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

Loss.

I dated a guy like 7 years ago who was a big Yankee fan, and we started dating right before the season ended (as is usually the case). In the nascent stages of our relationship, we went to go watch what ended up being the final game of the Yankees' season.

I wasn't 100% comfortable with watching an elimination game with some guy I was really into, because I was pretty sure it would be over as soon as it began if he saw how I acted in the first moments of the off-season.

But I did it. And what's worse, he wanted to watch it at the Riviera Cafe--a known Red Socks bar. And what's even worse than THAT was that the Yankees almost got perfect gamed by Kenny F'n Rogers, in his 67 year old glory.

I couldn't watch. It was physically painful. And I remember all of us Yankee fans pleading with him to leave the bar, so we wouldn't have to watch Detroit celebrating their big win over the Yanks, and so we wouldn't have to watch the Boston fans celebrate their big win over Yankee fans.

"Why would you want to leave? This is the last time we get to see the Yankees play baseball for another 5 months. I don't care if they're playing like shit. It's Yankee baseball, and I want to see them play."

Yeah, that sounds so poetic and all, and would make any diehard fan feel the same way an employee feels when someone says a meeting is "optional. It's up to you if you want to attend."

Anyways, I don't care how overtly devout he was, nor did I care that it may detract from any "fan credibility" I might have. Some games are just stupid, and as my mom famously said, Life’s too short to do the things you don’t want to do if you don’t have to do them, unless you have to do them, in which case, do them."

This was a stupid game. Of course I watched it, but unlike the profound if somewhat melodramatic ex, I didn't enjoy it. I don't  enjoy all Yankee baseball. This was one of those games.

And there are some games when the Yankees lose a crushing one, or get blown out, or any of these famed levels of loss. I've already cited the losses I've loved. But this game? Stupid.

It's not a winning/losing thing. It's a "blech" thing. Like this game should have had one of these on it:

Mr Yuk stickers. Would be kind of funny to use these as wedding invite envelope sealers, yeah?

This wasn't a Decoy game.

My favorite Decoys didn't show up, and instead it was the Granderson Almost Cycling Game.

Preston Claiborne gave up his first run ever (a ding to Wieters.)

Kuroda got hit with a line drive AGAIN, and had to be taken out in the 3rd.

He also gave up about 203 hits in the 2 innings he pitched, and basically like 85 of them were homeruns.

I don't know exact number, I think I remember announcer talking about the homeruns between both teams in this series, and it was upwards of 15 maybe?

OH, ALSO! The Baltimore Orioles consider themselves a division rival with the Yankees. There are 5 teams in the AL East, and Orioles are back 3 games. Tampa, 4 games. Toronto 9, and Boston nipping at our heels like the annoying bitches that they are, back half a game.

And that apparently makes the Os and the Yankees rivals. Stop trying to position yourself as relevant!

Actually, it's kind of funny. Or ironic, maybe, but I feel like I still haven't quite actually grasped the real definition of "irony." (That and "sublime.")

But ironic in the sense that Boston/NY fans will every now and then go into extended periods of eye rolling at the mention of the Greatest Rivalry in Sports.

And here's Baltimore, who would KILL to have be in a rivalry. They probably look at us and Boston fans thinking, "They don't even appreciate what they have!"

Ehh, maybe we can set you up with our friend, Baltimore? I mean, we know this nice team in Florida that's available. Pretty cute. They just started the whole online Rivalry.com thing, but I'm pretty sure they'd be into meeting you for a game, if you're interested?

The only thing I really liked about this game was the new kid hitting his 2nd bomb in 3 games. Every time a rookie is doing well, I can't help but imagine their parents watching the game and going crazy with pride and excitement. Congrats, Mr and Mrs Adams. Your kid is KATN-ing.

Cano singled in a run, Grandy's swing looked basically 400x better than it has in the last week.

As for our DIVISION RIVALS: no small ball for this group!

(Yeah, how come no one gets on THEIR case for the long ball? The Yankees win by going yard, and they're a bunch of overpaid useless roiders who are headed for an inevitable implosion/degeneration. Any other team does it, and it's wow! Isn't that refreshing? To see the little guys displaying all that power?)

Whatever. Markakis, Davis, and Wieters all took our pitchers deep. How unorginal is that? See, this is why this was such a stupid game to watch. Nothing interesting happened. One of the great things about baseball is that every single game is insanely unique.

(STOP. I know you're saying, yeah every sport is like that. No. Not like baseball, anyway. Tell me that the 2008 and 2012 Super Bowls weren't the same game, and then you can take your case to the DA.)

And this game wasn't unique. It wasn't a carbon copy of another game, per se, but it was unoriginal. Show me something good.

