On Star Wars night at Comerica Park the Yankees and Tigers played a taut, tension-filled game. The Stakes seemed high for both teams–for the Yanks because Justin Verlander is pitching tomorrow, for the Tigers because they’ve been horrible lately.

Rick Porcello got Derek Jeter and Curtis Granderson out in the first on hard ground ball outs and after Alex Rodriguez and Robinson Cano singled, Mark Teixeira popped out to end the inning. Quintin Berry walked in the bottom of the inning, stole second, and was sacrificed to third. Then the rain came and the game was called for forty minutes. When it resumed, Hiroki Kuroda got out of trouble, retiring the demolition duo known as Cabrera and Fielder.

The game moved quickly. In the fourth, Don Kelly, a tall, thin left fielder, stretched out and robbed Teixeira of a homer. Bottom of the inning, however, there was no robbing Cabrera of anything as he hit an absolute bomb to center field. The Tigers added another run in the fifth and it stayed 2-0 when the Yanks led off the seventh with back-to-back singles (Chavez, Martin). Juaquin Benoit came in and Jeter sacrificed them over, as we all knew he would, and in spite of some of our hollering.

Would the Tigers walk Granderson to face Rodriguez? I thought they would. Instead they went right after Grandy. The first pitch, a change up, low and away was called a strike though it looked nowhere near the strike zone. Grandy popped the next pitch foul and out of play near the Yankee dugout and apparently Kevin Long said something to home plate umpire–and notorious crank–Bob Davidson because in not time he was thrown out of the game. Joe Girardi was heated, charged over to Davidson and he too was excused from the game. Then Grandy whiffed and Rodriguez hit a soft pop up to second and once again the Yanks couldn’t come through with the big hit.

In the bottom of the eighth, Cory Wade replaced Kuroda and got Berry to ground out to Cano for the first out. Cano moved to his left and fielded the ball on a short hop. He made the play look easy but it was anything but–second base always has odd plays that appear simple because the throw to first is short. Wade got a pop out to Cano and then had to deal with Cabrera.

But Cabrera dealt with him instead launching a 2-1 pitch to deep center right into the cameras.

“What a terrifying hitter he is,” said Tim McCarver on the Fox broadcast.

Enter the Jackass: Jose Valverde, who has added to his jackassedness with a blond billy goat beard since last we saw him (the tail of his hair is blond too).

First pitch he threw clipped Russell Martin in the left shoulder. Dwayne Wise pinch came in to run for Martin and he took off on the second pitch to Derek Jeter (and second ball) and made it to second safely. Three pitches later, Jeter drew a base on balls. Granderson took ball one and then hit a harmless fly ball to center for the first out.

Once again, Rodriguez was in a key spot. He took the first pitch for a strike while Wise and Jeter took off and successfully reached third and second respectively. The infield came in. And Rodriguez took a fastball, high and inside for a ball. The next pitch, another fastball, was outside. The next pitch summed up the season for Rodriguez. Right down the pipe, inside corner, 94 mph. Good swing, but futile, swung right through it for strike two. And then came a fastball that nailed Rodriguez on the left elbow, the funny bone. Rodriguez looked to be in considerable pain as the trainer Steve Donohue led him down to first base.

Leyland commenced to pacing as Valverde’s first pitch was so far outside that I was surprised that it wasn’t his last of the night. But he got the next pitch in on Cano’s hands and the second baseman hit a weak pop fly to short. All down to Teixeira.

The first pitch was way high for a ball. Next, another fastball outside, 2-0. The next pitch, again outside, and not even close, 3-0. How could the Tigers escape this? How could the Yanks find a way to screw it up? The crowd cheered when the following pitch was a strike down the middle. Would Teix take another one? He would not as he fouled a ball off.

Now the Tiger fans were shouting, trying to will their team to a win. Fastball inside, like the one that got Cano out, but Teix fouled it back. More screaming, fans standing, clapping. And ball four in the dirt. Game tied. Now, those same fans booed.

Raul Ibanez leaned back and took a 95 mph fastball inside for a ball.  A called strike. Another ball and then a pop up. The catcher Omir Santos came over near the Yankee dugout and he missed the ball. Flat missed it. More boos. Life for Ibanez as he tipped the next pitch–a good pitch to hit. Fouled off the next pitch too. Then grounded out weakly to Fielder.

