Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Posted by el duque at 7:07 AM
Last night, the Yankee fates were cued up like a Fox News graphic on Benghazi to serve another classic, out-of-body, Cesar Cabralian defeat - in other words, a blinking contest with The Abyss. We blew the lead in the eighth. We pissed away several rallies. If the game went into extra innings, it would be only a matter of time before the ghost of Chris Leroux appeared, shaking his bones and humming, "It's a Small World After All..."
Then Mr. Roberts hit one.
It wasn't a cheap smash. It looked like a vintage drive from Mattingly or Brett, far into the seats, long gone before it left the infield. Roberts added two singles and boosted his BA to .250. Not exactly Rod Carew, but the guy was swimming in Lenn Sakata waters throughout April. Lately, Roberts has been hitting the ball hard. I don't want to jinx him, but if Roberts returned to 75 percent of his former abilities - let's say .285 with 10 HR - he would save Cashman's parking space. He would give the Yankees yet another lead-off hitter in practically an entire lineup of them - (Gardner, Soriano, Jeter, Ellsbury, Roberts, Ichiro) - despite the fact that we only seem to score with HRs. Of course, the Yankee problem is not putting men on base: It is driving them home.
Make no mistake: Last night, Roberts' home run saved this team from a 15-minute glance into the abyss. That's a long hard stare. Because 15 minutes can save you a lot on car insurance. Old Freddie Nietzsche knew it. That guy could really sack a quarterback.