It’s Wait ‘Til Next Year for the Yanks.
They were a good team in 2010, but they didn’t play well down the stretch and got hammered by the Rangers in the 2010 ALCS.
Were they too old? Did they play tight–a reflection of their manager according to Joel Sherman? Did they just not have heart or character or those championship intangibles?
Nah, they just got their asses kicked, that’s all. Happens, man, even to the best of them.
Is it too soon to miss the Yanks, yet?
Well, go figure that. It’s gunna be the San Francisco Giants against the Texas Rangers for all the marbles as 2010 becomes the year of the unexpected.
Say, Hey!
[Photo Credit: Doug Pensinger/Getty Images]
Call it a mercy killing. That’s what it felt like. At least it wasn’t traumatic like Game Four. Not for me, anyway. Game Four took years off my life. I woke up the next morning and first thing I see in my mind’s eye is Molina rounding the bases. “The Chubby Man,” as my friend’s kid, Ian calls him. The Chubby Man ripping a pitch he knew was coming. All day long, people came up to me at work, asking if I felt okay.
Last night was different. When Hughes hung that curve ball to Vladi, followed by the inevitable Nellie Cruz homer, it was all over. The Yankees hit the ball hard but nothing went their way—other than their lone run, which they got as a gift from the umpires. Alex Rodriguez hit the ball hard twice with nothing to show for it and struck out looking at a filthy breaking ball to end the game and the Yankee season.
The inning before, Derek Jeter’s final swing of the year was a late, emergency hack against Colby Lewis. Wait—there was something galling about this game—Colby fuggin Lewis?!?!. I don’t remember the last time I saw Jeter strike out looking so ugly in October.
Second-best. That feels about right on merit. Rangers beat the Rays and the Yanks to get to the Serious? That’s impressive. They did a great job and I’ll be hard-pressed to root against them.
The Yankees were really good this year but they didn’t feel great. They were great in spots but were not consistently great. Still, they defended their title admirably and if this season gets lost in the non-title-bin, I think it was agreeable enough. We had a lot of laughs and a lot to admire—CC Sabathia winning 20 for the first time; Robinson Cano answering the bell after the depature of Godzilla Matsui, putting up an MVP caliber year; Swisher with a good season; the development of Phil Hughes, to name few a few. I liked this team, even the screw-ups like A.J. Burnett don’t seem like bad guys. Felt terrible for Javey Vazquez. Loved having the Big Puma around and man, I thought he was really locked-in at the plate against Texas. Didn’t miss Damon or Matsui, liked Granderson.
This season will also be easy to remember because it’s one of the last years for the Core Four, if not the last. Will those guys all make the playoffs again, together? Pettitte could well retire. Posada is in the final year of his contract and it’s likely he’ll be asked to take on a reduced roll and become a mentor to Jesus Montero.
I figure Mariano will come back, though you never know when he’s just going to walk off and leave us forever…forever the worse. He’ll probably go year-by-year at this point. And then there’s Jeter, the big soap opera of the off-season, Mr. Headline. Going to be fascinating how it plays out, if Jeter keeps up his Gehrig-like streak of “Doing the Right Thing.” He’s dangerously close to Ripken territory. How’s he going to play this?
And that’s how the 2010 comes to an end. With some disappointment? Sure. But with juicy questions about what’s going to happen next. Do they re-sign Swisher? Go after Carl Crawford? Cliff Lee? Which one of these?
This is the 8th season I’ve covered here on the Banter and it’s been as much fun as any of them. Thanks so much for falling through and being a part of it, whether you’re part of the comments section or just a regular reader. Really appreciate it, you guys.
Course we’re not going anywhere. The Banter is open 365, living and breathing like the city we represent.
“90% of life is showing up,” said Woody Allen. We’ll keep the treats coming.
Thanks to the Yanks for another winning year. Thanks for Jetes and the crew, and especially to Mariano who is the Precious.
R.I.P. to the Boss and Bob Sheppard.
Word to our man Cliff, and peace to Todd Drew.
Let’s Go Yan-Kees!
[Pictures by Bags, Pathum and me]
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…)
Season is on the line once again tonight for the Yanks. Win, and they force a Game 7, lose, and they go home.
Here’s the line up:
Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Robinson Cano 2B
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Lance Berkman 1B
Nick Swisher RF
Jorge Posada C
Marcus Thames DH
Brett Gardner LF
I say Berkman is the hero should the Yanks win.
Nothing else to add but the usual (this time with feeling):
Let’s Go Yan-Kees!
Is it 8 o’clock yet? Long and coherent doesn’t seem to be happening today, so instead, here’s some scattered thoughts from a scattered mind.
