Awesome Playoff Day Open Thread. Today, I’m rooting for the Reds, Nats, Yanks, and A’s.
Let’s Go Base-ball!
[Photo Via: It’s a Long Season]
Saturday
February 28, 2026
Since 2002
Monthly Archives: October 2012
Taster’s Cherce
Last gasp of summer. Dig in to this orecchiette recipe over at the Lemon Fire Brigade.
Raul-elujah
With two swings of the bat, Raul Ibanez won Game 3 of the ALDS for the Yankees 3-2. Joe Girardi, in one of the ballsiest managerial moves in Yankee history, asked Ibanez to pinch hit for currently lost-in-the-woods Alex Rodriguez in the ninth inning. The Yankees trailed 2-1 at the time, there was one out, and the needle on the season was edging towards “disaster.”
Ibanez took a curve ball low and inside from Jim Johnson to start the at bat. The Oriole closer came back with his trademark sinker aiming low and away. The ball hung over the middle and Ibanez leaped on it. It was a lot like his homer to tie game 161 against the Red Sox, but struck even better than that.
There was a whole a lot of tense nothing after that until Ibanez led off the bottom of the twelfth against lefty Brian Matusz. Matusz had handled lefties Eric Chavez and Ichiro Suzuki with ease in the eleventh, giving them one decent pitch to hit early in the count and then driving them out of the strike zone. He tried the same trick on Ibanez, but Raul had target lock engaged and destroyed the 91 MPH fastball for the game-winner and possible season-saver.
Enough cannot be said of Ibanez, Girardi, Kuroda and Robertson. Ibanez will get, and deserves, every headline and accolade, but he wouldn’t have had a chance in the ninth if it wasn’t for Kuroda. Ditto the twelfth if it wasn’t for Robertson. And of course Joe Girardi, who never gets any credit and often takes a ton criticism, especially on the internet, chose the perfect time to pull the plug on his support for Alex Rodriguez. With Ibanez he gained the platoon advantage and the confidence advantage as the lefty slugger had just come through in a similar spot against a right-handed closer. If Girardi has lost Rodriguez for the rest of the series, so be it. I’d rather be up 2-1 without Arod than down 1-2 with him.
Going back to the pre-Ibanez portion of the game, Hiroki Kuroda was tremendous. A likable stalwart in a season full of uncertainty, he delivered a solid performance into the ninth inning. Kuroda cruised through his night on only 105 pitches and only allowed six base runners. Two solo homers to the bottom of the order were the only marks on his record. Yankee fans gave him the ovation he deserved as he left the game.
As good as Hiroki Kuroda was, Miguel Gonzalez was better. He went through the Yankees for seven innings with ease. He rung up eight Yanks, allowed almost no hard hit balls (were there any other than double and triple that plated the Yanks’ lone run?) and crucially walked no one. He was too tough.
Or maybe he was just pretty good and the Yankees met him halfway to awesome. I openly wonder if the Yankees would have had a more productive night if they just never swung the bat. For three straight games now, they’ve missed almost every cookie they’ve been served with foul balls and pop ups. And they’re so eager to do some damage that they’re expanding the zone in very counterproductive ways. Of the eleven times the Yanks struck out in this game, all were swinging whiffs, and the vast majority were on balls out of the strike zone. The Yankees were over aggressive, undisciplined and rendered utterly ineffective.
Derek Jeter picked up two more hits, though his RBI triple was a gift from Adam Jones. He’s one of the few Yankees who might get a hit at some point tomorrow night, so it’s bad news that he had to come out of the game with a leg injury. He smashed a foul ball off his toe and never looked comfortable after that. When he struck out in the eighth, he was barely able to gain his balance after each swing. Still put on a better at bat than anything Arod, Cano, Granderson or Teixeira could muster. Unless that foot has to be sawed off, Jeter’s playing tomorrow. If they amputate, downgrade him to probable.
But back to Raul Ibanez. He just hit a couple of the most important home runs in Yankee Postseason history. He’s on the list. From the color TV days, there’s Chambliss ’76, Dent ’78 (not Postseason but still), Jeter/Bernie ’96, Leyritz ’96, Justice ’00, Tino/Brosius/Jeter ’01, Boone ’03, Arod ’09. Probably missing some, but that’s a pretty good start (Reggie and Matsui of course, but maybe that’s a slightly different list, and heck, put Ibanez on that one too with his two bombs tonight).
The lack of hitting in the Postseason always confounds me. I always think, “Why can’t this be the year where they just get hot and blast their way to the Series?” But it never works that way and I need to stop being surprised that Jason Hammel, Wei-Yin Chen and Miguel Gonzalez turn into the 1963 Dodgers as soon as the calendar flips to October. The difference this time, hopefully, is that the Yankees have the starters to support the offensive outage.
All three Yankee starters have worked into the eighth and two of them were still on the hill in the ninth! A timely hit in Game 2 and the Yanks would have just swept this thing. Phil Hughes gets the baton and it doesn’t matter who he faces. It’s gonna be Koufax, Drysdale, Alexander, Gibson and Schilling all wrapped into some Oriole schlub and Hughes will need to be his best to keep them in the game. The Yankees probably won’t hit, but they just might win.
Top Photo by Bill Kostroun/AP via ESPN
Other Photos by Alex Trautwig and Al Bello / Getty Images via ESPN
Act III: Stand Tall or Don’t Stand at All
Early for a game thread but what the hell?
