…showed up on mothafuckas screens across America on this day in 1968, just as the Raiders were about to fuck up the Jets. J-E-T-S Jets were leading 32-29 with 65 seconds to go. NBC goes to Heidi. Daryle Lamonica gets bizzzle-dizzle. Later on Jets fans learn that Gang Green lost 43-32. Fourteen points in the last minute. And they like… damn I’m a kill that bitch Heidi! Where she at? And Heidi’s all, “yeah right a bunch of Jets fans gonna fuck with me, I’m SWISS yo…”

1963 – Sandy Koufax
25-5, 1.88 ERA, 306 K’s

1968 – Bob Gibson
22-9, 1.12 ERA, 268 K’s

1975 – Tom Seaver
22-9, 2.38 ERA, 243 K’s

1984 – Dwight Gooden
24-4, 1.53 ERA, 268 K’s

1996 – John Smoltz
24-8, 2.94 ERA, 276 K’s

2002 – Randy Johnson
24-5, 2.32 ERA, 334 K’s

2006 – Brandon Webb
16-8, 3.10 ERA, 178 K’s

My early prognosis? Floyd, TKO, 7th. That’s right, 7th. I know I’m not getting any love on my prognostications after that C. Brock bullshit, but look, I’m wrong once a year. Anyway, let’s hear it from the gallery people. Cause this shit is big like Biggie.

So begins one of the great baseball books ever written, Jim Bouton’s “Ball Four,” a diary of a season in the bigs as told by a player. It kicks off with Bouton signing with the lowly Pilots on November 15, 1968, 28 years ago today.

If you’ve never read this book (and I know that the chances are slim that you are reading this blog but have never read “Ball Four”), you should do so right now. The supposedly scandalous revelations – that management was cheap and ruthless, that Mickey Mantle partied, that players popped pills and cheated on their wives and “shot beaver” (going to absurd lengths to look up women’s skirts from the dugout or bullpen) – are toothless now, little more than quaint and frequently ridiculous.

Bouton was and remains today a smug son of a bitch, so proud of himself for being flagrantly different from the rank and file of big leaguers that you just want to punch him. It’s easy to see why people hated him, even without the betrayal of his clubhouse tell-all.

Asshole or not, though, his book is a masterpiece, and not because it takes you behind the scenes of major league baseball. That part is undoubtedly fun. But “Ball Four” isn’t about baseball so much as it is about a frightened man battling against the facts of time, his diminished powers and the loss of youth. You don’t need to care much about baseball to feel that shit in your bones. You just need to be over 30.

Here’s an exchange I just heard on WIP, the main sports radio station in Philly. The hosts of the afternoon show are two dudes with the Philliest possible names imaginable – Steve Martorano and Anthony Gargano:

CALLER: Yo I ain’t a doctor but I think I got a serious medical opinion about Donovan McNabb’s throwing-up problem.

STEVE: Okay. Let’s hear it.

CALLER: Well, all right… the first time it happened was at the Super Bowl in Jacksonville. Then it happened a couple weeks ago in Tampa. And see, I remember Jon Runyan talking about how the air in Florida made his allergies go crazy-

STEVE: I think I see where you’re going with this. You think that Donovan McNabb might be allergic to Florida.

CALLER: Well, not exactly. But he’s got some kind of allergy problem that-

STEVE: Yeah, yeah, I get it. Donovan McNabb is allergic to Florida. It’s an interesting theory.

CALLER: No, Steve, listen I’m serious about this-

STEVE: I’m serious too! I gotta think about it a little more, but you may have just figured out the problem.

ANTHONY: No look, he didn’t. I got something here that’s just going to blow this whole theory out the water. Cause McNabb also threw up at the Carrier Dome when he was with Syracuse.

STEVE: Huh. Was he playing Florida?

Dear Larry,

Look, you got to step up. All night it’s been running around my head and I just can’t take it. Unfortunately, Muhammad is in no condition to redress the situation, and so I say it’s up to you.

Just in case you don’t read No Mas, and weren’t trolling the internet in general yesterday, let me recap. Manny Steward says that Klitschko is now in a class by himself. He says, and I quote, “Klitschko would be a problem right now for Ali.”

Larry Larry Larry we can’t have this bullshit. You and I both know that Klitschko right now would not be a problem for Joe fucking Bugner, let alone the king of kings. You got to stop this man from running his mouth. Get back in the gym, drop twenty pounds, and then, for the good of the sport, for the good of MANKIND Larry, drop Wlad like a bad habit and defend the greatest generation, you know what I’m sayin? Send Manny back to his basement in Detroit with his tail between his legs.

This is an open letter call to arms. We need you.

