Brief conversations about space travel

Tim Byrdak also drove up to the Space Coast to witness Discovery’s launch. Either because he planned in advance or because Major Leaguers just have way more access to cool stuff than most of us do, he got to watch it from about 3.5 miles away, about as close as you can be if you’re not yourself lifting off. Plus he got to ride on a bus with astronauts and talk about robots and stuff.

Byrdak confirmed that the space shuttle launch was awesome. Apparently from that close, you can feel the rumbling of ignition and everything. Josh Stinson overheard us and said he caught a launch last year from a golf course here in Port St. Lucie. He said he went out to a Par-5 and laid down on the fairway. Not a bad plan.

Sandwich of last Week

If you like driving — not driving to see stuff, just driving for the sake of driving — Florida is a nice place to be. Lots of flat, straight highways. I read about this sandwich in the excellent book Roadfood, so I took the hour-some trip down to West Palm Beach to enjoy it.

The sandwich: Media Noche from Havana Restaurant, West Palm Beach, FL

The construction: Roast pork, ham, swiss cheese, pickles and mustard on sweet bread — not like the brains or whatever, like bread that is sweet.

Important background information: It is the bread that distinguishes the Media Noche from the classic Cuban — a Cuban is served on Cuban bread, and I believe this bread is of Portuguese origin. Havana also serves a Cuban sandwich, and Cuban communities also enjoy Medianoche sandwiches. They are so named because they are popular in nightclubs around midnight. Havana Restaurant has a walk-up window that’s open 24 hours. I was there for an early dinner, around 5:30 p.m.

The pickles and mustard were both optional, but I took ’em both, because duh. I ordered it with a side of fried plantains, which will come into play later.

What it looks like:

How it tastes: Delectable. The pork was tender, the ham hammy, the cheese gooey and melted. The pickles and mustard added tons of vinegary goodness, and the bread was amazing — soft, sweet, eggy, kind of like Challah I suppose, but longer. And it withstood the pressures and greases of the meat, a very important quality for good sandwich bread.

But while the saltiness of the pork and ham and the various vinegar flavors played well together, I found myself wanting a little something more in the flavor department — not that it wasn’t really good as constructed, only that it could have been downright great with like one more taste or texture in there. The Swiss cheese got overpowered a bit by the pickles and pork and, since the pickles were a little soggy and the bread was so soft, it didn’t offer a great variety of textures.

So after my first half sandwich I started tinkering. I dashed on a little Tabasco since it was on the table. Didn’t do anything crazy —  just tasted like this sandwich and also Tabasco, not like the Tabasco was doing anything to amplify the flavors in the sandwich.

Then I looked to my fried plantains. They came, I should note now, with something Havana calls “Mojo sauce,” which was basically olive oil with some herbs and an absolute ton of minced garlic — enough to make it almost spicy, but spicy of garlic. Amazing tasting, provided you’re over 1000 miles from your wife and not planning on making out with anyone. Actually, this would be amazing tasting even if you were planning on making out with someone, it just wouldn’t be advised.

Maybe this is somehow cheating, but I threw a couple of the fried plantains atop the Media Noche and spooned on a little of the Mojo sauce. And holy hell, did this sandwich sing.

The plaintains, fried crispy like potato chips but hearty enough to stay extremely crunchy while holding the oil, added the texture I longed for. And the Mojo sauce, though it added oil to an already-greasy sandwich, gave the whole thing this outstanding kick, a burst of pungent garlicky awesome to counter the vinegar and follow all that pork. Outrageous.

What it’s worth: Oh yeah, that’s the other thing. The Media Noche cost $5.89. I sat down, had a glass of sangria* and the plantains, so the whole thing wound up costing me $20 with tip, but you’re not obligated to do any of those things at the pick-up window.

How it rates: I feel obligated to rate the sandwich as constructed — adding anything more than condiments to a sandwich makes it a new sandwich, and the fried plantains count as more than a condiment. So this puppy gets a still-respectable 84 out of 100.

One of my No. 1 all-time good-weather songs:

*- Why is it that I feel so much more comfortable eating a meal and having a drink alone in a restaurant in tropical locales?

Murphy starting at third today

The Mets have posted their lineup for the Grapefruit League* matchup with the Braves today, and Daniel Murphy is starting at third base. Obviously it’s way too early in the spring to read anything into the lineups themselves, but I’d guess the Mets are probably trying to get him as many reps in the infield as possible.

