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Right Place, Wang Time? Wang Turn? If Loving You Is Wang I Don’t Want To Be Right?

Generally speaking, scoring twice in the first inning and then not at all for the next seven frames is not a recipe for success. But the Yankees made it work last night, thanks mostly to Chien-Ming Wang’s return to form, and pulled out a 3-1 win over the surprisingly non-crappy Oakland Athletics to go one game over .500 yet again. (As Cliff noted last night, the A’s aren’t likely to keep up this pace, but it’s still an impressive start for a team whose biggest star is probably… I don’t know, Eric Chavez, I guess? One day I’d love to see what Billy Beane could do with a payroll of more than $17.83.)

Wang was efficient through seven and a third, and while Oakland’s leadoff batter reached base in EVERY SINGLE inning, Wang allowed just one run, thanks to a bevy of ground balls and well-timed double plays. Apparently pitching coach Dave Eiland had urged him to “get the ball out of his glove a little bit quicker,” which would improve his sinker. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what that really means or why it would be true, but it seems to have helped.

In fact, even Wang’s one run allowed should have been unearned. It came in the 4th inning, after Wilson Betemit made what looked to me like an obvious and fairly egregious error on a Jack Cust grounder, but it was ruled a hit, and the run eventually scored. “Isn’t this the big leagues?” asked a bewildered Ken Singleton when the scoring decision was announced. Betemit is a pretty ungainly defender, so it’s a good thing his bat makes up for… oh, wait.

Anyway. Earned or un-, the Athletics’ lone run wasn’t enough. The Yanks scored their decisive two in the first, when Derek Jeter walked and Alex Rodriguez and Jason Giambi (ignoring his usual warm and loving reception from the Oakland fans) each hit RBI singles. Oakland starter Dana Eveland was described by Joe Girardi, after the game, as “conveniently wild,” which sounds about right. He walked six, but his stuff was good and unpredictable, and the Yankees never really got a rally going. In the ninth Melky Cabrera homered off our old pal Keith Foulke, tacking on an insurance run which Mariano Rivera, pitching for the 4th straight day, didn’t need.

Perhaps it’s just that I’d gotten used to the perma-calm of Joe Torre, but I’m always struck by Joe Girardi’s intense emotional reaction to pretty much every game: you can watch him in a postgame interview and tell within seconds whether the Yankees won or not. It’s not just his facial expression, either — he actually appears pale and worn if they don’t win, like he’s in physical pain. While it’s nice to know how much he cares, that can’t be healthy, can it?

Miscellaneous thoughts:

-The As pitched Jason Giambi up and in all night – guess they read the scouting report – which resulted in two pitches barely missing his head and a third hitting him in the back. I very much doubt that any of that was at all intentional, but: if you can’t pitch up and in safely, don’t pitch up and in. The pitch in his first at-bat looked like it came within a few inches of his skull.

-In the sixth inning Giambi actually tagged up and moved to second on a fly ball, and it was quite a sight. When your own family, watching in the stands, cracks up imitating your running style, you know you don’t exactly have the grace of a gazelle. Still, between that and his shift-beating RBI hit in the first, it had to be a satisfying day for the Porn ‘Stache of Doom.

-In the 8th, Alex Rodriguez reminded everyone that catching pop ups remains the one and only element of baseball he’s not great at. It’s hard to understand how someone can rush to 500 home runs in record time, steal bases with a high success rate, throw bullets, and field efficiently after learning a completely new position halfway through his career…yet go sprawling awkwardly while failing to nab a routine pop-up. I’m not complaining — it’s just odd.

-Joe Girardi went to Jose Veras in the 8th, after Wang was pulled, and Mariano Rivera in the 9th for the fourth straight day, the first time Rivera’s pitched in that many consecutive games since 2005. Kyle Farnsworth was available, apparently not bothered by the “fatigue” in his bicep, but I’d say Joe Girardi is suffering from Farnsworth fatigue. Every baseball fan in the tristate area, to Girardi, in unison: We told you so.

Have the Yankees ever had a mascot?

Yesterday, I would have answered this question with a quick and confident “no.” But I would have been wrong.

In the early 80s, the Yankees hired the creators of the popular Phillie Phanatic. They were rewarded with “Dandy,” a fuzzy debacle that is apparently supposed to resemble some sort of bird — though looking at the little photographic evidence available, I can’t confirm that with any certainty. Dandy was an elongated white blob adorned with pinstripes, a Yankees cap, a flesh-colored ball for a nose, and a swath of bright material that is either meant to represent a big red mustache or, perhaps, wattle.

Fans reacted to this misbegotten Frankenstein the way you’d expect: with a potent mixture of fear and hostility. In the end the Yankees never let Dandy onto the field, into the dugout, or even out of the Stadium; instead he was limited to roaming the upper deck, where he was routinely heckled, harassed, and threatened.

How on earth did I not know about this? All the games I’ve watched, books I’ve read, fans I’ve talked to, and I never heard a word about it? I suppose it makes sense, really – I was too young to pay attention at the time, and nobody writes books or articles on the New York Yankees of 1982-1985. Those games never end up on YES as “Yankee Classics”. Besides, a little research reveals that most fans who lived through the Dandy era seem to have tried their best to forget. My father’s reaction was typical:

“Mascot? The Yankees never had a… ohhhhh, yeah, that’s right! God, people hated that thing.”

I felt a little better about my ignorance when I discovered that, back in 1998, not even Lonn Trost or George Steinbrenner remembered Dandy. The New York Times had the scoop:

Lonn Trost, the Yankees’ general counsel, said there are official Yankee hamburgers, hot dogs and popcorn. But a mascot? No, he didn’t think the team ever had one.

From 1982 to 1985, though, the Yankees had Dandy, a pinstriped character designed by Ms. Erickson.

Dandy was a failure. Mr. Harrison said that was because he wasn’t allowed out of the nosebleed area in the stands. Nor did he do any outside appearances. According to Mr. Harrison, George Steinbrenner, the Yankees’ principal owner, was less than enthusiastic about the mascot after Lou Pinella, the Yankee outfielder, got so angry at the San Diego Chicken’s clowning that he threw his glove at the bird (not a Harrison/ Erickson creation). Mr. Steinbrenner, through his spokesman Howard Rubenstein, said he had no recollection of the pinstriped mascot.

One of my neighbors, a fan since the 1960s, told me that in his recollection, Dandy lasted only a few weeks before he was beaten up by a group of angry or, perhaps, simply terrified nosebleed seat natives, after which the traumatized man in the suit resigned and was never replaced. I feel a little bad for finding this story hilarious, but in any case he seems to have exaggerated it a bit over the decades — by the Times’ account, Dandy hung in there for years, and I haven’t been able to track down any hard evidence that he was ever actually physically assaulted. Even if it isn’t strictly true, I like this outsized distillation of events, which seems to capture the popular imagination’s image of the lawless Yankee Stadium of the 80s.

In this summer of endless nostalgia, everyone goes on and on about how the Yankees will be tearing down the field where Ruth and Gehrig played, the site of 26 World Championships, blah blah blah… but do they ever mention that after this year, the home of Dandy will be gone, too? They do not. I say that poor bird(???) deserves better.

Anybody have any memories of Dandy that you’d like to share?

I always try to be understanding when listening to baseball announcers. It’s hard to talk intelligently and authoritatively about anything for four straight hours, let alone do that almost every day for six months. If I ever tried, the network would most likely owe the FCC millions in fines by the first half-hour mark, and by day three I’d be babbling about my dog and The Wire and snickering like a 12-year-old boy at White Sox coach Rusty Kuntz. It wouldn’t be pretty.

Beyond that, it’s difficult for announcers to decide exactly who to address: the casual fan who watches a game or two per week, or the die-hards who see nearly every at-bat? I expect many Bronx Banter readers fall in the latter category, but broadcasters don’t want to alienate the large proportion of viewers who don’t follow the team as closely. It’s completely understandable, but still, all the repetition can be hard on us regulars.

All of which is just a roundabout introduction to the real subject of my rant today: ads.

When the YES network debuted, I was a college junior, and thrilled at the concept of an all-Yankees network to feed my obsession. I wrote about its first few weeks for the college paper, and noted:

…as a new channel, it doesn’t seem to have many advertisers just yet—half the commercials are for actual YES programs, and the other half consists of exactly five low-budget local ads, aired repeatedly. If this keeps up, I may have to eat at the Captain’s Galley restaurant in West Haven—as the man in the ad says (in a very unfortunate pirate voice), it’s time to "experience the legend for yourself!" I might drive there in my brand new car from Quality Hyundai, conveniently located on I-95 between Exits 52 and 53.

Turns out, that wasn’t just a new-channel quirk; YES still runs the same spots over and over and over again, half-inning after half-inning, and sometimes year after year, though they tend to be more upscale these days. (Well, except for Procede). I now think back fondly on the pirate voice that shilled for The Captain’s Galley. If you live in the tri-state area, have basic cable, and watch a lot of Yankees games, you will be uncomfortably familiar with the following:

“Fifteen minutes could save you fifteen percent or more on car insurance.”

