A Child's Eye on September 11th

It’s difficult to imagine that it was already six years ago when the world changed on September 11, 2001.

Like today, September 11, 2001, was a Tuesday. A clear, sunny day, with the kids back in school and summer a mere memory as the sunlight faded a bit earlier every evening. My son was just shy of two years old, and my daughter was six back then. With the oldest one in school, I had the day with my boy, as he was in preschool three days a week.

I was off from work and had to drag my young son with me to the car dealer to get the Chevy serviced when the news hit the wires about a plane hitting the World Trade Center.

There’s no need to recount the events of that day. Everything is neatly cataloged in the minds of those affected directly or even indirectly by this cowardly act of violence.

But I’ll never forget sitting in a restaurant with my wife and children on Friday, September 14. My son was watching a flat-screen TV mounted on a wall opposite where we were sitting. Images from Ground Zero were constant, and regular programming on most stations had been canceled for coverage of the rescue and recovery efforts, as well as the sociopolitical commentary on the subject twenty-four hours a day.

We were seated in a booth when suddenly my boy stood and began to rant.

“There’s danger, danger…” he said. “Everywhere… hurt.”

This went on as he pointed to the television screen, acutely aware that something was tremendously wrong in the world. He was expressing, in his own limited way, the fear he felt watching the events unfolding around him.

My wife and I tried to calm him down, and others in the restaurant politely turned away because they understood that this wasn’t a typical temper tantrum thrown by a kid. There was urgency in his voice, and it was obvious what he was trying to tell us.

No one rolled their eyes at the parents who couldn’t control their son or remarked about the misbehaving brat at the next table.

He, too, was affected by the images shown over and over again on television of the towers crumbling before our eyes, with very brave souls trapped within, dying as we all gasped in collective horror.

On Long Island, where I live, roads were closed on 9/11, and only emergency traffic and those cleared by the police were allowed on major highways into New York City. Air traffic across the entire country was suspended, and the local airport near our home was silent.

Noisy military helicopters and jet fighters patrolled Long Island’s airspace. People were flying flags, holding candlelight vigils in public places, and erecting signs and hasty memorials to the victims.

All of this fell on my toddler’s eyes and ears and was difficult for him to digest. He heard and saw it all and reacted the only way he knew how: by warning his family that there was danger.

This morning, I woke up to put my daughter on the school bus and let my son sleep a bit longer. After she left for her busy day, one in which she had been chosen by the school librarian to read a special poem over the P.A. system to commemorate September 11, I got ready for work as my little boy wandered into my room, still drowsy from sleep.

He looked at the television. The news anchors were seated at Ground Zero, talking in somber tones about the various memorial services taking place around the city.

I watched him as he stood there, perhaps remembering his own reaction as a two-year-old six years earlier. Maybe he experienced a small amount of fear.

“Do you know what today is?” I asked him.

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on the TV screen.

“It’s the day the World Trade Center fell down,” he said.

Then he paused and looked at me.

“Dad, why don’t they build those buildings again?”

“Who would want to work in them?” I said, perhaps a bit too sharply.

He shrugged and sat down on the bed.

It was then that I needed to sit with him, hold him tight, and make sure he knew he was safe, even though there is still danger out there.

There’s a war raging in Iraq and Afghanistan, and images of 9/11 are still rolling around in our heads, even in the minds of eight-year-olds. Maybe I told him too much, or maybe not enough.

But young or old, understanding danger, remembering 9/11, and preparing for life in a violent world is something we have to do no matter what.

Like the two-year-old who stood in a restaurant, pointed at the TV, and told his sister and his daddy and mommy about the danger that was everywhere, I had to make sure he knew and remembered that this day affects all of us.

The victims live in the hearts and minds of their families, and the images and ripple effects of war and more and more American deaths in foreign lands remain.

The world changed forever because of 9/11.

And a two-year-old could see that.

