I walked to the subway in the remnants of a muscle-relaxed fog this morning. I eased into a seat and took out my book. But the text was swimming all over the page so I just looked around. So many people wearing green today. Why is that? O’crap. It’s St. Patrick’s Day. I forgot to wear green. Then I looked down at my shirt – by chance it was green. No pinches today. My kids might not be so lucky.
Memory Lane
A friend of mine from high school lived across the street from me. Once a month or so we’d end up on the same subway car and kill the 40 minutes between 207th st and 59th st rehashing old high school stories and exchanging latest news on our mutual friends. He was the point guard and captain of the basketball team and I inherited those titles after he graduated even though only he bore the burden of actually being good at basketball. So we always had topics to cover.
I have tons of chances to reminisce over college experiences. My wife was in my graduating class. But high school has slipped away almost completely. When my friend moved, I realized this was probably one of my last chances to hear these stories.
One day, we were chatting and the third person in our A Train three-seater perked up and said, “I went to that high school too.” She was a few years younger than us, but she knew some of the people we knew.
And then I didn’t know what to do. Was she now in on the conversation? We had over 100 blocks to go – and, after a few niceties I just kind of settled back into the previous exchange. Now I feel guilty, like I should have included her more. But those few years of space made her just about as alien as everyone else on the train.
[Photo Credit: Infectedwithrage]
Heads Up
Mildly disturbed or potentially dangerous? This is a calculation every subway rider has to make a few times a week – maybe more. Somebody is going to be preaching, that’s just competition for your headphones. Sometimes it’s Showtime, and you need to make sure you’re out of the dancer’s kick-zone. Somebody is going to begging for money, but those guys never threaten. It’s tricky when someone is muttering indecipherable but unmistakably belligerent things to themselves. I see this a lot.
The clear tipping point is physical proximity. When I see a person going out of their way to occupy other people’s personal space, that’s when I take notice. One time, I was taking the train at an odd time – one or two in the afternoon – and only a handful of people were in my car. Two kids hopped on the train, 15 or 16 years old, obviously geeked up on something. They’re banging on the doors, ceiling windows, making their presence known. I was riding the train with a work buddy and, over a pause in our conversation, we heard them mocking our glasses. Trying to be heard.
There are no stops between 125th and 59th. That’s a long time to contemplate a perceived threat. We pretended we didn’t hear them. They got louder. We kept up the shield of ignorance, but we couldn’t return to our conversation. We were on full alert.
They bounced off at 59th St and, just as I thought the ordeal was over, one of the kids threw a punch at me as he was walking off the train. His hand got stuck in the plexi-glass divider that separates the three-seaters from the doors and his extended fingers ended up about 2 inches from my nose. He pulled his hand out just in time to squeeze through the doors.
I felt really stupid and helpless. These kids were obviously dangerous. I was aware of them the moment they got on the train and was prepared, I thought, for anything. And still if it wasn’t for that divider, I would have gotten punched in the face.
[Photo Credit: John Conn]
The winter in New York City brings with it a collection of ridiculously poofy jackets. I’m not saying these coats aren’t effective. I own two. They just look a little silly.
But when we wear them underground, and cram ourselves together in a subway car at rush hour, they become a problem. Some of these jackets double a person’s width. And nobody can control the hems of the longer varieties. Flayed jacket tails obscure newspapers and brush cheeks with regularity.
One of the very welcome aspects of spring will be jumping into a waiting subway car without tucking in the edges of my marshmallow coat. It’ll feel like freedom.
For about two weeks, that is, until the heat becomes so oppressive down there that I’ll long for the onset of the next winter.
The one thing on a subway that will always get my attention is a lost soul. I mean literally lost. Like the guy has no idea where he is going. This happens a lot on the A Train, because it runs express and pretty quickly takes a rube out of the comfort of Manhattan proper and deposits him at 125th St before he can even figure out what happened.
Being lost can be no big deal if you are one of those self-assured types who feel like they can warp reality to their own will. But it can also make you feel helpless – especially if you’re working against the clock and have bitten off more than you can chew.
Last night, a late teen, early twenties type, looking like a savvy city-chick, turned to her neighbor at 125th st and asked if the train was going to Roosevelt Island. That grabbed me right in the gut. Roosevelt Island? That’s not even close. Her neighbor didn’t speak English, so I pointed her to the map behind her and explained she was about to stop at 145th St.
A glazed look of confusion engulfed her. Another rider quickly noted that she could make it Roosevelt Island fairly easily if she hopped out at 145th, took a downtown B or D to Roc Center and then transferred to the F Train. She staggered off at 145th and the other rider and I both watched her turn in awkward circles on the platform. We made eye contact and we both knew the timely advice hadn’t made a dent.
[Photo Credit: Clara]
Has the regular season lost all significance to us as fans?
In the 2010 stretch drive, we watched the Yankees rest their players for the looming Postseason tournament. While there were voices on both sides of the debate, all parties had to agree their was a heirarchy of achievement in which the World Series placed at the top. This reduced the substance of the argument for those of us gunning for the division crown to purely nominal terms.
And the Yankees don’t even hang a little felt pennant unless they win the Series.
But we marginalize the regular season at our own peril. Sooner or later, and possibly even this year, it’s all we’ll have. In those years, I don’t intend to stop being a fan, so I think it’s a good idea to try to realign priorities in order to make that fandom possible. After all, what value is the regular season if losing out on the World Series invalidates everything that preceded it?
Baseball viewed through the prism of the postseason ignores the fact the foundations of championships extend all the way back into April, and even into surrounding seasons. It’s an iceberg viewed from an airplane – most of the mass is underwater.