I guess if a 6-3 loss at the hands of Fake Hammel is all you can give me, then I'll take it. But only because I'll finish a book whether I like it or not. And I'll do the same for this kind of mumbo jumbo.

Yankees are off Thursday, and then back on Friday for a mega week of media bonanza fun. Our other DIVISION RIVALS are hosting us in Tampa. Then 4 games against our local rivals and little bros, the Mets. Then a weekend with the Socks.

(FYI, I'll be in Chicago starting Wednesday for ASCO, so my coverage may be spotty at best...I was going to say "in remission at worst" but you'll be happy to know even I have my limits.)

To sum up: I hope it thunderstorms like crazy tomorrow. If I can't watch baseball then I want a shitload of lightening.

See you on Friday!

Loss.

Isn't there a quote that's like, "Sometimes you eat the dog, sometimes the dog eats you?" I don't think I'm getting that right, because never do I eat a dog, nor does a dog ever eat me.

Ok, nevermind, I just looked it up. I may be mixing up something an old boyfriend used to always say whenever the Yankees won "Even the sun shines on a dog's ass once in a while" (which is probably the least applicable expression when it comes to the most successful team in the universe. That's right. I'm including all the planets.) with "Sometimes you eat the BEAR, sometimes the bear eats you."

My tendency to mess up cliches/expressions is straight up Mom genetics right there.

Mom was excited when the NY Times emailed her at midnight, alerting her to news of the Yankees advancing to the World Series.

Again, though. I never eat bear. That saying sucks, the only options are eating bear or getting eaten by one?

I googled it. Apparently spitball pitcher Preacher Roe said it while playing for the Dodgers in 1954, after being taken out of the game in 2nd inning.

Still makes no sense. WHAT BEAR? Why was there a grizzly pandemic in 1950s Brooklyn? Probably because people back then were apparently eating bear. An eye for an eye, hipsters. A tooth for a tooth.

By the by, I say we ate the bear because last night the calls were in our favor, the extra inning ended joyously, and it was my favorite game of the year so far.

You know. All things that a nice slab of bear meat will do for you. Conversely, getting eaten by the bear means all those things happened in THIS game, too. Only they happened for the bad guys.

Sorry, I'm pretty cranky. The night started out promising.

(ROAR. I just realized I hate that expression, too. "Started out promising." Promising what? If the night had promised me both NY teams playing would lose heartbreaking games within 45 seconds of each, then yes, the night held true to its word. Sweet Christ, I haven't even gotten to the recap yet.)

So the night started out with hopes of another great evening of baseball. (Take note, Oxford minions. Before you start releasing figures of speech into circulation, consider how simple and painless it is to just talk literally.)

The NY Ranger game NY Yankee games were both playing, separate tvs, good sightlines. Both took early 1-0 leads. Both lost by 1 with late heroics from respective opponents.

Bahhh. Ok, here it is.

Hughes didn't pitch badly. Actually, he probaby should get some more credit than he is. If you look at what the fair-headed children of the family have been putting up, you'll see that the red-headed stepson isn't doing much worse/better.

Well, keep up the good work, Phil! Also, please consider entertaining the possibility of one day thinking about growing your pitch arsenal to the respectable number of "YOUR FASTBALL ISN'T MACHIII SPEED. FIND OUT AN OUT PITCH." That's a real number, by the way. Just like bleen.

Pronk drives in GGBG after the latter's lead-off double. (Over-under on how long before Pronk becomes Redonk in the world of NY Post headlines? 2 weeks.)

Os answer 2 innings later when Dickerson goes yard. The good guys regain lead with an RBI single from the aforementioned Pronk.

Yanks stop scoring runs. Actually, Yanks pretty much stop getting on base. New kid Adams breaks up a pretty annoying put-out streak from the Os starter, when he hits a single in the 7th.

As Keith observed about this spunky neophyte: "He plays a tidy third." Yes, he does. And Keith and I are nothing if not raving lunatics about neatness.

Os closer Johnson gets another chance to not "send the game to hell in a handbasket" which I decided in yesterday's recp will be the replacement phrase for blown save, since it more accurately captures the disaster that ensues when you come in with a lead, and single handedly ruin everything.

Johnson got the save, though, and he was all excited.



Our reliever on the other hand, didn't get his ass in the sun or whatever the hell the expression is. He got eaten by the bear. Actually, since the originator of that expression was saying it in reference to getting pulled from the game, we probably would have been better off if Vidal Nuno did that version of getting eaten by a bear.

Instead, his version of bear ingestion consisted of letting up a walk-off homerun to Nate McLouth. Nice going, Vidal.

While we're getting into improvement-needed areas, your lack of tilde over the second N in Nuno is distracting. It looks naked.