There’s no lineup change for Alex Rodriguez and the Yanks but Eric Chavez is playing third and batting ninth.
Derek Jeter SS
Ichiro Suzuki LF
Alex Rodriguez DH
Robinson Cano 2B
Nick Swisher RF
Mark Teixeira 1B
Curtis Granderson CF
Russell Martin C
Eric Chavez 3B
RHP Hiroki Kuroda
Never mind those pesky boids: LET’S GO YANK-EES!
[Photo Credit: ari j. greenberg]
Playoff Matinee
This afternoon we’ve got two NL games: Cards at Nats and then Giants at Cincy.
Enjoy.
[Photo Credit: Saint Anslem]
As Comfortable as an Old Sweater
Here’s an extra beat of the day for you. A friend posted this on his Facebook page and said it made him feel like he was a Huxtable.
This, That, and the Third
Chad Jennings with some Yankee notes. At ESPN/New York, Mark Simon looks at Baltimore’s Miguel Gonzalez.
And over at Deadspin, here’s Tom Scocca on Ichiro’s play at the plate last night.
Tonight gives a pair of Game 3’s: Giants vs. the Reds and later tonight, Tigers vs. the A’s.
Have at it.
Let’s Go Base-ball!
[Photo Via: Omynameistaken]
Enemy Mine
Over at SBN’s Longform, check out this fine piece story by William Browning:
Before the boy passed 10 his parents left the Mississippi Delta for the pine woods farther south, where his mother found a teaching job in the county. They were a young family, renting near the school, when his father left.
The boy felt lost in that new place. To better hide the hurt he whittled away his footprints through the years, turning his back on basketball, the drum line, a job bagging groceries and a place on the school honor roll. When he handed in his football jersey during his junior year there was nothing else to quit. He did it in spring, a few months after the ’96 season. A slow-footed receiver four notches down the depth chart, he thought he would not be missed. He was surprised when the coach sent a note to his English teacher asking to see him. Everyone called him, “Coach.” He was humorless and had a dry voice. He growled through one-sided conversations on the football field but off it he could be inarticulate.
The boy remembers walking the hallway toward his office, telling himself not to give in. He sat face-to-face with Coach, Bear Bryant’s picture hanging nearby on the office wall. Are you sure you want to spend your senior year in the bleachers? Coach said. Full of teenage arrogance, the boy said he wouldn’t be attending any games. He said he had watched from the sideline for two seasons and had his fill.
Coach, always slow to speak, leaned back in his chair and warned him. He warned him that not that season, but in a decade or so, he would come to regret his decision and that once made, it could not be undone.
The boy laughed. A grown man, said the boy, has no business thinking of games he did or did not play in high school. Coach said all right and the boy left. He never called him “Coach” again. Not because he walked away from football, but because that summer the coach married his mother.
And the boy hated him for that.
[Photo Credit: Colorado Springs Gazette ]
…Forget Their Hiding
Pete Townshend’s “deeply felt but often ungainly” memoir, Who I Am, is reviewed by Michiko Kakutani in the Times:
What Mr. Townshend does manage to do here with insight, verve and sometimes grandiosity is describe how the Who and its music evolved: how the group “set out to articulate the joy and rage” of the generation that came of age in the “teenage wasteland” that was post-World War II Britain, under the shadow of the atomic bomb and deeply alienated from the established class system. This is why the Who’s early sound — with all the screaming feedback and distortion, the wrecked guitars and Moon’s frenetic drumming — was so aggressive and explosive.
“I wasn’t trying to play beautiful music,” Mr. Townshend explains. “I was confronting my audience with the awful, visceral sound of what we all knew was the single absolute of our frail existence — one day an aeroplane would carry the bomb that would destroy us all in a flash. It could happen at any time. The Cuban Crisis less than two years before had proved that.”
This is Mr. Townshend in his rock theorist mode — familiar to fans, who have read his music essays and reviews, or listened to his ruminative interviews. He speaks candidly in these pages about the influence that artists like the Kinks and Bob Dylan had on him, recalling that when he first sat down to try to write songs for the Who, he isolated himself in the kitchen of his Ealing flat, and listened to a few records over and over again: “The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan”; Charles Mingus’s “Better Git It in Your Soul,” from “Mingus Ah Um”; John Lee Hooker’s “Devil’s Jump”; and “Green Onions” by Booker T. and the MGs.
He proves equally engaging as a sort of rock historian, describing the musical landscape in Britain in the early 1960s, when rock exploded on the scene. He describes how it upended the old order represented by the swing music that his father, a clarinetist and saxophonist, played in a band called the Squadronaires. And he charts how the Who came to push the boundaries of rock, creating one of the most acclaimed early concept albums (“The Who Sell Out,” 1967) and pioneering the form of the rock opera with “Tommy” in 1969.
As Mr. Townshend sees it, the Who’s ascendance would eventually be undermined by the rise of punk rock in the late ’70s. Though Who songs like “My Generation” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again” became “anthems for a particular time,” Mr. Townshend writes, by 1981 “a gulf had opened up between the Who and the new younger generation.
“I had to accept that we had reached our peak of popularity at Woodstock, and however famous and successful we still were as a band, our ability to reinvent ourselves was declining as we continued a long slow descent from that moment when Roger sang ‘See me, feel me, touch me, heal me,’ the sun rose up behind us, and my guitar screamed to 500,000 sleep-tousled people.”
"This ain't football. We do this every day."
--Earl Weaver
--Earl Weaver