*You guys been watching the NLCS? Some excellent games, and I’ve gone from rooting for the Giants because they aren’t the Phillies to genuinely liking them. Lincecum, Kung Fu Panda, Buster Posey, even Brian Wilson who is douchey but at least in an entertaining way. The entire series makes me wish the Yankees would ditch their uptight facial hair regulations already, though. Everything is more fun with beards!
*There’s plenty of time to think about this later and it’s not a surprise anyway, but according to Jon Heyman, the Yanks plan to bring back Joe Girardi. I’m okay with this. Girardi has definitely made his share of mistakes this postseason, but so has every manager. I don’t think there’s been anything fireable. He won the World Series last year and made the ALCS this year (…as of this writing), and although the ghost of George Streinbrenner would disagree, to me, you don’t fire a guy coming off that kind of success unless he does something really crazy/egregious/criminal. Despite what I might end up yelling at the TV during the 8th inning tonight, I think Joe’s been solid.
I wish he’d eat something though. Dude looks gaunt.
*Via LoHud, Robbie Cano hopes Melky Cabrera can rejoin the Yanks next year. I… don’t hope that, but I still have warm feelings for the Melkman and I hope he lands on his feet. He was fun to watch for a while, had some big plays and big hits for the Yanks over the years (remember that catch on a would-be Manny Ramirez homer just over the left field wall? I do, and I bet Manny does), and I think he could still help some team, at least from the bench.
*It’s easy to overlook in the heat of a white-knuckle eighth-inning playoff relief appearance, but Kerry Wood’s got a pretty great story. Tragic, redemptive, all that stuff.
*It is genuinely kinda depressing how many fans left Yankee Stadium early in Games 3 and 4. I mean, in the ninth of a blowout, I get it. But while it’s still close? In the ALCS? I don’t generally go the fan-police route: I stay til the better end because I’m an obsessive and hate the idea of missing anything — but it’s supposed to be fun, and if you need to leave for work or school or sleep or whatever, you do what you have to do. But the streams of people fleeing before the end warlier this week were pretty embarassing. It’s easy enough for most of the country to hate Yankee fans, no need to load the gun for them.
*Nick Swisher, according to ESPN NY: “If one more guy asks me about Cliff Lee, I’m gonna punch him right in the (bleeping) mouth.” Heh.
Here’s hoping the baseball goes well enough tonight to get us baseball tomorrow night, and cause for Swisher to spaz out some more.
Lasting Yankee Stadium Memories is out. Check, check it out.
Meanwhile, dig Richard Ben Cramer’s essay from the book. It’s priceless:
By Richard Ben Cramer
My grandfather took me to my first game at The Stadium. Not baseball: the Cleveland Browns against the New York Football Giants. I lived in Rochester and, as a consequence, I was a Browns fan. As to whether this was right and proper, I thought not at all. I knew nothing about sports marketing and could not have cared less if small-market Rochester had been gerrymandered into the Browns’ TV-turf as a sop to get the Modells’ vote for the television package. I was 14, and I loved Jim Brown.
By modern standards, I was still a casual fan. Football was more fun to play than to watch, and I lived in a neighborhood with wall-to-wall kids. There was a backyard game every Sunday, so I probably missed more Browns’ games than I saw. But even I knew that this would be a big game: December football; the Browns had to win it to get to the championship. It was also a revenge game: the Giants had beaten the Browns two-straight (the final game of the season and a special playoff) to get to the ‘58 championship, said to be the greatest ever played. I knew the Browns would have beaten the Colts, and, dutifully, I reviled the Giants.
I was stunned by the ballpark. My notion of a stadium was Red Wing Stadium, where the Rochester AAA ballteam played. But this was something else—vast and powerful, filled with sixty thousand fans, and the tangy scent of smoke mixed with alcohol (which I wouldn’t smell again till I could go into bars), and noise like I’d never heard in my life. I couldn’t even describe the noise—a wailing screech?—ebbing and then rising as loud as a jet plane. I fell silent. I felt tiny.
But the Browns gave me courage. As I remember, the game was tight, with the Browns clinging to a nervous lead by the half—at which point some kind of miracle transpired. Suddenly, the Browns could do no wrong, and for the Giants, nothing went right. Title was intercepted for a score. Jim Brown caught a pass and waltzed into the end zone. The Giants fumbled, the Browns scored…and again…and again…and I was whooping and cutting up just as loud as I could, just like the (suddenly silent) New York fans…or so I imagined—it only showed how little I understood.