"Attention, men with thinning hair!"

“A Platinum ownership experience can only be achieved from the Lexus Platinum Dealer Network.”

I must have heard that last godforsaken sentence roughly – and this is just an estimate – 5,678,328,304 times. I often fast-forward through commercials these days (bless you, brilliant Tivo inventors), change the channel, or simply tune them out; but something this ubiquitous, and this irritating, simply cannot be ignored. They show it during every single inning, sometimes more than once. Every day. During Mets games, too, and Knicks games, at least back when I could watch those without clawing at my own eyes. It’s horrifying to contemplate just how often I’ve seen that spokes-snob, in her black cocktail dress and pearls, traipse across her cheap CGI map blathering on about luxury.

Look, Lexus lady: I don’t want to “achieve a platinum ownership experience.” I might, one day, want to “buy a car,” but since I live in New York, probably not. If I ever do — unless I have an unknown wealthy uncle somewhere who’s secretly planning to bequeath me his estate — it is unlikely to be a Lexus. So despite the hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars the company has spent pounding this insipid message into my skull, I WILL NEVER BUY YOUR PRODUCT. In fact, at this point, no mater how much money I had or how great a deal it was or how much I liked the car, I’d refuse to buy a Lexus on principles alone. The people behind this ad, and responsible for its placement, cannot be allowed to win.

Furthermore, if I do one day get a car… guess which brand of insurance I will NOT EVER be purchasing for it?

So sure, Michael Kay’s thrice-repeated anecdotes can be frustrating at times, but the guy’s trying his best to do a challenging job. Whereas I’m now convinced that limey Geico lizard is the computer-generated embodiment of pure unyielding evil.

And if I ever run into "salon expert Guiseppe Franco" on the street, I will not be held accountable for my actions.

Chien-Ming Wang teetered on the brink of disaster throughout his six innings against the White Sox last night, but somehow allowed only three runs, so in the end — after the Yankee offense poked its head out and didn’t see its shadow — New York won 9-5. The Yanks are now one game over .500, and at with his fourth W of the season, Wang is the fastest major league pitcher to 50 wins since Doc Gooden. (Obligatory disclaimer: wins are an extremely unreliable and inaccurate stat, etc. Still, that’s impressive).

Starting for the White Sox was old frenemy Jose Contreras, another in the long line of big-money free agent busts in New York who’ve gone on to success elsewhere. (He gets a pass, though, since his family was trapped in Cuba most of the time he was with the Yankees. You can see how that might be a tad bit distracting. What’s your excuse, Vazquez?). Contreras pitched a solid game, allowing just one first inning run, when Johnny Damon scored on a Matsui ground out, and one inning later a solo home run from the hollow husk of Jason Giambi. Then he settled in and, like many an April pitcher before him, stifled the Yankees’ offense.

Wang, meanwhile, struggled from the start, throwing almost 50 pitches in the first two innings alone as the White Sox put three quick runs up. (He wasn’t helped by an error on Morgan Ensberg, who was subbing in for Alex Rodriguez at third base. A-Rod, of course, was on paternity leave in Florida, with his wife and newborn daughter…. or, as the Daily News would have it, "welcoming a bouncing bambina into [his] pinstriped world"). After that Wang was somwhat more efficient, but also lucky: the White Sox had a plethora of very hard hit line drives and fly balls land just within reach of the Yankee outfielders. And by the end, Chicago had stranded 13 runners.

The Yankees finally got a little momentum going, and loaded the bases in the 7th – single, walk, infield single – which brought Derek Jeter to the plate with one out. He struck out, and perhaps as a result, looked like the happiest man in Chicago one batter later, when Bobby Abreu whacked Octavio Dotel’s 2-0 pitch just over the left field wall for a go-ahead grand slam.

In the bottom of the inning, perhaps concerned that things might get dull for the viewers at home, Billy Traber and Brian Bruney worked together to load the bases, which brought in Joba Chamberlain. Joba looked good under the circumstances — well, aside from walking in a run — and in the YES booth, David Cone kept gushing about his “moxie,” an excellent word that people just don’t use enough anymore. (Side note: I think Cone’s doing a good job on the whole… but you can just tell he’s dying to curse up a storm, and to tell several dozen potentially libelous stories. I’d love to hear him really cut loose, though I expect the FCC and certain former teammates would not.)

After a three-run homer from Johnny Damon in the eighth – cancel the obit, I think he’s fogging up the mirror! – and another solid inning from Chamberlain, Kyle Farnsworth brought his own special brand of excitement to the ninth inning. But one quick home run, walk, fielder’s choice and wild pitch later, the Yankees nailed down the win.

I’m not sure it’s even worth bringing up, but in the eighth inning, a black cat ran out of the stands, across the field, and straight into the Yankees dugout. I’ve decided to simply ignore this, not being the superstious type. (Though once, in college, I was walking across a courtyard at night, when not one but two black cats ran directly in front of me, one after the other… then proceeded to have loud sex in the bushes next to my dorm. I admit, that did give me pause.)

Finally, announcer Paul O’Neill finally asked the big burning question on all of our minds: “How can they wear black socks when they’re called the White Sox? That just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Next time on YES: Why do we drive on parkways but park on driveways?

So remember when, last week, I wondered about Jorge Posada and the importance of game calling? “Kyle Farnsworth is probably going to do some Farnsworthing no matter how meticulously you’ve planned your pitch sequence,” I wrote, “and Mariano Rivera could probably strike batters out if he threw to a lump of clay.”

Well, apparently the Yankees took that as a challenge.

In all fairness, sudden catcher Chad Moeller has done a good job so far under difficult circumstances, with a higher-than-expected VOLC (Value Over Lump of Clay). The Yankees scraped some runs together, Andy Pettitte didn’t let the Rays scrape together quite as many, and in the end it was a 5-3 Yanks win.

“Pettitte did a solid job despite not having great stuff”: I feel like I’ve written variations on that sentence about 30 times over the last year or so. Which means it’s probably time for me to adjust my idea of what Andy Pettitte’s stuff actually IS these days, huh? Clearly he can still be plenty effective, but it’s not 1997 anymore (thank god), or even 2005. Anyway, Pettitte had a rough few innings to start the game – allowing seven hits in the first three frames, some blooped and some smashed – but he got through it with only two runs scored, then settled in for the long haul, eventually giving up three runs in seven innings on exactly 100 pitches.

As for the Yankee offense, it wasn’t exactly a banner night – they left the bases loaded three times – but it was enough. Hideki Matsui started the scoring with a solo shot in the second, and in the fourth Bobby Abreu and Alex Rodriguez scored on a groundout and a wild pitch, respectively. (Rays pitcher Edwin Jackson, in his general demeanor on the mound, struck me as a bit of a Nuke LaLoosh “I want to announce my presence with authority!” type, but maybe I’m being unfair). The Yanks tacked on two more the next inning, when Jeter singled Damon home – one of his three hits on the night – and was then driven in by Abreu.

Mariano Rivera got the save with his usual panache, but with Joba Chamberlain still home with his father, Kyle Farnsworth pitched the 8th inning. And you might want to sit down for this: he set the Rays down 1-2-3. In a two-run game. Frankly, I’m paralyzed. Do I make a joke about the apocalypse and Revelations? Quote the old Ghostbusters “cats and dogs living together, mass hysteria!” line? Or should I reveal my suspicion that Farns has been replaced by a remarkably lifelike android/mutant/alien pod creature, which – even if it helps the team – probably ought to be stopped? I don’t know. I was not prepared for this contingency!

Finally, in other news, LaTroy Hawkins – on the advice of Jeter and Rivera – has apparently decided to give up #21. I think most Banter readers will agree that Hawkins did nothing wrong in trying to honor Roberto Clemente, and that booing him for his choice of uniform number was definitely uncalled for… but I have to admit that part of me is a little happy he’s switching. Not the smart, logical part, mind you*. But I do find it oddly touching that fans are still so devoted to O’Neill, even if they choose to express it a dumb, counterproductive sort of way.

*All together now: "What smart, logical part?"

Here’s a question for you guys, and something I’ve been wondering about for a while now: Is Jorge Posada good at calling games?

Yesterday, for the second time in this brand-new season, Jose Molina was behind the plate for Mike Mussina. I don’t know if the Yankees are going to use Molina as Mussina’s personal catcher – Posada missed Moose’s first start with a sore shoulder, and last night was a logical day off because of today’s afternoon game. Still, given that last season Mussina pitched to Wil Nieves until July — you remember Nieves; incredibly nice guy, didn’t have a hit until May 9th — it seems that Mussina prefers, or at the very least has no objection to, throwing to someone other than Posada.

