[cknox0723]

Originally Posted by cknox0723

Two-nothing lead going back to the second city, two games from the World Series, three home games ahead of us.

Jon Garland couldn't get out of the fifth in our lone first round loss, and somewhere between Alex Rodriguez's run-scoring double off the left field wall and the 3-1 count he runs on Marcus Giles two batters later (before finally serving up a meatball that's hammered into left), after an inning that's put us in a two-nothing hole and doesn't end until 39 mostly ****ty pitches, I can't help but wonder if he'll ever get through another fifth inning again. The home half can't get untracked against 22 year old Tyler Clippard in his first ALCS start, hitting into what would have been two double plays if only there were four outs in an inning.

Garland resumes making me wish he was an Anaheim Angel in the top of the second, throwing the ball nowhere except over the plate, giving up an almost home run to number eight hitter Trey Lunsford, who is closer to Dale Berra than Yogi in the pantheon of Yankee catchers. Fortunately our little sparkplug, our little Eckstein, "LDS Jesus" hauls it in on the warning track. The pitcher Clippard hits a hard bouncer down the third base line, Eric Munson makes a sharp play on it and good throw across the infield on it to nail him, but I can't help but notice that everybody on the other side's hitting the ball really hard. Jeter hits it really hard at no one, Randy Winn hits it really hard at no one, and the situation goes from two outs and no one on to two outs and guys at the corners. But Rodriguez who sucks at this sort of thing strikes out, and far away in fictional New York, at least two people take a baseball bat to the fake TV, in a display that Jeter could appreciate and Rodriguez couldn't. (Get it, since he swings and misses so much? I'd mention his four home runs in the ALDS but no one cares about those when you strike out with men on base!)

The home side bats look even more sickly in the bottom half, strike out, pop out to catcher, walk and then caught stealing, so the farthest the ball travels is negative feet. Negative. After two innings, the score's two-nothing but if we were playing best ball golf or what is that thing you play in the backyard with the wickets, croquet? If we were doing that, it would be like five wickets for the Empire and I think our ball would be back on the patio, on top of the grill, getting barbecued along with that sneaky piece of chicken on there for the one person that won't eat hot dogs or hamburgers.

Garland actually pitches a one-two-three third, with the only moment for pause a long, long, long, long fly ball to center field off the bat of Brian Giles that "Hercules" Wells hauls in while sitting on top of the fence. He had himself positioned just like that, good coaching.

Yorvit Torrealba, who I think is maybe the best White Sox catcher ever, including the original "Pudge", he doubles into the left field corner to start the third, raising his postseason average to something like .550. Only this team at its absolute worst could take that and do nothing with it...but that's just what happens. Groundout to short, bloop single, strikeout, and there's two out. #3 man Ordonez draws a walk, cleanup man Munson hits into another hypothetical double play. inning over, no runs, no nothing. Next turn at the bat, everyone strikes out, Podsednik ending the inning by staring at a bender and then turning around to stare at the umpire, then maybe calling him a few choice names, and then he's gone. Salt in the wound, or dirt in the wound, or whatever the hell the expression is. I'm pretty sure at this point the croquet score is them 10 wickets and we're back through the front yard and on the street, maybe there's a car coming and everyone has to yell "CAR!!" like it's a pickup street football game.

I'm pretty sure the Yankees are mailing in their A.B.'s now, Jeter's not getting hits, they're getting thrown out on the base paths, the score says only two-nothing but this is just a horror show, a comedy of errors, and I think they're laughing too hard to score any more runs. To start the fifth, Torrealba, who is batting eighth but I swear is the best hitter on this team, singles to left, and then everything goes wrong. Garland, batting only because it will be interesting to see if he spontaneously combusts when he goes out for the sixth, but he can't get a good bunt down and the lead runner's cut down. Clippard gets a little wild, hits shortstop Vazquez, walks second baseman Kennedy. The bases are loaded for our number three man Ordonez. He hits into a 'round the horn double play.

But baseball is not nearly as black and white as life is. You lose your job, your house, your dog gets run over, your girl breaks up with you all in one day, lots of people would say they'd smile and nod but I bet most of 'em would do something rash, drugs or pills or hari krishna ****, move across the country or cry on their mum's sofa or something. I've been guilty of it, you lose your job and the one person you think is on your side, you're gonna end up not caring about street football, not caring about "the next inning," you're just gonna see darkness, a 20-run deficit.