September 11th World Trade Center Ground Zero Twin Towers Long Island

Mr. Grudge Returns

Hello Readers:
After a long hiatus to work on other writing projects, Mr. Grudge has returned and will be changing his format from all baseball/Yankees to more of a standard writer's blog. This was the intent all along with this blog, however, one baseball post turned into another, and then...well..I couldn't help myself.

There will still be an occasional baseball post, but it will not be the focus of this space as Mr. Grudge will post mainly topics about writing, and will most likely post some brief works, and ask for submissions from readers. Thanks for reading Mr. Grudge, and I look forward to a long reading and writing relationship with all of you.

~Mr. Grudge~

Don't Say That

It's been a while since I've posted; but it's the summer and there's plenty to do, including watching baseball. Writing about baseball takes time and is not a very enticing activity when the sun is shining outside and the beach is beckoning. The only time Mr. Grudge gets to enter anything into this space is at work...oops, I mean at night.

Speaking of Mr. Grudge's tentative employment at this current company, one of my favorite baseball associates came in to the office where I work discuss the events of the weekend when the Yankees put up football sized scores against the minor-major league Tampa Bay Devil Rays. This writer joked that the explosive offense displayed by the Yanks over the weekend was all of the production for the rest of July and for all of August spent in one spot over a few days, and that no one needs to worry about them getting a hit for the rest of the season. A young man was waiting for assistance nearby, and he scoffed at my mildy amusing little quip.

After that, my baseball buddy and I discussed the relative futility of the Yankees offensive efforts as they have to win better than 85% of their games for a run at a wild card berth (maybe not that much, but close, un-scientifically speaking). One may or may not agree with that statement, but realistically, unless Cleveland sputters and falls completely, the Yankees have to turn it up two notches, not just one, and keep the heat on for the rest of this very short season to have a chance at the wildcard.

The man waiting in our office, whom both me and my buddy were ignoring at that point, reacted to our conversation by saying "Don't say that, don't say that. They're going all the way." Talk about denial. I told him to pull the bill of his Yankees cap back up so he can see better and look at the standings. This team plays sporadically between fairly good and just plain awful. Their upcoming schedule may look soft for a couple of weeks, but that is no guarantee of success. This team hasn't put together enough wins in a row all season to stay above .500 consistently, let alone making a run at the playoffs. The best they can hope for is to become spoilers.

Call me crazy, cynical, uninformed, or whatever else you feel like. But that's writer's opinion, and I'm sticking to it.

Get Rid Of Them All: A Frustrated Fan Rants

Scott Proctor is either very good, or very bad. He's one of those pitchers who Joe Torre can rely upon. That means he gets to trot to the mound every day and throw the ball until his arm breaks off. That does not mean that he gets off the hook for walking in the game winning run against the Baltimore Orioles Tuesday night.

Without recounting the gory details, it was one of those scenarios where this writer, while watching the game with the sound on mute to help keep my blood pressure lower (it's difficult to listen to someone give a play by play of crappy baseball), knew that the Yankees would lose. It was especially infuriating to lose with Proctor walking in the winning run.

When the Yankees return to Yankee Stadium Friday to face the Oakland A's, stadium personnel should dispense with the organ music, and all of the other song clips and sound effects and merely play circus music for the entire game. That would not only make me feel good, it would be appropriate for the way the season is going.

Before the trade deadline, the Yankees not only should trade Proctor, they should donate him to a team in need of a mascot. They could give him a name like "Whizzo The Clown" to describe the hard throwing circus geek who can throw 96 MPH, but couldn't strike out Stephen Hawking at the plate with a bat on his lap. Kids could take turns spinning him in circles and watch him try to throw a ball at a barn-sized wall and miss to simulate the way he pitches during actual games.

I don't want to pick just on Scott Proctor. There's plenty of blame to go around this three ring circus of over-paid, complacent millionaires with visions of millions more of your dollars dancing in their heads. Next time you lay out a week's pay to take your family to Yankee Stadium for a game while sitting up in the nosebleed seats, take a gander at the 200+ million dollar team and see if you don't resent the fact that these clowns are the reason you're paying $12 for a hot dog.

