Baseball Season - Or As It's Known In Boston...

Griping Season? Back-Seat Managing Season? Hell, right now we're in first place, 5 and a half up on New York, sitting on a lot to be grateful for and I'm still all nervey about the '07 season.

The following is the bulk of an email I sent to a friend of mine in NY. Moray is a recent new addition to the American population by way of the UK, and not much of a baseball afficionado. He likes the Mariners because he saw them play a gutsy game against the Yankees once, and likes to see the Yankees lose because it gives his housemate Liz (yes, Road Trip Liz) fits. Outside of that, he doesn't much follow the game as far as I know — but given the chance, I'll fix that.

He had responded to an amail I sent him a few days ago, and tacked on a note at the end that basically amounted to "Ha ha! The Yankees suck and Liz is frustrated!". I sent him this. As it goes for nearly all Sox-Yankees writing, some of it is just not suitable for little eyes.


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Yeah, the Yankees are in dead last, but yesterday's game is pretty much par for the course for them. That team, more than any other, has a gift for winning obnoxious games where every little flukey thing seems to break their way (Liz will corroborate that one, and if she doesn't, just ask about the "fake home run" that let them beat the Orioles in the ALCS a few years back).

Their starting pitcher gets nailed just under the knee on a come-backer from his first pitch, throws three more giving up two hits, and gets pulled for an injury without getting a single out. This should end it right here and send the fans home early, but no, this is the Yankees. The guy they bring in (who by all accounts was one day away from being sent to the minor leagues) grabs an immediate double play to stifle the Sox rally. Then he throws a 6 inning one-hitter (he couldn't throw six innings at all in any of his previous starts) in which every foul ball popped up stays just inside the field where it can be caught, and every leadoff man the Sox get on is followed by an immediate double play. There were about twelve different situations in that game where, any other day, any other pitcher, any other team, any given one of those situations allows an early Sox hit (or run), the Sox get on the board and Igawa gets chased before the fifth.

Not saying the Sox would have blown the Yankees out, or that they would have even won. The Sox bats were terrible yesterday... but so were the Yankees'. The score, even without Yankees dumb luck winning that game (do not let Liz, AKA "Beth Ann" tell you otherwise) is still a low one, somewhere in a 2-1 or 3-2 range falling to either team. It was not a skill game, it was a piss-poor game.

A-Rod, despite being hailed by Fox "We'd Lap Dance For The Yankees If We Could" Sports (who televised the game) as "unstoppable" went 0-for-4 and struck out twice. Baby drool is unstoppable. Puppies peeing on the floor is unstoppable. A-Rod is no longer "unstoppable", and if the guy puts up another 0-fer today and the Yanks lose, we'll be hearing New Yorkers scream for his head once again soon enough.

Bobby Abreu has sold out his team, attempting three bunts (four straight counting Friday's last at-bat) when he should be swinging – a move that can only be attributed to Abreu wanting to reach base at any cost. His third bunt of the game rolled straight to third base and Lowell lazily tossed Jeter out at second, handing the Sox the easiest gift out they got all day. Abreu has resigned to not being able to hit the ball cleanly anymore, and will force his teammates into worthless outs just to stand at first base. That's not just bitch-ball, that's evidence that the clubhouse is not happy and on the verge of publicly blaming each other for the losing season.

Still, Posada single-handedly gave Kei Igawa all the runs he needed for a win: a two run homer that, if the wind had shifted even a hair, would have blown foul. For insurance, he was standing on second when a goofy-ass flare to third took a Twilight-Zone bounce sideways into the stands for a ground rule double. Ball comes straight down on the chalk line, and on the ricochet turns 90 degrees and moves perpendicular to about 6 of it's previous paths of motion. Only the fucking Yankees get that bounce, and it puts them up 3-0. Dumb luck.

Meanwhile, on my side of the dugouts, the Sox are falling behind to start every pitch count on them and hitting like six year old girls. Every pop fly, as mentioned, stays catchable (as opposed to drifting just three rows back into the stands, as they did for the Yanks). Every leadoff walk gets stifled. Even the pitcher (Wakefield, a knuckleballer - look it up, you'll be amused), whom I will admit is no breeze to catch for, is throwing the sort of stuff that the catcher just can't keep a glove on moreso than usual. Not a break our way.

Just a sad, weak game yesterday.

But for the Yankees, they've found another 24-karat gold bar in the dumpster in Kei Igawa. Not the world's best analogy, I'll admit, they did throw a 40 million contract at him presumably for some reason, it just would have been really satisfying to see them throw 40 mil at a true dud. Plus, they got half-a-day's rest for their bullpen, which will probably go perfect-game, lights out from here on in. Clemens will sign with them on May 10th, and will offer to play for the league minimum to boot. A-Rod will, in fact, hit 122 home runs this year, straining for the last two just so he can double-up Maris's record. The Yankees will end the season 132-8, and I will once again be griping in October. You'll see.

Fuck, I'm a true Sox fan. Even after a single milktoast New York win, I'm defeated.