Good night, first place, lasting into June.
Good night, Phelps. Good night, yelps.
Good night, bullpen. Goodnight, Beltran.
Good night, Girardi. Good night, race.
Good night to the old lady, whispering "first place."Good night, Cabral. Good night,all...
OK, look... ENOUGH! Let me get my bearings...
I watched it last night. I saw everything. I had to move behind the couch. I cannot unsee it...
If there ever was a chance to shoot a sick raccoon, well, we had it this weekend. The
Devil Rays came in without their two aces. and practically every hitter in an Andruw Jones-level slump. They were pitching Eric "the Dead" Bedard, who peaked in 2006, when Javy Lopez was still catching. After three innings, we had a four-run lead. Our bullpen was rested. We had Kuroda on the mound. I looked at that score and said, "MASSACRE! RUN IT UP! FASTER, PUSSYCAT, KILL, KILL!"
We have now suffered two excruciating, life-sucking losses in the last week - yet they sandwiched a nice, cuddly little winning streak. So who is this team? Is it any good? Has this been an acid flashback? (If so, how? Because I never did acid!) Did we hit the ice berg last night? Or can Nova, Tanaka and Pineda reboot us?
OK, let me get my bearings. Thank you... Listen: I really shouldn't complain. The Yankees needed a decent April, and we're only eleven days from achieving one..
Last night, down in the Stygian darkkness of Scranton, Alfredo Aceves pitched five strong innings. He didn't give up a run. I suspect we will soon see Alfred the Butler. Also, we will soon get David Robertson back, (though his has hardly been the Golden Age of Closers.) On Easter Sunday, Mark Teixeira shalt be resurrected, and we will no longer play outfielders at first base. It's not like we're Kansas City, and Miley Cyrus just called in sick. We can't just sit in a tub like George W. Bush and paint our feet sticking out of the water. We have a season in front of us.
It's only April. We cannot be eliminated for another five months. Still... losses shouldn't be this overwhelming.