Words of Joba, spoken last night, after we cleansed ourselves once and for all of the 2010 pennant.
Done. "It's over with." A truly classic Yankee defeat.
A magnificent Yankee fiasco.
Artistic. Pure. Creative. One for the ages.
From now on, Wild Card 2010! That is, unless we drop six to Boston.
Hard to rule that out.
We led. We had our ace. We loaded the bases with one out. We popped up. Our Cy Young also-ran walked the 8th and 9th men in the order. He walked in a run. Our strategic winter 2009 acquisition -- the one the expert cyberwhizz bloggers condemned us for ridiculing, the one they lauded Brilliant Brian for obtaining, while he was authorizing their press credentials -- plunked three batters in a row, in his new role as the mop-up Sergio Mitre. We loaded the bases again. We popped up. We finished the game with a Triple A infield being watched by a crowd that could have fit into a Sarasota snuff movie, having pissed away a two-game home field advantage, following a ceremonial dignitary chickenfuck, in which we unveiled a George Steinbrenner plaque nearly as big as the disappointment this team is going to foster next month, when Minnesota gets through with us.
It's over.
Wild card. That is, unless we blow six against Boston.
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1 comment:
On August 1 we were 66-37, Best Record in Baseball, but lots of us were baffled at how that was possible with so many guys having subpar years [e.g. Jeter, Granderson, Tex, A-Roid] and others not being very good in the first place [e.g. Cervelli, Vazquez]. But then the magic fairy dust that kept us riding high faded away; we've been 26-24 in August and September.
We're getting eliminated in the first round by the Twins; my crystal ball shows them celebrating as the snow falls on Target Field and melts on the heated grass.
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