Wikipedia evidently shares this sentiment, and you know how for a little while they were putting banner ads the size of Spain everywhere, begging for donations?

Well, if there was ever a reason for me to humor Wikipedia and all it's uncitable glory, it's because they stood their ground when it came to the tilde.

They're running with it, because Wikipedia doesn't take ño shit from anyone.

Alright, so game over. Yanks lose. Shaving cream walkoff celebration.

Got to give the Os credit for being the most excitable walkoffers in the league, though. And yet, I'm 100% in agreement with this guy. Is shaving cream REALLY the only available item to work with for celebrations?

I mean, some states like Michigan consider it a crime of battery. If we're opening the doors to doing things in this realm, then it really seems ridiculous that they're limiting themselves to shaving cream.

Would be kind of funny slash horrifying if an imaginative "I bat in the box, but I think outside it" player presented this or this as potential walkoff celebration replacements for the shaving cream.

Then the NYRangers lose. 3-0 to Boston.

I have to admit, I'm very surprised at Boston fans out there publicly broadcasting their fortified confidence in the series. "Say goodbye, NY" etc etc.

I mean, it's not like blowing a 3-0 lead is something that the Bruins have never done before.

That's right. The last time a 3-0 lead was blown in any sport was by a Boston team.

Yeah, I'm still cranky. But now I'm cranky AND tired. See you tomorrow, when the Yanks try to get out of bed in the morning with the stigma of being 19-1 in games where they score first, hovering over their heads.

Win.

Yep. Slam, Bam, Alakazam, the Decoys pull it off in 10th, after Mo breezes through a 1-2-3 inning. The Os relievers, on the other hand, have been spiralling faster then Maverick and Goose. Their saver who hadn't blown a save in like 23942 attempts has screwed up the last 3 games he's tried to save.

It's like my favorite sports genius buddy Ollie once said, "Every fan hates their closer except Yankee fans."

Mo and his 92 mph cutter saved the game instead of sending it to hell in a handbasket, which is a phrase I think I prefer to "blown save." A blown save=blown game most of the time. Let's leave the "save" part out of it.

It's not like trying to grab a bunch of balloons from floating away, to give back to the clumsy child who accidentally released them in the post-McDonalds birthday party excitement. You tried to save them, but couldn't, but you didn't ruin the kid's day. (Also, if you only open one hyperlink on this blog ever, let it be the one in this paragraph.)

It's more like trying to push someone out of the way of oncoming traffic, yet by doing so you push them into a manhole.

Buck Showalter was really gracious about the whole thing, too.



Nope. Yeah, it's totally normal to insist on keeping every one of Fatso's used pitch balls.

I'm not kidding. He was examing each of them like he was looking for freaking trace evidence of a homicide. And then he'd just casually pass along to the bat boy, like, "What? Oh that? Yeah don't worry about it. Just checking things out. Trying to watch the game."

What a clever little sleuth that Showalter is! You got it, honey! You solved the case! CC SABATHIA HAS BEEN THIS DOMINANT FOR THIS LONG BECAUSE HE'S SPITTING ON THE BALL.

Buck's outside of his mind if he thinks our ace would ever willingly take something OUT of his mouth. (Pause, in spades.)

And to say nothing (jk, about to say something) of the fact that your team wasn't exactly BLANKED in that game. The alleged spitballer gave up 11 hits. Unless he mixed in some RISP allergens with that spit, you don't have a leg to stand on.

Some might say you could blame the game on the umps, I'm sure. But to that most Yankee fans might bring up this moment.

I know I would, anyway.

After this game, I'm finding it hard to believe that there are still people saying "Man, just wait til we have Grandy, Tex, Jeter, and Arod back in the lineup."

Arod, by the by, fielded grounders today. Even his rehab updates make him sound lonely and socially awkward.

Nice win, Decoys. And nice...existence, I guess? Nice being the way you are? I love it. Keep doing everything the way you're doing it. And I'll gladly become a grey-area-convert.

Loss.

I had to work a little late, so I only got to catch the radio broadcast, missed an inning and a half while on subway home, and then got back to apartment to see the final innings. And it was kind of frenetic, like almost everything I do, regardless of whether it warrants a frenzy, because of the whole "Every single important show and game is on tonight at the same exact time" thing.

Felt like I was the mother in the last scene of the "Good Son."



I mean, obviously the Yankees were the ones pulled up over the ledge, and not the Rangers or the Knicks.

(I don't buy that ending of the movie, btw. No mother would ever let go of her own flesh and blood, even if he HAD killed his brother and tried to kill the rest of the family. That's not how mothers operate.)

Not that the Knicks had any chance of holding my attention for more than 2 minutes--if that--but I was more following it because the outcome would dictate my behavior towards the Knicks fans in office (ie probably would try to get my timesheet in on time to make life easier for the Knick fan in the finance department).