Murphy hasn’t played third base in a Major or Minor League game since 2008. He has a handful of Minor League and winter-ball appearances at second. This is probably something fans should keep in mind if Murphy looks a bit awkward out there today and, hell, for the length of Spring Training.

I didn’t see yesterday’s game, but I asked Murphy how he felt at second and he said, essentially, that he’s coming along. I asked him if camp was different as a (primarily) middle infielder, and he said, “It’s still catching and throwing, taking ground balls.”

With practice, people can improve at just about everything. Murphy, from what I’ve seen and heard, practices as hard as anyone. It stands to reason that he’ll get better as he does. It seems like a lot of fans have determined already that there’s no chance he’ll ever be able to handle second — especially since, as Mike Salfino has pointed out, very few players have successfully moved from first base to second.

But these games don’t count, and Murph is going to be out there so he can have every opportunity to become a passable Major League infielder in time for the ones that do.

“I want to be out there every day, if they’ll let me,” Murphy said.

And remember that the eyes can deceive; just because a guy looks uncomfortable or unwieldy bending over for a grounder or turning a double play doesn’t necessarily mean he’s fielding his position less effectively than a guy who looks slick. In a not-large-enough sample, the stats loved Murphy at first. He said he wasn’t too familiar with the defensive stats, but when I suggested that there’s some disconnect between the way his defense is perceived and the way it was measured in 2009, he said:

“Well, I’m not very aesthetically pleasing out there. I’ll be the first to admit: I’m not graceful to the eye.”

That’s probably not changing anytime soon. But again: Teams win games by outscoring their opponents, and there are a lot of ways to do that. The Mets don’t exactly have Cirque du Soleil acrobats in camp to save 20 runs from second base, so we might witness some awkwardness and growing pains for a while.

*- Is this a good time to buy grapefruit in Florida? Grapefruit is delicious, though it doesn’t taste anything like grape. Also: We need more grapefruit-flavored stuff. I <3 Fresca.

Random thoughts on a Sunday morning

I love Twitter as a vehicle for short, decontextualized thoughts and jokes, but sometimes that 140-character restriction is a bear. Half the Mets (and almost all the media) are off to Orlando for a Grapefruit League matchup with the Braves. I had some video business to take care of here, so I’m sticking behind to hang out for the University of Michigan exhibition.

It’s a slow day here in Port St. Lucie, my mind is a bit slowed by five nights of somewhat restless hotel-room sleep (I should really start packing my own pillow on trips), and it’s Sunday morning so I assume web traffic is slow too. So here are some random thoughts that I didn’t feel like limiting to 140 characters:

– Jose Reyes seems really fond of Ike Davis, or perhaps just really fond of yelling, “I like Ike,” whenever Davis does anything. It’s almost always the exact same cadence, high-pitched and very rhythmic, and Reyes must have called it out 15 times during Davis’ batting practice session yesterday.

– I generally cringe at Italian food from chain restaurants, but Carraba’s is pretty decent. It shares a parking lot with our hotel, so it’s a convenient option for meals. Their bread, even on takeout orders, is served fresh-baked and piping hot with a side of olive oil and salty garlicky seasoning. I haven’t done the math yet but I’d estimate the place is about 30 times better than the Olive Garden.

– In some ways, many places share a parking lot with our hotel, because this part of Port St. Lucie is kind of like a huge, below-capacity parking lot. The town is spread out and remarkably easy to navigate, but even the bigger roads just seem to serve as a means of traversing a giant network of parking lots. If you knew the territory well enough you could probably drive the length of the town just snaking your way through lots. Wal-Mart, Publix, condos, movie theaters, bars, Taco Bells, everything has more than adequate parking. New Yorkers here often grumble about the area and if you’re looking for non-chain food it’s a tough haul, but it’s really not an uninteresting setting.

– D.J. Carrasco appears to be a very deft fielder.

– The movie Hall Pass is not very good. There were a few hearty laughs in there, but it does my least favorite thing that happens in comedies: It turns into melodramatic treacle when it comes time to resolve the plot. This is also why I didn’t love another Owen Wilson movie, Wedding Crashers — it was funny for the first half and then suddenly all weepy nonsense. Except unlike Wedding Crashers, the first half of Hall Pass isn’t even that funny. It takes way, way too long to establish the premise for hijinks. Also, it might set a new record for amount of times the title of the movie is spoken during the movie. Normally I am moved to clap whenever that happens, but I honestly didn’t want to seem too supportive of Hall Pass. The upside is Jason Sudeikis is reasonably funny and it has J.B. Smoove in it.