When the Browns’ back-ups scored again, and their score climbed to more than 50 points, I asked my grandfather (rather too loudly) if that big Longines scoreboard could show three digits for the visiting team. A couple of New York fans turned around and gave me the look that was my real introduction to Yankee Stadium. I had known for about the last quarter that they probably wanted me to shut up. But their look now didn’t say, “shut up.” What it said was they wanted to kill me. What is said was this was the worst moment of their lives and if I didn’t shut up they might forget how unutterably sad they were, and have another drink, and kill me for sure.
I shut up. I feared them. But I also respected them. No one I knew felt that way about their team. And they taught me something important, which was the dire seriousness of New York sports—which is what the old Stadium was about.
Amen.
I find myself torn on the issue of Joe Girardi returning to manage the Yankees in 2011. If the Yankees can complete a comeback over the next two days and make it back to the World Series, then I suppose that the Yankees will make every effort to re-sign him. Two Series appearances in two years, along with a general approval rating from his players, should be enough for Girardi to begin his fourth season as Yankee manager. Then again, for all of his intelligence and attention to preparation, Girardi continues to show an alarming lack of feel for in-game managing, a trait that could cost the Yankees dearly during the string of short series that make up the postseason.
Girardi’s dubious strategies took center stage in Game Four of the ALCS, when the Yankees coughed up a 3-2 lead on their way to a disastrous 10-3 loss. Mark Teixeira’s strained hamstring forced Girardi into making an unwanted move–replacing his star first baseman with a pinch-runner during a budding rally. Girardi had several choices. He could have summoned his fastest runner, Greg Golson, who could have taken over in right field, with Nick Swisher moving to first base. Or he could have tapped Austin Kearns, a decent runner and capable right fielder. Instead, Girardi called on Marcus Thames, a relatively slow runner (who hasn’t stolen a base since 2007) and a brutal defender in the outfield.
So what was Girardi thinking? He probably wanted to maintain a good hitter in Teixeira’s spot in the batting order, hence the decision to summon Thames. Unfortunately, that left Thames, the team’s worst fielding outfielder, having to play right field in the sixth inning of a one-run game. Lo and behold, Vlad Guerrero led off the sixth with a single to right on a ball that conceivably could have been caught by the swifter Golson or the more agile Kearns.
The better move would have been to play Golson or Kearns in right field through the next turn in the batting order. At that point, Girardi could have used Thames, or even Jorge Posada, as a pinch-hitter. Or he could have used Thames to pinch-hit for Lance Berkman when the Rangers brought in lefty Derek Holland. Bottom line, Girardi needed to think quickly in pinch-running for the injured Teixeira, and he chose the worst available option. It was as if Girardi was worried about running out of players, even with three backup outfielders at his disposal.
It’s not chilly this morning, it’s cold. New York, end of October.
Tonight, down in Texas, where the weather is sure to be more hospitable for playing baseball, Phil Hughes and the Yanks look to extend their season.
The Rangers, of course, look to advance to the Whirled Serious for the first time in franchise history.
No pressure…
Hard to imagine the Giants beating Roy Halladay twice–and to go to the Whirled Serious? Just don’t see it. But then again, they’ve got the Freak on their side so it’s not out of the question by any stretch. Anything can happen and often does.
I’ll be listening on the radio because I’ve got Cablevision and Fox is blocked-out.
Let’s Go Base-ball.
Straight out the Bay Area…
… That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all, no matter how gaddamn sick you get of that stupid tune, and wish it would just go perch somewhere else already.
I hate Emily Dickenson.
I am not much of a fan of optimism. I prefer to expect the worst, thereby avoiding disappointment and allowing for the possibility of a pleasant surprise. As far as I’m concerned Pandora, opening that famous Box of hers a second time to release Hope, as the story goes, showed a truly staggering inability to learn from past mistakes. So when the Yankees lost Game 4, I figured, yeah, they were toast. And I have not changed my mind about that, but I was thrilled to see them win yesterday, anyway – because that means we get one more game.
It’s starting to turn chilly and gray and dark out there. The wind’s getting colder. It’s gonna be a long winter, because every winter is a long winter. But at least we get one more hunk of American League baseball before that happens, and if it turns out to be a four-hour slog that’s just fine with me, because soon there will be a months-long string of zero-hour slogs. So let Charlie Manuel and Ron Washington make a dozen pitching changes apiece; let the batters step out and call time over and over again until the announcers start whining; make these puppies last.
And as much as I strive for negativity… well, of course you never know. I actually felt pretty good about the Yanks’ chances yesterday, because of C.C. Sabathia, who even when he’s off his game can usually hold things together. I feel considerably worse about Phil Hughes’ odds, but it’s not like I haven’t seen stranger things happen. Hell, I saw stranger things happen on the subway this morning.