This writer wouldn't mind seeing the whole team shipped off to other teams (where they'd flourish) and replace them all with minor leaguers. I'm thinking that some small market team might need guy who could go three for four with a walk in games where the team is winning 15-1, and go "0" for four in games where they're losing by one run. Can anyone say "Bobby Abreu?" The bullpen doesn't just need a rest, they need to be put to sleep, and brittle Johnny Damon should grow his long hair and beard back and stand in the dugout waving pom-poms because he's not good for much else. The guy has drive and plays hard. However, he's been injured ever since he became a Yankee and this writer doesn't care what else his problem is. Ever wonder why the Red Sox let him go? The reason is staring you right in the face: he's falling apart.

I could go on, but what's the point? There is no October, the team is toast, and it will take divine intervention for them to land a wild card berth let alone (ha ha ha) win the division. You can bet that Joe Torre will lose his Subway commercials with Willie Randolph along with his job as Skipper of the Yankees come October 1st when the Bronx Bombers scatter like school children sent home on the last day of school for the off season. Though, I can see him eventually doing commercials for life insurance for "seniors over the age of sixty five." By the way, notice how I didn't say "post season?" There is none, Yankee fans.

Looking Towards October

The division is out of reach for the Yankees this year it seems. However, the Wild Card may be the most attainable goal for the Bronx Bombers. With the way they're playing, nothing seems possible, though. One of my baseball colleagues at my job observed that the Yankees pulled Joe Girardi from Tuesday night's broadcast in Baltimore. Most likely, it was because the Yankees didn't want Girardi to have to discuss why he turned down the managerial job with the Orioles. Also, the Yes Network didn't want the Girardi story to become a distraction to the game. As my friend quipped, "The way they're playing, they can use all the distractions that come their way."

He's right. The only thing as a Yankees fan this writer has to look forward to is the All Star Game. After that, it's the long slide until the end of the season and my interest then focuses on football and whichever of the "New Jersey" teams are doing well. You just know that there are hunting and fishing magazines laying around the Yankee's clubhouse.

I'm a dedicated and fervent baseball fan, and a fair weather football fan. It's sad, that at this point in the season, I'm already looking for my Jets and Giants tee shirts in the closet. I can't wait to see the commercials during the Super Bowl.

New Image Of Mr. Grudge

Special thanks to Stephen Ingram for the painting of Mr. Grudge. This image has developed over time, and he's captured Mr. Grudge in a good mood. You can view Stephen's Blog, and his terrific drawings and paintings here: http://www.stepheningram.blogspot.com/. Please visit his blog and enjoy!

Mr. Grudge Goes Fishing

Have a great weekend all. Even though this is baseball season, I do my best baseball writing in the off-season. Just kidding. It's V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N time. Go Yankees, I think. Oh, hell. I should care about the lives of millionaires?

Underdogs Instead Of Underachievers

While listening to ESPN's Mike & Mike this morning, Mike Greenberg gave a brief re-cap of the Yankees victory over the Arizona Diamondbacks Tuesday night. Immediately, Mike Golic sarcastically asked "Did they pick up a game against Boston?" The answer of course, is no. He further went on to state that it would take a "colossal" failure on the part of Boston for the Yankees to overtake them and that the wild card was a more reasonable objective for this Yankees team. His tone didn’t suggest confidence for either of those scenarios happening.

Everything Mike Golic stated could very well be true, and the Bombers could wind up bombing even worse than they did for the first two months of this season, injuries or not. However, according to this writer's eye, this team has apparently hit its stride and looks as if they are ready to pounce. Pounce on what, I'm not sure. But, if the wildcard is what they need to shoot for in order to make it to the post season, then so be it. Nobody sneered at the Boston Red Sox when they won the World Series as a wild card team. For some reason, now that the Yankees find themselves in that position where they can only reasonably shoot for the lower tier berth for a chance at the post season, everyone is quick to mock them.

