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



May 12 and 13, 2012 (Happy Mother's Day!) 

 Saturday's game was great in the sense that it was about 80 degrees out and the perfect definition of a day game delight. UNFORTUNATELY, I didn't get to see it live. We'll get 'em next time, Strange. In addition to the Yankees winning, Hughes' performance, at long last, did not bring to mind images of African animal fights that involve rhinos and giraffes and cougars bounding around and tearing shit up while also getting shit torn out of them, leaving nothing but a far-reaching plane of half-dead carcasses and matted pelts.

Yeah, Hughes won! Alright! Ibanez homered again. And it's becoming easier to keep track of the Z-pack now that Nunez has been exiled thanks to his ridiculously bad fielding. The other great thing about this day game delight was that it was one of those games that you could fall asleep to in the 3rd or 4th inning and wake up drooling on your cat's head, lazily and happily discovering that that Yanks are very well in control of the game and life is good.

Sunday's game wasn't as great. And Andy Pettitte looked okay. But I think the world, save the announcers, was expecting a 2009 playoff performance at the very least. Maybe a no hitter, even. Actually, I think Andy was thinking the same thing. Because he seemed to be getting a little too tilted over minor pecadillos, like walking a batter. This was up until he started having bigger fish to fry than men on base, ie having men clear the bases with bombs. Then the talk of "Andy's got a no no through 3!" changed to less enthused chatter.

Kay and Cone were pretty brutal. I get the feeling they may or may not be a bit skeptical about this entire thing. And not because of today, but I think even going into today, they had their doubts about whether Andy should be doing this.

"I mean, even if he has a good outing today, you could probably just chalk it up to the adrenaline, you know? Can he REALLY sustain any kind of reliability throughout the season?"

That was basically the gist of what the two backseat cynics were prattling about. Though, to be fair, I can't say I really disagree with them. I love Andy, but truth be told, as it always should be, I get worried about the possibility that this return from retirement may be a little too self-indulgent to yield the kind of clubhouse benefits that the Yankees are looking for.

Also, I just looked up where the word "gist" comes from, and it's pretty interesting.

So Andy gives up a bomb to Smoak in the 4th, the first hit for the Mariners, and it's 2-0. Which isn't so bad. Especially when R-Mart walks to "drive" in Tex and it's a 2-1 game. No big deal.

Except Andy gives up another bomb a few innings later and it's 4-1. Wells' ding brings in Ackley and blech. The lovefest for Andy is a little more subdued now.

Fortunately, Seattle's pen is determined to allow us in the game, provided we lay off bad pitches. That's it. "Just work the count, and we'll take care of they rest," is basically what they would be saying if they were in some kind of Dr. Faustus supernatural world. But the Yanks don't take the deal, either because they think it's a scam or because they think they're due for a dramatic walk off homerun type of afternoon, and walking in runs just isn't the kind of scoring approach they'd like to engage in today.

I mean, they have their Mothers to think about. Yankee moms are watching this game, and it's lame to walk, right? Walking in runs was the only way the Yanks scored today. They were realllly close to breaking the game open. Well, by breaking the game open, I mean they were really close to getting withing spitting distance of a win.

Instead, the following happened:

Tex struck out on the worst pitch thrown of the game, ending the inning with bases loaded.

Four relievers were used in the 8th. And that's what Tex swung at. I blame the pressure from mothers to swing away.

The game was still winnable, though, as it usually is. Then there was this mess of a play in the 9th involving an infield single to the Color Swatch reliever. Runs scored. 6-2 game. As usual.

Weirdly, this was the first game of the series that the Mariners got a hit with RISP.

It sucked to lose but the Yankees are all like, "Oh the game? Whatever. Andy's back! We weren't even really concentrating on the game. Were you guys actually playing seriously? Oh my God, you were! Ahhh, that's so cute! We were just like goofing around because the MAIN THING is that Andy Pettitte is back. Duh."

I'm making that up. Sort of. It's not tooo much of a departure from Swisher's take on the day. Swisher, by the way, was safe at 3rd when he tried to stretch a double into a triple, on account of the terribly ungraceful play by Wells in LF. I really think he misplayed that ball SO ugly and laughably, that it inspired Swisher to just party it up on the base path. He was safe. But he shouldn't have been there. It was the difference between a runner on 3rd with no out, down by 4. Versus 1 out, empty bases.

But whatever, honeyswisher don't care!

"I thought it was so awesome. I was so excited. I know we lost today and that's what a lot of people are going to focus on -- I could really care less about that. We got our boy back."

Okay, Swish. I could really care less? That makes no sense. COULDN'T. You COULDN'T care less. If you could care less, then what's that even saying? And also, don't ever EVER say you don't care about losing.

The Yankees don't have a dramatic walkoff win for their moms, they fizzle out in the 9th, making the final score 6-2, once again. Except this time, the Yanks are on the losing end of it. I looked (casually) for any information on how many times their has been the same score for all games of a series. I can't imagine it being too rare. Or too common. So I don't even know why I'm curious about it. But I am.

What I'm MOST curious about is Furbush. Not so much curious about how he hasn't tossed his hat in the "changing your last name for the hell of it" ring that so many pro athletes are getting into these days. But more curious about his tatted up arm situation. I seem to remember good old psycho AJ having to cover up his ink, per the MLB rule book about it being distracting or something. Thank you, Justin Miller.

Girardi is such a rule stickler, I'm surprised he didn't try to "play under protest." Or maybe he just figured that the pink bats and pink shoes were distracting enough, that the tatted up arms weren't really going to hurt the batters any more than the hot pink sticks on their shoulders. (pause?)

Sorry to cut this short but it's time to eat cake and drink tea with Mom, who is the best and I love her. So to take a page from Swisher's book, "Who cares about the loss? I get to hang with my best friend!"

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there!