Damn. Shut up, you feathered nitwit.
Anyone ‘member this dope Underground Record from Houston, mid-late-’90s? It’s a good ‘un.
When I was in third or fourth grade, I saw my first porno magazine, I think it was Hustler. My friend Kevin O’Connor kept it under the front porch of his house. It was water-logged and you could barely turn the pages without ripping them. Not long after, an older kid who lived up the street sold me two Penthouse magazines. I hid them in a bookshelf but not well enough and soon enough my mother found them.
Now my mother had a liberal view of nudity having grown up in the Belgian Congo but that didn’t mean she approved of pornography. In fact, she was horrified. And pissed.
Still, I protested.
“Ma, I’m just using the pictures so I can learn how to draw the female body.”
She took the magazines away. Then she told the old man. He didn’t say a word about it but the next day, he left me three pictures clipped together–clean pictures–with a note, “You can draw these.”
Somehow, that felt worse than just having them taken away or even being punished.
Couldn’t help but remember this scene this morning when I read that Bob Guccione died.
Over at PB, Steve Goldman reflects back on the 1958 Whirled Serious. The Yanks won, coming back from a 3-1 hole:
Casey did some things that Joe Girardi can’t do. He can’t/won’t ask CC Sabathia to pitch in every game, he can’t ask Mariano Rivera to throw four innings—hell, it seems like he can’t ask Rivera to throw at all—but Joe also has some things that Casey didn’t have, like a bullpen stocked with pitchers, some of whom aren’t Sergio Mitre or Dustin Moseley. He has far more freedom to make moves with pitchers than Stengel had, and at much less of a risk to anyone’s health. In short, if there is any lesson to be taken away from the 1958 World Series, it is this: HEY, JOE: QUICK HOOK.
Back to the (immediate) future, Cliff wasn’t moved by yesterday’s Yankee win:
Perhaps its because, even if they do come back to tie this series, they’ll still have to beat Cliff Lee in Game Seven to win it. Perhaps its because, after being dominated by the Rangers for four games, a single win, even a lop-sided one such as the 7-2 Game Five, doesn’t carry enough weight to restore balance to the series. Whatever it is, Game Five felt like a repeat of Game Three of the 2007 Division Series against the Indians, a face-saving but empty victory that did little other than postpone the inevitable series loss suffered in the following game.
The games are on too late, then they are on too early. Today, the Yankees played a rare afternoon playoff game and I caught the first couple of innings at work. Then I was on the subway and the streets for the middle innings, listening to the radio call, looking down at my cell phone at Game Day, cursing and cajoling loudly, talking to guys on the subway about the score. Got home for the end of it and then re-watched what I’d missed, thanks to Tivo.
Technology is a funny thing, huh?
Now, Jorge Posada is legend around these parts as one of the worst base runners we’ve ever encountered. It’s not just that he doesn’t have good instincts, Posada runs as if he thinks he’s much faster than he is, so he makes aggressively poor mistakes.
Welp, it was a sign of good things when Posada singled home Alex Rodriguez in the second inning, and then came home when the Rangers threw the ball around the infield like little leaguers. Posada looked like a dead duck running to third on a base hit by Curtis Granderson, and then he looked cooked when he bolted home. But Posada was safe, the Yanks had an early lead, and the fates were with the home team today as the Yanks live to see another day.
Final Score: Yanks 7, Rangers 2.
Robbie Cano hit another dinger–yes, the man is on the fuegs–and Nick Swisher and Curtis Granderson added solo shots. Alex Rodriguez and Lance Berkman also had some good at-bats and the offense finally looked like its old self. Berkman gave us a scare when his legs slipped out from under him tracking a foul ball, and he wiped out on the warning track near. He stayed in the game but will be feelin’ it in the a.m.
CC Sabathia gave up eleven hits, didn’t have his A-stuff, but he delivered the kind of “gritty, gutty” performance that is worthy of an Ace. Kerry Wood was dynamite in relief. He threw two scoreless innings–including a pick-off of Elvis Andrus at second base (what was the kid thinking?)–and then Mariano Rivera gave us that peaceful, easy feeling one more time as he closed the door in the 9th.
There will be another game. Friday Night Lights, deep in the heart of Texas.
[Photo Credit: Photo by Al Bello/Getty Images]
CC and Yanks, do or die, ’nuff said:
Go git ’em boys. We’ve got your back.
Let’s Go Yan-Kees!
Here’s the line up:
