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I don't know what exactly happened here.

I'm blowdrying my hair, getting ready for Kevin's birthday, watching the game, and it's 0-0 for the first few innings, and I'm thinking, "Well this is pleasant. I like pitcher's duels."

Then it's 1-0 and it's less pleasant but there's also that tiny iota of devious excitement when the Yanks fall a little behind and you think, "Well you can't dramatic rallies and walkoffs without getting behind first!"

I change the channel for like HALF a second to check on the Lakers game, and it was like the baseball gods were punishing me for "honoring false idols" ie entertaining the notion that basketball is something worth diverting attention to.

It's 3-0, thanks a Shane Victorino homerun, and I'm wasn't there another game that started out similarly? Oh yeah. Wednesday's game. I seriously can't keep track of days anymore. I got out of a cab on Tuesday and told the driver to "have a good weekend!" This morning I actually told the driver to "have a great night!"

And just like Wednesday, Cano basically huffs and puffs, and is like, "Do I have to do EVERYTHING around here? Good grief." His ribbie single puts the Yanks on the board, and it's 3-1.

From there, things get confusing. Sometime while I was executing the laundry list of OCD tasks that prolong every departure from my apartment, the Yankees gave up about 298 runs.

Wait, not the Yankees. JOBA.

That was from my mom. No body copy. Just a subject line that said it all. I love when my mom emails me "late." It's like her version of texting, which I really wish my parents would get into. There's so many times when I think of something I want to tell them really quickly, like the other day when I wanted to tell my dad, "Cano just hit another homerun." This is the type of content perfect for texting, and instead I called the Pet Cemetery, pressed 4 for the crematory, spoke to the reception, "This is his daughter," was transferred, and all to say, "Um, yeah, no it's not important. I just wanted to say Cano is good."

Speaking of good and people who aren't good, Joba.

The pits.

Final score was 7-1 because he gave up 3 runs on 2 hits. Marte also let one in, by virtue of his Steve Dalkowski-esque work. (To be sure, I'm referring to his wild pitch that basically broke the backstop.)

But as much as Joba annoys the hell out of me, and as quick as I usually am to throw him under the bus, I DO have to say that the fact he hemorrhaged runs as soon as he took the mound, is more or less immaterial. Whether the score was 7-1 or 2-1 or 100-1, the Yankees lose because they couldn't get any runners in. Actually, let me revise that. They couldn't even put the runners on base to bring them in.

Kendrick's change-up predictably stifled then. I don't understand. Do the Yankees just take this attitude of "Ok, we're good at everything else. We're one of the best hitting, fielding, and pitching teams in the league. But we suck with pitchers we're not familiar with. Let's just chalk that one up to our one Achilles heel. No one's perfect."

Kinda like how I refuse to see Shawshank Redemption. I don't know why. I know it's the "best movie in the history of life."

(Or as Alan says, "It's so good I wish I pay $500 to get my brain cleaned from the memory of seeing it, so I could see it again for the first time.")

I just don't want to see it. I don't care if it betters my life. It's my issue of irrational stubbornness. And I guess that's what the "unfamiliar pitchers" problem is for the Yankees.

Pettitte was pretty good, except for that pitch to Victorino that Andy MORE than sufficiently beat himself up over. The Yanks were 1-4 with RISP. Sad. They only got 4 hits the whole game, yet managed to leave 5 runners stranded. I don't even know how this is possible.

They also weren't exactly sitting on pitches. The Yanks took 131 on the day....the Phillies--170.

So there's that. Amid all this, the Lakers won the NBA finals for the 2nd year in a row. I don't watch a whole lot of basketball, but from what I've seen, it was the weirdest Game 7 ever. I couldn't see it really on account of there by only 1 TV in the downstairs of the bar (luckily the lion's share of my buddies are over 6 ft, so I was like a little kid tugging at their sleeves every 2 seconds, "Strange, um, yeah could you tell me the score?... ok what about now, Strange? What's the score now? How much time is left?"

But the Lakers rallied from being behind 11, and also rallied without the aid of their series MVP. I was reading about it today, and a lot was written on how Gasol should have been MVP since Kobe's only good game was in a loss. That kills me, because it's a classic lose-lose. When Kobe goes crazy and has 40 point games, everyone lambasts him for being a diva egomaniac. When he spreads the ball around and takes a backseat, then everyone's like, Ooh where was Kobe tonight? Only 12 points? He's overrated!

It's sort of like what my coworker Gerry said about 3B yesterday, which was absolutely brilliant:

It is impossible to look bad at third base. Every play is either amazing or a great effort. Right.
If they catch a screaming Gashouse Gorillas liner, they either make a diving acrobatic,
Graig Nettles stab, block it with their body, or, are lucky enough have it hit right where
their mitt was resting when the rocket took off.
If they miss, its like, OOOHHH that was a hot shot! What a great try!
Everything hit to third is dangerous, unless its a slow roller, then its like,
"oh man he barehanded it, what a play" (or what a great try)
They get more credit than they deserve, and they take it
They cut in front of the SS, they don't run down the LF line for popups, they leave that to 'lesser' players.
Which translates to 'I will take THIS one..nice...or Uhhhm that looks to take that one".

And yet, I still find the fact a soccer game can end in a tie--as it did this morning between USA and Slovenia--a more insidious element than all of this combined.

Now I wait for tonight, where Javy goes against some decent Japanese pitcher whose name I can't remember. God, we need to sweep them. My head hurts too much right now to mentally handle a loss to the Mutts.

Cheers! and Happy Friday!!!


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