David Phelps got the first man out in the ninth, gave up a single and then Jhonny Peralta sliced a ball to right. Nick Swisher, moving to the corner, fielded it on a hop with his bare hand. The ball was tailing to his left. It saved the game though runners were on the corners. Enter Boone Logan. Ramon Santiago, a right-handed hitter, pinch hit for Kelly. Took the first pitch in the dirt for a ball. Next pitch bounced too and Chris Stewart, the new catcher, blocked them both. Then Santiago was walked intentionally.

Bases loaded. Again. For Santos. The 9 hitter. And sunken stomachs in Yankee land, figuring this would just about figure. So Logan throws him a breaking ball for a strike. He lined the next pitch to right, good enough for a sac fly and good enough for the win.

Final Score: Tigers 4, Yanks 3.

Less than fourteen hours until Phil Hughes. Sleep well.

While the Mets remain the talk of the town the dullards from the Bronx look to win another game behind Hiroki Kuroda. Be a nice “w” what with Mr. Verlander vs. Phil Hughes tomorrow.

How ’bout some more runs, fellas?

Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Robinson Cano 2B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Raul Ibanez LF
Nick Swisher RF
Eric Chavez DH
Russell Martin C

Never mind the storm troopers: Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photo Credit: Scarlet Pimp]

The Yankees attempted to complete a sweep of their series against the Indians but were faced with the daunting task of hitting against one of the league’s hottest pitchers, Bob Feller. Coming into the game he hadn’t allowed a run in twenty-nine straight innings, and although the Yankees snapped that string in the second, Feller was still able to earn his eleventh win of the young season as the Indians came out on top, 7-5. DiMaggio had a single and a double on this day, and back in his hometown, the San Francisco Chronicle picked up on the streak for the first time. Soon enough, every paper in the country would be tracking DiMaggio’s progress.

It rained all night. Now the sun is struggling to peak through the clouds.

[Photo Credit: Worship the Feminine]

Greg Prince on the first no-hitter in Mets history.

Who says the Yanks can’t hit rookie pitchers they’ve never faced before? Who says they can’t get a big hit with the bases loaded? They had plenty fun tonight thanks to a grand slam by Curtis Granderson (2-0 pitch and son hit an absolute bomb) and a yeoman effort from C.C. Sabathia. It was a cold and rainy night in the Motor City but the Yanks got a lead and held it together. Grittsy n gutsy by C.C. who threw 39 pitches in the third inning but five in the sixth (after a bad call went against the Yanks, Robinson Cano was positioned just right to make an unassisted double play).

Alex Rodriguez whiffed three times but interrupted a rant by Michael Kay about how he hasn’t hit for power (which is, of course, true enough) to hit a two-run homer in the top of the ninth.

Rafael Soriano had to come in the game with the bases loaded, one out and Miguel Cabrera up in the bottom of the inning but got a ground ball double play to end it.

Final Score: Yanks 9, Tigers 4.

Course, the big news round these parts tonight was Johan Santana’s no-hitter for the Mets, the first no-hitter in franchise history. I only caught the final three outs and have never rooted so hard for the Mets. Good for them.

A good night for the locals indeed.

[Photo Credit: SNY]

The Tigers have been bad. That’s gotta change, right?

Here’s hoping the Yanks take two of three this weekend.

Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Mark Teixeira 1B
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Robinson Cano 2B
Nick Swisher RF
Andruw Jones DH
Jayson Nix LF
Chris Stewart C

Never mind the rookie: Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Picture via Activity Village]

Maxim has an oral history of “The Wire.” A must-read for groupies of the show.

I’m going to be at the Warner Library in Tarrytown on Monday night talking to Rob Fleder about “Damn Yankees.”

Fall through if you are around that neck of the woods.

[Pictures via: It’s a Long Season]

Happy Yankee anniversary to Derek Jeter. Joel Sherman and George King III have the skinny today in the Post.

Playing their second doubleheader in three days, the Yankees continued their roadtrip by sweeping two games from the Cleveland Indians and moving to within a game and a half of the first place White Sox. DiMaggio had one single in each of the games to bring the streak to eighteen games. His hit in the second game came in his last at bat of the day. At this point, as a new paper each day seemed to pick up on the DiMaggio streak, he certainly must have been aware of what was at stake. He smashed a rocket that glanced off the glove of third baseman Ken Keltner. (The next time the Yankees came to Cleveland, DiMaggio would not be so lucky.) Elsewhere, Ted Williams was also continuing his torrid pace. He collected four hits in a doubleheader against the Tigers, raising his average to an obscene .430. His hitting streak was still intact a game beyond DiMaggio’s at nineteen straight, and he was even hotter than Joe D. Williams’s streak average was an even .500 (36 for 72) while DiMaggio was hitting a comparatively mild .362 (25 for 69).