– Follow up on that: You know how in many ensemble action movies there’s that really dramatic shot of all the dudes walking while setting off on a mission, looking all badass, set to cool music? I no longer think it’s funny when comedies do that ironically. I used to, but I think it’s probably time to put that to bed. I’m still down for it in the action movies though.

– Apparently Tim Byrdak also drove up to see the space shuttle launch. I haven’t had an opportunity to ask him what he thought about it yet.

– In Orlando today, a certain Valentino Pascucci will start at DH for the Mets. He’s in Minor League camp, just making this trip with the big club, and I haven’t had a chance to meet him yet. I will soon, though, and it will probably be extremely awkward. I spoke to him on the phone back in 2008 and he seemed like a nice dude, but if he ever Googles himself he’s certain to have seen evidence of my various Pascucci campaigns. So that could be interesting.

 

Brief conversations about equipment, Part 3

I heard a strange sound coming from the Mets’ batting cages yesterday so I walked by to check it out. Jason Bay was in the box with a coach feeding tennis balls through a pitching machine. Bay wasn’t swinging much. The odd noise was the hollow tennis balls popping through the machine at high speeds.

I asked Bay about it during batting practice this morning. Turns out what he was using was the “ocular enhancer” machine the team agreed to lease as part of Carlos Beltran’s contract. The machine fires tennis balls with red or black numbers on them at speeds up to 150 mph. Players stand in the box and try to read the color and number on the balls.

“The eyes can be trained, like any muscle,” Bay said. “You can take a few cuts, but it’s mostly for tracking.”

Bay added that after watching pitches at 120 and 130 mph, a 90 mph fastball looks like it’s floating toward the plate.

I spoke to Beltran about the machine a few minutes later. He said it’s something he has been using since he was introduced to it in Kansas City, and that he uses it all season long.

Beltran said he can’t read the numbers when they’re coming it at 130, but when they slow down to 85 or 90 he can.

“It’s fun,” he said. “If you believe it can help you, it will help you.”

Brief conversations about equipment, Part 2

Every year at Spring Training, equipment manufacturers show up and set up displays outside locker rooms to try to sell players on their gear. I stopped at a table full of bats that looked cool.

The company works mostly in maple, and I got into a conversation with the representative about MLB’s new restrictions on maple bats, most of which are detailed here. The guy (who obviously has a horse in the race) seemed reasonably perturbed by the league’s decision to contract out its research to a company — TECO — that tests building timber but has no experience with sports equipment.

Among the more noticeable new maple-bat policies: All maple bats will have an ink dot on the handle to measure the slope of the grain on the wood. The grain should be as even as possible to prevent shattering, so if the ink bleeds too far diagonally, the bat cannot be used.

Also: Apparently every maple bat sold for the pro level must be tracked with an individual serial number so, if necessary, it can be traced back to its source sampling. The bat-company guy couldn’t figure out why that information might be useful, but it will be available. I guess for research purposes?

The guy said he thinks a big reason so many bats — maple and otherwise — break these days is that players grow up playing with thin-handled metal bats and expect the same in their lumber. He showed me how much more balanced a bat with more evenly distributed weight (and thus a thicker handle) feels, but said it’s a struggle to convince baseball players to commit to anything besides what they’re accustomed to.

Spaced out

I watched the Space Shuttle Discovery launch yesterday from Cocoa Beach, a well-trodden strip of white sand between a narrow grid of bungalows and the Atlantic Ocean. It is 10 miles south of the Kennedy Space Center and a popular spot to witness the spectacle of liftoff for anyone unwilling or unable to brave the crowds at Space View Park.

Discovery is the most veteran of the three space shuttles still in operation. It has made 38 missions to space since its first launch in August of 1984. It has housed 246 astronauts, deployed 31 satellites and orbited the earth 5,628 times, according to the Wikipedia. It left the planet yesterday with a crew of six plus one humanoid robot, bound for the International Space Station to drop off supplies and the robot.

On the beach, the crowd stood and stared impatiently toward the north at the scheduled launch time, 4:50 p.m. No one seemed sure where exactly to look until the shuttle rocketed (literally) into view, its glowing orange plume of burning fuel trailing and leaving behind an expanding tower of white smoke.

