Thursday, May 12, 2016
Posted by el duque at 6:55 AM
It is top of the 6th, the KC Royals lead 4-3 with Mr. Michael Pineda pitching for our heroes. But he is unraveling. Pineda walks the lead-off man. That electrical surge you detect is the collective shriek of 6 million Yankee fans, pleading to their TVs for Girardi to change pitchers. He doesn't. The next batter whacks a DP ball, and the East Coast power grid might be safe, after all. Then Pineda walks another man. Girardi calls time. "This call to the bullpen is brought to you by..." NO! Girardi leaves Pineda in. That bonking sound you hear is not thunder. It is 6 million heads slamming into 6 million living room walls. Tonight, it pays to be a Comcast customer.
Next guy singles. Two on, two outs, game on the line... Girardi signals to the pen. In comes... Nick Goody.
Let me stop this torturous parlor game. Let me note for the record that I like Nick Goody and think he can become a serviceable relief pitcher someday. He is only 24 - adorable - and has pitched 10 innings in his MLB career. He is, basically, a loaner from Scranton. Whenever he throws more than 20 pitches, instead of a hotel room, they give him a bus ticket to Wilkes Barre and call up a replacement.
The Yankees have three of baseball's best relievers - perhaps the three best strikeout machines in any bullpen - and when clutching fingernail to chalk board - they go with Nick Goody.
So what happens? He hits Alcides Escobar, loading the bases. That brings up Lorenzo Cain, who hit three HRs the previous night. Again, there is no reason in Trump's holodeck universe why the Yankees - with the highest priced threesome in any bullpen, anywhere - have Nick Goody pitching to Lorenzo Cain.
So what happens? Do I need to say it? Cain singles, two runs score - it's now 6-3, and that's China Town, Jake. Phil Coke comes in. The Big Three go back to hibernation. They're like a great bottle of scotch that you bring out, let everyone sniff, and then put it back in the case.
The Yankees could have won last night, but it would have meant abandoning their nightly role-play costume pageant - Mr. 7th, Mr. 8th and Mr. 9th Inning. Everybody has his slot. You don't ask poise questions during the swimsuit competition. It's not cricket.
Last night, the Yankees had one pivotal moment to save that game. Instead of Betances, or Miller, or el Chapo... they went with Nick Goody. Wow.