I don’t think this is a problem — Molina’s got to start sometime, and unlike other recent Yankee backups he’s a capable hitter; if Mussina likes working with him, so much the better. And Mussina can, as you may have noticed, be a bit persnickety about his pitching circumstances, so I don’t want to read too much into his apparent inclination towards someone a bit more defense-oriented.

Randy Johnson, in his brief and unhappy time in the Bronx, also opted for a personal catcher, the YES booth’s own John Flaherty*. Now, Johnson was so prickly that he makes Mussina look like a Teletubby, so you can take that with a grain of salt as well. Still, since Flaherty and Nieves, even working together, would be hard pressed to hit their way out of a paper bag, there must be some reason two of the best pitchers of their generation embraced such blows to their run support.

This is all just curiosity on my part, and no cause for concern — Posada’s game calling really isn’t a big issue. He’s so good offensively, even during an average season, that he makes up for any defensive shortcomings, and he’s been incredibly durable besides. Of all the mid-90s Yanks still around, he’s the one I think the team will find it hardest to replace. And besides, he’s been behind the plate for countless excellent pitching performances over the years, including a perfect game – obviously he can’t be that bad.

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I figure many of you, being sane and intelligent people, probably missed the official start of baseball season–live from Japan, at 6 a.m., Red Sox-A’s–but I had to write about something, and damned if I have anything left to say about spring training. My viewing didn’t go quite the way I planned, as I fell asleep on the futon sometime during the second inning and woke up hours later to the grating laughter of Mike and Mike. Fortunately my TiVo knows me better than I know myself.

It wasn’t the game’s fault–this one was highly entertaining, even if the end result, 5-4 Sox, wasn’t ideal. Cliff gave the play-by-play yesterday. Depending on your tolerance for Schadenfreude, watching Daisuke Matsuzaka completely and utterly lose the strike zone in the early going was either fun or somewhat wince-inducing–this was supposed to be his big homecoming, after all–but either way, he made an impressive recovery, and the Sox won a tough one, albeit with a little help from the A’s.

Yes, it turns out Oakland isn’t messing around with this whole “rebuilding” thing. I thought I’d been paying pretty close attention to baseball transactions this winter, but I’ve never even heard of a bunch of these guys. I’ve certainly heard of Emil Brown, though, and in the 10th inning, he proceded to demonstrate how they do things in Kansas City and Pittsburgh. I have a lot of faith in Billy Beane’s diabolical schemes, but this particular season . . . well, it could be a rough summer for the Bay Area.

These days, my joy at Opening Day is usually tempered a bit by the knowledge that with it comes Joe Morgan’s ESPN announcing; but we’ve been spared this year, as Steve Phillips and Gary Thorne made the trip instead. I haven’t heard much of Thorne before, I don’t think, and I actually enjoyed him. His use of “Sayonara!” as a home run call was pretty unforgivable, but his perkiness seems to be entirely genuine, and I just couldn’t dislike him, especially since he seemed as punchy as his pre-dawn audience as he rambled on about coffee and cherry blossoms. At one point, he was openly wavering on whether to address himself to East Coast fans just waking up and eating breakfast, or those “west of the Mississippi” who might be arriving home “after the bars close.” I’m still not sure what he ended up deciding, but either way, it was entertaining.

Even Steve Phillips, who regularly rubs me the wrong way on Baseball Tonight, seemed so happy to have baseball back that I couldn’t hold a grudge. Though I did scoff–out loud, just on general principle, even though no one was there to hear it–when he said of Matsuzaka, during his early struggles, “the look in his eyes for his last pitch was the best he’s had yet. He’s competing now, it looks like.” Really? Is that the same "look" you saw in the eyes of Mo Vaugh, Roberto Alomar, and Armando Benitez (twice)? Unfortunately for Mets fans, Scott Kazmir’s eyeballs apparently don’t convey that much competitiveness.

Also joining the telecast, considerably earlier in the day than I prefer to see him, was the Commisioner himself. Having just finished up an exciting and historic trip that brought Major League Baseball to China for the first time ever, Bud Selig was his usual charismatic self, brimming with enthralling stories from his travels in Beijing:

“I remember standing on the field with Joe Torre, who I’ve known for about 50-plus years, and he looked at me and I looked at him. And he said, ‘Did you ever think we’d be standing on a field in Beijing, about to play Major League Baseball?’ And I said, ‘No.’”
(Long pause).

A born raconteur, that man.

There’s been much debate recently over how much the additional travel and jetlag will affect the Red Sox. (No one appears to care very much whether or not it will affect the A’s). Over at YFSF, Paul makes a convincing case that the trip to Japan has historically had little if any impact on a team’s performance. He’s probably right, though when I flew home from Taiwan last summer I was a zombie for well over a week. Regardless, and despite what you might have heard earlier this spring from Theo Epstein, the complaining has already commenced. I’d say karma’s a bitch, but alas, the Sox did win the game.

To be honest, I’m sick of spring training. Sure it’s great, in the middle of winter, to get those first photos and videos of the players out in the sunshine… but it’s sort of like watching a singer practice scales or something: interesting enough for a little while, but pretty soon, you just want the show to start. I’ve therefore been tuning out most of the desultory news from Tampa and, instead, thinking about the really meaningful things. Things like entrance music.

You know you’ve thought about it: if you were a baseball player, what would your at-bat song be?

Originally I was going to write this post about my own ideal selections. (You know, assuming I were good at baseball. And a guy). But every time I sat down to write, I got hopelessly bogged down in iTunes. This is not a simple question. Because first of all, what kind of imaginary baseball player are you? A home run hitter, or a speedy on-base guy? Are you slumping, or on a hot streak? These things matter. Then, of course, it has to be a song that can hold its own in a stadium – Radiohead may be a great band, but nothing from The Bends is going to fire up a crowd of 55,000.

I finally had to admit defeat for the time being, though I did manage to narrow it down to a list of 47 possible songs. (…And just think, my editors wonder why I have trouble making deadlines). So I’m taking the more general approach here, and hoping to get a good discussion going.

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It’s one of the stranger stories of this offseason, but it’s hardly been investigated: the federal government’s apparent inability, for the better part of a week, to find and subpoena Chuck Knoblauch. The former second baseman finally agreed to a meeting with the House committee lawyers, held yesterday, and will apparently testify on February 13th; but no one seems to know where he went, why he couldn’t be tracked down, or why he hid, if indeed he was hiding at all. Perhaps the media is respecting his privacy, but since that would be a first, I suspect he’s just not famous enough for people to care.

I keep wondering about it, though. In fact, over the years I’ve thought about Chuck Knoblauch much more often than I’d have expected to think about Chuck Knoblauch. His is one of the most bizarre stories of my baseball-watching life, and it has that haunting quality of all the best cautionary tales, only without any sort of moral. Partly, I suspect, my brain worries at the subject because I never really figured out what to make of his career: cosmic joke, or tragedy?

Knoblauch always seemed private, a bit awkward, not especially at ease with the media; despite being the kind of small, fast player fans often embrace at a disproportionate rate – textbook “gritty” – I don’t think he was ever particularly a favorite. Still, I was surprised by his quotes in the Times a few weeks ago, when a reporter finally tracked him down to comment on the steroid mess:

He described the Mitchell report as “crazy” and “interesting,” and added that what actually bothered him about being mentioned in the report is that “I’ve got nothing to do with any of that, I mean, any baseball.”
“And I don’t want anything to do with baseball,” he added…

… On Thursday, he did not voice any regrets. “I love baseball,” he said, “but I’m not trying to get a job in baseball. I don’t have any friends from baseball. Baseball doesn’t control my life anymore.”

Ten years in a job and no friends? Even Barry Bonds has friends in baseball; I’m not sure about Randy Johnson, but next to him Knoblauch is Oprah Winfrey. He sounds awfully relieved to be not only out of the game, but as far away from it as possible.

Knoblauch seemed destined to be the source of much amusement after the 1998 playoffs, when he argued passionately with the first base umpire for what felt like an eternity — while the live ball lay in the grass a few feet away, and the opposing runner (Enrique Wilson of all people) ran home. Knoblauch, deeply outraged by a call, was completely oblivious to the increasingly desperate screams of his teammates, 55,000 fans, and, almost certainly audible in the Bronx from a TV room fifteen miles away, my father. Since the Yankees eventually recovered to win that series, and the next, it was soon forgiven, just a memorably funny moment on the way to a happy ending.

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Movie: Safe At Home (1962)
Starring: Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Bryan Russell, and William Frawley, with cameos from Ralph Houk and Whitey Ford.

Plot: Nine-year-old Hutch tries to impress his little league teammates by claiming he and his father are friends with Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris, then runs away to Spring Training to try and convince the Yankee superstars to attend his team’s awards banquet. Hijinx ensue, sort of.
Signature Quote: “Gosh! Gee!”