But no more! We have exhumed the “Lost Classics” of regular seasons past. Games that deserve our attention. Games that defined players and teams, that set-up championships, that were epic poems in and of themselves. Without these games, there are no Hall of Fame inductions, no retired numbers, and no parades. And after all, isn’t baseball a summer game?
THE BIRTH OF COOL (AND CONFIDENT) – July 4th, 1995
Our first extract from the vault of “Lost Classics” hails from the pre-natal days of the most recent dynasty. It was Independence Day, 1995 and the Yankees were visiting Chicago. We need not describe their opponent any further, because way back in 1995, there was no interleague play. Both teams, division leaders at the time of the 1994 strike, were struggling since the return to play and found themselves on the frowny side of .500.
The Yankees had problems in the rotation (I guess as almost every team does almost every year) and were searching for answers. Even back in 1995, Jack Curry had the goods:
Without Jimmy Key for at least the rest of the season and probably without Melido Perez and Scott Kamieniecki until the second half of the season, the Yankees have desperately searched for starters. They have talked on the phone about trades and searched on the farm for the right prospect.
Rookie Mariano Rivera had debuted earlier in the season and spilled his first cup of coffee with the Yankees right down the front of his brand new uniform. He got the ball four times and was awful three times. In 15 innings, he allowed 18 runs, and even more striking, walked as many men as he struck out – eight. He got battered back to Columbus dragging a 10.20 ERA behind him. But in Columbus, something clicked.
Rivera had not allowed a run in his last 20 2/3 innings in the minors, so when the right-hander returned on Monday for his second stint of the season with the Yankees, he carried a scoreless streak with him. … In his last start, Rivera won a five-inning no-hitter for Columbus against Rochester. … With a microscopic 1.17 earned run average in five starts at Columbus and a 1-2 record and 10.20 e.r.a. with the Yankees before today, Rivera had a goal: to prove he could win in the majors.
Rivera earned another shot in the bigs. He faced the Chicago White Sox who were an above average offensive team – they could hit for average and scored the fifth most runs in the American League. It wasn’t a powerhouse, but it wasn’t a bad representation of the division-winning White Sox lineups from 1993 and 1994. And they couldn’t sniff Mo’s stuff.
He struck out 11 batters, and nine of those were swinging whiffs. When they put the bat on it, they could only manage weak contact as the Sox grounded 12 outs to the infield while getting only four balls to the outfielders. Dave Martinez (later corroborated by John Kruk on Baseball Tonight) offers Curry a likely explanation: “The scouting report we had said that he throws about 85 or 86,” White Sox outfielder Dave Martinez said. “He was throwing a lot harder than that.”
Frank Thomas got him for two singles and a fly out, but in those days, that was not a bad line versus the Big Hurt at his most bone-crushingest. None of the rest of the team had any chance, though the veterans were annoyingly patient and worked all four walks (Kruk twice, Dave Martinez and Ozzie Guillen). Robin Ventura made two loud outs (around a swinging strike out), so I guess he was able to square it up a little bit, too.
Not only was Mariano dominant, he was only in one mini-jam the whole game. It was the type of jam that you’d expect from a rookie, but one that seems totally uncharacteristic given what we know of the pitcher today. After Paul O’Neill staked him a 1-0 lead in the top of the fourth with a solo jack, Mariano committed the cardinal sin of walking the lead off man Dave Martinez in front of Frank Thomas and Robin Ventura. He got Thomas to fly out, but then balked Martinez over to second – that’s one of three balks in his 16-year career.
With the runner in scoring position (the only one he would allow all game), he bore down and struck out Ventura to culminate an eight-pitch at bat. He lost John Kruk on a full count, but rebounded to strike out Warren Newsome to end the threat.
Already cruising, after the fourth he found a higher gear. He allowed only one more single and one more walk, and struck out six to wrap up his night. He left after 129 pitches and eight superb innings and his final line tallied 11 strikeouts, four walks, two hits, and zero runs. The Yankees iced the game with a couple of sac flies and a Bernie Williams triple. John Wetteland wobbled in the 9th and gave up a run but never had to face the tying run as the Yanks won 4-1. I assume there was much rejoicing.
Andy Pettitte has retired. That is very sad. We will miss him. Cliff Lee signed with the Phillies. That is very… something else. I guess it depends on the fan.
But these two events, hardly unlikely, and, in retrospect, perhaps foreseeable, are now the crux of a major problem for the New York Yankees. The Yankees, as they stand today, do not have the starting pitching to mount a serious challenge for the AL East crown nor ensure themselves the consolation of the Wild Card.
Since the Yankees made their first spirited run at Cliff Lee in July, there have been 44 trades or signings of credible Major League pitchers (ie, pitchers better than Mitre).
We can whittle that list down quite a bit by eliminating players the Yankees had no chance to acquire – like Javy Vazquez and Matt Garza – and players that were trade chips for bigger pieces – like Daniel Hudson and Joe Saunders. And no need to include the “injury fliers” since the Yanks require immediate help – like Erik Bedard and Brandon Webb. And might as well forget about the dregs, the guys whose marginal improvement over Sergio Mitre isn’t worth the paperwork to execute the contract – like Bruce Chen.
Still, we’re left with over a dozen solid pitchers that changed teams at the exact same time the Yanks were looking. Half of those guys were acquired via trade, the other half by free agency. The better pitchers were all acquired through trade (Oswalt, Haren, Grienke, Marcum, Lilly, Westbrook, Jackson). The free agents, as we have been picking over recently, were not as good (Kuroda, Westbrook, De La Rosa, Francis, Garland, Harang).
But regardless of their relative worth amongst themselves, they are all big-time improvements over the Yanks’ current options. Why aren’t any of them Yankees? I think the Yankees passed on all of those guys because they were saving seats on the 2011 bus. Gotta have a seat open for Cliff Lee. Gotta have a seat open for Andy Pettitte. Never mind that Cliff Lee signing with the Yankees was at best a 50/50 proposition. Never mind that Andy Pettitte was only able to start 21 games in 2010 and would be contemplating retirement for, what, the fourth time?
