Last night, King Felix hit three of the last five Yankees he faced, and his replacement came within a hiccup of beaning Raul Ibanez. Hernandez broke Arod's hand, maybe ending his season and putting a huge crimp in our chances. Yet all we hear from the Yankee brain trust is that he surely was not throwing purpose pitches?
Hey, if quacks like a purpose pitch, it's a purpose pitch.
Eleven years ago, some Angels pitcher nailed Derek Jeter with a fastball, and our own Theodore Roosevelt Lilly promptly beaned Scott Spezio. We lost the game but won the war. True to his namesake, Lilly walked tall and carried a big stick.
Last night we lost the game. The war isn't over.
Listen: I don't want anybody hurt, but I hope Ivan Nova spends his afternoon buzzing the inside of the plate like a plane zipping King Kong atop the building. There is no reason why any Mariner batter's cleats should sink into the soil of the batters' box any deeper than a coat of Windex. Let's channel the ghost of Billy Martin. This West Coast trip has been bloody hell. But we've paid. It's time for somebody to feel it.
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