Discovery shot up and out over the Atlantic, then ducked behind a cloud. People on the beach cheered when it emerged again, then hid behind another cloud, then poked out once more. At some point, maybe a half minute after the launch, we could hear the low rumble of ignition and then what I think was a sonic boom. Then, finally, the shuttle disappeared behind a cloud and never returned, off into space.

Space, bro. Outer space.

The crowd stood looking skyward still for a few moments after it was clear there was nothing more to see.

“Is that it?” asked a skinny teenager in a bikini.

Yeah, that’s pretty much it. The astronauts will attach a storage module to the ISS, take care of some space business, then return to Earth on March 7. This is Discovery’s last mission. After it touches down, it will be grounded in a museum or stripped for parts or converted into a really sweet low-rider or sent wherever it is that old space shuttles go to die.

The remaining two shuttles are each slated for one more launch – one in April, one in June — then retirement. The current space policy calls for a manned mission to an asteroid by 2025 and a manned orbit of Mars by 2030, but they will rely on privately designed spacecrafts.

We’re not really doing this anymore. Not the way we used to, at least. And really, 2025… I mean, who knows what could come before then? Wars, locusts, zombies, whatever.

Sensing the vague gravity of the event, I stopped in a dusty souvenir shop on my way out of town to pick up something for my 3-year-old nephew, C.J.

Inside, a leathery man behind the counter in a Hawaiian shirt waxed nostalgic with a tourist.

“In the days of Gemini, they just had three pilots circling the lighthouse, giving them thumbs up when the air was clear,” he said. “Hell, John Glenn went to space with a rocket between his legs.”

“They were cowboys back then. Cowboys.”

I bought the single item in the store even remotely appropriate for a 3-year-old: a small metal windup shuttle, the only one left on a shelf half-full of fading posters. The toy is dirty, its right wing is scratched and it looks like it may have once been chewed by a dog.

The front wheel is off-kilter, so when I wind it back and let it go on my desk here, it drives in circles. It is pathetic. My nephew will like it because he’s gracious, and because he’s too young to understand how pitiful a substitute the model makes for the real thing, which transports people to space.

C.J. won’t know –- at least not until someone tells him -– that 20 years ago we read science magazines in school that promised affordable vacations to the moon by 2010, and that the whole space-exploration thing hasn’t exactly shook out the way we once imagined it would.

But that’s not a thing to lament; it’s just a thing. Space is inconceivably huge, and presumably out there somewhere floats inexplicably awesome stuff that could offer massive benefit to our society, but we’ve got no feasible way to get to it. Turns out everything else in space is really, really far away.

Thinking back to the beach yesterday, I am struck now by an amazing juxtaposition I spotted, one that didn’t seem out of the ordinary at the time: People using smartphones to snap photos of the launch.

We once assumed the most advanced 21st-century technology would deliver us outward to the stars, but our most astonishing achievements of late have turned inward, the series of tubes and everything. And we can squint now and see the ways that unprecedented acess to information and to each other can help us endeavor deeper and achieve more while navigating humanity, an expanse nearly as vast and perplexing as outer space.

Brief conversations about equipment, part 1

I had a chance to talk to Josh Thole and Mike Nickeas in the locker room this morning. I’ve noticed that none of the Mets’ catchers in camp use the new goalie-style catcher’s masks, which I’ve found way more comfortable than the traditional helmet-and-facemask combo in my limited experience.

Thole said he found the new mask a bit too heavy, and that he tried it out for a while after he had a concussion but didn’t think it made much of a difference. He said that getting hit in the face with a fastball is going to hurt no matter what mask you’re wearing.

Nickeas said he thought the goalie-style masks offered slightly better vision, but that — and this was something I hadn’t considered — their contours make a ball off the face ricochet back toward the backstop, whereas the traditional version is flatter and so tends to knock the ball forward.

So if you’ve ever wondered about that, there’s that.

Luis Castillo is really good at baseball

If you watch the video I post here a bit later today, you will hear me note several times that I’m not a scout, that my eyes are not professionally trained, and that I have no idea what I’m looking for. Sometimes I think I do and even convince myself of it, then I speak to someone who knows more than I do and I’m shown all the countless things I am missing.

I watched the Mets take infield today. I watched the Mets do a lot of things today, but it was the infield session that most impressed me. What could only be described as the Mets’ first group was on the field. Ike Davis at first; Luis Castillo, Daniel Murphy and Brad Emaus at second; Jose Reyes and Chin-Lung Hu at short; David Wright at third.

