Monday, May 29, 2017

On a day with only six strikeouts, the Yankees cracked Oakland

Yesterday, Matt Holliday appeared at the perfect moment for a nipple-twisting, pineapple-crapping turd of a strikeout. 

It was the third inning, we were down 2-1, two runners on, and he had taken a curve ball strike one. We all knew what was coming: Two more fat, bloated swings and misses, a strikeout, which has become to Yankee rallies what salmonella is to a cookout. 

This time, though, Holliday put his bat on the ball, lifting a long fly to right, where Matt Joyce settled under it.

And botched it.

Yep, he dropped it. You could hear every Little League coach that ever lived yelling, "Two hands!" But Joyce used one. He botched it, flubbed it, bungled it, muffed it, boned it, Canseco-ed it, Exxon-Valdezed it, Chernobyled it, Fukushima Nuclear Power planted it... Sean Spicered it.

Bases loaded for Aaron Judge.

Of course, everybody knows that Judge hit his first MLB grand slam, putting the Yankees ahead to stay. But it was Holliday's non-strikeout that set the table. Any time you put the ball into play, there is a chance something will break your way. And every time you strikeout...

Wait a minute. WTF? Why am I writing this? Everybody knows this. Fourth graders know it. Indigenous tribes on South Pacific islands, untouched by Jared Kushner, know it. Bedbugs know it. The cooties in your butt wad know it: With two strikes, you choke up and shorten your swing. They're still studying it, but a bag of rocks may even know this, and trust me here: You don't want to be as dumb as a bag of rocks. 

Only six strikeouts. A half-dozen. A great Yankee win. (Note: Every Yankee win is a great Yankee win.) Listen: This isn't me getting down on this team. This is me offering hope. Only six strikeouts. Maybe, just maybe, we get back to basics?

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