Probably should have mentioned I was going to be off the grid for a week.
But it was one of those weeks where you think 24 hours in a day is more than enough time to get everything done..until it's 6am and you realize you have so much left to do that you need to write a to-do list to keep from going crazy, except you don't have time to write a to-do list, and you're mad because if you DID have time, you'd put "write to-do list" on the list.
Yeah, it's not making any sense to me, either. Suffice to say that the Yankees took their first W on my sister's 30th birthday, and that night put me out of commission for the weekend.
Then Monday came, as it is want to do, and even though I've done 1,666 of them so far, this particular transition from weekend-to-week felt like it should have had one of those cartoon soundtracks where part II of the William Tell Overture abruptly screeches into Flight of the Bumblebee or soemthing.
Anyways, that's neither here nor there. It's purgatory. Normally scheduled blogging will resume tomorrow for the A's series. To recap* the last week:
*I just realized that the last time I recapped anything, by conventional "recap" definitions and standards, was probably circa SAT prepping. Now my version of "recap" is like the "throw-away-obviously-wrong" multiple choice option in a reading comprehension quiz.
"What is the best way to summarize last night's Yankee win?"
a.) The Yankees beat the Orioles on Sunday.
b) The Yankees shut out the Orioles in a 3-0 victory.
c.) The Yankees's 3-0 victory over the O's was fueled by Kuroda's 5th career shut out, and GGBG's 2-run bomb.
d.) I have a love/hate relationship with starts that feature two Asians, because I love slash hate the post-game "said through a translator"s. Also, I just found out what YOLO stands for.
(It stands for You Only Live Once. Also, FOMO means Fear Of Missing Out. I don't like either of the terms, though I am pleased I can add them underneath "Intensive Purposes" and "touche" on the list of "Long Overdue Epiphanies About Words.")
Check. Here's what I got on last week:
Yankees avoided a sweep at the hands of Boston, and Mariano Rivera came out of the bullpen, and my heart leapt. And then I texted Hug because he bet me last year we've seen the last of #42. I was so happy, that the "fear-of-reminding-someone-of-a-deal-a-long-time-later-is-met-with-oh-you-were-serious-about-that-I-totally-forgot-about-it" was completely muted.
Yankees took off for Detroit, and the "fear-of-being-shut-out-ALCS-style" was not completely muted. Detroit terrifies me. I said it. 1st in BA and OBP...7th in SLG? Yeah, Detroit terrifies me because in my head they are how movies portray the Yankees: evil, powerhouses of invincibility. Run manufacturers don't scare me. But apparently that's what Detroit is. I need someone to check under the bed for HR stats before I go to sleep.
Two losses. Then a win. In terms of SAT questions, that is a pattern I could identify.
LLWLLW_ _ _
Shows what I know! WWWW. 4 wins. (Oh, and speaking of run-manufacturing: Oakland. It's the 2013 Team That Begins With the Letter O That We Will Spend All Year Asking If They Are For Real Up Until the Point Where It Gets Ridiculous Because They Have Secured a Playoff Spot.
11-1 is pretty good, though. Admittedly, if I were an A's fan, I'd be already thinking about logo designs for the "161-1" trademark. (That sounded snarky, but I'm being dead serious.)
Whatever, as long as it's not the Royals. I am so, so sick of EVERY year some sect of "analysts" that analyze as well as I "recap," decide that the Royals are the team of which everyone should be scared. They're 7-5! Everyone is 7-5! Seriously, there's the Braves, the "7 and 5"-ers, and the Padres. That's the league right there.
The Padres got into a big fight with the Dodgers, and Greinke broke his collar bone. Matt from Finance: "WELL, HE WASN'T SO SHY THEN, WAS HE?" Ha. Yeah, Greinke's got to get his story straight about his aw shucks social awkwardness.
To boot, he acted like he could NEVER play in NY, when in reality Greinke was basically like, "Hi Yankees? It's Zach. We met at the Dresdin, uh, tonite. And um I just called to say I had a great time. And you should, uh, call me tomorrow. Or um, in 2 days. Or whatever. Anyways, my number is 555--" BEEP. And then 5 more calls later and Cashman picks up, and is like, "Zach? Don't ever call us again."
Moving on, the Yanks head to Cleveland, and Girardi has a shit fit about scheduling, a la Mike Mussina style, because two of the games were canceled, and the Powers That Be have some Goddamn nerve making the Yankees play in a cold climate at night so early in the season.
Here's what I don't get about scheduling complaints: it's not supposed to be easy. It's supposed to be hard. (Pause). As Jimmy Doogan said, "The hard is what makes it good." (Pause.)
On the other hand, Joe makes a pretty strong case for himself: "I mean, it’s snowing in Minnesota and the Mets are there. I don’t know who can make the best snowman."
Well...sure. I mean, really, there is nothing that boils the blood more than a snowman making contest that lacks a clear victor. That and this.
Two games played in Jacobs Field, both won, by a combined score of about 103-3. Cheers, Kuroda and Pettitte.
The Week Where the Time Continuum Got Lost in the Shuffle came to a close mercifully on Friday, aka MY FIRST GAME OF THE YEAR! First game with Matt from Finance Dept.!
Saw the triple play, and I love the other fans who erupted like we won game 7, and then frantically looked around pleading, "DID EVERYONE JUST SEE WHAT JUST HAPPENED?" It was pretty sick.
The play featured six throws and was ultimately scored a 4-6-5-6-5-3-4 triple play -- the first such play in Major League history. It was the first triple play for the Yankees since April 22, 2010, against the Athletics and the first at home since June 3, 1968, against Minnesota.
"That was awesome," said starter CC Sabathia, the main beneficiary of the triple play. "Any time you get a triple play, you're fired up."
Ha: the "first triple play since 2010." This is why people hate the Yankees. Because up until Friday, there were 3-year-olds walking around thinking they'd never get to see a triple play in their lifetime.
Yanks lose Saturday with Hughes, make it up on Sunday with the aforementioned 3-0 shutout. Bringing the Yankees to 6-5, but the most stellar 6-5 in the league. Because the way people talked about them, that's 6 more wins than everyone expected them to have. Actually, 8 more, really.
The team is being propelled by the spunk and youthful panache of Vernon Wells, Travis Hafner, and Youkilis. Yes, the Yanks' offensive stats are at the top of the AL, 3rd in MLB.
It's like a mix tape you make a significant other in high school, where nothing belongs together, yet there was a method to the madness that may produce some harmonic fluidity.
But this is coming from someone who'd put Velvet Underground and Sinatra and Weezer in succession and not think twice about it.
And if I wasn't having a hard enough time already making sense of who I'm seeing play, tomorrow everyone will be wearing #42. This confuses the hell out of me every. single. time. Significantly more than it should.
(And to say nothing of the fact that I don't even know which of them wins in a snowball fight.)
I'm watching these games with my head cocked, with this perpetual dumbfounded expression of "Huh. Look at that." Good or bad. Look at that.
And in the middle of everything, I'll get these excited email updates from yankees.com etc, like reminding me the hired guns still exist:
Tex says he's going to consider picking up a batting glove first week in May!
Granderson makes first steps towards cleats, predicts early June shoe tie!
Jeter says hi!"
Then a requisite follow-up mass email blast like, "Btw...Arod. What's up with that guy, right??"
So that's what I got. I mean, for tonight anyway. Interleague play starts against the D-backs, and I want to see something good happen with Nova. If I can pick him out of the scores of #42s running around all over the place.
Ok, irish exiting out of this post. Sort of. Til tomorrow night..!
Esse bonum. Incumbe. Facere rectum.