It’s the same thing every Little League team in the country does at every practice: Coaches hit grounders, players scoop ’em up and throw them to bases. Only the Mets are, you know, better than Little Leaguers. Much, much better.

This is breaking news: Major League Baseball players are awesome at baseball. Just watching Reyes throw is worth the airfare to Florida. Next to him Wright charges short grounders, with the tongue out and the underhanded zip to first, the whole thing. It’s not full-on real-life now-it-counts baseball action, but it’s more concentrated than anything you get in games. During the season you might have to watch the Mets for a week to see Reyes make ten throws from the hole. Here it happens in 10 minutes.

A couple people I spoke to pointed out how Murphy looked awkward at second. And compared to the other second basemen, perhaps he did. But he still cleanly fielded almost all the balls hit his way, caught all the relay throws from Wright and Reyes and fired a string of bullets to Davis. There was no way, from the drill, to measure his range against Emaus’, or those of every other second baseman in the Majors.

The one clear distinction among the three men vying for the Mets’ second-base job taking grounders on Field 7 on Thursday is that many of the particulars of the position appear to come easier to Castillo than they do his teammates. When turning double plays, Murphy and Emaus catch, then throw. For Castillo it’s one fluid motion, like some sort of martial art. The ball enters his glove then comes out his hand, redirected in flight.

Yes, that Luis Castillo: The limping guy with diminished range and no power and the dropped pop-up and everything else. He’s probably not going to make the team and he seems to have little to offer any big-league club at this point, but either his innate ability or the countless repetitions over his 15-year career (or some combination thereof) has provided him an apparent comfort at the position that neither Emaus, with 266 Minor League games at second or Murphy, with 19, can boast.

The good news is it’s not entirely clear that it matters, beyond the aesthetics. Terry Collins has made it clear he believes second base is an offensive position, and since Castillo is hardly covering a ton of ground at this point, the few runs the Mets might save from a handful of extra double plays Castillo would turn that his competitors could not probably do not make up the difference between their bats.

Collins said Justin Turner is still in the second-base mix. And he praised Ruben Tejada’s hitting in the batting cage and said it was “very possible” that the 20-year-old could play his way into a starting job with the Mets, even if he’s ticketed to play shortstop everyday in Buffalo.

Still, Emaus must gain some advantage by being a Rule 5 pick, and Murphy some by being the hard-working home-grown business-meaning fan favorite with 707 not-terrible plate appearances on the back of his baseball card, all of which came before he was the age either Emaus or Turner is now. Collins keeps saying he’ll settle the roster battles in Grapefruit League games.

If I had to bet right now, I’d put money on some combination of Emaus and Murphy — no surprise, I suppose — opening the season at second base for the Mets. It might not make for the most graceful platoon, but the object is only to score more runs than you allow, however you get there.

Carmelo Anthony gets a sandwich

Thanks to everyone who tipped me off on this one. From the Daily News:

That’s the Carnegie Deli’s creation of salami, corned beef, pastrami, bacon, lettuce, tomato and Russian dressing on something like six pieces of rye, if you’re playing at home. Presumably, these elements somehow capture the essence of Carmelo Anthony. And credit the Carnegie Deli: Last night I caught a highlight of ‘Melo nailing a pretty 18-foot fadeaway, and it really made me think of pastrami.

Since you’ve asked: I probably won’t eat that sandwich. I understand it’s all the rage right now and it represents the rare intersection of sandwiches and sports (outside of this blog, of course), but that’s not really an edible sandwich you see above. That’s like six vaguely edible sandwiches. And sure, you could go in with three friends and ask for extra rye and deconstruct the sandwich so you all get reasonable portions of all the ingredients. I get that. But that’s like cheating on behalf of the place you’re paying $22 for a sandwich.

Look: I appreciate the Carnegie Deli for all it has done for lunchmeats and celebrities through the years, but there’s no art to piling up all the meats in the house sky high and naming it after the city’s newest famous sports hero. That’s gimmickry. Amateur hour.

I, for one, would like to eat a carefully constructed sandwich that evokes the understated elegance of Carlos Beltran at his best, or a burrito that embodies the transcendent dominance of Darrelle Revis.

Who will make me Revis: The Burrito? Not the heavy-handed vulgarians responsible for the Carmelo Anthony sandwich, that’s for sure.