The Yankees failure to act has now impacted two seasons as their starting rotation was too weak to dispatch the Rangers in the 2010 ALCS. But I have no idea why. When the Yankees run out of seats on the bus, they should just buy a bigger bus. Yankee money is best used to allow them to deal with excess. In this case, the “excess” would have been having six starting pitchers.
If everything went perfectly, they could have had Dan Haren or Roy Oswalt for the 2010 stretch run. Then signed Cliff Lee and had Andy Pettitte knocking at the door looking for one more go around. CC, Lee, RoyDan, Pettitte, Hughes, Burnett. That was the worst case scenario – having an excess of good starting pitching.
In order to avoid this terrible outcome, the Yankees maneuvered themselves into having a rotation with one good pitcher (I have hopes for Hughes, too). How on earth is this 2011 rotation, which was a very foreseeable outcome from opening day 2010, a better scenario than paying for a possibly superfluous pitcher?
The sound strategy from July 2010 through today was for Brian Cashman to go balls out filling two rotation spots. That strategy gives them the best chance to win the 2010 World Series, and sets up their immediate future in the best possible shape.
The Yanks should be primed for a three-peat and a dynasty. Instead, placing themselves at the mercy of these two decisions, they’ll be scrapping for a place at the table.
Most Tuesday nights, I play basketball for a few hours in a tiny, dank gymnasium on the West Side. When I hop on the uptown train to head home, I’m a sweaty mess. I try to stand as far away from the other passengers as possible, but those 30 minutes are hellishly uncomfortable.
Heaven forbid that I need a seat. Some nights, the game gets rough and I’m too sore to stand the whole way. It’s usually empty enough to find a seat, but rarely is that seat out of smelling distance from the others on the train.
It’s particularly upsetting when I’ve calculated my stench radius, chosen a “safe” location, only to watch a new rider get on the train and head for a seat right next to me.
First a hint of disturbance crosses her face. Then her nose crinkles as she sniffs more deeply for confirmation. Her eyes search for the source. As suspicion gives way to recognition, I know she knows. She gathers her stuff and finds a new seat. If she’s kind, she doesn’t look back.
Of course, worrying about it so much just intensifies the sweatiness. The only thing worse than being on a stinky train is being the stink.
On the BXM1 Express Bus the other day, the PA system crackled to life and this announcement sprang forth, “The next stop is 96th St.” It was one of those recorded robotic voices, very clear and with the characteristic cadence and syntax.
“The next…STOP is…ninety SIXTH… street.”
I thought to myself, “When did they robotize the announcements on this bus line?” By the time I got off on my stop, I realized they hadn’t. The bus driver was just doing his impression of robotic voice. Over and over again.
He has a lot of hours to kill I guess, but I chuckled. I wondered if it would throw him off if I remarked on his ruse. I decided not to say anything. I’d hate to spoil his fun.
[Photo Credit: Viaduckvideo ]
Since the end of the 2009 World Series, the following star pitchers have become available via trade or free agency: Cliff Lee, Roy Halladay, John Lackey, Cliff Lee, Roy Oswalt, Dan Haren, and Cliff Lee.
Since the end of the 2009 World Series, the following second-tier pitchers have have become available via trade or free agency: Ted Lilly (twice), Shawn Marcum, Jake Westbrook (twice), Edwin Jackson (twice), Javier Vazquez (twice), John Garland (twice), Brett Myers, Carl Pavano (twice), and Hideki Kuroda.
Since the end of the 2009 World Series, the following other interesting pitchers have have become available via trade or free agency: Max Scherzer, Joe Saunders, JA Happ, Colby Lewis, and Jorge De La Rosa.
I’m sure the list is not complete and that there are legit quibbles about who is interesting and who is a star, but the points are macro. One should be comforting, the other should be troubling.
1) The Yanks will have shots at all sorts of pitchers if they stay on top of it. Guys who are obvious targets and guys we might never predict.
2) The Yanks knew their long-term rotation was in trouble ever since they gave up on Chamberlain and were forced to gamble on a three-man rotation to win the Series. And the only guy they were able to get on the above lists was Javy the Hated.
Actually, there’s one big mistake here. There is no way Joe Saunders can be considered “interesting.”
I turned 40 years old today. It was a very casual birthday party, with just my wife and sons, and only 150 of our most intimate household staff. We were going to attend Game 4 of the MEGA-SERIES at Yankee Stadium tonight, but honestly, after winning the first three games against the Mexico City Mets by a combined score of 48-3, we thought we’d enjoy the clincher from our cozy little mansion on Central Park West (as you know I bought the Museum of Natural History from the city during the bankruptcy saga of 2012).
As I reflect on the last five years, it’s hard to imagine things working out any better – and I can trace it all back to when the Yankees passed on Cliff Lee in the winter of 2010. Man, I was such a naïve moron in those days, 35 years dumb, wanting Cliff Lee to pitch for the Yankees at just about any cost. I thought it would be great.
Thankfully, the Yankees did not sign Lee, and instead decided to give the 150 million dollars earmarked for his salary back to Yankee fans in proportion to the amount of tickets purchased in 2010. I got a nice check for $351.26. I took that money, and, well, you know the rest. I now own most of New York City.
The Yankees struggled to compete in 2011. The Boston Red Sox had assembled a better team by spending freely and won the World Series. Little did they know, that would be the last title Boston would ever win. Because of the crippling costs of paying Carl Crawford, the Red Sox cut corners on maintenance of Fenway Park and it sank into the ground during the victory parade.
