I'm not Johnny Seasoned Traveller, but I've been in my fair share of airports, mainly for work trips. But no matter how many different terminals I've been in, I've NEVER been able to master airport security. I've tried everything to make it more seamless, less painful. But unless I want to bite the bullet and subscribe to the idea of flipflops as legitimate footwear, or leave my laptop at home, then it's never easy.
The shoe and computer removal kills me everytime, and no matter how fluid I try to make things, it's awkward, stilted and with no real gratification (well, aside from the knowledge that the plane is safe).
Anyways, that's how these 2 days of baseball were like. Long. Arduous. Nothing really coming easy. And while it was ultimately an important set of wins, it didn't make me feel as satisfied as it should have, for some reason. I don't know why.
Maybe because it seemed like a hell of a lot of work just to get through them. After the game was suspended yesterday (WHERE THE F IS THE METRODOME AT?), I was a little nervous that it wouldn't have worked out to the Yanks' favor. AJ didn't even seem to notice it was pouring buckets, and was dealing as good as ever. 5IP, 3 hits, 5Ks. He's so impressive in jams. Like how Mac helps Dennis out of jams in "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.")
I generally assume that MLB will do ANYTHING to finish off a game and avoid suspending it if at all possible. I also figure that calling it at the 5 inning mark at all costs is like the worst possible thing in the world. I don't know how this is at all fair. I never understood that rule.
But the second the rain game delay graphic thing jumps to the corner of the UPN 9 screen, I didn't even remotely entertain delusions that this would be resumed. It looked treacherous out there, and I can't imagine that the grounds crew in Minnesota is in any way equipped and capable of a swift field preservation. It'd be like Girardi walking up to Mo before a game and saying, "Change of plans. You're gonna start. CC's gonna close. I'm gonna need to you go at least 7. Suit up."
It's a pretty meh game, considering it was 0-0. Probably because you couldn't really tell whether the 0-0-ness was on account of the rain or the pitching excellence. Also, I didn't want to get too emotionally invested since I was near positive that my Tuesday night baseball viewing experience was going to be ripped out from under me. It was, and subsequently became my Wednesday lazy afternoon baseball listening experience.
As me and my dad drove back from the batting cages, we listened to Sterling and Waldman recap (sort of) the conclusion of the suspended game.
(You know what's weird, on a side note? The people who had tix for Tuesday's game didn't get to go back on Wednesday for the 2nd half of the game. Instead, people who had tix for the Wednesday game had the option of coming 2 hours early and seeing it a little extra baseball before the scheduled programming resumed. Apparently only 25% of said fans were interested in a game they didn't get to see the beginnning of.)
So Waldman gets all giddy and excited talking about how Jeter single-handedly won it for the Yanks. First, in the 2nd AB of the game, he drills one out 414 feet into the bullpen. However, it was pretty amusing, the egregious lack of the use of the word "Jeterian." Probably on account of the fact it was the least Jeterian thing in the world. A moon shot to LEFT CENTER! WHAT?!?!
Wait, it gets weirder. I'm not kidding.
In the bottom of the inning, D-Rob walks Morneau, Kubel doubles to left, and with 2 outs/runners on 2nd and 3rd, Jeter nabs a grounder by Young to make the final out.
No, that's not the weird part. It's in what he said after the game:
"It's not that that play is a given. I think a lot of people think that's an
easy play to make."
Jeter patting himself on the back?? Pointing out his amazingness? Seriously?
He also was being funny before the game! Everything is weird. And the full moon isn't even til tomorrow.
Jeter walks by Girardi during the pregame media briefing and makes fun of reporters by jokingly asking him, "Joe, have you hit the panic button yet?"
That's pretty funny. I had no idea Jeter had it in him. I kind of thought that if you cut him open, you'd find wires.
So Mo comes in, saves the game. Yanks win 1-0.
Twins take early 1-0 lead. I just can't put my finger on it, but everything seemed like it took a lot of work. EXCEPT from Cano. When me and my dad got back home and turned the game on, we're just in time to see some fantastic run-saving play from Cano, after a hard grounder goes through Pettitte's leg and up center.
"He's good, that Cano. He makes it look so effortless."
Word. But not so much for the rest of the squad. A part of me dies inside as I write this, but I think Centerstage put it best, and I don't mean the YES show, but the movie about the ballerinas. Don't judge me.
"You make it look like work. I need to see the movement, not the effort behind
Anyways, ONCE AGAIN, Kevin Russo comes to the rescue, and believe me when I say this is not exactly the way I envisioned the Yankees 2010 season playing out. While the Red Sox are pounding out homerun after homerun against scrubs like the Rays, the Yanks are scraping up wins by Russo Ribbies. Which, btw, sounds like a Caldor brandname for wife beaters.
I don't care, our Karate Kid left fielder is playing like he's scared shitless of getting DFAed. I like that kind of palpable fear of authority and respect for work.
There were kind of odd numbers for this game:
- The Yanks were 0 for 9 with RISP. The Twinks 1 for 6.
- Pettitte gave up 8 hits in 8IP with 4 Ks. Liriano struck out 7 in 8 IP, gave up 8 hits. Both gave up 2 runs a piece. Watching the game made it look like Liriano was dominating Pettitte, and it just goes to show you that high K counts will eclipse getting out of jams in terms of superficial appearance. But when it comes down to it, I want the pitcher who can wiggle out of shit, even if he isn't blanking them in the box.
- The Yanks took 142 pitches. The Twinks took 105.
- Our bottom half of the order's BA is .320. The top half is batting .268.
- Mariano Rivera logged 2 saves in less than 4 hours. He's so cool.
'Sides, Pettitte was head-on aggressive when it counted. He got Young in a run-down in the bottom of the 7th, ran straight at him with the ball and speedy Cano chased him down. I love pickles. I hated running pickle drills in softball, and I hate pickles the food. But I love watching the frenzy of all those people trying to corner one poor runner.
The Twinks tie it up in the bottom of the 7th. Young doubles to score Cuddyer. (My mom: "CUD-dee-er? Who is that? He's SO ADORABLE.")
Swish comes in and for some reason he spent most of the game beating himself up a LOT. Like I'm pretty sure there was an audible F@$#! after he popped up. (I have no idea why blogger just automatically made that into a hyperlink?) In fact, Swish was acting so manic that I wondered if the facepaint under his eyes was actually some kind of bruise or black eye from a bar fight.
So in the top of the 9th with 2 outs, I was mumbling game commentary to my youngest sister who I'm pretty sure was giving me courtesy nods of acknowledgement as she dutifully wrote out graduation thank you notes.
"Swisher better hit a homerun here! He's been useless all game."
Because I have the maturity of a weevil, I get overly excited whenever someone "calls" a shot. Almost to the point of making the person regret ever calling it. "OMG, YOU SAID YOU'D HIT THAT LAST CUP! AND YOU DID! HAS THAT EVER HAPPENED TO YOU? ARE YOU EXCITED? WHY ARE YOU NOT MORE EXCITED??"
As such, I get equally happy when I do it. What, that's not bad.
Mo comes in again, closes it out. Yanks win 3-2.
Yes, the bleeding stopped. Finally. For now. But I'm nowhere near comfortable right now. I'm basically on par with being in an airborn plane right after it takes off, and I have to go to the bathroom but I can't yet since the seatbelt sign is still on. So I can't really get involved doing something else or too settled in until I go to the bathroom. It's physically comfortable, mostly, but the main discomfort stems from the inability to settle in.
This is kinda like that. Though I guess if you were a Yankee, you'd say your main discomfort stems from the inability to get on base.
Let's work on that.