Nice piece by Rick Paulas over at the Awl on ball players who had a cup of coffee in the big leagues.

[Photo Credit: Shhilja]

What would the Yankees’ record be if their performance with runners in scoring position was on par with recent seasons? With a few key hits at the right moment, the Yankees could be resting comfortably in first place, but so far this season, the team hasn’t been able to land the big blow with the same amount frequency. And, in no situation has that been more evident…and costly…than when the Yankees have loaded the bases.

Yankees Offensive sOPS+ Rates, 1996-2012

Note: sOPS+ compares a team’s split to the adjusted average for the major leagues. A reading above 100 is considered above average for an offense.
Source: baseball-reference.com

Entering play on Wednesday, the Yankees ranked near the bottom of the major leagues in terms of batting average, on-base percentage, and slugging (.151/.222/.302) with the bases full. Based on OPS, not only does that performance rate fail to attain even 50% of the major league average, but it also ranks as the franchise’s third lowest output since 1948. Also, the differential between the team’s overall offensive production and its performance with the bases loaded is currently larger than at any point over the same timeframe.

Clearly, the Yankees have been laggards with the bases loaded, but is this really a bad harbinger? Based on correlation from 1996 to now, the Yankees’ performance with the bases loaded has only been moderately related to overall run production as a percentage of the league average (r=.62).  Meanwhile, the link between relative runs scored and OPS with men in scoring position has been more significant (r=.78). So, if anything, fans who are inclined to worry should focus their concerns on the more broad number.

Yankees’ Bases Loaded vs. Overall OPS, 1948-2012
 

Source: baseball-reference.com

It hasn’t been all bad news for the Yankees with the bases loaded. While the hitters have struggled in such situations, the pitching staff has done a good job wiggling out of trouble when the bags are jammed. In 42 plate appearances with the bases loaded, opposing hitters have produced at rates of .263/.262/.368 (sOPS+ of 76), including 13 strikeouts and only one walk. It might only be a small consolation, but at least Yankees’ pitchers have been able to offset some of the offense’s missed opportunities by imposing the same frustration on the opposition. Unfortunately, since 1996, there has been no correlation between the Yankees’ ability to limit the damage in bases loaded situations and prevent runs overall (r=.04), so there doesn’t seem to be much benefit from that guilty pleasure.

Yankees Pitching sOPS+ Rates, 1996-2012

Note: sOPS+ compares a team’s split to the adjusted average for the major leagues. A reading below 100 is considered above average for a pitching staff.
Source: baseball-reference.com

An optimist probably looks at the Yankees’ ability to hang around first place despite its offensive struggles with runners in scoring position as a positive sign. Meanwhile, the pessimist might consider the offense’s inefficiency to be a systemic problem that will prevent the team from outscoring the deficiencies of the starting rotation. Which side are you on? I take a little from both. The lineup’s track record suggests the Yankees’ offense will soon start making up ground on the past, but it won’t matter if they can’t stay ahead of the current opposition. A few more hits with the bases loaded would definitely be nice, but the real loaded question is whether the pitching staff can ensure that those runs will be meaningful when they finally cross the plate.

Here’s a nice chat between Jeff Pearlman and Shawn Green:

JEFF PEARLMAN: So I’ve always wanted to ask a ballplayer this, especially one I covered. When I was on the beat, I loathed the ritualistic nonsense of the clubhouse. What I mean is—I enter the room, I need to talk to Shawn Green. I see you at your locker. I wait to come over, you’re talking to Carlos Delgado, I pause, then I approach, you pick up a magazine, I pause. You know I’m there, I presume, but keep reading. I finally come over, ask a banal ice-breaker. Are you, as a player, as aware of this as I am?

SHAWN GREEN: The truth is, in general athletes don’t like the media. There are always certain guys you like, and there are always certain guys you can’t stand. The other writers all sort of get lumped into the middle. And, obviously, as an athlete the bigger you are in the game, the more attention you get. For me … well, it depended. In Los Angeles a lot of the players didn’t like T.J. Simers, because he could be very critical. I actually liked him, because I felt like I understood what he was doing. He would poke you, hope you’d blow up, then he’d poke you the rest of your life. I just never blew up, and I spoke to him without any incident or problem. What I didn’t like were the reporters who would just show up every once in a while, act like they were your best friend, then crush you in print. I understand reporters have to do their jobs, but that’s what bothered me—when it was unfair.