Having no readily available baseball facility, the Red Sox have been playing in Portland, Maine ever since. Now that Major League Baseball has adopted the relegation system, the “Snow Sox” have been toiling in the Minor Leagues since 2013. If only they had not signed such irresponsible deals in 2010! They would still be kings of New England, head of a nation. Now the players themselves have to clear the field of snow before games. Dustin Pedroia likes it though. He gets to drive the plow.
The other thing that happened in 2011 is that Bud Selig, in his final act before being eaten by jackals, pushed through some big changes to the structure of the baseball Postseason. Certain future World Series championships would be worth way more present ones. If you won the 2011 World Series, you only got one trophy and only were allowed one parade. If you won the 2015 World Series, now the MEGA-SERIES, it was worth five trophies and five parades. And if you won the 2050 World Series, the GOLDEN-SERIES, it was worth 100 trophies and parades and earned you bragging rights for the entire century.
Had the Yankees been saddled with Cliff Lee’s ridiculous contract they would have had no shot at the MEGA-SERIES. They also would not have been able invest on player development with such gusto. In 2011, Yankee scientists discovered the “baseball-gene” by studying the recently acquired tissues of the Alou, Boone and Brett families – another use of the so-called “Lee Moolah.” Thus the Yankees were the only team to develop baseball-primed embryos before President Palin banned science after her inauguration in January of 2013.
The Yankees transferred the embryos to their “incubation center” on the moon. These fertilized eggs will evolve into baseball gods in 2050, just in time for the GOLDEN-SERIES. I will be 75 in 2050 and I think I’ve set it up perfectly for Yankee fans – did I forget to mention I also own the team? Winning that 2050 GOLDEN-SERIES will make the intervening decades of mediocrity so worth it. I can’t wait to attend those 100 parades. You know, if I’m not dead.
With the Yanks done playing and busy counting money by the fireside this winter, I exercise my grumble a few times a week watching Georgetown basketball. Pacing back and forth in front of the TV, ignoring more pressing responsibilities, so I’m ready for total immersion again in the spring.
Tuesday night, the nationally-ranked Hoyas toppled more highly-ranked Missouri in Kansas City 111-102 in OT. If I had read the boxscore without seeing the game, I would have thought it was written by a Tolkien fan playing a joke. But I saw it, so I know better. I was geeked and up way past bedtime thinking about it.
The game was an instant classic, a Georgetown 3 pointer at the buzzer tied the game at 94 and forced overtime. 188 points in regulation! And then the Hoyas ran riot in the extra session pouring in 17 more points in five minutes. It was beautiful basketball. As I jammed my eyes shut trying to force myself to sleep, it occurred to me that the style of their play was as much a part of the excitement I was experiencing as the victory itself.
“Beautiful basketball” and “Georgetown” may seem a strange juxtaposition for those not intimately familiar with the Hoyas’ recent history. Their current coach, John Thompson III, is the son of the legendary John Thompson Jr., who imposed a dominating team on America in the 1980s, centered by Patrick Ewing. “Hoya Paranoia” spread far and wide, less about the winning, more about the way they played, the way they shunned the media, and of course, for some, the color of their skin. Blocked shots and big dunks were the tools. Intimidation and fear were the by-products. But few, if any, thought to associate “beauty” with their style.
Heck, for some, the face of Georgetown in the 1980s is not Patrick Ewing nor John Thompson Jr., but snarling Michael Graham. A guy who played only one season for Georgetown and averaged only 14 minutes per game. He was a freshman learning the ropes for much of the season, but played exceedingly well in the NCAA tournament and iced the title game with a monster jam, which graced the cover of Sports Illustrated. The next week, his face and shaved head was waiting in mailboxes for sports fans across the country. It’s hard to imagine someone doing less and leaving a bigger imprint on the national sports scene.
Why hello there, fellow Yankee fans. I’ve read here and there that a lot of you are not that keen on signing Cliff Lee to an expensive, long-term contract. Let’s walk together around the Banter for a short, longish while. Go ahead and bring those heavy reservations and burdensome doubts with you along the way, but also feel free to drop them by the side of the trail as we go. By the end, maybe you’ll have shed all that unnecessary weight currently resting upon your shoulders.
Before we start, let me make sure I understand the full extent of your objections. One possible reason to shun an expensive long-term contract is a strong doubt about the quality of the player. Another would be a strong doubt about the health of the player. The final reason to object to signing an expensive long-term contract is the opportunity cost, both in terms of the payroll and the roster flexibility, of committing dollars and years to the player.
Is that it? Are there other worries I haven’t addressed? No? Well, if you think of any on the way, please let me know.
OK, let’s begin our walk getting comfortable with the quality of the player in question. Cliff Lee is one of the best pitchers in baseball by any measure – I think that’s a point of agreement. He has succeeded in both leagues and a variety of home parks. He has performed as exquisitely while toiling in last place as he has in pitching two different teams to the World Series. He has twice toed the rubber in Yankee Stadium, in October, against our hostile crowds, and twice been virtually untouchable.
In the three years since 2008, he has accumulated 20.9 fWAR and 16.6 bWAR. His fWAR total is behind only Roy Halladay (21.4 fWAR) and his bWAR is behind only Halladay (20.4 bWAR) and CC Sabathia (16.8 bWAR). He’s been better than Felix Hernandez. He’s been better than Tim Lincecum. Think of any pitcher not named Halladay, and Lee has been better.
The doubts nagging you, I gather, are not ones of current quality, because the statistics are breathtaking and as Yankee fans, we’ve experienced his devastating dominance first-hand. The doubts are about the sustainability of this level of performance into the future. After all, he pitched several years before 2008 and was a very different pitcher – an obviously inferior pitcher to what he is today. And he will undoubtedly lose some velocity between now and the end of whatever contract he signs. Will he regress to his old form? Will he fall somewhere inbetween?
