On Wednesday, a truckload of cows was delivered to a Jamaica, Queens butcher for slaughter.
At least one cow was definitely not OK with this plan and broke free. Fortunately, the Internet was there to capture the moment:
There was good news for the cow: the city's animal control department named the jaywalker Molly and will find the speedster a good home, or farm.
I know a good pasture in Flushing where Molly could roam. She definitely shows some speed and, as a quadruped, has two extra hamstrings should one go awry. Lets just change her name from Molly to Wally.
Nashville's Barry Tashian remembers playing second base at New York's
Well, playing a guitar on a stage erected near second base. Tashian
wasn't good enough at baseball to become one of the 127 second basemen
in New York Mets history.
Not that it was ever an ambition. He was a Dodgers fan.
Also, he preferred music over hardball, and he stood on that infield
stage at Shea in 1966 because he and his band, The Remains -- a
collective launched when the members were students at Boston University --
were in the midst of a rock 'n' roll tour.
They were opening for a Liverpool combo called The Beatles.
So, what was that like? Funny, but a lot of people seem to ask Tashian
that very question. Turns out it was pretty cool.
It was cool to be 21 years old and be part of the biggest rock tour
in the world. It was cool to hang out with George Harrison in hotel
rooms, playing guitar and listening to sitar player Ravi Shankar's music
on Harrison's futuristic portable music device, a "cassette player."
"He had headphones for it," Tashian says. "He'd let me put the
headphones on and listen, and he'd say, 'This is North Indian classical
George was a nice guy, as were John, Paul and Ringo. Tashian says
they were just like their characters in the comedy film A Hard Day's
Tashian says he'll never forget the shrieking, crying and roaring
from the stadium crowds on that tour.
And Tashian says he really, really should have asked for autographs.
But why would he collect autographs? After all, he was going to spend
the rest of his life around rock stars and adolescent shrieks and
cassette players. He and The Remains weren't at fantasy camp, they were
joining the club.
"Oh, I thought we were going to be world famous as soon as the tour
was over," he says. "But...we weren't. And we broke up. Now, I think,
'Why did we ever break up the band after we did that tour?'
Because we were kids, and I guess that's what was going on."
The Remains became part of Boston rock lore: Beantown's no-hit
wonders. They were way-pavers for Aerosmith, the J. Geils Band and
others. In 2009, the America's Lost Band documentary explored
the group's legacy, and last year Barry & The Remains were inducted
into the Boston Music Awards' Hall of Fame.
As for Tashian, he found other doors through which to walk. He found
himself drawn to country music, went west, joined up with country-rock
Parsons and contributed vocals and guitar work to Parsons'
now-legendary 1973 solo debut, G.P. He moved to Nashville in
1980 and spent nine years as a member of Emmylou
Harris' Hot Band. And he and wife Holly Tashian have released seven
studio albums and toured the world as a heralded country and folk duo.
Every now and again, at a concert hall or a folk club, a festival or a
house concert, a fan would appear holding a Remains album, hoping for a
signature and a conversation. Sometimes the autograph-seeker had seen
Barry & The Remains play sweaty, energetic shows in 1964 at Boston
club The Rathskeller. Other fans had seen stadium shows with The Beatles
and remembered the hard-charging little rock quartet that opened the
evening and then backed The Ronettes and Nashville-born Bobby Hebb
(of "Sunny" fame) before ceding the stage to the Fab Four.
Those fan interactions were reminders to Tashian that The Remains had
been a fun thing for people, that the lack of popular success hadn't
negated the good feelings folks had for the music. And Tashian missed
playing rock 'n' roll.
He and original members Vern Miller, Bill Briggs and Chip Damaini
re-formed, releasing Movin' On in 2002. It was their first
album in 36 years. They began playing live shows, too, and they noticed
that much of their audience wasn't even alive when The Beatles were
As he prepared to turn 60, Tashian heard his first adolescent shrieks
since August 29, 1966, when he walked offstage at San Francisco's
Candlestick Park, just before The Beatles last-ever concert tour
"We have a young fan base," he says. "For the most part, it's not
people our age."
Where do young people in Nashville go to hear music? One place is The Basement, a venue on
Eighth Avenue South that holds approximately 55,500 fewer people than
showed up for the Beatles/Remains Shea Stadium gig. (That one drew
55,600, by the way.) On Wednesday, Barry & The Remains will play a 9
p.m. show at The Basement. They'll play old favorites (including "Why
Do I Cry," featured in the recent movie Superbad) for a roomful
of mostly new fans, and in the days to follow they'll begin work on
another new album.
From The Beatles to The Basement in 45 short years, and Tashian is
pleased as punch with the whole thing.
As markets tumble, London burns and Met starters flock to the DL, it's tough to find some inspiring news.
