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

"Why did the yanks let Tomko go?"

"He's Brad Halsey."

"He looks better than Mitre."

"I think probably Stephanie Tanner looks better than Mitre."

"Then you're not really answering my question."

"I think it's hard to justify holding onto a reliever who gets taken deep 2x every 9 innings of work."

--Exchange with Kevin via text

* * * *

“I don’t think I got a fair shot. I pitched great in spring training and didn’t make the team. I pitched great in the minors, got called up and didn’t get much of a chance. I understand other guys are pitching great. But it could have been different. I can’t see the point in coming back.”
--BRETT TOMKO

* * * *

My dad used to tell me and my sisters whenever we dropped the "no fair!" whine:

"It's not fair? Well, lemme ask you this: If you add an even number and an even number, what do you get?"

"Um, an even number?"

"But if you add an odd number and an odd number, what do you get?"

"...an even number.."

"Yeah, and is THAT fair? Ok, then."

Whether he actually found this to be a logical rebuttal, or whether its purpose was to stymie us with its sheer absurdity, it worked. And stuck with me.

Someone should have imparted this little bit of wisdom to Tomko. Dude, you're a Major League pitcher. You sound like one of the American Idol rejects who sings a painful rendition of some Alisha Keys song, and then is shellshocked with Simon tosses one of his hackneyed stomach punches out.

But tonight, the off-key pariah somehow scraped together a hit single and triumphantly put Simon in his place. Chalk one up for the jilted brat. Brett Tomko won't forget this night any time soon.

He is the loser who no one will let play beirut until he ends up having the only available ping pong ball, so you have to let him. And then he sucks all the fun out of the game, and you just roll your eyes and half pray to beat him, half pray to just have the game end period. Then he's got one cup left and he's obnoxiously acting like he's f-ing Shannon Sharpe all of a sudden. "I'm just gonna hit this and end it, that ok?"

And then he hits it.

Part of you feels like you lost some dignity by losing to this douche. Park of you feels relieved to just be done dealing with him. Part of you is angry he's celebrating when you know full well he sucks.

And then there's part of you that cedes a little, and applauds him for taking you down. Good for him. Maybe it's no skin off your nose, but he's always gonna have this moment when he dominated the assholes who have slighted him for so long. Let him have it, why not?

I've moved beyond my magnanimous graciousness towards Tomko and settled into cranky. 2 games in a row now.

It reallllly shows you how spoiled we've become.

People always say, "Yeah you expect nothing less than a win from the Yankees." And that goes for any real fan of their team. But lately, it's been more true than I ever remember it. I'm stunned by a loss, let alone consecutive ones. I'll even admit I felt a pang of panic (pangic?) over how the Sox are closing in.

I didn't see any of this game except for the top of the 9th, on account of being at the office til 11:30. Barely even could get a handle on the 880 broadcast. Between the radio, the Giants preseason GameDay window up, and, well, actual work, it was making my head spin.

I had to proofread my work about 329 times because I was so scared I was unconsciously writing things like, "Sign up to receive more information on symptom management, Bradshaw better play more this year, if we were winning I'd say oakland is jokeland. Dammit Tomko and offers on patient education materials."

The Yanks managed to knock out 7 hits, to the As' 6...four of which came in the first half of game. Conversely, the A's only had 1 hit through 4 and "exploded" (can you really call it that?) in the bottom of the inning for a paltry 3 runs, which happened to be exactly 3 more runs than the Yanks could squeeze out.

You can't fault the defense really, unless you want to harp on the balk. But eh, Carolina scored on a safety against the Giants tonight--it happens to the best of em. Speaking of best of em, Jeter goes 3-for-4. And CELLO! You got an ace! (Man, I love that line.)

Posada gets a hit on his bday. I hope he's not one of those people who needs everything to be perfect for their big day, because things didn't exactly play out too well tonight. But no one left the field feeling worse (I'm guessing) than Alex "SEE?!? I TOLD YOU! HA! HE SUCKS IN THE CLUTCH! I KNEW IT!" Rodriguez. Pshhh. To be clear, I'm quoting the inevitable assclown tomorrow who will be flapping his arms and jumping up and down shouting this nonsense.

ARod grounded into a 1-2-3 double play during the Yanks' big opportunity to get in the game. Bases loaded, 1 out. And DP city. You know what's sad? This game means a fraction of what the 15-inning Sux game meant. And despite that, I really think that his floudering today will void his heroics 2 weeks ago.

To some degree, I agree with this quote I heard once that I think Einstein said: "we are what we repeatedly do and as such, excellence is not an act but a habit." Consequently, ARod isn't on scholarship for the next month just because he hit a blast of cinematic proportions within the last month.

But...it. works. both. ways.

If we're not going to exempt him from failing in the clutch on account of previous displays of hitting in the clutch, we can't crucify him for failing in the clutch even AFTER he's demonstrated he does hit in the clutch.

I think Einstein also said, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results" which could be applied to the fact that, while mired in a surplus of sports stimuli at the office, I kept at my nervous game tic of flicking the brim of my hat, and every time I did this, my swollen eye reminded me not to. For whatever reason, I kept forgetting and still was kind of surprised each time it hurt.

Let's just move past this one. Maybe it was the baseball gods treating my old pal Duck to an early bday present. An unapologetic Sux fan and an even bigger Posada hater, he might be off somewhere swinging from the chandeliers with Tomko.

Touch em all, Tomko. You will never pitch a bigger game in your life.

No, but seriously. Well-played, #23.

And poor form, Yanks. Those were meatballs he was serving up, and you were like trying to spear them with a spoon. Giving you the benefit of the doubt despite your 0fer with RISP, I'm gong to assume it was a case of force of habit. Usually when you see Tomko take the mound, it means manufacturing runs is out of the question, because you're about to be in a sizable deficit that can only be remedied with some long balls.

Here's to taking the next 2 for the series. And here's to getting out of work early enough to see it.