The 2010 season ended for the New York Yankees tonight as they lost Game Six of the American League Championship to the Texas Rangers 6-1. The Rangers pounded out the big, two-out, run-scoring hits that win pennants, and the Yankees put forth a display of offensive futility against Colby Lewis that will leave a gag-inducing aftertaste long into the winter.
Light rain fell on the first inning. Curtis Granderson walked and was eager to get into position to draw first blood. He tried to steal second as Cano popped out, and then doubled down and ran again as Alex Rodriguez was working his count. Granderson beat the throw, but his foot hiccuped on the damp dirt and delayed touching the bag for a split second. It was enough time for Ian Kinsler to snatch the ball and slap a tag, and enough of an incongruity to confuse the umpire into a blown call. As the replay clearly showed otherwise, the announcers congratulated the umpire for getting it right. That was it for the sound.
The Rangers jumped onto the scoreboard in the first inning, again. This was the fourth time in the series they scored in the first inning. The Yankees have put nothing on the board in the first inning all postseason. With two-strikes on the leadoff hitter, Phil Hughes couldn’t sneak a fastball up and in. Elvis Andrus shot it through an heavily shifted outfield and pulled into second with an easy double. Josh Hamilton singled when Hughes again tried to go up and in, but missed badly up and out over the plate. Washington, fearing the double play, put Hamilton in motion and when Vlad grounded to second and the Yankees needed two outs to prevent the run from scoring, they could only muster one.
Lewis held the Yankees hitless through four. Curtis Granderson worked two walks, but was erased on the bases both times. In the fifth inning, Alex Rodriguez doubled, his second hard-hit ball of the game. He moved to third as Lance Berkman flew out to the warning track.
That brief instant, when Berkman’s shot flew into the night was the only happy moment of the game for the Yankees. It looked like a 2-1 lead was in reach, but Josh Hamilton tracked it down. Alex scored on a ball that hit Nick Swisher and bounced away, but the umpires missed it. That’s the second time they’ve missed Nick Swisher getting hit in the leg. Both times it cost the Yankees an out, as Swisher couldn’t do anything as the at bat continued.
In the fifth inning, the game fell apart. Much like the sixth inning of Game Four, the Yankees faced a relatively benign one-on, one-out situation. An intentional walk to a left-handed batter to gain a platoon advantage raised the stakes and the Rangers held the trump. Vlad Guerrero ripped the game-changing double on the hangy-i-est of curve balls. After Robertson replaced Hughes, Nelson Cruz ripped the season-ending homer on the flattest of fastballs. (more…)
I poured the milk on my sons’ Rice Crispies this morning. “Who wants to hear the cereal talk?” Turns out, both of them wanted to hear the cereal talk, so breakfast was a smashing success. (Is there any meal, except maybe pizza, that your children do not have to duped into eating?)
As they sat there at the table, I paced back and forth as the coffee brewed on the counter. “Today’s lesson is about not giving up,” I told them. “Let’s not worry about losing, because if you actually lose, there will be plenty of time to worry about it after the fact.”
“What?” asked the three-year old. He says “What?” very sweetly, but it’s hard to distinguish whether he doesn’t understand or if he just wasn’t listening. This time, it was probably both.
“I’m talking about the Yankees,” I said. “Yankees!” said the three year-old. “Boom!” said the 21-month old.
“Yeah, the Yankees need more boom. They lost last night,” I said.
“I like De-rak Jeee-tuh and Mar-i-an-oh,” said the three-year old. “Me too.”
“Snap, crackle, pop,” said the cereal.
When we went out the door for school, I asked them if they wanted to wear their Yankee hats or their Stegosaurus hats. “I want my Yankee hat,” said the three-year old. “And me,” said the 21-month old. I checked the temperature, 48 degrees. Hmm, yeah, we don’t need to cover their ears this morning.
“Where’s your Yankee hat, Daddy?” asked the three-year old. I went into the bedroom and couldn’t find it. I grabbed my 1936 Cooperstown Collection version from the pile on my dresser and slammed it down on my head. “How about that one?”
“Bay-ball,” said the 21-month old.
“Snap, crackle, pop,” I said. “Let’s go Yank-ees.” And we walked out the door and into the first morning that it really felt like October.
After splitting the first two games of the 1998 ALCS, Andy Pettitte took the mound looking to give the Yankees an important edge, but lost Game 3 and the Yankees’ World Series outlook darkened. The Yankees’ fourth starter took the mound amid uncertainty and pitched one of the best games of his career.
I would love to see Orlando Hernandez come running out of the bullpen, tonight, but he’s probably not going to. The Yankees need AJ Burnett to summon his inner-Duque tonight. And though I’m sure you’re sick to death of reading about Cliff Lee, check out the first nine games (eight starts, one relief appearance) of Duque’s postseason career versus the first eight of Cliff Lee’s.
You’re looking at two of the best postseason stretches in history, and apart from the walks (which is more about style than effectiveness in this case), they’re almost identical. El Duque eventually faltered, hopefully Cliff Lee never does. That is, as long as his next postseason appearance comes in a Yankee uniform. If he’s got one more for the Rangers, I hope it’s a stinker.
Splitsville. Under normal circumstances, that’s not a bad outcome opening a best-of-seven series on the road. But facing Cliff Lee in Game Three disrupts normal circumstances. In Game Two, Phil Hughes got pounded, the Yankee offense could not turn base-runners into run-scorers, and the Rangers evened the ALCS at one game apiece with a 7-2 victory.
Texas scratched out a really grimy run in the first inning. Elvis Andrus tapped a bounder over the pitcher’s mound and Phil Hughes deflected it into no-man’s-land behind the rubber. He stole second, and maybe even was safe. I don’t know because TBS only replayed a few times and never found the money shot which would tell me for sure.
