Monday, August 29, 2005

What A Weekend

It’s weekends like this that prove I’m a moody bitch. The Yankees drop a few games that I believe are meaningful (see: Devil Rays), and I’m asking if it’s over. Then they rattle off eight wins in ten games – marred only by two innings in those two losses – and I’m talking about October like it’s a given.

Can’t we just settle on a happy medium?

And the excitement looks to continue throughout the week, as the Yanks are out on the West Coast, battling the Mariners for four. We’ve had their number this year, and heading out when they’re this hot can only be a plus.

Alas, the real test comes this weekend out in Oakland. The way the rotation is panning out, it’ll be Leiter, Moose and Chacon against whatever three of Oakland’s five quality – at worst – starters they have coming up.

For lack of anything else interesting to write, I guess I’ll just go for a day by day analysis of the weekend.

Friday
I was excited to go to this game, considering I haven’t been since late April. But, when I finally realized who was on the mound, I tensed up just a bit. My entire commute to Manhattan was riddled with insecurities about Randy, about out affliction with losing to last place teams. And hell, it’s not like this year’s Yanks are a team that comes up with timely wins.

What a great game to be in attendance for. It was snap-snap for most of the game, which meant, for one, that Randy wasn’t effing up. But it also meant the Yanks weren’t chipping away at Mike Wood. Well, that is until A-Rod smoked one into the black seats. Being in the bleachers, it was an extra special shot, since it was launched right in our direction. And, of course, so mo-mo fan decided it was worth it to hop the divider into the black seats and snag the ball.

It was also particularly exciting in the left field bleachers because Bernie was stationed just to our left. He was being heralded throughout the game, and that was only intensified after he hit his first home run….off the meeeezzzzzzzzzzzaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnniiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeee! Unfortunately, that bum Crosby took his place after his upper-decker.

The only part of the night that even slightly annoyed me were the 20-year-olds sitting behind us for the first two innings. Not only were they rattling off irrelevant stats, they were rattling off false statistics. Nothing bugs me more than someone who says something about sports that is patently false, like when the kid was talking about Angel Berroa being a quality player. Sorry, kid, but his numbers do a lot of talking, and they’re sure not hyping him up.

I was relieved in the third when a group of kids came over, claiming that the 20-year-olds seats were in fact not their seats. And, of course, the 20’s were sitting in the friggin’ wrong section. So not only were they wrong about sports, but couldn’t even figure out where to sit. Unfortunately, the kids who showed up were Mets and Red Sox fans, and couldn’t possibly be more annoying. The one sounded like John Leguizamo, circa The Pest, and wouldn’t shut up about how drunk he was, and how he wanted a beer. Good thing they don’t serve them in the bleachers.

P.S. Fans on the third base side, learn to do the m-fing wave. Every single wave of the night was killed by that section.

Saturday
I actually didn’t get to catch much of this game. After the Yanks went up 3-0 early, Jon and I decided to do our Madden fantasy draft, which as you know is no simple task. After drafting our team and setting everything up, we clicked back only to see Royals 7, Yanks 3. We headed to the Internet to find out how the runs were scored, and found out that Jaret Wright, after looking strong (sans the first, which is slowly becoming his trademark) in the first four, allowed five in the fifth. Is this going to become a trend for us?

So, needless to say, we continued to pursue our Madden interests, advancing our fantasy-drafted team a year (we draft young, so we wanted to make this a team for the future). After doing that, we grabbed some fries from a place – and I wish I knew the name – that sells only french fries. Yes, that’s right, this shop cooks your fries right in front of you, giving you enormous portions and a plethora of dipping sauce choices. De-friggin-licious. Upon returning, we flipped to ESPNews, to see Royals 7, Yankees 8.

Naturally, we had to sit through all the boring ESPNews content before they showed the highlights of the game. And as soon as I found out A-Rod got the game winning hit, a phone call was immediately placed to my dad, hounding him incessantly about A-Rod (if you’re new to this space, my dad hates A-Rod, and refuses to give him credit unless he homers in the bottom of the ninth with two out and two guys on). The counter-argument thrown at me: “it wasn’t that clutch; if A-Rod doesn’t get that hit, they’ll live to play another inning.” Flimsiest argument out there, people. Take note of that.

Sunday
I was supposed to head to my buddy Al’s house so we could work on some more stuff for our band, the Screaming Negroes. It was difficult to wrest myself from the television, but after Giambi went deep for the second time, I figured my time had come.

Heading over there, I had good ole John Sterling on the radio (and I don’t care what anyone says, I find him enjoyable). As I pulled up to Al’s, Giambi was stepping up to the plate, having A-Rod walked to get to him. And this after two dingers. So what does Giambi do? What Giambi does best, working the count 3-2. And finally, he slapped a single to plate two, increasing his RBI total to seven, and causing me to hit the ceiling of my car with my head. The minute pain was well worth it.

As a whole, this weekend demonstrated the multiple ways the Yanks can turn nine opponents into a battered and bruised squad. They won Friday with a few timely homers and solid pitching from Randy and Mo. Saturday was the return of the Comeback Kids, and in the most dramatic of fashions. Sunday they just poured it on, and kept pouring it on.

If they had been playing like this all season – ah, scratch that. It’s not healthy to be thinking about such trifling matters at a time like this. It’s almost time for the Second Season, baby, and first on the list of opponents: Oakland. It doesn’t get much better than this. September baseball, baby!