NEWS? More like OLD. As in, with headlines like these, it makes it sound like we should be grateful the DL is only full of physical ailments, and not Alzheimer's onset.

Anyways, both the Yanks and Rangers lost by 1, in real heartcrackers. (Not quite devastating enough to break your heart, but enough to put a hairline fracture in it, I suppose.)

As usual, half the team exited the game with injuries. It's one thing to start the season with a crop of people who aren't THE YANKEES as we've come to know them. It's another thing to have to start every game like that. Now even the Decoys are summering in the South DL.

(You know they're all just doing it just to be closer to Jeter and/or so that Jeter will think they're cool. And really, who HASN'T done that? Let he who has not faked an illness to go to the school nurse when a crush happened to also be in the nurse's office, cast the first stone.)

The only reason I'm being so glib about all this is because I'm pretty sure you'll see a mass exodus from the DL any day now, given that Joba Chamberlain has just printed out his ticket at the DL Axcela kiosk. (The DL-ela) Nothing kills a good old fashioned injured reserve party like a fat mustachioed reliever who has no respect for authority or even respect for his teammates.

Survey says...

Somehow the Yankees are still in first. This is interesting because they have scored fewer runs than every other team in their division. I mean, you expect this shit from NL-ers and their ridiculous 10-14 run games,

Obviously the flip side is that the Yankees' opponents have scored almost nothing, which is why our boys are in this position. Which means, the pitching has just been THAT GOOD.

Has it, though? There have been a handful of dammmmn-what-a-gem type of games from our starters, but there have been more than a handful of oh-cool-7-runs-in-the-first types of games. Fatty is managing to go deep in the game, but gives up a lot of hits (not runs, just hits). Andy's done great except when it's against a terrible team.

Maybe Gonzalez will get the starting nod in the interim. \

Anyways, sorry for the vagueries (sp? word?), tonight's recap will be more much for comprehensive, as it is one of my FAVORITE DAYS OF THE YEAR.

See you back here in about 23 hours...

Loss.



Ollie's Tamales at Yankee Stadium

Some people might call the above picture a Yankee Fan sandwich, based on the bookending Yankee Fans. This would be more accurately identifed as a Tamale sandwich, because the 2 innards of the line-up are the President and Vice President of the Ollie Perez fan club known as Ollie's Tamales.

No one calls a PB&J a "bread sandwich." So, this would be a tamale sandwich. Just wanted to get that out of the way so we're all on the same page. (LOLZ! We'd have to be on the same page because otherwise this wouldn't be being read! ROTFL.)

Just kidding, I'm not ROTFLing at all, because the Yankees lost 12-2 tonight, althought I'll go ahead and put this in the Fun Despite Losses silo. I actually can put this in the Top 5 category, since I did tally up the list almost 5 years ago to the day. 375 days actually:

I can probably count on 1 hand the number of times I've really enjoyed myself at a Yankee game where the Yanks ended up losing.

1.) May 17, 2008: 7-4 (Mets)
2.) April 27, 2007: 11-4 (Boston)
3.) April 17, 2008, 7-5 (Boston)
4.) July 9, 2005: 7-8 (Cleveland)

(In that order. I think.)

I have no idea what significance 3 and 4 have, so I'm taking those out and replacing one with this game. (May 2, 2009 and April 28, 2012 go up there, too.)

Ahh, but this was a real drubbing, you know? I mean, I was like 15 minutes late to the game because Yankee Stadium security is one conveyor belt away from mirroring that of JFK.

(In other words, I had to go check my laptop before I could get in. I swear to God, I'm always expecting the ticket checker to ask me to remove my shoes and keep my boarding pass on me. I respect the due diligence. Not crazy about the 1 beer per person rule, but cheers for the due diligence nonetheless.)

Anyways, so I was late, and I sat down and saw Hughes give up a few hits, and it wasn't until they team was congregating on the mound that I even looked at the score.

"SEVEN?"

Two-thirds of an inning. He's become the more mild-mannered Burnett. Except what he lacks in nipple rings and tats he makes up for in unpredictability, variability, etc. AJ was really good or not so great. There was a neatness to his starts. Even though we'd say, "You never know what you're gonna get with AJ!" we still kind of knew what we were up against.

Not with Hughes. It's like mutual flirting with an ambiguously gay person. You can't really figure out whether he/she is gay or not, and it's frustrating because if it's true, then there's no explanation for what's going on. If it's not true, then you start to wonder if the other shoe will ever drop.

Hughes is battered around like a half dead mouse my parents' cat would drag into the house (weirdly, he'd only do so on Mother's Day and Christmas. I swear to God. Every year.)