(Why is it that I saw the Buster Posey tag-out 50 times and Lance Berkman’s strike three 150 times, but this call was just brushed aside? The media has decided that the blown calls are not acceptable, but when picking which calls to grouse about, they carefully choose the calls that support the narrative they wish to endorse. Lance Berkman took strike three, which was trumpeted from here to eternity, but only a handful of those reports included the other bad calls that went against Berkman in the very same at bat.)
Under duress, Hughes unleashed his best stuff of the game as he struck out Michael Young, Vlad Guerrero and Nelson Cruz. He was unlucky to walk Josh Hamilton after a tough battle and a missed strike three, and because Andrus had also stolen third base, that put the Rangers in a position to get creative on the bases. They tried to trade an out for a run (which I thought was a somewhat-desperate idea with long-ball threat Nelson Cruz at the plate) but the Yankees called an aggressive play and Cano returned Posada’s throw to sender late and wide and Andrus had drawn first blood.
I assume this was a predetermined play because Cano took the throw in front of the bag and threw back to Posada without hesitation, and every team I’ve ever played in every level from Little League on up predetermines what to do when there are runners on first and third. If it was improvised, I thought it was an OK decision from Posada, as sweating one run in the first inning is wussified, and a terrible decision by Cano, because he was unable to prevent the run from scoring and he allowed the inning to continue with one of the Rangers’ most dangerous hitters in the box.
The Yankees looked very dangerous in the top of the second. Cano almost erased the deficit with a wall-scraper, and with two runners on, Lance Berkman made a bid for extra-bases with a rocket to right. Nelson Cruz was able to corral both blasts and the Yankees got nothing for their troubles. But since Hughes had struck out the side in the first and the Yankees had clobbered the ball in the second, Yankees fans had reason for optimism.
That feeling did not survive the bottom of the second. Hughes missed badly to David Murphy and he put it off the face of the second deck in right field. When I saw David Murphy was batting third for the Rangers when the Yankees visited in September, I was reassured that the Rangers were pretty crappy. Then Texas swept the Yankees and here he is doing a lot of damage in the ALCS.
Hughes kept missing spots and the Rangers kept making him pay. He cranked up the extra-base machine and served up five doubles and triple for five more runs and put the game out of reach for even the Yankee bats. I don’t take much issue with Girardi’s moves, though I know he has his detractors here, but why Hughes was still pitching in the fifth inning I’ll never understand. He was getting hit hard from all comers and the Yankees were going to have chances if they kept the score within sniffing distance.
To be fair though, the Yankee offense did not ride to the rescue today and maybe even holding the Rangers at five wouldn’t have mattered. The Yankees had 14 base runners, but only two of them crossed the plate. The Yankees lacked the requisite big hit and fortunate timing. For instance, Cano crushed the ball four times for a double and homer (and two warning-track outs), but he stranded four runners in crunch time.
For most of the game, The Yankees had the donut offense working for them – a big hole in the middle. Alex Rodriguez and Mark Teixeira couldn’t extend or finish the rallies. If those guys were contributing, I think it would have been another fun night. Hopefully they’re saving it for Cliff Lee.
Keeping the Yankee rallies in check for the first five-plus innings was Colby Lewis. He was pitching in Japan last year. This is what at least Hiroshima Carp fan thought of him:
Methinks steroids are not yet en vogue in Hiroshima, because schlubby Colby Lewis should not evoke this kind of nightmarish imagery. Nor should the Yankees be worried about facing him again in the series. If the Yankees return to Texas for Game 6, they will knock him around. They were on him today, and hopefully they’ll turn the scoreboard crooked if they face him again. The Yankees also threatened against the bullpen, but without the breakthrough heroics of Game One.
The only worrisome aspect of this loss was Phil Hughes and his total lack of command. He let up seven hits with two strikes. He’s got to polish those guys off. Why was he crisp and unhittable against Minnesota and throwing batting practice today? I think it’s just a different quality opponent mixed with the inconsistencies of a young, possibly fatigued pitcher. I think it’s possible he’s got a good game in him if needed in Game 6, but I would not be surprised to see him struggle again.
The Yankees now head back to the Bronx and prepare for Cliff Lee. They’re sending Andy Pettitte up against him, so by no means should we paint them as lambs to the slaughter. I’m excited for the game and for some ridiculous reason have a good feeling about it. I don’t think the Yankees will really hurt Lee, but I like their chances to come out of the game with a win. If the Yanks lose that one, I’ll change my stripes for the rest of the series, but until then, bring it on, Cliff.
Why the Yankees will Beat the Rangers
Before the ALDS, I predicted the Twins would beat the Yankees. I was very wrong. I put too much stock in the minor advantages the Twins possessed and glossed over the obvious talent gap in the starting lineup. I also doubted Andy Pettitte’s health and thusly gave the Twins’ rotation an edge that was completely hypothetical and as it turned out, nonexistent. And then there was that song which seemed to signify a higher purpose for the Twins than ALDS fodder for the Yanks. Thankfully, the Twinkies and the song about not calling them Twinkies can now be enjoyed as vanishing points in the rear-view mirror.
I won’t make the same mistake with the Rangers. The Yankees feature the better, deeper lineup, sport a starting-pitching advantage (it’s a push at the very least) in every game not featuring Cliff Lee, and Mariano already filled his decade’s quota for losses to the Rangers. These Yankees are healthy, they are rested and they are still awaiting Alex Rodriguez to make his mark on this postseason. The Yankees will win in five games and Alex will be the MVP (which I thought he earned last year). Cliff Lee will win his game, but he’ll be left watching the Yankees in the World Series as he contemplates his next contract.
