a leader prone to abandon his troops mid-battle.

Riggleman, rumored to have had trouble with some of Washington’s more veteran players, maintained that his lame duck status undermined his authority. Whether that’s true or not, Riggleman decided he’d had enough, opening the door for what could be a great story.

Davey Johnson, plucked from the ranks of consultant and thrust into the dugout after an 11-year hiatus, takes the reins of a team eerily similar to the New York Mets squad he inherited in 1984. And we all know how that turned out.

Johnson has always been a manager with a keen eye for player development, who allows the players to police themselves in the clubhouse. Those skills will be critical as the Nats’ roster, dotted with some solid veterans and one superstar in Ryan Zimmerman, will soon welcome the game’s top two prospects: Steven Strasburg and Bryce Harper. Can you say Hernandez, Gooden and Strawberry?

Whatever happens over the course of the rest of the season in D.C., rest assured that the final building block is likely in place. Johnson will lobby hard for Harper to be in his 2012 lineup, hand the team over to Zimmerman and Jayson Werth and watch his charges start their climb up the NL East ladder.

“Down in Front!”

Gotta love that Mets’ medical staff and its diagnostic talent. Angel Pagan, thought to be out two weeks with an oblique strain, ends up waiting six to return. David Wright’s six-to-eight-week stretch with a back injury will end up being closer to 12 and now we find out that Ike Davis will likely need season-ending surgery. Worse, his condition may have been aggravated by the boot prescribed by the Mets’ quack staff. Too bad, as the Amazins, miraculously hanging around in the Wild Card race despite their depleted ranks, could really use a couple of big bats in the middle of the lineup … Not that many sports fans have it marked on their calendars, but the College World Series from Omaha is one of my favorite events of the year …The more Tiki Barber tells the world he’s still capable of playing in the NFL, the more I wonder about his ability to evaluate talent. Isn’t he the guy that told us that the idea of Eli Manning winning a Super Bowl was laughable? … No way to tell yet whether the Knicks’ first-round pick, Iman Shumpert, will make it in the NBA. However, you have to like the fact that they finally went after a guy whose forte is defense …My favorite line of the NBA draft was supplied by ESPN’s Stuart Scott, who pointed out how important this draft would be to the Cavs just a year after losing LeBron James. “If there was ever a city that needs for something good to happen, it’s the Cavaliers.” Thanks for the geography lesson, Stu …I’m wondering, now that Alex Rodriguez has his average up around .300 with 50 RBI, is he still done? …As the AL East race heats up and the Yankees and Red Sox jockey for position atop the standings, neither should get caught sleeping on the Rays, currently just two games back with a wealth of young pitching.

Eddie Mayrose appears weekly with Craig Mish on SiriusXM’s Fantasy Sports Network — Sirius Channel 210, XM Channel 87 and can be seen by Fios customers on “Down in Front” with co-host Tom DeAngelo. Check local listings.

by Eddie Mayrose

Back in March, just as we were starting to find out that the Wilpons’ involvement in the Madoff scandal would have a significant impact on their franchise, Jose Reyes approached the Mets about a contract extension. Coming off three straight seasons that saw time lost to injury, Reyes wasn’t exactly in a prime bargaining position. However, at 27 years old and entering the prime of his career, he could at least point to the fact that, when healthy, he’d spent a few seasons as one of the game’s elite players. This was an opportunity for the Mets to lock up a core player — one around whom you build a franchise, on the cheap. As is their modus operandi, though, the Wilpons failed to pull the trigger.

Talk radio debates raged among the “first-time, longtime” crowd as to whether or not the Amazins’ should commit to Reyes. Then, the season started and Reyes quickly reminded the baseball world that it was, in fact, injury that had robbed him of his brilliance, not fading skills. He has reestablished himself as the game’s finest shortstop, while becoming an offensive juggernaut in a park seemingly built with his talent in mind. While the middle of the Mets’ order has spent much of 2011 on the disabled list, Reyes has kept his team in Wild Card contention, thrusting himself into the middle of MVP discussions.