Ibanez goes yard twice in this game, one of which was a salami. (I got to my seat jusssst in time to see that one fly over the short porch.) Ibanez has one of those names that can double as a BOO or a cheer.

• Youk
• Hughes
• Raul
• Moose
• Yu

Imagine women in the league, women with an "oooo" name? It wouldn't matter if I batted in 23 runs, I'd still get a complex about why an entire stadium was booing me.

Unlike Ra-oool, Hoooghes probably warranted boos, but I don't really believe in booing your own player. Did it once ever, for Alan Embree in August of 2005, for absolutely no other reason other than the fact he had just come from Boston.

Sorry, I'm digressing more than usual. It's been a few days of not-blogging so I'm still scratching the sleep booger rocks out of my metaphorical blog eyes.

Ok, that actually was an unintentional good segue into this point: Why do you bat Grandy as cleanup when he's been on the DL since Reebok pumps were all the rage? Is this what we have to look forward to as the Real Yankees slowly return back to the lineup? All the "scabs" get shooed away in favor of the big guys taking 2 months to approach pre-DL form?

I don't care if it works out, I don't understand it. He has had one hit, which isn't terrible since he hasn't played a professional ball game in about 66 years. But why can't he just work into the lineup organically> What the hell did he do in the steam stub or the batting cage that was SOO impressive that Girardi thought, ah to hell with it! I got a hunch he's going to be FINE. Just FINE."

Overall, the Yankees managed just 2 runs in this game, off 2 solo shots (Vernon "The New Old Carl Crawford" Wells amd Chris "Ok, maybe I'm not as bad on offensive as I' believed" Stewart.)

The Ms had the most productive outing all season. Most offensive. On multiple levels. Everyone got a hit.

The bright spot of the Yankee performance came from reliever Claiborne (again) who pitched a couple more innings of shutout ball, after his last getting-done-of-the-job outing last week. I like this kid. Good poise. D-Rob Part Deux.

Not as crazy about Marshall, who Girardi left in for 108 pitches to perserve the pen. 5 runs on 9 hits. He may be Quantrill Part Deux. Or Proctor. Both of which are still cowering in fear of being called in from the pen at any given moment. As if Girardi had pulled a "Ransom" on them:

We do what you say, and we let you leave the club. Anything goes wrong, you're gonna turn around and I'll be gone. Okay. And if that happens, from this day on, any time you take the field at another stadium, or go to the locker room, go play, see a friend, to buy a fuckin' comic book, you're gonna have to ask yourself: Is today... Joe Torre day?

Another pitching performance that wasn't too hot was that of Iwakuma. Well, not hot for the Yanks, who only scraped up 1 run. 8 hits wasn't too bad (for the Yankees), so I think the starter is going to get a lot of people jumping at the chance to be the one to identify him as a sleeper pick. His ERA is admittedly pretty nasty, but I don't think he's Yu.

(Ha, I just realized how that sounded, and now I'm thinking of all the fun he could have with break-ups, that could quickly spiral into a Who's on First edition: "It's not Yu. It's me.")

I'd be remiss in not calling out the real reason for even going to the game, which was one Oliver Perez. Cheers to my buddy Ollie for getting the tickets and allowing me and another Yankee fan to roll with the Ollie's Tamales Founders.

I'm not even going to begin to try to make heads or tails of this, so suffice to say that Oliver Perez came in for relief, the tamales raced to the other side of the stadium to get a better view (with their sombreros on), Oliver Perez pitched a perfect 8th, the tamales celebrated in earnest as if though they'd caught the winning homerun walkoff ball that sent their Mets into the playoffs, and then it really became near impossible to assign much import to a bludgeoning 12-2 loss when you're with 2 lunatics in sombreros stalking a middle reliever. (As the old saying goes.)

Way to go, Ms and Perez and Raooool. And cheers to my buddy Ryan, the only Ms fan I know. (This is really my only recourse in the face of losses. "Ok, so and so is a _____ fan, so at least I can try to take solace in the fact he's happy." If I'm being honest with myself, it rarely works. But I always try anyway, just like I always try to see if I've acquired the taste for pickles.)

Yanks have a 2-game lead in the division, as the Decoys manage to hold their shit together despite ranking a consistent #14 out of 26 in pretty much all league batting categories. They're like my fantasy team every year that leads the league in nothing except ties.

But, like Ollie's Tamales, there are some things in life (most things, actually) that cannot be understood or explained.

I usually don't like things devoid of reason, but the Decoys and the Tamales are two very notable exceptions.

MY BEAUTIFUL MOTHER!

 



 

my best dance partner.

It made me think of all the things about my mom that make me do this yet also make me do this.  
 


Her covert disposal of clothes she doesn't like. No one's possessions are safe when we go to my parents' place. I sit guard by the laundry room like a junkyard doberman.