Tempting reasons to pick the Rangers abound. They hit the snot out of the ball in Arlington, where they’ll host as many as four games. But almost all of those numbers include Josh Hamilton’s obscene comfort in his home ballpark. The last time I saw him he was tugging at the flak jacket protecting his rib cage as he walked back to the dugout after his sixth and final strikeout of the ALDS. If Hamilton recovers form during the course of the ALCS, the Yankees task becomes decidedly more difficult and I reserve the right to cower.
The Rangers send up have a righty-heavy lineup that dealt with David Price in the first round and figures to give CC Sabathia and Andy Pettitte fits. In small samples, Nelson Cruz, Ian Kinsler, Michael Young and Vladimir Guerrero feasted on lefties this year, sporting a cumulative slash of .338/.402/.525. I would ignore their teamwide struggles versus southpaws for much of the regular season as many of the players dragging those numbers down will not be on the roster.
Containing them is key to the Yankee victory and when Texas does win a game, I think it will be when this group does some damage in Yankee Stadium off Andy Pettitte and Cliff Lee makes it stand up. Luckily, the other lefty starting for the Yankees is CC Sabathia and he is almost identically excellent against righties and lefties for his career and even better against righties this year. I don’t think Sabathia can keep this bunch off the scoreboard entirely, but I’m betting he neutralizes them sufficiently for the Yankee offense to win the games he pitches.
And that offense is mainly why I am picking the Yankees. In the ALDS, Curtis Granderson, the DH platoon of Thames and Berkman and Nick Swisher were good enough to sweep the Twins. When the team is struggling, they still manage runs. When the team is clicking, the runs come in bunches. In the final game versus the Twins, it looked to me like the Yankees were ready to get clicking. Cliff Lee is good enough to beat any offense at any time, but I don’t think the rest of the Rangers’ pitchers measure up to the depth and quality of the Yankee hitters.
The fifth and deciding game of the ALDS between the Rangers and the Rays features a fantastic match-up of left-handed twirlers. In fact, it’s been raining lefties in the ALDS, with four Cy Young candidates showing off their stuff. CC Sabathia and Francisco Liriano faced off in the Yankee-Twin opener, and Cliff Lee and David Price go at each other for the second time tonight. Throw in the fine performances of Andy Pettitte and CJ Wilson and left-handed batters have not felt very comfortable since the regular season ended.
I’ll never forget my introduction to the lefty’s breaking ball. For left-handed batters, it’s a rite of passage. Mine came in the ultimate setting, the batting cages near the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY. I was eight or nine years old and I had never seen a batting cage that spit out breaking pitches. The cage with the shortest line featured a lefty slide-piece and I jumped in without a clue for what was in store.
The first round was not a happy experience – the bend was just too unsettling. The ball came directly at my front, right shoulder before succumbing to the laws of physics and dropping down and towards the plate. I realized that even though the pitches looked like they were going to hit me, they always broke down and away before impact. I just had to trust it, keep the front shoulder pointed at the machine, and wait for it.
After attention-getting success in the second round (after all this time, I can remember the special feeling of a gathering crowd behind the cage) , the baseball gods decided that this was too much, too fast. Or maybe one of the balls was just worn down too much to generate the proper spin when released from the machine. As it came hurtling toward my front shoulder, I dug in and waited for the break. It never broke. The ball just bore in and in and plowed into my lead arm. It stung badly and I watched, through tears, as the last few pitches sailed over my head. The balls whacked the backstop with that depressing thud.
I understood something there on the ground. This was the deal you made when facing a lefty. If you want to cover that pitch, you have to give in, trust the break and accept the consequences. That’s how these pitchers keep us from hitting everything they throw. Among other dastardly things, they can move us off the plate; they can drill us in the arm.
Cliff Lee and David Price are both incredibly tough lefties, but that doesn’t mean that facing them is a similar experience. Look at their release points. David Price comes at you from the sling-shot arm slot, like a Randy Johnson-lite. The fastball and the breaking ball sweep across the left-handed batter’s box, but the fastball materializes suddenly on the hands while the breaking ball just keeps slipping down and away. Distinguishing one from the other is the difference between a difficult at bat and an impossible one.
Cliff Lee comes more over the top, which might be preferable for some lefties. But because of the expert way Lee hides the ball, and the movement he generates on all his pitches, he replaces the sweeping motion of Price with dart-gun precision and an unpredictability that the sling-shot lefty does not possess.
Both Lee and Price have success at limiting left-handed batters, but in two of the last three years, Lee actually had better numbers against righties. Price displayed the more traditional platoon advantage this year. Small sample sizes are in play for both, but I can believe that Price’s sweeping approach makes things more difficult for lefties but is slightly easier to track from the right-handed batter’s box. Meanwhile, Cliff Lee’s overhand style sacrifices some advantage versus lefties to better contend with the righties.
Outside of Ben Zobrist, none of the Rays did much with Cliff Lee in the first game. And then the righty-heavy lineup did even less with CJ Wilson in Game Two. I wonder if Joe Maddon will be tempted to start some of the lefties tonight, since the offense finally put runs on the board in Texas. Ron Washington has a much easier decision. His right-handed sluggers damaged Price the first time around and he can feel confident in trotting the same team out there again.
I expect Cliff Lee to be excellent, and I expect David Price to be much better than last time. But I don’t think he will be good enough. I expect the Rangers will win a low-scoring affair, 3-1. But no matter the outcome, Yankee fans can look forward to seeing a tough lefty in Yankee Stadium in Game 3 of the ALCS.
I have a confession to make. I don’t hate Carl Pavano. I know that’s not the Banter-party line, and I often exploit his rampant unpopularity for jokes at his expense, but really, I don’t have any hard feelings about the guy. When the Yankees acquire someone via free agency, I don’t care how much they spend on that player, just so long as I never hear them use that contract as an excuse for why they can’t go obtain another player down the line. After 2004, the Yankees needed starting pitching. The free-agent market was not strong, and they foolishly sent some money Pavano’s way. And then he never really pitched for the Yankees over the four years of his contract.