I discovered the existence of Safe at Home purely by accident a few months back, when I was, for reasons that now completely elude me, searching for information on Joe Pepitone. In an old Sports of the Times story, I came across an Arthur Daley account (sadly expensive now that "Times Select" no longer exists) of lighthearted batting-cage banter regarding Mantle and Maris’ upcoming movie premiere, and did a double-take -– Mantle and Maris starred in a movie? How come I’d never heard of it?

I can now report that this question has an easy answer: because it’s really, really bad. But it’s the middle of the offseason, and if I never hear the words “growth hormone” again it will be too soon, so I’ll sit through most any baseball movie right now. There are surprisingly few really excellent ones, anyway; Bull Durham and Bad News Bears, sure, but I’ve never been able to really get into Field of Dreams, and while I know I’m probably in the minority here I really, really can’t stand The Natural.

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I realized tonight: it’s a little strange that I have, literally, dozens of happy memories associated with watching a 60-something year old man weep openly on national television. That man, of course, is Joe Torre, and the occasion tonight was the Yankees’ 12-4 win and newly clinched playoff spot – in a year where, as you may have heard, they were at one point just a teensy bit back in the standings. You may hate Joe Torre’s managing style, you may think he should be fired at the end of the season, but it’s still hard to be unmoved by such a great example of a classic American type: the crusty, tough old outer-borough New Yorker with a sentimental streak a mile wide. Nobody in sports cries like Joe Torre.

Under the circumstances, you couldn’t ask for a much better hand of cards than Chien-Ming Wang vs. J.P. Howell at the Trop. In the days since they’ve dropped the “Devil” from their logo and uniforms, the Rays have attracted an enormous and enthusiastic crowd of devoted Christian fans, who — … okay, not really. The place was maybe half full, and by the sound of it, the crowd was at least 80% pro-Yankee.

Wang wasn’t at his best tonight, and struggled a bit with his control, but he kept the damage to a minimum. Despite allowing seven hits and three walks in six innings, he only allowed two runs. Meanwhile, the Yankees couldn’t do much against Howell their first time through the order (if they lost I was going to say the offense was a “Howelling abyss”, so be grateful they pulled this one out), but in the fourth inning they took a 2-1 lead on a Jeter solo shot and an error, walk, and series of groundouts. In the fifth, Howell lost it completely, and his bullpen relief didn’t do much better: the Yankees batted around and scored seven runs, with the big blows a bases-loaded Jorge Posada single, and Robinson Cano’s subsequent three-run home run.

For all intents and purposes the game was over, though New York did tack on three more in the next inning against Jeff Ridgway, proud owner of a 189.00 ERA. (But did I mention that they’ve removed the “Devil” from their uniforms? Come on down!). I don’t think anyone was paying much attention to the last four innings, including, judging by their defense, the Rays. And Jorge Posada was apparently so surprised to see Jay Witasick still alive and pitching in the majors that he did a violent double-take, and appeared to tweak his neck (that’s my theory, anyway), but stayed in the game. Joba Chamberlain got through a scoreless inning with help from an excellent Melky Cabrera catch; Jose Vizcaino ran into trouble in the eighth and gave up two runs; Mariano Rivera came on for the ninth, not because he was needed, but because Torre wanted his stalwarts in the game when they clinched.

Which they did, finally, when Greg Norton popped out to Robinson Cano. Torre, as he has so many times before under similar circumstances, had already begun to tear up when the ball hit the mitt. It was a relatively subdued celebration on the mound – lots of smiles and warm hugs, a little jumping around, but not too much craziness. That didn’t last once the team reached the clubhouse, however: most of the bullpen ganged up on Roger Clemens, who was at the receiving end of at least five spraying bottles at once, and was so blinded Jorge Posada had to lead him to safety. Mariano Rivera got it just as bad. Derek Jeter, on the other hand, stayed mostly dry – “I know where to hide,” he explained later, when it was safe (I don’t think Jeter really starts celebrating until the ALCS).

A sopping wet Joba Chamberlain was asked by Kim Jones if he even feels nervous on the mound anymore: “I play it off pretty good, don’t I?” he asked with a grin. "With the playoffs coming we’ve got a chance to do some special things and THAT’S REALLY COLD,” he added, as Edwar Ramirez doused him in beer. (You’ve gotta love the part of the celebration where they run out of champagne and just switch to Bud). Later, a tag team of Ramirez, Cano and Chamberlain succeeded in completely and utterly distracting Abreu from his YES interview, leaving him laughing helplessly in the middle of a lost thought, as Ramirez gently toweled him off.

The emotional highlight, though, was as always Joe Torre. He was already looking dangerously sniffly when the interview began; when Cano and Cabrera dumped two entire bottles of champagne on his head, he choked up. “You love them,” he said. “I mean, I can’t help it.” When Kim Jones told him the vets had been praising his leadership and resilience, the real waterworks began.

Torre’s status for next year is up in the air, and if the Yankees go down in the Division Series again, this could very well be his last emotional, booze-soaked moment of triumph with the Yankees. He took a lot of criticism this year, some of it very valid, but there’s no doubt he’ll be missed when he’s gone; maybe he can manage a bullpen better or maybe not, but will Joe Girardi ever be as moved by a couple of giddy kids bouncing around with champagne?

There were about 53,000 people at the Stadium today, and as far as I can tell they are the only 53,000 left in New York this weekend. Last night I went to a Smith Street bar with a few friends that’s normally packed to the gills on a Saturday night, and we had it pretty much to ourselves; there were no cabs around either, so we walked home over the pungent Gowanus Canal and didn’t encounter a soul. And there are parking spaces! Not that I have a car, but I appreciate it in a sort of abstract way. It’s like spotting a flock of rare exotic birds. I’ve read about these things in books, and I’ve been trying to walk very slowly and quietly down my street so as not to frighten them away.

Anyway, today’s mess was not the best game to catch live, although the weather was perfect — still, if I’m going to see the Yankees lose 8-2 to Tampa Bay, I don’t see why it should take them nearly four hours. It actually began as a fairly brisk pitchers’ duel between Andy Pettitte and Devil Rays starter Jason Hammel, but in the sixth inning it devolved into an excruciatingly slow morass and never recovered. I’m not going to lie: I stayed til the bitter end, but I did spend much of the last two innings helping a friend with the Sunday crossword puzzle. Nice day for it.

Anyway. Pettitte had worked well through the first five innings, aside from a solo shot to Dioner Navarro (whose sizzling second half has brought his average all the way up to… .208), and with an assist from Johnny Damon, who made a great throw in the fifth to nail a Tampa Bay runner at the plate. (Yeah, you heard me, a great throw. Johnny Damon. Believe it). But in the sixth Pettitte got into trouble, allowing a walk to Carl Crawford, a throwing error on a pickoff attempt and a stolen base, another walk to Carlos Pena, a sac fly by B.J. Upton, and two more singles. It was a minor miracle and an impressive accomplishment to get out of that mess with only one run scored.

Pettitte had thrown 101 pitches by then and so I was surprised, along with a number of quite vocal fans in my section (“Grady Little, Joe! Remember Grady Little!”), when he came out to start the seventh inning. It didn’t go so well: two singles, a strikeout, and on his 119th pitch a three-run home run to Pena, off a hanging curve (or a hanging something anyway), made it 5-1 Devil Rays. Torre admitted afterwards that he “may have pushed the envelope” in having Pettitte go out for the extra inning; Pettitte, as is his wont, blamed himself entirely.

Anyway, Edwar Ramirez came in and looked good while closing out the seventh, and while getting two strikeouts on his changeup in the eighth, but then suddenly awful as he quickly gave up two more home runs, which put the score at 8-2 and blew the game open for the Rays. In Ramirez’s defense, I will say that he came out to Van Morrison, and if he actually picked that out himself I personally vow never to boo him no matter how many poorly located fastballs he tosses out there.

It’s hard to tell from Row T of the left-field upper deck, but it looked like Hammel was pitching a pretty good game. At the very least he was throwing strikes. Still, the Yanks had their baserunners, and just couldn’t capitalize; and it’s not as though Tampa’s bullpen is known for its stinginess. The Yanks’ only two runs came in the fifth, when Andy Phillips, hit in the wrist by a pitch, scored on a Melky Cabrera single, and in the seventh when Bobby Abreu tripled home Johnny Damon. More bad news: the pitch that hit Phillips looked like it hurt like hell, and though he stayed in to run the bases, he was then taken out of the game and sent to a hospital for tests.

Fortunately Seattle lost again(!) so no other real damage was done, except to Andy Pettitte’s pretty ERA. Seattle is actually making me nervous, since even though rationally I realize that their having lost nine in a row does not make them any more likely to win tomorrow… it sure feels like they’re due, doesn’t it?

One bright spot for me personally was that I finally got to see Grant Balfour, who you may recall as one of my picks for Worst Pitcher Name Ever, live and in person. You think I’m kidding, but I was actually really psyched when I saw him warming up.