That he’s played his best baseball since Fred Wilpon opened mouth and inserted foot in an interview with the New Yorker, opining that Reyes does not warrant the same money as Carl Crawford, only points to the tragic way things have come apart in Flushing. Typically, the Mets have begun to realize too late that Reyes needs to stay. Put yourself in Reyes’ shoes. Do you really want to play for a team that has misdiagnosed injuries and cost you playing time, refused to even discuss the possibility of an extension with a seven-year vet and has an owner that has publicly denigrated your skills? Neither would  I.

Down in Front!

Once you get past how silly it is for the NBA to be making a big deal of its draft with a lockout looming, we resume the annual absurdity of completely ignoring a player’s accomplishments on the college level, while rolling the dice on long untested teenagers from Europe. Now, I know that there are no certainties in this inexact science of player selection. But, since there’s as much chance that a pick is driving a cab in five years as there is he’ll be driving to the hoop, wouldn’t a proven body of work trump a stab in the dark?  Enter Jimmer Fredette. The BYU super shooter, who led the NCAA in scoring last year while leading his largely ordinary teammates to a top-five ranking, currently has many NBA execs doubting his ability to make it with the big boys. However, even if their concerns are about his size and capacity to defend, there’s no getting around the fact that his quick release and unlimited range will be an asset on the next level. Let’s see. Wouldn’t he be a great fit on a team with two post-up superstars that tend to get in each other’s way and could use a shooter to spread the defense? What do you think, Carmelo and A’mare? … No matter how this season turns out for the Yankees, GM Brian Cashman will have had a successful 2011. In resurrecting the careers of Bartolo Colon and Freddy Garcia, he’s gotten more bang for his buck than anyone could have imagined. But, in light of the failure of Rafael Soriano before the reliever headed to the DL, and Derek Jeter’s miserable performance, Cashman comes out smelling like a rose. The GM was vilified last year for suggesting that Jeter test the market before the Steinbrenners handed the shortstop $52 million, before being tagged as disloyal for disagreeing with the signing of Soriano. I’m thinking maybe the baseball stuff should be left to the baseball guys, something that Daddy Boss never got. Guess it runs in the family … To tell the truth, if he’d been Congressman Elbow or Congressman Shoulder, it wouldn’t have been so funny … Then there was this missive from Citi Field: “He’ll have all the opportunity in the world to bring anybody he wants in,” team COO Jeff Wilpon said yesterday, without saying that Sandy Alderson will have free reign. “The way for him to do that is to bring the ideas to us and we’ll talk about it. But he does not have restrictions. We’ll deal with everything on a case-by-case basis.” I read that and I think of the woman who owned the Indians and needed the team to lose in order to relocate in the film Major League. As long as the Mets stay in contention, it becomes more difficult for lil’ Jeffy and Papa Fred to justify the dismantling of the team, a course that, I’m sure, has already been charted …You have to love this week if you’re a sports fan. The U.S. Open, interleague play in Major League Baseball and the College World Series from Omaha will all have your remote working overtime.

Eddie Mayrose appears every Sunday on the Fantasy Sports Network with Craig Mish at 3 p.m. Sirius channel 210, XM channel 87. He can also be seen, with Tom DeAngelo, on “Down in Front,” a weekly sports talk show available to Fios customers in Brooklyn and Queens. Check local listings.

by Eddie Mayrose

There was no way it could have gone easily for LeBron James. The native son of Ohio, who was also the biggest star in any sport to ever become a free agent, was, absolutely, going to leave behind a lot of ill will and broken hearts when he departed Cleveland. That he decided to pour salt in the wounds by selling the television rights for his “decision” to ESPN and uttering the now infamous “I’m taking my talents to South Beach” only made it worse. So, off to Miami he went, to join Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh to pursue what James said was his only motivation — to win a championship.

There was no love lost for James in the cities he’d spurned, either. Fans in New York and Chicago serenaded the beleaguered star with derogatory chants that had to do with LeBron playing second fiddle to Wade. Then, when the Heat struggled out of the gate, fans everywhere were downright gleeful that the Big Three formula that worked so well in Boston would be a failure for Pat Riley in Miami.

Things haven’t quite worked out as the naysayers would have hoped, however, since the NBA playoffs began. Miami has easily dispensed of both Boston and Chicago, with James and Wade leading the charge. After the Heat had finished dismantling the Bulls, none other than Scottie Pippen dubbed LeBron the greatest in league history. I don’t know if I’d go that far, but, with Wade, he probably forms a more formidable tandem than Pippen and Jordan. Something for the Mavericks to consider as they try to devise a plan to stop the Heat in the finals.