As for the clubhouse, there are definitely times as a player, it’s an unwritten thing, but you mess with reporters and make them wait a little while. I was much more likely to lean that way if I had a great game than a bad game. When I had a bad game I just wanted to take my medicine and move on.

Dig this entertaining essay by Colson Whitehead in the latest issue of the New Yorker:

Growing up on the Upper East Side in the nineteen-seventies, I was a bit of a shut-in. I would prefer to have been a sickly child. I always love it when I read a biography of some key Modernist or neurasthenic Victorian and it says, “So-and-so was a sickly child, forced to retreat into a world of his imagination.” But the truth is that I just didn’t like leaving the house. Other kids played in Central Park, participated in athletics, basked and what have you in the great outdoors. I preferred to lie on the living-room carpet, watching horror movies. I dwelled in a backward age, full of darkness, before the VCR boom, before streaming and on-demand, before DVRs roamed the cable channels at night, scavenging content. Either a movie was on or it wasn’t. If I was lucky, I’d come home from elementary school to find WABC’s “The 4:30 Movie” in the middle of Monster Week, wherein vengeful amphibians chased Ray Milland like death-come-a-hopping (“Frogs”), or George Hamilton emoted fiercely in what one assumes was the world’s first telekinesis whodunnit (“The Power”). Weekends, “Chiller Theatre,” on WPIX, played horror classics that provided an education on the subjects of sapphic vampires and ill-considered head transplants. I snacked on Oscar Mayer baloney, which I rolled into cigarette-size payloads of processed meat, and although I didn’t know it at the time, started taking notes about artists and monsters. Fate was cruel and withholding, and then suddenly surprised me with a TV announcer’s tantalizing words: “Stay tuned for ‘The Flesh Eaters’ ”; or “Don’t go away! We’ll be right back with ‘Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things.’ ” I couldn’t look the title up on the Web, couldn’t know anything beyond what its luridness conjured, and there was the frightening possibility that I might never have the chance to see the movie again. Who knew when this low-budget comet would return to this corner of the galaxy? Its appearance was a cosmic accident, one that might never be repeated. Weeks before, some bored drone at the TV station had decided to dump it into this time slot, and today I happened to be home from school with bronchitis. Did I have time to grab some baloney or a bowl of Lucky Charms before the opening credits ended? Thanks to “Star Wars” ’s Pavlovian ministrations, I got excited whenever I heard the horns that accompanied the Twentieth Century Fox logo.

About the only part of the old “Star Wars” movies that continues to spark emotion for me is the music introducing a Twentieth Century Fox movie. Still gets me amped.

Laz Diaz offers up some cruel and unusual punishment. Craig Calcaterra gathers the story over at Hardball Talk.

[Image Via: Von Trapper Keeper]

Sometimes life can get in the way of baseball, and this was one of those nights. The good news, of course, is that I have a DVR, so I never really have to miss anything. I can coach volleyball practice, head directly to my daughter’s middle school band concert, then take the family out to a late dinner, confident that all the while my trusty DVR is dutifully recording the game.

The problem, of course, is that the game is also in my pocket the whole time. My phone buzzed at 7:05 to let me know that game had started, and I was tempted several times throughout the evening to check on the score. I resisted each time. During the lull between beginning band and beginning orchestra? Stand strong. After foolishly glancing at the restaurant television and seeing this on ESPN’s Bottom Line: Nova (NYY): 5 IP, 5 ER…? Stay calm and carry on. When my phone buzzed at 10:05, feeling suspiciously like an incoming text from a gloating Angel fan? Keep the faith.

And so I kept the faith, even as the Angels jumped on Ivan Nova for an early 1-0 lead in typically annoying Anaheim fashion. Mike Trout, heretofore referred to as the Most Exciting Player in Baseball, took a pitch to the shoulder to lead off the first, then galloped to third when a hit-and-run worked out and Alberto Callaspo singled where Derek Jeter had just been standing. Albert Pújols, suddenly fearsome again, walked to load the bases with none out, and disaster loomed. But Nova rebounded to strike out Kendrys Morales, yielded a sacrifice fly to Mark Trumbo, then got Howie Kendrick to fly out. Sure, it was 1-0, but it could’ve been much worse.