Yeah, that sucked, but it’s not like that money prevented them from getting Roy Halladay or some other great pitcher. He didn’t even occupy a spot in the rotation after 2005, so it’s not like he blocked a spot for some promising prospect or tied Cashman’s hands when it came to other trades or signings. I know that $40 million would have been better spent elsewhere and it probably would have benefitted the Yankees in some tangible way, but sometimes free agent signings don’t work out. If you must hold a grudge, I say pin at least some of it on Cashman or George.
I have no painful memories of the guy – he never disappointed me in any way. He was off my radar-screen by the middle of the 2005 season, only popping up occasionally (ok, more than occasionally) as the butt of a joke. But the rest of the Twins are either bland or likable or absurd (yeah, I’m talking about you, Orlando Cabrera), so Carl Pavano is the easy choice for villain of this ALDS. And he has graciously accepted this role and donned the facial hair to support his performance.
How do you spot such a villain?
And he probably throws a change-up.
Pavano pitched well enough into the seventh, but he was not dominant. The Yankees lined up a few hits in front of Arod’s sac fly and Lance Berkman whipped out his fairway wood for a home run to the opposite field. Pavano may have sustained more damage if Robinson Cano had run hard out of the box in the fourth, or if Cano had waited for a good pitch to hit in the sixth. In the sixth Cano was overanxious, but not offensively so. But in the fourth Cano posed and postured on his liner to the right field wall and when Swisher followed, the double play was still very much in order and the Yankees could not cash in a runner on third with less than two outs. I would love it if all Yankees would just run hard out of the box every time, but I think that’s just a thing of the past.
In the seventh, the Yankees finally dismissed Pavano – hopefully for the rest of the ALDS. Jorge Posada worked the first Yankee walk of the night and Berkman, opting for the 3 iron this time, lined one over the center fielder’s head for a run scoring double. Berkman was victimized on a soft change-up off the outside corner in his first at bat and seemed to sit on it as he tagged a similar pitch for both the home run and the double. He was sitting on the outside change so hard in the seventh, that Pavano was able to slip a fastball in there for what should have been the third strike, but the home plate umpire missed the call. Irate due to the double, Ron Gardenhire argued the call and was thrown out of the game. I guess he decided his team needed firing up, because with the score only 3-2 Yankees, the game was still firmly in reach.
After the ejection, third baseman Danny Valencia misplayed a very good bunt by Brett Gardner and Derek Jeter lunged out into the opposite batter’s box to serve one into right field just in front of the diving Jason Kubel to plate Berkman. Jeter’s exaggerated follow through as he moved up the first baseline was priceless – he knew he was getting away with something. That was it for Carl Pavano and, unfortunately, that was it for the Yankees in the seventh. After Gardner’s attempt to give the Twins the first out of the inning failed, Granderson succeeded. His sacrifice paved the way for an intentional walk to Teixeira, thus loading the bases for Alex Rodriguez and Robinson Cano. Arod got a meat ball on the first pitch from Jon Rauch, but could only foul it back. He went down swinging and Cano popped out to second. The game was hanging there for the Yankees, and they just couldn’t blow it open.
Andy Pettitte was just wonderful tonight. He had one bad inning, which wasn’t even that bad. He allowed a pair of singles, a walk and a pair of productive outs in the second. That made the score 1-0 Twins. And then he was just straight nails for the rest of the game, apart from a hanging cutter to Orlando Hudson in the sixth. Hudson lashed it over the left field wall to match Berkman’s homer and tie the score at two. Now that I have seen Andy Pettitte go seven strong, I am far more optimistic about this entire postseason.
Backing up Andy Pettitte was Walter Johnson. Or was it Bob Feller? Whoever he was, he was wearing Kerry Wood’s jersey and throwing sinister stuff. Put it this way, Kerry Wood was brilliant for the Yankees this year allowing only two runs in 26 innings and striking out 31. Apart from a surplus of walks he was almost like the Joba Chamberlain of 2007. And his eighth inning tonight blew any of those previous 26 out of the water.
The Yankees got another run in the ninth when Gardner and Granderson conspired to speed around the bases. Old man Derek Jeter tried to join them, but couldn’t leg out an infield hit. Still, his dribbler advanced Gardner to second. For there Gardner stole third and scored when Granderson won a tough battle with fireballer Matt Capps and dumped a single into center.
With a 5-2 lead headed into the bottom of the ninth inning, Mariano Rivera came in with more margin for error that he has had lately. He didn’t need it. Mauer’s a great hitter and I look forward to his at bats against Mariano. He really just can’t get comfortable up there. He managed a single as he fisted it into left field, but I think the confusion remains. Delmon Young rapped into a 6-4-3 and Mariano retired Jim Thome on a pop out to left to end the game for a second night in a row. The Yankees won 5-2 and now lead the ALDS two games to none. How about the positioning of Gardner on that play? Jim Thome’s farts go more than 300 feet, and yet there was Brett, perfectly placed, hugging the line in shallow left. I bet Jim Thome gets a hit on that ball 99% of the time.
Before the series, I was assigned the “Why the Twins Will Beat The Yankees” article. I thought the Twins had something special brewing in Minnesota, and I wasn’t sold on Andy Pettitte’s health. But with CC, Andy, Mariano and Wood throwing darts, and a deep, powerful lineup with newcomers Curtis Granderson and Lance Berkman getting big hits, this Yankee team is superior to the Twins and they have showed it. This series is not over, but the Yankees have put themselves in the best possible position to advance. Phil Hughes will start the biggest game of his life in game 3, but with a lot less pressure on him than could have been. Can’t wait.
