Daily Archives: October 7, 2008

With no games to preview today, I’ve got a piece up on SI.com summarizing five things I took away from the ALDS. The first of them Yankee fans new already: Jon Lester, who was 2-0 with a 1.19 ERA in three starts against the Bombers this year, is the Red Sox’s new ace.

God knows why — I’ve been to dozens and dozens of games over the years — but the very first thing I think of, when I hear the words "Yankee Stadium", is Game 6 of the 2004 ALCS. I couldn’t first remember some nice come-from-behind affair against the Sox, or one of those sharp Andy Pettitte LDS wins over the Twins, or my first game with my dad as a kid, or learning to keep score? No, I go back to a frigid and drizzly night, in the far reaches of the upper deck, sitting by myself because by the time I’d managed to log onto Ticketmaster, they only had single tickets left.

And somehow, it’s actually a nice memory. I was wearing just about every item of clothing I owned in a futile attempt to layer for warmth, topped off with my ancient and oversized Paul O’Neill t-shirt, and using a garbage bag I’d brought from home as a poncho. This was my first Championship Series game ever — I’d seen a few Division Series games, but that was it, I’d never been there for any ALCS or World Series moments in person. And so I was absolutely determined to enjoy myself, no matter what — alone, freezing, damp, broke, watching the Yankees engage in one of the greatest chokes in sports history against that loudmouth Schilling… whatever. I wasn’t about to let anything get me down. (Plus, I was so sure they were going to pull it out the next night. Way too sure).

There was an earnest, attractive young Japanese tourist couple on my left, wearing full-on plush Godzilla-head hats. They didn’t speak much English, but the man did turn to me a few innings in and manage to ask why the crowd was booing Schilling for repeatedly throwing over to hold the runner on first. "That’s his job, yes?" he wanted to know, perfectly reasonably. While I was trying to figure out the best way to phrase my reply, the man to my right, who turned out to be named Joey, leaned over and beat me to it.

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It’s painful to see the Red Sox playing so well, but in a way, it is a tribute to the Yankees’ success in the late ’90s, a run that forced the Red Sox to build a bigger, smarter team.  It’s as if they are the villans in the superhero movie who create a supermonster to defeat the superhero (Though you’d be hard-pressed to find a Sox fan who considers the Yankees the heroes).

As much as I hate to see Boston winning, I do appreciate that they are defending their title so well–at least thus far.

So while we wait for the hot stove to warm up, we are left with our memories–and what a stockpile we’ve got to choose from! I’ve been digging around in the Esquire archives lately, and now offer up Charles Pierce’s 2001 profile on our man, Mariano Rivera:

He is modest and mild. He is neat and quiet. Closers are not. They snarl and spit. They rage and howl. They are wild and unkempt, hooligan cowboys, living and dying with every pitch. One of them still hangs around the Yankees, helping the relief pitchers. The hair’s thin now, and gray. The mustache still droops, and it’s gray, too. He’s the old rancher with a rifle above the door that nobody asks about. Be they as precise as Mariano Rivera or as fierce as this old gentleman, closers make their own special marks, always, as long as they sign in blood.

…His power seems like some sort of physical trompe l’oeil, its source a mystery locked inside the elegant movement of his pitching motion. The power is in there somewhere, coiled and mysterious and remorselessly reliable. Otherwise, he looks as if he’s tossing a tennis ball against the side of his garage. If he has an identity as a closer, it is that he throws the same pitch at the same speed with the same fluid motion every time, impeccable and contained and neat, like his handwriting, like his career.

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Sox give Halos that Peaceful, Easy Feeling.  Actually, I’m sure there was nothing peaceful or easy about it.  The Sox win games like the 90s Yankee teams did, huh?

Let’s Go Rays!