After all is said and done, no one can predict what is going to happen this season. The Yankees, if they continue to persevere, can win the division. With one hundred or so games left, and with solid pitching from their rotation, and maybe a key trade come the July 31st deadline, this team is perfectly capable of of over-taking Boston. There is no rule which states that teams can't continue to surge after they begin to surge. In other words, there’s no reason to suspect that they won’t stop playing this well after they’ve only recently started to play better baseball.

This combined pack of pinstriped mercenaries and homegrown winners constitute a ball club with not only big money contracts, but top shelf talent. They've already been beaten down by injuries, plagued with poor play and listlessness. But, Joe Torre, the man with his hand on the magic buttons which he pushed to orchestrate his teams from 1996 to 2000 to World Championships, has pushed these buttons again, more frantically than before, and many more times, and he seems to have programmed this group to play cohesively and to pitch like a true, professional, Major League starting rotation. It doesn’t hurt that they also have a lineup which can pound an opposing team’s pitcher for six or seven runs per game. The acquisition of Roger Clemens also has brought some momentum to this heretofore inert team. However short lived this momentum that The Rocket brought with him to the Bronx lasts, they now have a fighting chance with him here.

It has been said that there is a sign in the Yankees clubhouse at Legends Field in Tampa which states "Unless you're the lead dog, the view never changes." Well, the Yankees are no longer the lead dog in this race. This writer prefers to think of them now as underdogs. There's a lot to be said for underdogs; and, fans tend to root for the underdog. The question is, will the spoiled Yankees fan root for them?

A Plate Of Crow, With Ketchup, Please

One of the anonymous baseball fans quoted frequently in this blog came to this writer Tuesday morning with a grin on his face. It was a classic "I was wrong" grin which I knew immediately had to do with his position on Alex Rodriguez and the current state of the Yankees. This writer's position on A-Rod has been consistent in that it is my contention the he should not be traded, allowed to leave, or faulted as not being clutch in the post season. We all want the Yankees to be heroes in October, but, they need to get there. This season, more than any other in recent history has illustrated fact more distinctly. Alex Rodriguez is having a phenomenal season, and the A-Rod haters want him to fail in the post season, should the Yankees actually make it there, so they can watch him leave.

That has been the unswerving stance of the aforementioned Yankees fan that arrived at my desk this morning, ready to be contrite. "Is something happening here?" He asked, that wry smile indicating that he was having a change of heart. "Can the Yankees actually have a chance at overtaking Boston?" What my baseball friend was alluding to was that a nine and one half game deficit in early June in the A.L. East does not seem so insurmountable with a hundred or so games left in the regular season. "A-Rod has exceeded my expectations." My friend continued. There was so much he wanted to say, that he was popping off all of his comments sporadically. "I'm ready to eat crow," He said finally, shaking his head. "If he (A-Rod) keeps this up, in September, I'll as for a big plate of crow, covered in ketchup."

After assuring him that I'd be happy to break out the BB gun from my attic to track down and kill such a crow for his consumption, he hesitated, raised a finger and added one caveat "I'll wait until October. If he bats one-fifty, then the deal is off." We both laughed, and he went off to his office, trying to both feel confident about his favorite baseball team and their post-season chances and reconciling his feelings towards a player whom he previously had no confidence in. The joke is that he'll never eat an actual crow, but he's man enough to admit he may have been too harsh in his analysis of Rodriguez in the past.

Needless to say, hoping to keep his offer of culinary contrition alive, I told him as he held the door to the office open and turned back to see me, that it didn't matter what Alex Rodriguez batted in the post-season, as long as he helped get them there. This was a point I was happy to repeat to him for maybe the one hundredth time. He smiled, and walked away. He does not know it, but crow does taste better with ketchup. I've had to eat it plenty of times in my life. Go A-Rod.