Something Special (1979)

Something Special (1979)




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Something Special (1979)
See the article in its original context from June 30, 1979 , Page 13 Buy Reprints
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Some of them took it lightly — after all, said Don Zimmer, “it's not even the All Star break yet” — but for most of the Yankees and Red Sox there was the sense of something special happening last night.
And it was not only a game that lasted 13 innings, that attracted more than 53,000 fans, that was between the teams that met in the playoff last year.
“What is it sociologists call it —. Tommy John when it was over. “It's as if you're at a New Year's Eve rally and you get caught up in it. That's what happens to a baseball team in a series like this.”
Rick Burleson, who scored the winning run, and whose eighth‐inning hit against Ron Guidry positioned the first run of the game, tried to explain how player fights the emotion.
“I tried to wait on Guidry's curve,” he said. “Any time these teams meet there's something special. Even though the Yanks are fourth, we know they can come back. They did it last year. So the danger is that you get puffed up and try to do things too quick.”
Zimmer, the Red Sox’ manager, cautioned there were “still 89 games to play.”
And his counterpart, Billy Martin, insisted that last night held no special drama for him — even though Reggie Jackson was returning. It was their first time together in almost a year.
“I don't look at this series in dramatic terms,” contended Martin. “Maybe if we were two games behind with three to play.”
But Jim Beattie knew it wasn't that easy to keep a low profile of the evening.
“I was listening to all the guys talking,'said the Yankee pitcher, “and they're talking about Reggie coming back. But mostly what happens between Reggie and Billy is away from me. There're never are any face-toface confrontations in the locker room.
“You walk in here, and you would think it's like any other clubhouse.”
The game was not like any other game, though, fulfilling Carlton Fisk's contention
That “you play better baseball against better teams. There's a psychological difference playing a first‐place club and one that's last. That's why the Yankees have trouble with Toronto and we have trouble with Cleveland.”
If this series is a cosmic affair to the almost 200,000 fans expected through Monday — a Red Sox series is the only one in the regular season that forces the Yankee front office to yield all its press parking spaces to George Steinbrenner's friends — it was, believe it or not, “another game” to Dwight Evans.
“I don't even think about tomorrow,” he said. “Just today.”
And Mike Torrez, who had the Yankees defeated until the ninth inning, when he was knocked out, claimed that “you don't want to get all up tight now.”
Yet, he was beaming although he did not get the descision, and he thought that, yes, this was the best game he'd pitched for the Red Sox since skipping the Yankees.
He was charitable toward Jackson, “my old friend,” whom he struck out twice.
Jackson spent 10 minutes at batting practice, once swatting a ball into the last row of the bleachers while Zimmer yelled, “Whewl “
Jackson limped off the field; though, a patch of blood on his uniform. The limping was from putting pressure on his foot. The blood, he explained, was from “watching the ball.”
He picked up his chin to show a red mark under it from rubbing against his shoulder as he had watched the balls sail to right field.
Then he went to see Martin, a 10second visit in which Martin told him, “you're the dh.”

Met: Something Special About Domingo's Otello
Met: Something Special About Domingo's Otello
See the article in its original context from September 25, 1979 , Section C , Page 7 Buy Reprints
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Occasionally the digitization process introduces transcription errors or other problems; we are continuing to work to improve these archived versions.
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T HERE seemed to be something special about last night's Metropolitan Opera opening. Perhaps it was the excitement attendant on a great opera, Verdi's “Otello.” For the opera buffs there was the added attraction of Placido Domingo in the title role. Mr. Domingo had not previously sung the role in New York, and there was much anticipation and even worry. Was Otello too heavy for him? Would he strain? Would there be damage to the wonderful voice?
Thus even in advance it was going to be an exciting evening, and so it turned out. In addition to Mr. Domingo, the cast had Gilda Cruz‐Romo, the Mexican soprano who was singing her first Desdemona at the Met. Sherrill Milnes was the Iago, Giuliano Ciannella made his debut as Cassio, Kurt Moll was Lodovico, and Shirley Love was Emilia. James Levine conducted.
To answer the question that was agitating the specialists: yes and no but mostly yes. It was about five years that this listener started worrying about Mr. Domingo. He was singing too much. He was taking on roles that were too heavy for a spinto tenor. But apparently Mr. Domingo thrives on work, and his voice has remained as robust as ever. Exactly how robust this “Otello” proved.
He did make one or two concessions. For his opening “Esultate,” he left the poop deck of the ship and came down to the footlights, delivering the initial statement in stentorian voice. There was a feeling, however, that — impressive as the singing was — Mr. Domingo was going all‐out, with nothing in reserve. Could he sustain it?
Mr. Domingo did, singing one of the great Otellos of our day. He approached the role with a kind of furious intensity, and with a darker vocal quality than he uses elsewhere in the repertory. There was all the power one could want. But again there was a nagging worry that Mr. Domingo was operating at the very top of his resources, eventually to pay the price.
But it is this and not future “Otello” performances that is under discussion, and Mr. Domingo was convincing from every aspect. His was a physical Otello, throwing Iago all over the stage in the second act, a man of action who hits out reflexively. There is none of the brooding quality that Jon Vickers, the other great Otello of the decade, brings to the part. Mr. Domingo's Latin ternoerament asserts itself. In addition. Mr. Domingo, a tall and well‐built man, can pass for a warrior. He is made for Otello.
Miss Cruz‐Romo did not bring this kind of mastery to her role. She was competent throughout, but her big voice is not always accurately produced, and it tends to have an edge when let out. It was in the last act that she settled down to some beautiful singing. In quiet passages, the voice is perfectly produced, and her “Salce, salce” and “Ave Maria” were hauntingly tinted. A fairly ample woman, Miss CruzRomo is not physically the ideal Desdemona, but she did act with more character than she displayed vocally in the first three acts.
The third of the principals, Mr. Milnes, provided some resplendant singing after an uncharacteristically rough “Credo.” Elsewhere he used his big voice to thrilling effect, and when he and Mr. Domingo matched fortissimos in the “Si, pel cel” duet, it was the Golden Age brought back. This was grand singing and grand opera.
There was one bit of acting that raised a few eyebrows. With Otello flat on his back at the end of Act III, and with lago sneering at the “Lion of Venice,” he kneels down and starts to strangle him. Then apparently the enormity of what he is doing suddenly strikes him, and he reels back in a silent‐film routine, expressing fear and horror. Curtain. But this was completely out of character. Up to then lago has given no indication that he fears Otello. Presumably Mr. Mines has his good reasons for this bit of stage business, but whatever they are, they do not come through.
In his debut, Mr. Ciannella revealed a strong, vibrant tenor, and he was as good a Cassio as the Met has engaged in recent years. It will be interesting to hear him in other roles. Cassio does not tell too much about a singer. The other members of the cast upheld their parts well, and Mr. Levine's conducting was superb. There was plenty of spirit, and there also was attention to detail. By now Mr. Levine has worked out most of the problems of the opera, and he makes it a pulsating, nerve‐wracking experience. Which is what the pity and terror of “Otello” must inspire.
So this opening night was a good deal more than a society event or a mechanical run‐through of some opera or another. It was the Metropolitan at its best, and an auspicious start to the new season. May there be many more evenings like it!

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