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Oh, THERE you are, Yankees!


Ok, so everyone can calm down, yeah? Do all teams do this, or do I just notice when the Yanks do it--that whole thing where they go on a little bit of a slump, and then they snap out of it in spades. Like, they can't just win 5-3 to placate all the rer-ur-rer-ur alarms going off.

If this were a 48 Hours episode, there'd be a Bronx cop saying something like, "This was definitely a crime of passion. You don't stab someone 12 times unless you're trying to make a point." 

I picked the number 12 in that last sentence because that's how many runs the Yankees scored, compared to Baltimore's 3. ("Well, then! This would more now, wouldn't it!") 

The highlights include:

Cano hitting a grand slam. I feel like there have been a lot of salamis this season (pause). By my count, it was the 37th GS this year. So either my counting is wrong (which is probably is, since numbers are confusing) or there actually HAVENT been a lot this year.

On average, there's about 135 salamis a season, so that would mean that...whatever, why am I doing this, it's making my head spin, so I can only imagine what it's doing to a head that isn't conditioned to weather my manic streams. Don't listen to me. Bottom line, Cano hit a grand slam!

There were about a million hits for the Yanks, suffice to say that everyone except for Chavez and the new guy McGehee had at least one hit. Most people hat multiple hits (yeah, pick it up, Casey. He must feel so inadequate. He comes to the Yankees from the soup kitchen of trading chips that is Pittsburgh, and he's probably thinking, "Ok they're not playing too hot, so it's not like I can HURT them. I can only help them. This is perfect." 

He was okay, actually. It just looks funny in the box score. He chopped off his beard, and was 0 for 2. Those two clauses were unrelated. I think, anyway. Unless his beard is his source of run production. You never know. Maybe he kept some stubble. He did hit a sac fly, and had 2 walks. Not completely useless. This is completely ridiculous, but I can't hear his name without this scene flashing across my mind. 

Yeah. Their names are sort of similar, but there is no reason for me to make this connection. No reason. 

The last part of this scene is kind of how I feel my mind operates sometimes.

Anyways. Phil Hughes got the win, and based on his own personal assessment of the game, you'd think he had either given up 10 runs in the span of 9 pitches, or that he otherwise single handedly lost it for them. In other words, you'd think he was Zach Britton. "I didn't pitch well at all. Didn't have good stuff. Didn't have good location..."

Alright, alright. Calm down. You let up ONE run. Relax. Justin Chamberlain, on the other hand, isn't beating himself up over his return to Yankee Stadium. He shouldn't, I guess. I know I'm supposed to be all YESSSS, He's BACK! But you know how I feel about this guy. And if you don't know...well, it's not favorable. Here's just the tip of the ice berg on the thousands of words I've wasted on the subject.

Justin, by the way, is about 2391 pounds. I'm glad to see he didn't limit anything in terms of food indulgence, while in his recovery rehab. You know what they say: starve a cold, feed a trampoline injury.

In 28 pitches, he gave up 2 runs (including a homerun), a walk, and four hits. It somehow seems fitting (which a word that probably has never seen the light of day in Joba Land). But fitting in the sense that everything about him is so engorged or something. Like a tick that  balloons with blood. 

But fortunately for Justin, the opposing starter gets all the credit for being the worst ever. That poor kid is never going to want to come back to the Bronx again. In his first foray at Yankee Stadium last July, he gave up 12 runs in the 1st inning, en route to a 17-3 loss. He ERA in the Bronx is comparable to a cabbie's flat fare to any major airport.

But you know what, this is the type of thing that Disney sports movies are made out. How many movies have I seen that begin with a time stamp, indicating it's in the past, and showing someone blowing a game...then another time stamp that indicates we're in the present day, and the game blower is inevitably working some crappy job. Because that's the natural evolution from screwing up once. Your life is relegated to working at a Mailboxes, Etc or something.

Basically Zach Britton will probably have his dare to be great moment. And he'll have an inspirational talk about how all that stuff is in the past, and you gotta believe in yourself. And then he'll probably get shellacked again, because this is the Bronx, where the pitcher's mound is the loneliest place in the world, and where opponents' dreams go to wither and die. 

So the Yankees restored a 6.5 game lead over the O's, mercifully. And I don't know a good segue into this, but it bears mentioning, which is that the Red Socks called the game yesterday in the 5th. When the Tigers were down by 3, with bases loaded. And I can't think of any more robust indication of the extent of Boston's patheticness. (Why does that not sound like a real word?)

It's like, they are so desperate for a win that they're all, "OKOKOKOKOK GAME OVER, WE'RE GOOD. NO MORE PLAYING. STOP. ... Oh! Look at that! We're in the lead! Well, that worked out well. Chuckle. Heh heh." 

Baseball's a funny game. 

And finally, I have exactly 10 days until the 5K at Yankee Stadium! Just to make it that much more interesting, it also falls 2 days after I'm having surgery. This should play out well.

In my head, anyway, I'm envisioning some kind of "The Natural"-esque scene, when Roy Hobbes' surgery from his bullet starts bleeding through his shirt, but he ends up doing good things anyway. And most of the time, things that play out in your head end up playing out the same exact way in reality. To this end, I conclude that nothing could possibly go wrong. 

Cheers to breaking the 4 game losing streak!

ANNNNDDD special shout-out/cheers to my boys Ollie and HisDudeness, in light of the upcoming Mariner's series at home. Which means, of course, the long awaited return of Ollie's Tamales. 

Don't try to wrap your head around that, it's never going to happen. Just accept the fact that there is an Oliver Perez fan club. See ya, suspension of disbelief.

1 Comment:

  1. Infantry_169 said...
    I've been in the hospital for my own surgery this week, couldn't read your blog, now I'm laughing so hard I think my stitches are coming loose.

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