Also, I still haven’t gotten to see Joba Chamberlain pitch live, but I did get to see him loosen up in the bullpen, which is frankly hilarious. He did a series of sort pelvic thrusts (vaguely Elvis-ish), then something that looked a lot like the Chicken Dance, and after that a kind of high-leg-kicking grapevine sort of move, sideways down the upper bullpen area. I see why they don’t want to have him come in during an in-progress inning, because the whole thing took him forever, but it was beautiful; next time I’m going to remember my binoculars.

Anyway, then I took the subway back to Brooklyn and had a seat the whole way, because there is seriously no one left in this town. Happy Labor Day, people… uh, people? Hello? Can anybody hear me? Echo-echo-echo-echo…

Alternate title: Ich Bein Ein Yankee
Title I was going to use if the Yankees lost: B.J. Upton on the Grassy Knoll

Strange, sloppy, entertaining game today, on a gorgeous sunny afternoon in New York. Which of course I spent mostly inside in my dark apartment, because: Ian Kennedy! In the end it was worth it, as Kennedy was largely excellent in a drama-filled game that wound up 9-6 in favor of the Yankees.

The Yankees’ newest starter is slim – and I keep seeing him described as “baby-faced,” but don’t you have to be older than 21 for that to be noteworthy? – and freckled; I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest that Ian Patrick Kennedy may perhaps be of Irish descent. He also looked very nervous, though of course if he hadn’t you’d want to send Guidry out to check him for a pulse. He’s got a smooth delivery that is, as advertised, somewhat reminiscent of Mike Mussina’s.

Kennedy had an easy, six-pitch first inning, helped (as he would be later in the day) by the Devil Rays’ impatience, and (as he would not be later in the day) by a nice play on a hard-hit fly to left by Matsui. In the bottom of the inning Alex Rodriguez homered, scoring Bobby Abreu to give the Yanks a 2-0 lead, and it was beginning to look like a storybook game.

But Kennedy seriously struggled in the second inning, quickly giving up two singles; he seemed to be having trouble throwing his breaking stuff for strikes. Alex Rodriguez made matters worse, dropping Brendan Harris’ easy popup, which should have been the second out. John Wilson then doubled, clearing the bases and tying the game, and after a strikeout Kennedy walked Josh Paul. At this point Joe Torre lumbered out of the dugout and, in a classic psych-out of the kind rarely seen from him in recent years, asked the umpires to confiscate and check Akinora Iwamura’s — supposedly because its flat top led the Yanks to think it may have been sawed off, but really, I’d imagine, to buy his pitcher some recovery time. Iwamura, who has been using that style of bat all year with no complaints from the Yankees or anyone else, looked confused and somewhat rattled as his translator tried to explain the situation (how do you say “they’re just fucking with you” in Japanese?). In any case, Iwamura struck out to end the inning, and would do so twice more during his 0-for-4 afternoon. Kennedy labored again in the third, but got out of it without any damage, and that seemed to settle him down – because from there on out he pitched beautifully.

In the bottom of the third, with two on and Alex Rodriguez at the plate, Joe “Tit for Tat” Maddon asked the umps to check and confiscate his bat. Weak, Maddon; at least get them to check the pitcher for Vaseline or something – show a little imagination, you know? But A-Rod, to his credit, looked more amused than anything else, and proceeded to single to left with a brand-new bat. Matsui was walked to force in the go-ahead run – this might be a good time to point out that D-Rays starter Edwin Jackson was not pitching well today – and a Giambi groundout got another run home. The Yankees added three more in the fourth when Abreu was walked with the bases full  – as you might expect, that was Jackson’s last batter – and A-Rod doubled in Jose Molina and Derek Jeter.

Kennedy took it from there, more or less cruising through his last four innings, allowing just a solo home run to B.J. Upton in the sixth. He went seven innings, allowing three runs (only one earned) on five hits and two walks, with six strikeouts. In fact, he struck out the last batter he faced – Rays backup catcher Josh Paul, who looks like he’s watched the Thurman Munson Yankeeography a few too many times – on three called strikes. I don’t know what more you could ask from a 21-year-old rookie in his first-ever ML start, thrown into a pennant race after one season of pro ball. As he walked off he cracked his first smile of the day, was hugged by Ron Guidry, shook hands with Phil Hughes, and nearly had his arm broken by the ever-enthused Shelley Duncan. Shelley, no – not the pitching hand!

"One of his strengths is his demeanor," said Dave Eiland, the pitching coach for the Triple-A Scranton Yankees. "I guess you’ll never find out for sure until you put a kid in that situation. But all indications are that he’ll be able to handle it just fine.”

In the eighth, with the Yanks up 9-3,Wilson Betemit came in for A-Rod – who was rubbing and flexing his shoulder after stealing a base in the Xth, though afterwards he said he was fine – and Jeter was taken out for September call-up Alberto Gonzalez (didn’t take him long to find work! Sorry, couldn’t help myself), possibly because Jeter had been nailed in the back, somewhat suspiciously, by Rays reliever Juan Salas to lead off the sixth. Luis Vizcaino came on to pitch, but had nothing today, and in conjunction with some shaky Yankee defense in the outfield, he proceeded to make things interesting very quickly. Tamps lined one pitch after another into the outfield, until the score was 9-6, and Joe Torre decided – wisely, I thought – not to fuck around, bringing in Mariano Rivera to nail down the last out of the inning. Which he did, inducing a quick ground ball. And in the ninth, he struck out the side.

Meanwhile Seattle lost again – that’s some pretty harsh market correction going on over there – and so the Yankees now have a two-game lead in the Wild Card race. I’d like to say I saw this coming back in late May, but I’d be lying. Who knows what’ll happen in September – nothing would surprise me at this point – but regardless, let’s take a minute and appreciate a season in which the Yankees came back at least temporarily from the dead, and now have a roster that includes 12 home-grown players – Kennedy, Hughes, Wang, Pettitte, Rivera, Chamberlain, Jeter, Posada, Duncan, Cabrera, Cano  – most of whom are thriving.

It’s funny: as much as I hate the Angels, I’ve never found much to dislike about their individual players. If we’re being honest, they’re a pretty inoffensive group*; I mean, John Lackey tends to breathe through his mouth all the time, which is a pet peeve of mine, and Chone Figgins has been slightly overrated, sure… but I think that’s about it, really. I just loathe them as an entity, the entire organization, the whole idea of them. Individual Red Sox have irked me far more – Schilling, Pedro back in the day, Carl “The Bible Never Says Anything About Dinosaurs” Everett, etc – but ultimately I respect the Sox, and clearly baseball is richer for their existence…whereas I firmly believe the Angels should be legally abolished.

Now more than ever, of course, as I stayed up late with a summer cold to watch all three hours and 45 minutes of an indescribably frustrating Yankee loss: Angels 7, Yankees 6. The highs were high but the lows were low, and the lows ganged up on the highs and beat them to a bloody pulp. New York hitters wasted several opportunities, but seems to me it was the Yankee pitching that was most at fault, and particularly the bullpen.

Phil Hughes, coming home for the first time as a Yankee, was slightly better than his box score indicates (because Luis Vizcaino was significantly worse than his), but he certainly struggled off and on tonight, especially with his control: 5 walks and 4 hits in 6.1 innings of work. He was not helped by Robinson Cano, who made what proved to be a harmless error on a routine-ish grounder in the first, followed by a costly — if unofficial — mistake when he let a ball hit hard to his right slip under his glove in the second. Larry Bowa looked… displeased. Three runs would score in the inning, but to be fair, Hughes was hardly blameless: after Cano’s flub, he walked two in a row and gave up a bases-clearing double, to Jeff Mathis of all people, on the hang-iest of hanging curves.

It was 3-0 Angels, but the Yankees raged against the dying of the light: Hughes settled down and pitched well for the next four innings, and the offense began to stir, especially after the removal of Angels starter Dustin Moseley. In the fourth, Hideki Matsui tripled and scored on a Jorge Posada groundout; in the sixth, Alex Rodriguez went deep for the 40th time this season, scoring Bobby Abreu and breaking an extremely brief tie with Prince Fielder for ML home run leader. 4-3 Yankees. As a bonus, Rodriguez did this off a pitcher with the top-notch name of Bootcheck.

Things went south in the bottom of the seventh, however. Hughes started the inning and promptly allowed a hit and a walk, so Joe Torre went to the bullpen… but unfortunately, though he tried to call for July Luis Vizcaino, he accidentally summoned May Luis Vizcaino, who promptly allowed both inherited runners to score, plus one to grow on. 6-4 Angels.

But! In the 8th, after A-Rod singled, Jorge Posada knocked a Justin Speier pitch over the right field fence to tie the game. (Had they skipped this part, the game would have ended 45 minutes earlier, thousands of New Yorkers would have been spared a dangerous rise in blood pressure, Mariano would have been fresh for tomorrow, I would have gotten some sleep, and Sean Henn wouldn’t have ended his night on the verge of tears*. But nice hitting, anyway).