Her interest in my love life. (Or her disapproval of my lack thereof.) In my mom's head, the bars of NYC are filled with eligible bachelors in scrubs, walking around with an engagement ring ready in one hand, and their fingers crossed on their other hand. And I’m just beating them off with a stick. Yep. That’s exactly how it is.

She never settles. I think everyone who has ever known my mom in ANY capacity has seen this immoveable conviction. When my parents moved into the suburbs right after they had, my mom designed the house and when it was done, she looked at it, and said the front door needed to be 3 ft to the left.

My mom is magnificent. Everything she does comes from someplace good. She's the one who once told me, "Our first responsibility is to be a good person." And that's how she lives and acts.

Mother-Daughter Yankee Fans

She lights up the room, she’s funny, she’s passionate (to a fault. Really, sometimes to a fault), generous, considerate, a complete loony tune, and just the kindest person in the world.
 

So, for what it is worth, Mom, know that my sisters and I think you are the epitome of class. None of it is lost on us, and you and Dad are at the heart of everything good in us.

 
So, with that, I’ll sign off with one of her more oft-quoted pearls of wisdom, imparted to me before my first day of freshman crosscountry preseason training:
 



Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.
 

WIN.

I didn't follow this game very well. Starting a game at 3:00 was weird enough. The downloaded the Yankees schedule onto my Outlook calendar at the beginning of the season, and the only good thing about games during work hours is that it blocks off 3 hours of my calendar. Except now everyone is wise to this, so there is officially nothing good about games during office hours.

I wish Outlook would also send me game updates.

As if the weird start time wasn't discombobulating enough, there was a 2 hour rain delay.

And if THAT wasn't enough, the tarp would come off, get rolled up, and then...nothing. (I know all this based on twitter. This type of information was not readily available refreshing mlb.com. Social media!)

By the time I leave work and get to a tv, the Yankees were walking off the field and high fiving. And to sum up, my knowledge of the game is 70% based on twitter feeds and Sports Center.

Here's what I know:

• Fatso was mad he didn't get to bat.
• Cano had a big day, 1500th hit and passed Paul O'Neil on Bomber's Bomb List
• Colorado's manager thinks Mo's 13th save in as many chances was facilitated by an expanded strike zone.

Those umps! They'll do anything to help the Yankees win when they're on the road, you know?

Oh, also: the Decoys are in first. Sort of. 60% of the division is in first right now, and I don't think there's anyone in the free world who doesn't know how I feel about multiple superlatives. "One of my best friends..." "These are both top priorities..." etc. I just flat out don't believe in ties, period.

With one exception. So, I flat out don't believe in ties, semicolon; I love my parents the same amount, and both my sisters the same amount. That's it.

So the idea of sharing first place is making me lightheaded. Hashtag Yankeefanproblems.

In that I didn't even listen to game on radio (on account of the afternoon meeting clusterf-word), I can't even ride the WCBS ridicule wave.

HOWEVAH, there is something on which I would like to expound. And that is David Americo Ortiz Arias. (How come no one ever sings the Banana Picking Beetlejuice song when he's up? Seriously. D.A.O.A= this, yeah?)

Ah, Daoa. Papi. F'n moron. You make it easy for people like me who already profoundly dislike you. People like me don't WANT to find out you're actually a really cool, great guy. So when you do these little soapbox things, it's just like throwing a half eaten bread slice to the hoard of seagulls menacingly surrounding your beach towel.

They're out for crust. We're out for blood.

For example...

2009 he announced that players who tested positive for steroids were such a sad pathetic disgrace and should die a death that is both fitting of such iniquity and also one that is rife with agony. Basically, that's what he said. Then a few years later he tested positive for steroids, and everyone was all "SMH"-ing everywhere (which apparently means "shaking my head" and not "so much hate").

Now in 2013, he has announced that his steroid allegations and suspicions cast on him are indicative of racism, and that everyone is just saying that because he's Dominican and a lot of steroid users hail from those parts.

To really fortify his argument, he gave about 97 comparative examples. You know I'm the last person to criticize analogies, but Ortiz's were devoid of supporting Family Guy clips.

His arguments were definitely NOT devoid, however, of a Ku Klux Klan reference. Yep. Yeah, he's not on steroids. He's actually totally in control of the situation and not at all like a freebasing walrus.

H/T to espn.com:

"Yesterday the guy came to see me and asked some questions about steroids, and when you see the writing, it basically focuses on the fact that I'm Dominican and that many Dominicans have been caught using steroids. And what about the Americans?" Ortiz said.

"If you're from the Middle East, because there are some people there who put bombs and terrorize civilians, I have to see you like that, as well? If you are a white American, I have to call you a racist because white Americans were in the Ku Klux Klan?