Love and respect,

No Mas NYC

People I know it’s crazy, but Large is reaching deep for this one – I predict that Calvin Brock will take Wlad Klitschko’s IBF and IBO heavyweight belts at the Garden tomorrow night. Brock is a heavy underdog. Last I checked the Vegas odds, a hundred on Brock was winning you $330. Large doesn’t gamble (anymore) but if he did, he would be sorely tempted to put down a few bills on The Banker. He’s got power in both hands, he’s got a chin, and he’s big enough to stay close to Wlad and push him around the ring a little. Klitschko is soft at the core. Brock will expose that the same way Sam Peter did, but he’ll have the skills and the size to back it up. Only thing that makes me nervous is Manny Steward, but the one thing he can’t give a fighter is heart.

Large himself will be at the bout on some HBO muscle. Look for me. I’ll be the one with my arms folded, giving the slow “how you like me now?” nod as they read the UD for C.B. and the belts change hands. Then we can start thinking Brock/Briggs and get a little mo back with the big boys.

LARGE SAYS – Brock in a unanimous decision. Wlad hits the canvas sometime around the 9th.

On November 10, 1938, on her ever-popular weekly radio show, Kate Smith first performed a rousing little ditty that Irving Berlin had recently written for her called “God Bless America.” The song would go on to become the second national anthem, which is… whatever. More importantly, Kate’s rendition of the song would go on to become the Philadelphia Flyers’ national anthem, and lead them to the Stanley Cup.

Kate’s “God Bless America” was first played before a Flyers game at the Spectrum on December 11, 1969. Philly beat the Maple Leafs 6-3 that night, and the legend was born. From there, Kate’s voice became the ultimate good luck charm for the team that they broke out whenever they needed a win. She brought down the house when she made a surprise appearance at the Spectrum to sing the song before the team’s home opener in 1973. At that point, she became official Philly royalty. Her second appearance at the Spectrum was even bigger – game 6 of the Stanley Cup finals between the Bruins and the Flyers. The Flyers clinched their first Cup with a 1-0 victory. The Kate Smith mystique was at an all-time high.

In all, Kate sang the song four times at the Spectrum. She was 3-1 live, and her record in all, on tape or in person, when played before Flyers games was 69-19-3. The picture up on the right is Kate celebrating the 1974 Cup victory with Flyers owner Ed Snider and the inimitable toothless Clarkie.

Kate Smith sings “God Bless America”

Today’s birthday boodoggle is AN OFFICIAL NO MAS CONTEST. That means you will win something. We decide what you win. If you’ve won before or are a No Mas affiliate or are just plain wack, you are ineligible. Otherwise, get in there and mix it up. Leave your entry as a comment, first winner is the new heavyweight champ. Next thing you know you’re wearing a supafly No Mas wristband or a jockstrap that says “BALCO.”

All born today, the playas down below:

As you’re probably aware by now, Dwight Gooden was released from prison today down in Gainesville, FL after serving seven months of a year-and-a-day sentence he received for violating his probation.

On October 27th we hosted a party at Classic Kicks to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Game 7 of the 1986 World Series. That night, in the tradition of the open letter we posted to Dwight this summer, we had a table set up where people could write well-wishing letters to Gooden. We included those letters in a small care package we sent to Dwight which we are hoping will reach him through the Tampa office of the Yankees. Some highlights from the letters are posted below.

We also would like to give those of you who couldn’t make the party an opportunity to send your good wishes. So please post something for Dwight in the comments. We will send a second envelope down with a transcript of all the notes.

Doc,

You thrilled me! A Yankee fan supporting the Mets all the way. And when you joined it was beautiful. Much love.

Stay Good,

Michael Figgiani

********************

Dear Mr. Gooden!

Please stay strong. Your abilities and heart helped everyone I know.

Much respect + goode lookin!

Sosa

********************

C’est Dommage

(It’s nothing)

Courtney

********************

D. Good,

B. Good. Saw your no-hitter with the Yankees. One of the highlights of my life. You gave that to me! Be real, man. We love you in NYC

Ed M

********************

Dwight,

We only met once but you made a lasting impression on that 16 year old. Keep it tight when you are out, K?

Best,
J.P.

********************

Dear Doc,

Thank you so much for your years in ’85 and ’86… You were truly an inspiration and gave us all something to root for. This year brought us Mets fans plenty to cheer for but nothing like it was then! Hopefully you can throw our first pitch in the playoffs sometime soon. Good Luck and keep your head up.

Pat

********************

D-Wight,

I feel your struggle. We still love you in NY.

Peace,

The Ruffian

P.S. You are the reason I watched baseball.

********************

Dwight,

I won’t hold anything against you for where you are now. We all have vices and make mistakes. You brought the Mets back to credibility along with the crazy team of ’86. Fuck the Yankees…

You’ll always be a Met!!

Respect,

DJ Emskee

********************

Dwight,

I hope I find you in good spirits with this letter. You’ll be happy to know your name was evoked many times during the evening and the magnitude of your success was celebrated. We are about the same age and the trajectory of your career mirrored my coming of age. If possible please contact me, I’d be honored to speak with you.

Bud Schmeling