Kyle Farnsworth came on in the bottom of the inning, and I don’t see why two solid recent outings should cancel out the dozens and dozens of mediocre to horrendous outings that preceded them. He promptly reverted to his most infuriating pitching style, falling behind Gary Matthews and Casey Kotchman and allowing a double and a walk, respectively. Maicer Izturis then smashed a line drive right to Wilson Betemit, who made a better play than he had any right to and was able to throw out Matthews at home plate. Spiritually, that ball was a run-scoring double. Reggie Willets (of “his family literally lives in a batting cage” fame) then struck out on a veeeeery questionable check swing call. Honestly, I’ve rarely seen a worse-pitched scoreless inning; yes, Farns got out of it without allowing a run, but it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying.

Torre then did something many statistically inclined fans have been wishing he’d try for a long time: he brought in Mariano Rivera in the ninth inning of a tie road game. It doesn’t get much higher-leverage than that, and Mo came through, pitching around some lucky hits. Unfortunately, he only went the one inning; and in the 10th, Torre brought in Sean Henn… who allowed a double to Kendrick, followed by a walk-off game winner to someone named Ryan Budde. Poor Henn looked to be taking it hard after the game, and I want to be clear that you really can’t pin this loss on just him, but I do just need to point out here that this was the SECOND-EVER HIT OF BUDDE’S CAREER.

I’m going to bed.

*I’m not as down on Torre as many of you, but I will say that when a third of your bullpen has left games openly weeping**, that’s probably a sign there’s room for improvement in that area, no?

**Or set their equipment on fire in front of the dugout.

I recently returned from a trip to Taiwan, on which more later. (I’ve braced myself, and I’ll try not to take it personally when the inevitable slew of “Go back to Taiwan! Quick!” comments appear below.) I had no trouble following the Yankees while I was there, because ESPN Taiwan shows every game, first live (at 7 am or one in the morning), then repeated at least two or three times throughout the day. But it’s all in Chinese of course – with the occasional “wow” or “home run!” thrown in, or “ooh la la!,” which I think is like the ESPN Taiwan version of “booya!” – so I may have missed a few subtleties; if so, please don’t hesitate to correct me.

Strangely enough, this is the Yankees’ first series against the Tigers since last October’s Series of Unfortunate Events, and things didn’t go any better this time around: Tygers 8, Yankees 5, and it wasn’t even as close as the final score would indicate. Is there an Onion jinx?

Last night’s Yankee starter was Mike Mussina, who I’ve always enjoyed watching (and listening to, even when he’s grousing about something), but who does, increasingly, strike me as a grouchy 85-year-old trapped in a 39-year-old’s body. When not yelling at the Tigers to get off his damn lawn, Mussina struggled with his control, and that combined with bad luck put the Yankees in a big hole before the first commercial break. Mussina allowed a single, and an A-Rod error allowed Sheffield to reach base. (By the way, if you were curious about the crowd’s reaction to Sheff: he was booed, but as far as I could tell, not too intensely. The Yankee pitchers seemed not to want any part of him, not that I blame them, and he went 0-for-3 with two walks.) With two on, Magglio Ordoñez up, and one out, the situation was unlikely to end well; sure enough Ordoñez and the fuzzy thing living under his batting helmet walked, and Carlos Guillen promptly knocked a grand slam just over the right-field wall. Mussina offered no excuses after the game and refused to blame the error: “I lost the game for us in the first inning… I have to do my job when it’s my turn to play, and today I didn’t do it.”

In the bottom of the first, Derek Jeter singled and reached second on a wild pitch. I’d like to take a minute here to appreciate the anonymous Yankee fan sitting in the front row on the third-base side, who made what happened next possible. Hideki Matsui popped up and Brandon Inge, an excellent fielder at third, threw himself into the stands to try for the catch. He would have made it, too – he had it timed perfectly – but a spectacled, slightly nebbishy young guy in a blue button-down shirt jumped, just barely got his fingers behind the ball right as it headed into Inge’s glove, and flicked it away. He was the anti-Steve Bartman. It was masterfully done, and perfectly legal – he never touched Inge, didn’t do anything obnoxious or dangerous, but single-handedly saved the Yankees from an out; and on the very next pitch, Matsui singled to plate Jeter. As it happened, that run didn’t really matter, but you never know… had things gone slightly differently, it might have been decisive. So, well done, anonymous Yankee fan. I guess not everyone who sits in the front row is a soulless corporate tool.

The way the Yankee offense has been playing lately, three runs are hardly insurmountable, but the pitching staff just couldn’t hold it there. Mussina was hit hard again in the top of the second, making it 6-1. He then settled down – a combination of better location and better luck, as several well-hit balls found gloves – and an inning later the Yankees got two back on a Bobby Abreu homer; but that would be as small as the margin ever got. It was a frustrating loss, in large part because Tigers starter Justin Verlander seemed vulnerable all night – lots of balls (not in the good way), deep counts, long at-bats, and a massive pitch count, with 90 thrown by the 4th inning. To his credit he held things together and slogged his way into the sixth inning, throwing 119 pitches in the process.

Unfortunate juxtaposition of the game, brought to you by Michael Kay: “He could tell you what his plans were for the 7th, 8th, and 9th inning – for pinch-hitting, hitting and running, the way he’d use his pitchers – in his office before the game. If there’s such a thing as a genius in baseball, Billy Martin was a genius in baseball. He was a genius … and there you see Ron Villone beginning to throw…”.

Anyway. The Tigers added a run in the 5th, on singles off Mussina in his final inning of work, and in the 7th, with a Pudge Rodriguez home run off Villone. One interesting note: with two on in the bottom of the sixth, Joe Torre pinch-hit for Johnny Damon with Shelley Duncan. Now, Damon’s been very gracious about his recent lack of playing time, saying he’ll fill whatever role the team wants, anything to help – but man, that’s got to sting a little.

The Yankees staged a mini-rally in the ninth off Todd Jones – with the Padres’ recent release of David Wells, Jones is perhaps now the reigning Major League Pitcher Who Looks Least Like a Professional Athlete, and I love him for it. The Yanks scored twice with two outs before Jason Giambi struck out to end the game; too little too late, though I suppose it at least it made the final score more respectable.

—

On a very sad note, we learned in last night’s comments that passionate Banter commenter Jim Dean passed away July 27th – while watching the Yankees, in fact. Jim needs no introduction to any regular reader of this site; as many people noted during the game, he was a strong presence here, and he will be missed. My condolences to Kate Dean, and the rest of Jim’s family and friends.

So, is anybody else yearning for a nice, crisp, old-fashioned pitchers’ duel?

Thursday’s game passed rapidly from disastrous blowout, to mind-blowing Yankees Classic comeback, to just kind of meh; it was like the Yankees’ entire season – so far, anyway – condensed into nine innings. This is terrible! No, wait, it’s awesome! No, no, wait… it’s just kind of mediocre! And it took four hours! When the dust settled, it was White Sox 13, Yankees 9.

I thought Clemens looked pretty strong in his first inning of work, but – You Can’t Predict Baseball, Part 37,854,237 – the second inning was one of his worst ever, and the White Sox scored eight runs before he was mercifully lifted. Thanks to an uncharacteristic and costly error by Robinson Cano on what should have been an inning-ending double-play, only three were earned, but nevertheless, Clemens simply had nothing yesterday: the ball ball was right up over the plate, it wasn’t thrown all that fast, and it wasn’t moving. The inning is a blur of bloopers, line drives, singles and doubles, loaded bases and scoring White Sox; the nine hits in the frame were the most Clemens has ever allowed, and the last time he allowed eight… uh, Gorbachev was introducing glasnost? Sorry, but it seems like every time Clemens starts this year, he does something or other for the first time since the 80s, and I’m starting to run out of Cold War references.

I tend to assume that any game in which I so much as glimpse Mike Myers in the second inning is a game the Yankees are going to lose, and indeed he issued a walk to the first and only batter he faced. But he was followed by Jeff Karstens, returning from his freakishly fractured leg, who came in with the bases loaded and induced Juan Uribe to fly out. The Yankees then began the arduous climb back against Sox starter John Garland; it took them all of three outs.

Matsui singled, Posada doubled, Cano singled, and new Yankee Wilson Betemit introduced himself with a nice big three-run home run, which earned him a curtain call. Scott who? That got the Yanks halfway there, and a long string of singles (plus a Posada ground-rule double) took them all the way back. This was only the second time in Major League history, apparently, that both teams have scored eight runs in a single inning… and as YES put it, the first time ever in all of Major League history that two teams accomplished this in the second inning. “We’re a part of history,” said Al Leiter, in the booth. “… A really small part.”


Other than a Bobby Abreu homer in the sixth, though, that was all the offense the Yankees had in them. Go figure that the Yanks would torch a pretty solid starter in Garland, then flail helplessly at the White Sox’s largely inept bullpen; You Can’t Predict Baseball, part 37,854,238.

