SNY doesn't shy from Madoff mess
As I watched on SNY Thursday as Fred Wilpon chatted with reporters I thought to myself, "Self, Fred isn't that short, is he?
I know for sure he isn't shorter than Lennon, who stood immediately to Fred's left and seemed to tower over him.
Then a friend called and asked, "Is Fred really short?" I said he is not.
I figured he was standing in a valley of some sort while reporters stood on a hill.
The mystery was solved at last when I read Friday's Newsday and saw a wider shot that revealed Mr. Wilpon was seated on some sort of platform that left him lower than he would have been standing but not quite so low as a regular folding chair or something.
Hence the confusion for us TV viewers.
I suppose as a journalist I could have inquired about this matter Thursday, but I was too busy dusting the shelves of my office now that I finally tossed some of my college basketball media guides from the early 1990s.
My brother-in-law got a Mike Krzyzewski-signed Duke hoops yearbook for Mrs. WatchDog as a wedding gift. I wouldn't have asked myself, because that would be unprofessional.
I did once have Bonnie Bernstein sign a Super Bowl visor for me in San Diego because at the time my daughter was attending the same gymnastics academy as Ms. Bernstein had as a youth.
Bonnie went on to be a star gymnast at Maryland. My daughter moved on to figure skating, swimming, pole vaulting and unicycling.
I never have played serious organized sports other than baseball and softball, but I did dabble in ice hockey when I was younger and more willing to squander my future children's future college funds on sports equipment.
Why bring all this up? Why not? It's mid-February and I have to keep typing or the editors will notice I'm underworked.
Here is the rest of our fine Mets coverage, including Lennon, who asked Fred an interesting question Thursday, the gist of which was: Why the heck are you doing this?
Fred asked Lennon whether he reads the newspapers, and eventually ended up putting his left hand on Dave's shoulder.
I don't remember Wellington Mara ever touching me. But we had a good relationship.
The only owner I've ever covered who I called "Mister" was Mr. Mara.
The only coach I ever covered who I called "Coach" was Lou Carnesecca.
One of my all-time favorite sports memories was the four-hour lunch I had with Carnesecca - and several dozen of his pals - at Dante's restaurant in Queens at the conclusion of the 1990-91 season.