Even with Dirk Nowitzki playing like a man possessed, I’m not sure Dallas can figure a way to get four wins over the suddenly invincible Heat. And, if Miami should win, would we then be forced to concede that James was right all along? It was about a championship.

Down in Front!

Who’d a thunk that with slumping stars on the left side of the infield, no production from the corner outfield spots, two big bullpen guys on the DL and a starting rotation that’s essentially C.C. Sabathia and then “cross your fingers,” the Yankees would be sitting atop the A.L. East on Memorial Day? Maybe this Girardi guy is a little smarter than the “first-time, long-time” crowd would have you think …

Very impressed that Rex Ryan, looking for a way to best prepare his team when and if the NFL labor dispute is settled, sought the advice of Joe Gibbs, who coached the Redskins to titles in two strike seasons. But, Big Rexy kinda tipped his hand a little bit when he went public with Gibbs’ insights …

Vancouver faces off against Boston this week for the Stanley Cup. This concludes the hockey portion of the column …

Now that Fred Wilpon has told us what he really thinks about Jose Reyes, hasn’t he already sealed the shortstop’s fate? Reyes has to be dealt, if for no other reason than he can’t be expected to re-sign with an owner that has such small regard for his talent. Way to play it close to the vest, Freddie …

Funny how life’s most important moments occur when you’d least expect. Like a simple, late night ride on the Garden State Parkway, when the only person who stays awake on the way home makes you fall in love with her before you make it back to Brooklyn. Happy anniversary, Gin. Thanks for giving all of us such a wonderful life.

Eddie Mayrose appears on SiriusXM’s Fantasy Sports Network every Sunday at 3 p.m. with Craig Mish and can be seen, with Tom D’Angelo, on “Down in Front,” available to Fios customers in Brooklyn. Check local listings.

by Eddie Mayrose

If you’ve ever played a sport at any level, it’s likely that you have at least one great story about a coach.

That man, or woman, who taught you not just the rules and techniques of a sport, but more important things about loyalty, commitment and being part of something bigger than yourself. Let’s face it, no matter what the game we play, we eventually have to stop. Once that happens, we’re left with the life lessons handed out along the way by someone who cared more deeply about us than how we may have filled out a stat sheet.

I think that the biggest reason for my lifelong love affair with sports has been the good fortune that has blessed me with great mentors. First, and foremost, was my father, who taught me the intricacies of every position on a baseball field. More than that, he cared about teaching the game to every kid on the team, no matter his skill level. I would watch him during a game, unnecessarily calling to us in the outfield to shift positions and wonder why he bothered.

“Keeps you in the game and makes you feel a part of things,” he’d say. “That’ll make you love the game and become better players.”

We didn’t stay in the outfield for long, however, as he constantly moved his weaker players in and out of the third base position.

“You want to really turn a kid on? Give him a shot in the infield.” That is wisdom I’ve never forgotten. My dad knew that the bottom of a little league lineup doesn’t pull the ball, so, what was the harm? The value, though, was the self esteem that soared within that 8-year-old and gave him a newfound confidence. It was always amazing how a kid’s bat woke up shortly after he’d logged a few innings in the infield.

In my case, the list of great coaches for whom I played is long and diverse. Howie Justvig, Andy Vacante, Don Grady, Bert Miglino, Andy Cella and Pat Kenny were very different personalities with extremely dissimilar styles. Yet, each shaped me in ways that made me a better player and teammate. More than that, many of the things I learned from them also made me a better friend and father long after I put away my spikes. I will  be forever grateful to all of them for the kind sacrifice of their time and knowledge.

As my children started to play sports, I found that the gratitude felt toward a coach that had helped me, increased exponentially for the coaches that were kind to my kids. Now that they’re grown, and team sports are a part of their past, my children number many of these generous people as their friends. They’ve each been given wonderful gifts by the men and women that guided them from peewee leagues all the way through high school and college.

We lost one of those angels last week. Tony DeSimone was the freshman football coach at Xaverian High School when the World Trade Center was attacked on the second day of the school year. More than 40 of the team’s 55 players had never played organized football before and, obviously, none had ever been in high school. The uncertainty of their new surroundings, however, was dwarfed by the impact of the attacks. Too many children attended far too many funerals during those terrible days. It was the haven that Coach D offered to his band of freshman that they still appreciate in adulthood.

