Michael Agger

Baseball is a game built upon disappointment. “No hits, no runs, no errors, no men left on base.” “He struck him out.” “He makes the catch. Inning over.” So let’s just say that a lifelong Phillies fan was not expecting much as he drove his seven-year-old son to his first ever Major League Baseball game. The boy was in uniform. It was Mets vs. Cardinals, and his Little League team marched around the field before the anthem, dancing spastically for the big stadium screen. I snapped a photo. Mission accomplished. How many innings do you think the boy will last?

via Johan Santana and the Mets’ No-Hitter : The New Yorker.

Another one from the vault: I wrote about my friend Russell Jones, who lives in Brooklyn and happened to share the same name as the Ol’ Dirty Bastard.

Read “Not Dirty.”

Back in 2004, I wrote a Talk story about Robert Altman, where he chats with Robert Redford about Fellini. I thought of this recently when I watched Redford’s (surprisingly good) Downhill Racer.

On the Set: Candidate