By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
Unless Giuliani is careful, this bothersome Senate campaign threatens to cause havoc with the mayor's beloved sojourns to the Bronx ballpark. With the Yankees favored to make it to the playoffs and the October Classic, the First Fan will probably have little free time to even debate Hillary Clinton in the run-up to November 7 (unless, of course, Gabe Pressman would be willing to shoehorn in a few questions between a seventh-inning stretch). In fact, perhaps now would be an appropriate time to start considering postponing Election Day (only for a few weeks), what with the prospect of Rudy having to organize another parade up the Canyon of Heroes and another private party on the steps of City Hall.
For her part, Clinton could never get away with such, um, blind devotion to a ball club. If Hillary had been the one who stood up a group of 400 Buffalo women (and a group in Rochester as well), her approval numbers in western New York would have plummeted below the Scott Norwood line. She would have been excoriated and had her judgment called into question. Steve Dunleavy's Post column could write itself.
As it is, Giuliani has taken some deserved flak for his strange election year priorities. Isn't he a bit old to be sitting there in a Yankees cap and jacket, looking like some doofus headed for one of those fantasy baseball camps in Vero Beach? And, sorry, rooting for the Yanks is still like pulling for U.S. Steel. The squad's only interesting arc these days is the clubhouse's mysterious cancer cluster. Those spurned Buffalo and Rochester residentspassed over for a dopey baseball gamewould surely have understood had Rudy come up with a better excuse for playing hooky. It's not like he forgot that it was his wedding anniversary. Or that he wanted to stay home to watch a repeat of The Sopranos finale so he could see that tilefish channeling Big Pussy. Those are excuses Giuliani's upstate supporters could have easily swallowed.
Giuliani's problem, of course, is that nobody can talk to the guy. Any political pro would recognize that you should avoid leaving supporters in the lurch. Conservative Party chairman Mike Long called the Buffalo no-show "unconscionable," and GOP consultant Nelson Warfield noted that "if upstate is being asked to tolerate his liberalism, you would think he'd at least tolerate missing opening day." But in Giuliani's camp, Rudy knows what is best for Rudy. And wedging himself between son Andrew and Liberal Party boss Ray Harding was clearly the thing to do last Wednesday. But he has made sure to reschedule the upstate fundraisers: Giuliani will be in Rochester on May 21 (Yanks visiting Cleveland that Sunday) and in Buffalo on June 12 (when Boston visits the Stadium for the opener of a three-game setnow there is a sacrifice).
Last Thursday, a day after he chose box seats over Buffalonians, Giuliani appeared rather miffed, perhaps because of the snipes he had to endure over his opening-day outing. He was also probably still smarting from remarks that Senator John McCain, a Giuliani supporter, made about Clinton. Speaking to Columbia University students earlier in the week, the Arizona Republican noted that, were she elected, Clinton "would be a star of the quality that has not been seen in the Senate since Bobby Kennedy was elected senator from the state of New York." Oh, how Rudy longs for someone, anyone, to whisper, "You're a superstar, yes, that's what you are."
At a City Hall press conference, when reporters asked the mayor about remarks that Clinton had made on Friday regarding her plan to erase the federal debt, Giuliani had a hissy fit (some might even say he acted a bit precious, a la Ray Cortines). "Oh, come on, Mrs. Clinton, Mrs. Clinton. You guys, you're unbelievable. You're, like, knee-jerk, knee-jerk, knee-jerk. Thank you!" As he left the Blue Room, Giuliani suggested that the assembled reporters "join the Democratic National Committee." All that was missing was the singsongy inflection and the accompanying nyah-nyah-nyah-nyahs.
By now, Giuliani observers are used to the mayor's frequent public meltdowns and distinctive speaking style. His bizarre repetition of words ("very, very, very" or "knee-jerk, knee-jerk, knee-jerk") is a curiosity that few reporters fail to regularly include (often gleefully) in their news stories or columns. Usually by the time you hit 50, you stop describing things as "really, really silly" or "very, very sad." Therefore, decoding Giuliani's speech habitswhich have none of the exquisite rhythms of Gertrude Stein but all the nuttiness of Professor Irwin Corey's pattershould be left to a highly qualified linguist (and preferably one with a minor in clinical psychiatry).