For us in this game it was only two, and after Garland got through the top of the sixth unscathed, it was still only two. An Eric Munson double, a Vernon Wells single, suddenly it's a one run game. He steals second, Lunsford (looking more and more like Mike Figga) throws the ball into center field, and the tying run is ninety feet away. Raul Gonzalez hits a sharp grounder to second baseman Marcus Giles, who gets him out but the run scores and we're tied, we're tied, it's like we pulled out a driver on the croquet ball and hit it 300 yards.

Garland tries to give it all away next inning but thanks to Rodriguez coming up at another really inappropriate time, there's no Yankee runs despite Jeter bunting and scampering all over the basepaths.

Travis Harper comes on for the seventh and looks very much like a reliever pitching his first postseason game on the road for the team trailing two games in the series, maybe not so much when he comes in but definitely when Jeter skips a throw past first and Enrique Wilson's on first base. Vazquez lays down a pretty bunt on the first pitch, putting the lead run within a base hit's distance, and Harper walks Kennedy. Ordonez is killing my stomach, and whiffs in a pretty ugly at bat. Munson walks, the bases are loaded again. Vernon Wells steps in. Ball one, ball two, this is it, the fake home crowd is fake screaming very loudly, he's got to come in the strike zone now, here comes a fastball and Wells clobbers it but...

But. It's right at fake first baseman Giambi, not that one but his younger brother, and there all that goes. At least fake Giambi makes the third out of the eighth. Then Harper starts giving us opportunities again. Frank Catalanotto singles, Raul Gonzalez singles, and if you went in the kitchen for some chips there's two men on base now, nobody out, all we need's another hit, a wild pitch or something...but Yorvit Torrealba lines out to second, pinch-hitter Wil Cordero hits into a double play, and all we got is all we had, a tie score.

It's the ninth now, closer Joe Roa's on the mound but I'm still starting to freak out a little, especially when Jeter reaches on an infield hit, brings his average up to .500 for the series and he's been on base so much I expect he'll just start running around the bases and no one will stop him, who the hell could? But Randy Winn grounds out and we can win it in the home half with the top of the order coming up against their closer, Dave Weathers.

First pitch, leadoff man Vazquez likes it up in the zone and out over the plate (who doesn't?) and he cracks a liner into right field, just dangling out there the chance to win with a steal and a single, a double, a triple, it's not so far away now, it's not nearly so crazy, in comes 2B Kennedy, a solid .280 hitter on the season, but before he ever sees a pitch...

Vazquez gets picked off. Hit .344 on the year, huge reason why we even got in the playoffs, I can't bug on him too much, but picked off first in the ninth inning? Just stand on the bag, man, then you get one more out to play with. The fake crowd's quieted after that, wouldn't you be, and I just get one of those feelings you can't shake, like how you know something's gonna happen even though it hasn't happened yet. Rest of the inning goes nowhere, Roa comes in for the tenth and after the automatic Rodriguez out, everybody hits, bottom of the lineup starters, backups, defensive replacements, everyone. The string plays out single, walk, single, single, outfielders make an error, a bad throw and before help comes in the form of Akinori Otsuka from the bullpen, it's 5-2 visitors and it's too late, like a friend of mine who fell asleep in her pool two hours yesterday afternoon. It's ninety five, a hundred degrees here. Sure she got out before she turned into a lobster but damn if you didn't see some of the funky burns and patches of skin she got, this was after hot bath, warm bath, cold bath, aloe, some kinda oil, some other stuff. God damn lot of baths.

Scot Shields closes the tenth and our two-zip lead is down to two-one. See, that game was a catastrophe, but baseball really ain't so black and white, not when you look past today's game, you know? You get your bad sequences, your bad innings, bad starts and bad calls and bad decisions, but there's always a game tomorrow. Same is true with life, I'm finding out, but that's another story for another time, another place, another game, not when we're a loss away from a tie series. To put it that way is glass half empty though. Glass half full ****...we're up two-one over the m.f.'ing Yankees.