"The thing that stung me was his statement about Dominicans. You mean that in Dominican Republic there are no players who try to do things right? We are all in the same boat. And the people here who have been caught, does that put everyone here in the same boat?"

"I have spent many years in Boston and still do not know the right way to do things: Do it right or do it wrong," Ortiz said. "If you do it wrong, they'll finish you. If you're doing well, they'll finish you, too. There's no area where you feel safe."

Poor guy. He's just trying to do things the right way. And he can't win! If he takes steroids, he gets in real PR and legal hot water. If he doesn't take steroids, he doesn't play well and gets in real Beantown hot water. Talk about a Hobson's Choice.

I can totally relate. It's like I still do not know the right way to do things. Do I cheat at Wednesday Night Trivia and google shit serreptitiously [sic. Jesus. A lot of sic]? Or do I play by the rules? It's so unfair, if I do the former, I'm a cheater and I'm disqualified.

If I do the latter, I don't get the free bar tab at end of night. THERE'S NO AREA WHERE I FEEL SAFE! (Except the sports and lit categories) There's really no other options, yeah?

Not to be an asshole, but a little bit to be an asshole, is Ortiz, um, not all there? Is he taking his cues from Schilling? I mean, most people know you don't just go on national tv and drop the F-bomb. But we gave him a pass because of Boston tragedy.

But then most people don't follow that up 2 weeks later with a lonngggg incensed rant that sounded kind of a like a less funny version of Nathan Lane in The Birdcage trying to sound like an informed political-savvy citizen. Or a lot less funny version of when Dwight gave his Salesman of the Year acceptance speech.

Thank you, DAOA for doing such a galactically terrible job of convincing the public you're an innocent victim in the social warzone that asphyxiates us with its oppressive racial profiling of PEOPLE WHO HAVE ALREADY BEEN CAUGHT DOING STEROIDS.

Sweet Christ. It's like saying we shouldn't profile child molesters as sexual deviants just because they're child molesters.

(Too far? I never compared anyone to the KKK though, which was my benchmark of aggression that DAOA himself set.)

I'm chalking this all up to the day game at 3:00 that didn't start til 5:15. I know. It's bad to profile day games like that just because they're played in the day.


Anyways. In other ridiculous baseball news, the umps screwed up a call in an Indians/As game and the tying homerun was a legit tying homerun but was called a double and the As lost. That really sucks, I'd be pretty upset if something similar happened to the Yankees. But the Yankees never have any calls go against them, ever.

Sweet Christ, they f'd up a call. I'm not being all blase about this to be all breezy and dismissive, (as much as I'd love to turn into one of those irresistibly nonchalant chicks like Jennifer Aniston in Along Came Polly, it'd probably have better luck trying to turn into potato salad.)

I'm being dismissive in this particular case because it's early May. There is PLENTY of time. (Oh my God, I love that phrase.)

TS Eliot put in best maybe, "There will be time, there will be time. Time for a million decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse."

The Galarragga thing? That probably SHOULD have been made into literally a federal case. Wasn't crazy about the midge game, either. (Oh, hey. Yeah. The midge game. Guess Cleveland is really the charmed team of MLB.)

"All happy families are alike. Each unhappy family is alike in its own way." -Tolstoy

Everyone except the Yankees hates their closer, my buddy Ollie once told me. And everyone thinks their experiences with ump missteps are the most unfair ever.

Now the damn replay machine is being called into question. I don't know HOW the umps didn't see the ball hit the rail, or maybe they did and just hate the replay machine, too, and think that continuing to blow calls will get MLB to say, "Well, these machines are clearly useless! Get rid of them, we gotta think of something else!"

But maybe we should put a cease and desist on trying to fix human error. It's pretty obvious the umps are just being targeted because of insidious conceptions and harbored discrimination. Screw the replay machine. If they screw up a lot, then get new umps who don't screw up.

It's kind of funny how players only have to be right 1 out of every 4 attempts, but an ump works with a no-tolerance-policy.

Ah well. It's May. This is the fun part of the season that we should enjoy before we're puking every day and losing weight and treating out bodies like unamusement parks (September/October/hopefully November)

I'm almost ALWAYS wrong whenever I say something bad is going to happen in baseball (ie the Grandy trade, the Pronk/Wells/Overbay aquisitions.)

But I knew this replay shit was going to cause problems. Wrote this in 2011, topic was something along lines of "What will have the biggest effect on baseball this season?"














So while instant replay may never see the light of day, its absence will be enough to make everyone take a closer look at our past time’s umpires--the living, breathing testaments to “damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” The question is, is this sheer act of scrutiny capable of changing the 2011 season?