“Rain or shine, it’s football time,” was Coach D’s credo; one he shared every day as the team arrived on the practice field.  His coaching expertise was evident from the first day and he seemed to know just how well the kids took to his personality. He was a strong, barrel-chested man whose appearance could be intimidating; until he spoke in a voice so soft that you almost had to ask him to repeat himself. Shorts and a T-shirt, no matter the weather, was his uniform for the season. He was always positive, never demeaning, and those qualities were quickly adapted by what would become a tight knit team. That they went undefeated is merely a footnote to the impact that Coach D had on his players. He knew how frightened they were by what was going on in the world and he took them under his wing to protect them and divert their attention; if only for a few hours a day.

My son was a 5’3” backup quarterback on that squad. Despite his size, he played in every game, as did all of his teammates. Coach D’s commitment to every member on his team inspired both a love of the game and each other that they still carry today. That love spawned not only a high school but college football career for my son, one that we would have never expected back then. The wonderful people he’s met, the places to which he traveled and the education he received all trace some of their roots back to those first uncertain days at Xaverian. I shudder to think what he’d have missed had Tony DeSimone not been there. Godspeed, Coach.

“Rain or shine, it’s football time!”

by Eddie Mayrose

A while back, after some aging stars negotiated a special clause in their contracts, the National Baseball Hall of Fame took matters into its own hands by announcing that the final decision on which team’s cap would be worn on the plaque of an inductee would be the Hall’s alone. This made a non-issue of the deals swung by Wade Boggs and Jose Canseco with the Tampa Bay Devil Rays that, upon their possible induction, they’d go in as Rays, even though the bulk of their careers had been spent elsewhere. The Hall still allows the player to choose, but will step in if that choice is a silly one.

I remember having a discussion with another Mets fan about which hat should be worn by Mike Piazza upon his enshrinement. An argument can be made for both the Mets and Dodgers and the choice between the two will fall to, in this case, the player. I have no idea which way the former catcher is leaning, but my hope is it will be the Mets. Not because they’re my favorite team, but, rather, because he was wearing that uniform for one of the most memorable and uplifting sports moments I’ve ever witnessed.

We’ve all seen it. It’s a part of New York sports lore by now – the eighth-inning home run Piazza hit to vault the Mets over the Braves in the first sporting event held in New York after the Sept. 11 attacks. That game has been replayed numerous times on SNY over the years, yet, no matter how many times I’ve seen it, I cry.

The smiles on the faces of the FDNY and NYPD personnel who were in attendance, after the horror of the previous two weeks, seemed to light up the night, if only for a little while. Afterward, Piazza said that if he’s remembered “more for that one home run than any other big home run I’ve hit, then that’s perfectly fine with me.”

Even Chipper Jones, a longtime Mets nemesis, said that, perhaps, it was best that the Mets had won. I was reminded of those emotions the other night as I watched Mets/Phillies on ESPN. As word of bin Laden’s death began to circulate through the stands, fans of both teams stood in unison and chanted “U-S-A!” In a town in which Santa Claus was once booed, rivals rose and cheered a common victory, that of good over evil. It’s been a long decade since that horrible Tuesday morning and it’ll be longer still before this war against terror is won. But, for a few minutes on Sunday night, it was great to be part of something bigger than a ballgame.

‘Down in Front!’

Imagine the surprise of Knicks fans everywhere as they watched Zach Randolph lead the Grizzlies past the Spurs in the first round of the NBA playoffs. Randolph, clearly his team’s go-to guy, was anything but when he wore the blue and orange. Discarded as just another of Isiah Thomas’ bad acquisitions, Randolph seems to have landed in the perfect situation for him to be successful. Makes you wonder which is more valuable — a coach with a proven system that works with certain types of players, or one diverse enough to adjust his system to the talent on hand. If the last three years have proven anything, it’s that Knicks offensive coordinator Mike D’Antoni is certainly not the latter and is still unproven as the former … We’re a month into the baseball season and, despite all of the struggles surrounding him in the Mets’ bullpen, Xaverian High School’s Pedro Beato has yet to allow a run.  Could he be the closer in waiting should the Mets’ look to deal K-Rod?