Beating the Padres in comeback fashion provides some relief. But even better is the story of Mike Baxter, who was called up to replace Jose Reyes and his most expensive hamstring injury.
Baxter hit an RBI double in the 8th to help the Mets overcome the Padres and save the bullpen.
Baxter is a Whitestone native with great memories of Shea Stadium. He had never been to Citi Field. In fact, he had never been back to this part of Flushing since his big game for Molloy High School in 2002:
The last time Mets outfielder Mike Baxter visited the corner of
Roosevelt and 126th in Queens, the Whitestone native was playing
shortstop for Archbishop Molloy High School in the 2002 NYC Catholic
High School Athletic Association's 2002 city championship game at Shea
Baxter returned Monday as the Mets' newest callup after being claimed
off waivers from the Padres on July 22, and marked his debut with the
club with a pinch-hit RBI double off the glove of retreating San Diego
left fielder Kyle Blanks.
"It's just a crazy day," Baxter said. "The fact that I'm back, that I
got called up and the fact that we're playing the Padres is pretty
Baxter came back to his locker in the Mets clubhouse to 22 text messages
wishing him congratulations. Though he no longer resides in Queens
during the offseason, Baxter estimated that somewhere between 50 and 80
friends and family members were in attendance for his Mets debut.
Prior to his appearance in the 2002 high school championship game,
Baxter was a frequent visitor to Shea, where he cheered on shortstop Rey
Ordoñez and the turn-of-the-millennium Mets.
"We were always coming to Shea," Baxter said. "My family would take me,
my aunt would take me every year, we'd always pick out the best
promotion and come."
After leaving Molloy, Baxter attended Columbia University for a year
before transferring to Vanderbilt, where he was selected by the Padres
in the fourth round of the 2005 Draft. Baxter had surgery to repair
ligaments in his left thumb in March and was on the 60-day disabled list
when the Mets scooped him up off waivers.
In today's NY Times, Barry Larkin talked about how he almost became a Met and how much he loved Shea Stadium...so much that the middle name of his oldest daughter is D'Shea. That's two non-Met ex-major leaguers who named kids after our beloved
Shea. I am still not aware of anyone naming a child after Citi Field.
Would that be a boy's name or girl's name? Either way, I have decided the next kid a father will be named after Loge13. Here is the relevant bit from the Larkin interview:
Larkin had a chance to play in October with the Mets in 2000. The
Mets traded for Larkin that July, agreeing to send their top prospect,
outfielder Alex Escobar, and pitchers Eric Cammack and Jason Saenz, to
Cincinnati. None of the players had much of a career, and Larkin, who
hit .313 that season, might have helped the Mets win the World Series.
But Larkin vetoed the trade and signed a three-year, $27 million contract extension with the Reds.
happy I stayed where I was," Larkin said. "In '99, we had a one-game
playoff against the Mets. So I was thinking, at that time, we still had a
chance to win in Cincinnati."
Even so, Larkin said he would have
come to Shea Stadium if the Mets had offered a multiyear deal. His wife
was excited about it, said Larkin, who so enjoyed playing in New York
that he had given his oldest daughter, Brielle, the middle name D'Shea.
absolutely loved it there," Larkin said. "I wanted to be a fighter
pilot when I was a kid, so I loved the roar of the engines so close to
La Guardia, and the energy of the fans. They would get on me, 'Yo,
Larkin, you stink!' And if I did stink at the time, I would say, 'Yeah, I
do,' and they'd start laughing. I always had great interaction with the
fans. Every time I would go there, I'd recognize some of the same guys.
I just really, really enjoyed that."
Make no mistake. Jones, like David Wright, misses Shea Stadium.
"Citi Field is a lot bigger than Shea; it doesn't affect me as much as
it affects Wright and [Jason] Bay and those guys," said Jones, who will
return to Atlanta's starting lineup tonight following knee and quad
injuries. "At Shea there was a jet stream out to right-center. I've seen
David tattoo balls here that sometimes get caught that would have been
home runs at Shea. It's funny to see those guys lace a ball off the wall
and get to second base and look at me, like 'Damn!' It can be
And so it was in the first inning last night, as
Wright blasted a long double off the wall in left-center to drive in the
Mets' only run. Wright crushed the pitch from Tim Hudson, but had no
hope of clearing the fence.
"I've played here long enough to know that's not a home run here," said Wright, a hint of dejection in his voice.
"You better swallow your pride when you walk into this park," said
Jones, who added he has no plans to retire, "and try to hit the ball
into the gaps and concentrate on being a .300 hitter instead of a
30-home run guy."
Added Wright, "It's a big park, there's no sense whining about it."
We should listen to Larry. After all, he named his daughter Shea.