Proper bagels and Dee Snider could lure Lowe

My brother and parents are back on Long Island for a sad occasion this weekend. But it’s nice to know they were thinking of me. And their thoughfulness is appreciated in this week’s Deezo Friday Five.

1) Apparently they came across a bagel store right next to a post office, and had the idea to fill up a box of glorious poppy seed bagels and overnight it to Michigan.

As you know, Michigan bagels, even from stores that have a New York theme, are no match for an authentic slice of the homeland.

Eating a Michigan bagel is a bittersweet experience. It’s better than, say, some cinnamon roll or McGriddle as a breakfast treat. But you know how it’s supposed to be, and that there are people in New York at that very moment eating a proper New York bagel, some of them Yankee fans who don’t deserve them.

So I can assure you that no mail carrier has ever seen someone happier to meet them at the door.

There were 16 of those beauties, and it was down to 15 within moments.

I thought briefly about taking one of them to the two places I usually get bagels from, to inspire them and show them exactly what they should be baking.

I also thought about bringing some to the newsroom so my colleagues can understand why I turn up my nose at their inferior breakfast edibles.

But that would require sharing, and I’m just not ready to do that.

Later in the day, my daughter asked if she could have one. Now she knows how much I love her. Down to 14.



2) Apparently Braves are making a run at would-be Mets hurler Derek Lowe, and made a pretty elaborate pitch for his services this week.

According to David O’Brien of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, the Braves pitched woo to Lowe for five hours, complete with a video presentation and a recorded message from country music artist Toby Keith.

Toby Keith? Is that the best they can do?

Think of the kind of talent the Mets could tap if they wanted to go down this road.

After serving Derek poppy seed bagels, Long Islander Dee Snider could burst into the room and — like in the video — scream, “Derek Lowe! What are you going to do with your life?”

To which Derek can only reply: “I WANNA ROCK! See you in St. Lucie next month.”

Soupcan at the Crane Pool Forum was alble to take off the Citi logo atop this alternate logo -- for items sold at the stadium -- that would have made a much better patch.

3) The Mets’ new Citi Field patch has now been mocked by just about everyone. And with good reason.

But I hate it even more now that I know the team actually has a decent City Field logo, but it’s using it only on merchandise sold at the ballpark next season.

The logo shows the famed Jackie Robinson Rotunda, as it should. It also has the Citi Bank logo, which is a no-no for Major League uniforms. But you’d think it could easily be replaced with the Mets wordmark or outright eliminated for a patch.


As if times aren’t tough enough for the Bush family. The family cat of 18 years died recently.

The black American shorthair was named “India” by the Bush daughters, after near-Met Ruben Sierra, going back to the days when the President ran the Texas Rangers instead of the country.

I had no idea Sierra’s nickname was “El Indio.” Nor can I figure out why.

The Houston Chronicle reported that in 2004, some students in Thiruvananthapuram, India, burned an effigy of President Bush because they declared that naming his cat India was an insult to their country.

I’d be more upset that Ruben Sierra was named after their country.

But those kids are probably in a suspended state of crankiness because they have to fit “Thiruvananthapuram” across the front of their road jerseys.

As the owner of a black shorthair named after a baseball player -- "Tug" -- I feel a close bond to the Bush family and offer my sincere condolences.




5) OK, say you were a big free agent preparing for your coming out press conference.

You know someone is going to hand you a cap and a jersey, because they always do. It the case of Mark Teixeira here, an extremely ugly one.

And you know that as soon as you put it on, you’re going to pose for photos. And is there anything that looks dopier than a guy wearing a jersey with a tie and dress shirt sleeves showing?

Since you know those things are going to happen, wouldn’t it better to wear a mock turtleneck under a sports jacket, hopefully one that matches the team colors?

Treat her like a lady, please

Poppy seed bagels led to a strange experience this week — and will kick off a Deezo Friday Five that still leans heavily from my New York trip and the All-Star Game.

1) There was no way I was going to leave Long Island without a dozen real poppy seed bagels. They threw in three more knowing I was taking them back home — though at least that many disappeared somewhere along I-80 in Pennsylvania during snack time.

I’ve been rationing my bagels, defrosting one every other day.

This concerned the clerks in my regular bagel stop here in Michigan, who wondered why I was buying a cinnamon crunch bagel for my wife and nothing for myself.

