That said, fukinay, we can deliver a hard steel-toe to the seed sac of big-spending Boston and send home the Fenway Nation with a four-alarm hangover and blood-stained skivvies. They'll have a 1-7 ace, a Venus de Milo bullpen, a team leader on the permanent IL and two creaky first basemen with bulging disks. One dose of Ryan McBroom, (whom I joke about, but he's having a Voit-like season in Scranton), with a side order of Dallas Keuchel, and the big-spending Bosocks will feel like William Barr, halfway through the Mueller Report, with no ink in his redaction Sharpie.
And we know how that feels.
Last year, while we hoped for an October surprise, who could really shake the feeling that the juju gods were betting against us? Time after time, we suffered agonizing losses. Game after game, they re-established a fundamental superiority, which we could never erase.
But last night - surely one of their most torturous losses of 2019 - time after time, their hard-driven balls died at the track or were turned into double-plays... almost exactly what happened last year to us.
In the ninth, with El Chapo showing all the tendencies of a series-killing meltdown, you could feel the Yankee season balancing on a fulcrum. (By the way, this is something increasingly common with Chapman, and it's why we better start nurturing a second closer.) He threw a perfect strike one to Mookie Betts, then was screwed out of strike two by the home plate ump. From there, uh-oh. Three straight balls to Betts, several bizarre pick-off attempts, and then a single to Babe Benintendi. As the sweat droplets rained from El Chapo's chin, you could feel the demons of 2018 swirling in his pumpkin-sized head. Except this time, JD Martinez's liner bounced to Gleyber, a DP grounder, and this time, Rafael Devers bounced out, instead of launching one to Connecticut. This time, it feels like our year.
Yeah-okay, yeah, you say: But it's fukinay June 2. The days are still elongating. But listen: a Yankee win tonight will plant the sense of doom into the smirk of every big-spending Boston fratboy, and if we top it off overnight with the signing of Keuchel, they'll wake up tomorrow consigned to chasing the Wild Card, and I cannot imagine a more depressing way to spend the month of June.
If we win tonight, if we break out Mr. McBroom, all the whispers about big-spending Boston, lurking in the shadows and ready to pounce, will disappear into the night sky. The race won't be over, not by a long-shot. But that bright twinkle up there, smack in the middle of the Big Dipper, will be us: The Death Star of Hope. Love, love, love...
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13 comments:
My butt still clenches every time I see McBroom brought up around here. His jinx was mighty powerful last year. Alas may the Yankees step on their throats tonight and break them inciting a 100 loss season for our (unfortunately) championship fattened Boston friends.
MR. DUQUE...
THAT WAS ONE OF THE FUNNIEST FIRST 2 PARAGRAPH'S IN IIHIIFIIC HISTORY.
....AT LEAST SINCE I'VE BEEN AROUND.
EVERYTHING IS COMING UP ACES FOR US.
The Boy is a talented writer, is he not?
You should read his books.
Message received: We Care.
Now in the immortal words Joe Schultz: STOMP ON 'EM BOYS, THEN GO POUND SOME BUDWEISER
We need to resist a descent into hubris.
May have to break out my "lucky" pants.
FUCKERS.
I agree: our Peerless Leader outdid himself. Hilarious!
And oh yes: Pants on heads! Pants on heads!
Just wish the game wasn't the ESPN Telethon selection tonight. Those contests always last into the wee small hours of the night.
ESPN has the ability to schedule the maximum number of commercials allowed according the Geneva Convention on Sports Fan Torture. It's the media equivalent of waterboarding, except you're only drowning in terrible 30 second ad spots. You don't feel like you're dying, but you feel your attention wandering to whatever is on TCM, HBO, or Showtime. Maybe the Food Network. You have something set up as your second, to watch during the commercial breaks, and get involved, then forget to turn back until an inning or two has gone by. It's insidious. And drinking only makes it more likely, at least in my experience.
One good thing about ESPN. Joe Buck doesn't work for them. Last night on FOX, Smoltz was actually not that bad, which kept me from muting the TV and going to John and Suzyn--which is an imperfect solution because their broadcast is live and the TV is always about :15-20 behind.
Death Star Love is not a bad idea, btw. Kind of like the Pax Romana, the result of Rome conquering everybody else, so they couldn't go to war with each other or with Rome, for that matter. In our case, it would only be the Socks who couldn't go to war this year, but that would be OK. You have to start somewhere.
I managed to sync the radio (mlb.tv feed) with cable feed the last two nights with pause/FF. It is rare for me to be able to do that.
Smoltz hates the Yankees -- 1996 still irks him. Coming back from the dead after the media had crowned the Braves team of the decade (how'd that work out for ya?). Only WS game I ever attended was game 3 in Atlanta. It was sublime, shutting up those 'fans' who wouldn't even know their own players names if they weren't stitched on the jerseys. (BTW Andy Messersmith's "Channel 17" was one for the ages. I got to see that one in person also, with Ted Turner the next fan in front of me in the seats, excepting the 20 empty rows.).
Even with Smoltz's hatred, he is still better without that asswipe Buck on. I have to think Jack Buck's wife was cheating on him at the time, because the kid didn't get ANY of dear old dad's talent. I still get chicken-skin listening to Jack's pregame soliloquy after 9-11.
Most of you here should be thankful that you get YES on the non-network games. Here I get NESN and horrible RS announcers. As bad as Buck. Their radio guy Castiglione is actually pretty good, but I have magic radio in the car and can listen to the master.
Then there's the ESPN crew. Horrible is just the beginning. Ma Boone was actually an improvement over the current crew. Supplimented with extra annoying commercials. Gimme Cellino and Barnes any day over them.
I caught the first game of that Series in person—very depressing, to that date the worst Yankees World Series loss ever—and the last one, which was one of the most exciting games I ever saw.
The crowd was insane. And despite the 3 wins in Atlanta, the Series was by no means a wrap. The Braves had Maddux going that night, and Glavine the next. They could easily have shut us down.
Instead...it was great. I remember the fans carrying a Braves coffin around outside the Stadium, relentlessly chanting, "Fuu-uuck the Bra-ves" to their same tomahawk-chop cry.
My last two playoff games were the AJ Burnett disaster and the Ivan Nova two inning stint. They never announced in the Stadium why Nova was pulled and Burnett *should* have been pulled. Both depressing losses. At least I didn't have to pay for the Burnett game. I hated that asshole.
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