The Yankees answered back in the third when Russell Martin walked and later used the 3-2 head start to race to third on Derek Jeter’s single. Curtis Granderson followed that with home run to right, and the Yankees had their first lead since the first inning of the first game of the series. Ervin Santana was the victim of all that, and he responded by hitting Alex Rodríguez a few pitches later. If the Yankees were bothered by that — and I can’t imagine they were — Robinson Canó exacted revenge by powering a home run deep to right and they were up 5-1.

Nova, meanwhile, was looking good. I’m not sure how accurate it was, but according to the radar gun at Angels Stadium, Nova’s fastball was topping out at 97 MPH in the early going, and he cruised through the second and third innings on only eighteen pitches. But then came the fourth. I don’t have the energy to recap it completely, but believe me when I tell you it was just more Halo nonsense. Yet another home run from Mark Trumbo, a two-strike single, a bunt single, and a rocketed double off the bat of the Most Exciting Player in Baseball. In the blink of an eye, the game was tied at five. If you were watching live and felt confident at this point, you’re lying.

But Nova stuck around to cruise through the fifth and sixth and got back in position for a win when the Angels defense finally made a mistake. Raúl Ibáñez smoked a ball to the wall in right center, but Peter “Gorgeous” Bourjos foolishly chased it all the way to the warning track only to watch helplessly as the ball ricocheted over his head and bounded back towards center field, following the exact path Bourjos had just tread. Ibáñez actually looked like he had designs on an inside-the-parker before downshifting and coasting into third for his first triple in more than a year. Nick Swisher jumped on the first pitch he saw and produced a sacrifice fly to give the Yankees the 6-5 lead.

Nova was lifted after getting the first two outs of the seventh inning, then Boone Logan made things interesting by giving up consecutive singles to put runners on first and third with two out. With the game clearly in the balance, Cory Wade entered to face Kendrick and promptly fell behind 3-0. He was having trouble finding the feel of his curveball, but once he found it, the Angles hitters were at his mercy. He bounced back to strike out Kendrick, then K’d two of three in the eighth to hand the game to Rafael Soriano.

I won’t describe the ninth inning, except to mention that Pújols came to the plate as the winning run and I was dead certain that he was about to hit a walk-off. (Remember the suspiciously-timed text message from earlier?) He didn’t. Pretty or not, Soriano got the save. Yankees 6, Angels 5. And by the way, it isn’t just Mariano’s cold-hearted efficiency that I miss, it’s also his business-like reaction to the final out. Whenever Soriano gets a save, pulling his jersey out of his pants as he walks off the mound, I find myself completely distracted from the win and instead wishing he’d keep his clothes on. Classless. Someone should talk to him.

But things are looking up in Yankeeland. The teams heads off to Detroit, where two wins will make for a successful 6-3 road trip. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Oh, and that text message? Turns out it was just a push notification. It was my turn in Scrabble. If I had had the letters, I obviously would’ve played V-I-C-T-O-R-Y.

[Photo Credit: Chris Carlson/AP Photo]

The Yanks look to escape Orange County with a win.

Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Robinson Cano 2B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Raul Ibanez LF
Nick Swisher RF
Eric Chavez DH
Russell Martin C

Never mind those brooms, fellas: Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photo Via: Where is the Cool?]

Chad Jennings breaks down the Yanks’ recent struggles with the bases loaded.

Freaky. It won’t last.

[Painting by Craig Robinson]

The Yankees travelled to Boston for a Memorial Day doubleheader, one of six twinbills played during DiMaggio’s streak, another notable difference between baseball then and now. A sell-out crowd of 34,500 crammed into Fenway Park as the Yanks and Sox split the pair. In the opener, things looked bleak for the Yankees and DiMaggio as they came to bat in the top of the ninth trailing 3-1. Still without a hit, DiMaggio came up in the final inning with a runner on first. He singled to keep the rally (and the streak) alive, and New York eventually scored three times to take the one-run lead that would give them a 4-3 victory. In the nightcap, Boston hammered the Yankees, beating them 13-0, but DiMaggio was awarded a hit on a fly ball lofted high into the wind and sun that often plagued Fenway’s right field. Boston’s Pete Fox tried valiantly to make the catch, but the ball fell untouched at his feet, and DiMaggio scampered into second base with a double.

Aside from the two hits, DiMaggio’s day was utterly forgettable. Normally one of the best defensive outfielders in the game, DiMaggio earned his nickname, the Yankee Clipper, with the effortless way in which he sailed across the outfield grass in pursuit of flyballs. On this day, however, he was charged with an error in the opening game and three more in the second, making this perhaps his worst day in the field. None of this, however, affected the streak.