I told her about my frozen stash, and the clerk seemed surprised that a New York bagel would be different than one in her shop, which actually is called Big Apple Bagels.

Another customer at the register jumped in: "They’re much bigger in New York," she said, and I joyfully recognized the accent.

"What part are you from?" I asked.

"Long Island," she replied.

"What part of the Island?" I asked.

"Mineola," she replied.

"Massapequa Park!" I offered. I didn’t realize there were other Islanders out here. "I was back home to see a game at Shea."

I was all ready to bond and discuss our favorite Billy Joel songs.

Then she broke out with this: "Did you go see a game at Yankee Stadium? It’s the final year."

"Hell no, I went to see a game at Shea, which also is in its final year."

"Are the Mets getting a new ball park, too? I don’t follow them. I like the Yankees."

She might have said something after that, but I was instantly mentally disengaged. I politely but quickly ended the conversation.

I don’t converse with Yankee fans.



2) I have mixed emotions about the sidewalk art for the All-Star Game.

You have to understand that I love all things related to the Statue of Liberty. My tolerant wife even allows me to display part of my collection on a tasteful shelf in the family room. And they’re pretty sweet, too, especially the one that dances when you put it near the stereo speakers.

So you’re thinking, "OK, baseball and Lady Liberty. How can anything be wrong with that?"

Something was bothering me and it took a while to figure it out.

Basically, they took the statues and covered them with logos. That works fine if you are dealing with an inanimate object, like the Liberty Bell for example.

But the Statue of Liberty depicts a person. Well, a person representing a concept, but you get the idea.

These painted statues treat her like an object, with logos where they shouldn’t be. It’s almost disrespectful.

How much cooler would it have been to treat her like a person — and paint jerseys on the statues? She could be wearing a special number for each team, saluting their best player.

Lady Liberty would look like she’s heading off to the game with the rest of the huddles masses yearning to breathe free instead of appearing like a giant paperweight.



Detroit had the right idea when the Tigers went to the World Series in 2006, putting a jersey on the Spirit of Detroit statue.

When Detroit does something better than you do, well, that’s not something you want to boast about.



3) Speaking of artwork, the church coed softball team I coach is in the playoffs and we kicked some butt in the first game. I almost kissed the Nitro after my sweet double.

This week we’re facing a challenge, going up against the best team in the league that, well, has yet to know the agony of defeat. Hopefully we can do some educating.

At least I think we’re playing them. Here’s what the league sent over. I’m not sure if this is the playoff bracket, abstract art or a map showing local bus routes.



4) Back to the All-Star Game. I have more issues.

I collect the programs from each game. Yes, I am obsessive. This was a fairly easy task, and I have them going back to the early 1970s.

MLB started getting difficult by producing multiple covers. First it was about five, saluting players including Mike Piazza with old-fashioned portraits. I grumbled, but I rounded them all up, as MLB knew I would.

This happened to varying degrees in recent years, with the number ebbing down through 2006.

But last year MLB went nuts and produced a program with the All-Star Game logo, then one for each team, showing a player headed to the game. Horrendous. There was no chance — none! — that I would even consider attempting getting 31 programs.

I was seriously irked because my streak of having every program since the 1970s was snapped. Now I have to add a disclaimer, saying I have one version of each program since the 1970s.

At least last year’s Met cover boy was Jose Reyes. This year we get Billy Wagner, who was our sole representative until David Wright was added this afternoon.

And there are at least two generic covers as well, one being called a limited stadium edition or some such nonsense.

I know MLB likes to take not just some of your disposable, but all of your disposable income. But sometimes I just wish it wasn’t so blatant about it.

5) I’m a good Long Islander. I like Billy Joel. People out here don’t get it, and that’s OK because they don’t get proper bagels, either.

Billy’s got some Yankee taint, but I chalk that up to pandering to raise some cash during his lawsuit period.

He’s making up for it by performing the last concerts at Shea Stadium next week. Here’s a clip of my favorite song from the Piano Man.



Yes, I know this is from Yankee Stadium. David Wright is going to be playing there, too, on Tuesday and we're not holding that against him.

Get well Bob Klapisch

I sure do like to vent about Bob Klapisch, but this is nasty.

