"It's great to be young and a Yankee."

So I'm thinking Wank's sinker ball isn't quite as effective as it has been historically. The way I can tell is that I'm not seeing as many ground-outs as I am grandslams. So, I just put 2 and 2 together.

Yankee Stadium is quickly replacing Coors as the HR-friendly (nay, HR-promiscuous) ballpark. I remember when Cleveland beat the Yanks August 31, 2004. That was a bad day. At least we scored 4 runs yesterday, on the plus side.

It was quasi-fitting, because the game that never ended ran on a parallel track to the day that never ended. I made the daring decision to venture down the 5 flights of stairs for the first time since Thursday, so I could watch the Rangers game. (I love how my reasoning for dragging my rubber leg out of the house was because it was too nice a day to spend indoors...only to continue dragging my rubber leg straight to the nearest bar.)

After seeing how long and arduous it was to actually get down the stairs, I was in absolutely no rush to get back up them, which amounted to me having a day about as neverending as the Yanks debacle. I'm lucky my sister's friends completely overlook the fact that I'm 100% a tagalong. You know how a drunk person looks 1000x drunker with the hiccups? Or how single person looks 1000x more single with a cat and Ben & Jerry's? Well, a tagalong looks 1000x more like a tagalong with crutches. Which was me yesterday. And for some reason I couldn't leverage the crutches into getting a table at the Boat Basin (although I did get the oversized handicap stall in the bathroom every time).

It seemed that everything yesterday worked out awesome, starting with my phone powering off while the Yanks were still riding the 2-0 Teixiera-built lead. Which meant that I was spared from a bunch of ESPN alerts humping themselves on my phone every time Cleveland popped another one out the park. The Rangers pulled off another win (???)--not even going to try to wrap my head around that one. And I guess all of Manhattan felt the same way because I couldn't "walk" [sic] 15 feet without hearing "YEAH, LUNDQVIST!" (In retrospect, I think I probably just looked like I was a few crayons short of a box, hobbling down the street in a hockey jersey and windpants at 2am. So now I'm thinking I was just getting the same ilk of reception that Kevin got from Holly in "The Office.")

Quite the life I've carved out for myself...