The White Sox fared better against the Yankee relievers. Jeff Karstens wasn’t terrible given that this was his first outing back, but he gave up three runs in three innings, and far, far too many of those runs were created by Scott Podsednik. Ron Villone was actually quite good, but he was followed by Kyle “Oh… You’re Still Here?” Farnsworth, who, to the surprise of absolutely no one, allowed two impressive home runs in his inning of work. To be fair – and despite what you might have gathered from the crowd’s reaction – the game was largely lost before he got there; but damn, the guy’s just excruciating to watch. “I still believe Kyle Farnsworth is going to be a contributor to this,” Joe Torre said after the game. Well sure, I believe that too… but what exactly is “this”?

It was a tough loss, particularly given that Cleveland won, and so the Yankees are once again three games back in the Wild Card race. But on a basic humanitarian level, it may have been for the best: if the White Sox had lost, I would have feared for both the mental and physical health of Ozzie Guillen.

In other news, Jorge Posada left the game in the 8th with banged-up knees, stemming from a nice double play he completed at the plate (Robinson Cano, trying to atone, started it with a great throw after catching a popup in shallow center). But it sounds like the injury isn’t serious, so it’s probably okay to start breathing again now.

Finally, A-Rod hit his 500th home run. What – you didn’t hear about it? Man, I’m telling ya, this whole milestone’s just not getting enough media attention…

After their offensive outburst against the Devil Rays over the weekend, the Yankees suffered a disappointing letdown in Kansas City last night. Their bats went cold, and they plated just nine runs, on only 13 hits and four walks.

Then again, it’s possible that Sunday’s 21-4 score may have warped my perspective somewhat.

Monday’s game was actually fairly close throughout the middle innings, but the Yankees won 9-2 behind a strong, no-nonsense performance from Roger Clemens, who went seven innings and allowed only four hits. He walked nobody and struck out three. The Royals scored in the 4th on a Mark Grudzielanek double, a groundout, and a wild pitch, and again in the 7th on a solo home run from the unfortunately named Ross Gload, but that was all. (And by the way, you don’t scare me, Grudzielanek — I’ve been typing out Mientkiewicz for months now. Punk.)

The Yankees scored early and late, and once again every Yankee starter had at least one hit. In the first, Hideki Matsui singled home Melky Cabrera and Derek Jeter; in the second, it was Johnny Damon’s double that scored Robinson Cano and Shelley Duncan.

Those four runs turned out to be enough for Clemens, Luis Vizcaino – who is teaching me how to trust again – and Ron Villone. But the Yankees added five insurance runs in the ninth, anyway, off of Kansas City relievers, turning the game into a last-minute blowout and keeping Mariano Rivera in the bullpen. The first of those runs was Alex Rodriguez’s 100th RBI of the season, which came on a sharp single up the middle.

Other highlights:

-Melky’s nifty catch on a foul ball in the first. It seemed so certain to drop in that the YES cameras didn’t even bother cutting away from the batter, and the play occurred offscreen.

Cabrera’s batting average and OBP have risen steadily every month this season , from .200/.238 in April to .368/415 in July. Given that he won’t be 23 until August 11, that strikes me as encouraging, as does the fact that he’s started following A-Rod’s workout program. Seriously, if they trade this kid – even if it’s a smart trade that I should logically approve of – I’m going to throw a fit.

-There were several sweet familial moments during the game: Chris and Dave Duncan were in the stands watching brother/son Shelley, thanks to a Cardinals off-day, while in the Yankee dugout Tony Pena tried his best not to look happy when Tony Jr., the Royals’ shortstop, went 2 for 4. I think Tony Junior looks a little like an elf.

-Johnny Damon is starting to look human again; maybe he really has gotten healthy. He was three-for-five last night, and several of those were hard-hit.

-The Yankees announced that Joba Chamberlain and Ian Kennedy have been promoted to AAA. Just typing that, I started salivating a little bit.

Damn Kansas, that song’s gonna be stuck in my head all day now. Carry on my waaaayward soooon, there’ll be peace when yooou are dooone, lay your weary heeead to reeest, don’t you cry nooo mooooooore…

Well, that was a real nail-biter for about ten minutes there. Do you remember when, in previous recaps, I joked about how Andy Pettitte never seems to get any run support? Never mind. Playing Super Mario to the Devil Rays’ goombas, the Yankees won the last game of the series 21-4. Look at that box score… I mean, really look at it.

This wasn’t Andy Pettitte’s best outing. He was uneven, alternately dominating (8 Ks) and all too hittable, with 11 baserunners allowed in six innings of work. But he managed to ease out of most of his jams without too much damage, just three runs total — not that it mattered.

The Devil Rays took a one-run lead in the second on a Carlos Pena homer, and I hope that, for their sake, they really savored the moment. The Yankees tied it in the bottom of the inning off D-Rays starter James Shields, on another bomb from Hideki Matsui, who set a career high with five hits. I’d say he’s continuing his hot streak, but to be fair, a well-watered potted plant might have teed off on Tampa Bay’s pitching on Sunday. The Bombers took a 3-1 lead in the bottom of the third, but Pettitte immediately gave it back with a series of singles that tied the game; as he wriggled out of the inning, I thought we were in for a slugfest, but a tense slugfest.

Then the bottom of the fourth happened. Rather than try to summarize the entire thing, I’ll just give you the straight play-by-play:

Robinson Cano triples.
Andy Phillips singles to left, Cano scores, 4-3 Yankees.
Shelley Duncan walks.
Melky Cabrera grounds into force out, Duncan out at second, Phillips to third. One out.
Derek Jeter singles to right, Phillips scores, Melky to third. 5-3 Yankees.
Bobby Abreu singles to right, Melky scores. 6-3 Yankees.
Double steal, throwing error, Jeter scores, Abreu to third. 7-3 Yankees.
Alex Rodriguez walks.
Hideki Matsui singles to center, Abreu scores. 8-3 Yankees.
Pitcher Casey Fossum replaces James Shields.
Jorge Posada singles to left, Rodriguez scores. 9-3 Yankees.
Robinson Cano singles. Matsui scores. 10-3 Yankees.
Wild pitch, runners advance.
Andy Phillips strikes out. Two out.
Duncan Shelly hits a three-run home run to left. 13-3 Yankees.
Melky Cabrera walks.
Derek Jeter grounds out.

Now that’s what I call Farnsworth-proofing. It was not unlike batting practice, except, according to Torre in the Times, even better:

“I’ve never seen anything like these last two days,” Manager Joe Torre said. “Even in batting practice you don’t get hits every time you swing the bats. This was incredible.”

Ouch. This all took more than half an hour, and Pettitte was understandably a bit rusty on his return to the mound, despite having retreated to the clubhouse to throw into a net… but by that point, nobody cared.

The Yankees scored seven more runs before the end, including homers from Abreu, Cano, Rodriguez, and Duncan, again. The rookie’s now gotten three curtain calls in two days, and while there’s really nowhere to go from there but down, his goofy, intense enthusiasm has been charming; I plan to enjoy it while it lasts.

The Devil Rays, meanwhile, dragged out a series of interchangeable, young, overmatched relievers, of whom only Gary Glover was at all effective. And thank god for him, because otherwise the Yankees would probably still be batting in the sixth. The bullpen wasn’t helped by its fielders, who were charged with two errors but made a considerable number of other sloppy mistakes besides. “Some of the play today, and in this series – it’s just not acceptable at the major-league level,” said Al Leiter, sounding pained.

By the end of the game, Miguel Cairo was at short, Johnny Damon was inserted in right field, Andy Phillips played third and Duncan was at 1st. Sean Henn planted himself at the far outside edge of the batter’s box and struck out, in his first Major League at-bat, as the Yankees had lost their DH. Posada was still behind the plate, however; new Yankee Jose Molina had only just arrived, and could be seen looking on with bemusement at the Yanks’ increasingly giddy dugout antics. He only narrowly avoided getting caught in the bouncing Cabrera-Cano sandwich that engulfed A-Rod after his home run.

–Fun Facts: Every Yankee starter was on base at least twice, scored at least one run, and had at least one RBI; the team has scored 38 runs in its last two games, on 45 hits. For perspective, the Yankees haven’t had two 20-hit games in a row since they were just proto-Yankees at the dawn of the 20th century, and haven’t scored this many runs in back-to-back games since the Great Depression.

–Among the many balls careening out of the Stadium yesterday was Alex Rodriguez’s 498th career home run, which means his 500th is likely to come on the road. That’s too bad, but really, it seems ungrateful to complain about any aspect of A-Rod’s current season. While I realize that RBIs are an unreliable, largely team-dependant statistic and rarely pay them much mind… if you have 99 of them on July 22nd, you’re doing something right.

Those of you more intrigued by the sultry siren-song of sabermetrics might be happy to learn that Magglio Ordonez’s reign of VORPish terror has finally come to an end, and A-Rod has resumed his rightful place at the top of the charts, 59.3 to 54.

–Several commenters have made less than totally flattering remarks about Shelley Duncan‘s appearance over the last few days (it’s those deep-set eyes and the high forehead, I suppose), but I’m still trying to figure out who he reminds me of. In any case, he’s got that old-school ballplayer look, doesn’t he?

The Yankees had a nice, only intermittently terrifying 7-6 win over the Twins this afternoon. The good news: they flashed some long-overdue power, and though A-Rod (0 for his last 19) sat this one out, his MRI came back normal. The bad news: Kei Igawa.

Igawa walked the first batter he faced and then allowed three straight soft singles (though Cuddyer was hung up between 1st and 2nd on one of those), a strikeout, a bungled play near the mound that became an awkward pop-up single, and another strikeout; when the smoke cleared it was 2-0 Twins. It’s rare to get significant booing at Yankee Stadium in the top of the first inning like that — people are still filing in and buying hot dogs and whatnot — but Igawa’s got the knack for it.

Those first-inning hits were pretty weak, so you could try to chalk them up to bad luck if you were so inclined… except that later in the game he would go on to enjoy much better luck, and pitch even worse. During the in-game comments, someone asked what kind of pitches Igawa was throwing, and the truth is I could barely tell. You’d probably need to get a forensics team in there to be sure: “Well, based on this partial thumbprint, it appears this was meant to be a curveball… but it’s difficult to be sure, as the ball has suffered severe blunt trauma.”

The Yanks broke through for five runs off Kevin Slowey in the second, all with two outs…

[Off the top of my head and in no particular order, the worst pitcher names* ever:
Kevin Slowey
David Riske
Homer Bailey
J.J. Putz
John Boozer
Grant Balfour
And, of course, the immortal Bob Walk.

Best non-pitcher name that I discovered by accident while looking up Pete Walker’s stats: Welday Wilberforce Walker.]

…Anyway! In that second inning, Robinson Cano homered, his fifth of the year; Andy Phillips and Miguel “Mig-Rod” Cairo hit back to back doubles to tie the game; Damon walked; and Melky Cabrera followed with a solid three-run shot to center, giving the Yanks a 5-2 lead. Melky’s been on fire recently, and his stats are beginning to come around to respectable levels, though after his molasses-slow start he still has a ways to go. Asked about Cabrera after the game, longtime friend, fellow home run-hitter, and carpooler Robinson Cano said, “we’re going to be making some jokes in the car.”

Igawa had a quick second inning and a passable third, but came undone again in the fourth. After a double and two quick outs (thanks to nice plays on line drives by Jeter and, believe it or not, Johnny Damon in center), Igawa walked tiny (but lovable!) .202 hitter Nick Punto, then got what he deserved: a two-run double, a single, and a tie game. Igawa recovered and made it through the fifth, but not before making thousands of viewers reflect with nostalgia on Tyler Clippard.

The Yanks then got scoreless relief from Luis Vizcaino, Scott Proctor, and Kyle Farnsworth… I feel this moment should be commemorated with some sort of plaque or official proclamation. But moving on. In the bottom of the 8th, the Twins brought in effectively twitchy submariner Pat Neshek, my choice for the final AL All-Star Vote (and I certainly wasn’t alone). With two out and Jeter on first, Matsui broke the 5-5 tie with a massive shot to right-center, and I may be wrong about this, but it seems like even though Matsui only has 10 homers this year, a lot of those have really been crushed. Rough day all around for Neshek, who also lost the 32nd All-Star vote to Hideki Okajima… but I still want a "Pitch in for Pat" t-shirt.

So it was 7-5 Yankees going into the ninth, but Mariano Rivera, thoughtful guy that he is, didn’t want fans to get bored. So decided to heighten the excitement by allowing two consecutive singles (though the second should probably have been called an error on Jeter, on a DP ball no less). He then settled down and, after a tense moment with one out, runners and second and third, and Joe Mauer at the plate, induced an RBI groundout; finally, Michael Cuddyer was called out on a somewhat questionable checked swing strikeout, ending the threat and the game. That moves Mo into a tie for third on the all-time saves list with John Franco (really? I always liked John Franco, but third all-time?). After the game, Rivera said he was thrilled with the personal milestone and determined to reach second place, and that this was just as important to him as the Yankees’ record–… oh, just kidding:

"The most important thing is that we won the game," he said. " … It’s not about me."

* “What’s the pitcher’s name?” “What’s on second!” Sorry, had to get that out.

Must we really relive that experience? Come on. Go outside, feel the sun on your face, it’s summer. You don’t want to read about last night’s game, trust me. Call a loved one instead. Remember the times that were good. Find a puppy and cuddle it.

… Still here? Fine, have it your way, masochists. Orioles 3, Yankees 2, but it was so much worse than that makes it sound.

I seem to always be recapping Andy Pettitte’s starts, and as a result I’ve developed a certain empathy for the guy. He returns to New York, he pitches better than anyone could have ever expected, he throws in relief when needed, he goes deep into games, he never complains. And what does he get? Well… okay, he gets $16 million, but still. Is just a tiny bit of run support too much to ask? Rich people have feelings too, you know. Or so I’ve read.

It was an odd start for Pettitte: he struggled badly with his control, walking five (with just two Ks), and in that sense he was fortunate to escape with only two runs allowed in seven innings. On the other hand, at least half the eight hits he allowed were lucky little bloops. The Orioles scratched out a run in the third on a broken-bat single, stolen base, walk, bunt, and groundout. And Pettitte was victimized by a bad misplay in the outfield in the fourth, when Bobby Abreu and Melky Cabrera looked at each other and let a ball hit by (of course) Kevin Millar fall between them; a run scored later in the inning. Pettitte vented a bit after the game – from the Times:

“I’m bitter because we’re not playing good baseball,” Pettitte said. “I feel like we’re a better team than we are, and we’re not getting it done. Not only me, but I hope there’s a whole lot of guys in this room that are frustrated and care a whole lot right now.”

Asked if he was satisfied that other people care as much as he does, Pettitte said: “I hope that everybody else cares as much. I mean, I’m not going around polling everybody. I wear my feelings on my sleeve a little bit on the day I pitch. I only get to play once every five days, and it’s extremely important to me. I think it’s extremely important to everybody else in here. At least, I hope so.”

The Yankees’ only two runs came in the sixth when Miguel “You Can’t Even Mention My Name Online Without Unleashing a Flood of Expletives and Vitriol” Cairo singled and Johnny Damon homered, tying the game. Damon had seen a chiropractor on the off day, and claimed that the guy "discovered immediately that four ribs on the right side were out of place". I’m not a doctor or anything… but does that sound right? How do your ribs get "out of place"? Oh well, if it works it works, psychosomatic or not.

Let me recap the bottom of the 9th for you, I’ll just review it on my Tivo first, and… huh, that’s weird, my eyes are bleeding. We’ll just go from memory then. Scott Proctor came on, Kyle Farnsworth having pitched a surprisingly scoreless 8th, and walked Corey Patterson. (Patterson, by the way, now hitting .224, was 3-3 on the night, and every one of those hits was a little flare that just dunked in; it was that kind of game). Brian Roberts singled. Chris Gomez then tried to bunt, but popped the ball up enough for Proctor to make a quick, full-extension diving grab for the out.

It was a great play – except that he could have thrown to second for another out, and would’ve had Patterson, who was running, by a mile and a half. Proctor seemed to just be too shaken up by his belly flop off the mound, and I suppose you can’t really blame him for that. But after walking it off (pun unintended, but unavoidable), he stayed in the game, threw four straight balls to Nick Markakis, and then pulled a Kenny Rogers ’99 NLCS Special, taking seven pitches to walk Ramon Hernandez and force in the game-winning run.

The big question, of course: why wasn’t Mariano Rivera in the game? He never even warmed up. Now, many managers, not just Joe Torre, refuse to go to their closer in the ninth inning of a tie road game, right or wrong (by the numbers, usually wrong). But even if you won’t do it at the top of the inning, why not a few batters in, when Proctor was so clearly struggling? As our fearless co-leader Cliff pointed out last night via email, this is “Jeff Weaver Syndrome all over again,” and we’ve all seen it before.

So today you can expect much sturm und drang about the loss, which may have been the worst of the season – I’ll have to rank them at some point, I suppose – and about Torre in particular. For me personally, there’s only one thing to do after a game like that. (Link SFW, unless you want the full respect of your colleagues).

Oh… and happy f@#%ing birthday to Derek Jeter, who had two hits and made a nice play on a ground ball as the barrell of a shattered bat rolled right up on his glove. He turned 33 yesterday, and don’t we all feel old now? I hope Torre and Proctor and the rest of the offense remembered to get him something nice. As fate would have it, June 26th was also Abner Doubleday’s birthday – the man who, in myth and legend though unfortunately not in reality, invented baseball in Cooperstown in 1839. See what happens when you forget to send an e-card?