His paper reports that Klapisch might have suffered permanent damage to his right eye after being struck by a one-hopper while pitching for a semi-professional baseball team in Morris County. He was pitching in relief for the Morris Mariners when a ground ball took an errant hop and caught him in the eye. The accident broke four orbital bones around that eye and may require doctors to reattach its retina.

I need Yankee lovers like Klapisch so I have something to get all worked up about. Otherwise I might have to start worrying about things that actually matter.

So let's wish Mr. Klapisch a speedy recovery. Maybe he'll run into Moises Alou at the hospital.

Mourning My Morning Routine

You all know Bart Giamatti’s quote about baseball being designed to break your heart. I’m beginning to think the same is true about bagel stores.

New Yorkers will back me on this. The bagel is the perfect breakfast food, if not perfect food altogether.

And I’ve learned that once you get outside the New York area, bagel quality drops sharply. That is unless you’re in some parts of Florida, which might as well be the sixth borough.

Out here in the Midwest it’s especially rough. There aren't that many bagel places to begin with, and the ones that are here just don't make the grade. They bestow the bagel title upon any round breaded thing that’s not a donut.

My first four years in Grand Rapids I suffered through a place that dared to call itself "Big Apple Bagels." They were too hard and too thin — but it was all I had.

Then one glorious day about two years ago a place called "Brooklyn Bagels" opened right near my house and on the way to work.

It was darn near perfect. Framed prints of the homeland — including a sweet photo of Jackie Robinson stealing home — hung on the walls, the sandwiches were named after New York landmarks and the bagels were as close to Long Island as I have encountered since crossing the bridge.

Reflecting on Jackie Robinson's greatness is a good way to start the day.

So it didn’t take long before I got to know the entire staff on a first-name basis. They were my morning family. They'd talk about my stories in the papers, I'd ask about the son serving in Iraq or the daughter in school. My wife, on the few times she accompanied me to the store, was amazed that I’d know all about everyone’s kids and they knew mine.

And they’d have my order ready when they saw the silver Saturn pull up. A poppy seed bagel, toasted with butter, and an extra-large cup that I’d fill with Diet Pepsi. I strongly prefer Diet Coke, but everything else was so good I could overlook this flaw.

On days when I was feeling really wild I’d get a sesame seed bagel. This boldness would be a topic of conversation for the rest of the week.

I'm a creature of routine. I have a short, 12-mile commute and traffic here is nothing like it is back home. It's actually a peaceful time. I eat my bagel in the car, and it lasts most of the trip.

Work can be a bear, especially lately. There's something nice about starting the day with the same friendly people and the same wonderful snack. When everything else was in chaos, the morning routine was blissfully constant.

Then last April the unthinkable happened. The morning family had to break it to me gently that the owner had over-extended himself and was going to be closing the store.

There was much weeping and gnashing of teeth. On the last day they sent me off with two-dozen poppy seed bagels I could freeze for a transitional period.

It was a very difficult time. I don’t want to dwell on it. Let’s just say many new places were tried, all failed. Mornings were started unsatisfied and grumpy.

Occasionally I’d drive by the bagel store and put my nose up against the window to see if there were any developments. I held out hope because even though the store was closed, nothing inside had changed.

Then one day in the summer, signs appeared in the window saying a new cafe-deli was to open. The name was different, but there was reason for optimism, if nothing else.

And on a beautiful afternoon I saw that the open sign was lit. I pulled right over, went in and was thrilled to see all the old friends were there. The new owner had hired nearly all the previous employees.

It was a happy reunion, and my morning routine was saved. Me, the friends, the poppy seed bagels and extra-large Diet Pepsis -- it was all good. I could start the day with that extra little bounce that only comes with a happy routine.

Now, when you are in a place every morning, you notice little things. The new store was never as crowded as it was in the previous incarnation. Some of the friends would leave and not be replaced. There were fewer donuts, cookies and other menu offerings available. Some days there weren’t even poppy seed bagels. I started to get worried.

One day last week I bounced into the store and my friend Becky softly told me the news. The latest version of the store was closing. They lasted just seven months.

On Friday they gave me two-dozen poppy seed bagels to put in the freezer and start the transitional period, again.

In Other Words:

Speaking of beverages and morning routines, one daily ritual is not going away, and that's reading Faith and Fear in Flushing. Greg is resurrecting his awesome Friday Flashback series to tell us about the glorious 1986 season. You can read it here.