Tomorrow's a night game in Kansas. How much mileage do pilots/stewards get out the "Not in Kansas anymore" thing? I would probably laugh because it's true. Once you leave Kansas, you're not there anymore.

Oh my God, I need to go to bed. Good series! See you tomorrow/today, Royals. (Pretty sure they were also a "sleeper pick" to win the 'ship this year. Show us what you got, KC.)

WIN.

The Yanks finally win in Coors, which is great news on many levels, not the least of which (actually, probably pretty close to the least of which) is that I don't have to add Coors Lights (or CL Smoothies, as the wonderful estranged Strange calls them) to the list* of innocuous everyday items that have been deemed satanic by virtue of baseball implications.

*Other notorious entries on this list include anything ANYTHING red, ie red lighters; anything ANYTHING from Boston, ie New England Clam Chowder...etc. You get the idea.

So everything in right in the world again since Coors is back to making me happy instead of sad. Good God that outfield is something else, by the way. Can't imagine stadium tours there being too enjoyable. There's probably territory out there that still hasn't been discovered or claimed. I'm a little jealous of Colorado fans that get to inevitably have a game interrupted by some regime of guerilla radicals aggressively staking ownership of some random nook in left field. That's happening.

This was not a boring game to watch. I enjoyed it a lot, and it was compounded by the exciting stress of flipping between YES and the Rangers/Capitals game. 631-634-631-etc. The PREV has rubbed off the remote button.

The scoring started (and nearly ended) in the early innings, with Wells taking Whoever the Hell Nicasia Is deep, putting the Yanks up 2-0 in the 1st. Helton responded in kind in the 2nd. Except it wasn't kind to people who wanted the Good Guys to win. Basically Helton responded in dissent, which means a tying ding  2-2 game.

And that was it pretty much for the rest of the game. the meat portion of the game†: (as opposed to the bookend innings) was a lot of "ball weakly hit to______"' 's.

† Some might be inclined to call this a "sandwich." I'd like this "methophor" to stop being used if no one is going to use it like a normal person. Like if someone's taking a pic of me and my sister and some random dude, the dude says, approximately 100% of the times "Ahh look! It's a Pollina sandwich!" Unless you characterize your sandiwchs the type of bread it's being housed in, then the whole "sandwich" thing is stupid.

Oh, and before I forget about this, what is Coors' lionization of Helton? I mean, every so often I feel like the camera woujld randomly zoom in on some big #17 TODD HELTON signable (whether of  the stadium persuasion or the fan with a cardboard sign persuation.)

It just so happens that this week he pleaded guilty to a DWAI which is a like a baby-DUI. And apparently he was RORed. Ribbied on his own recognizance. After blowing a .102 on account of "2 glasses of wine." Guy has to pay a $400 fine.

Would not have been a happy camper if his 2-run shot a day after he gets the laughable sentencing, ended up being the proverbial "one mistake" Phelps made en route to the Rockies' win.

FORTUNATELY, the pedestrian/commuter menace didn't get a chance to go out and celebrate, thanks to Bosh [sic].

This is why you always run out hits. Because it meant the difference in a game for the Yankees. And in a race in the AL East with Boston/Orioles only 1 game up on NYY, running a hard 90 can never, ever be underestimated.



Ahh, so Bosh drives in a run, forgets to have a D in his name, and triggers the call to Mo. It will never, ever cease to amaze me and awe me and just mostly blow me away every time Mo does what he does. (His "thang.")

1 pitch. 1 speed. No one can hit it. And first the first time ever in the history of life, a one-trick pony is unquestionably superior. 11th save of the season. Yankees win, break the curse of Coors. D-Rob gets the W, even though he was pitching like Nuke LaLoosh.

(Kind of funny hearing Coors boo over the hit batter. Yes, D-Rob and all his newfound AJ Burnett-ness was gunning for some rando during interleague play. Nailed it. Actually speaking of Coors field fans, it was kind of difficult to discern who was rooting for whom. I had to mute the tv because it was getting too confusing. I like delineations, and this was weirding me out. Felt a little like Seth Rogen in this scene.)

Oh, and of course it wouldn't be a game without Girardi demonstrating some kind of "well, hey why not! Not sure who anyone on team is anymore, so let's roll the dice. Again." behavior:

Girardi employed a different type of strategy on Wednesday, inserting pitcher David Phelps into the No. 8 spot in the batting order and moving catcher Austin Romine to ninth. Girardi borrowed the idea from former St. Louis skipper from Tony La Russa.

Annd, it wouldn't be a game without the requisite "Well, you couldn't ask for a better hit than that!" assessment, right after a player fails to execute despite best efforts and best intentions. Like when Austin Romine didn't catch Young stealing in the 8th. Not that it mattered. Because the Yankees won.

WAHOO!

It's time for this.