“I am absolutely flabbergasted, ladies and gentlemen. The official scorer here at Steinbrenner Field, a man by the name of Bill Matthews, has changed the Simpson E-3 into a hit while the Yankees were in the dugout. Just, unfathomable. You call it when it happens. You don’t wait three innings for it to go by. It’s just unbelievable."

I hate myself for saying this, but Michael Kay has a point. 

Sorta, anyway. 

Yesterday, a no-name Tampa official scorer's decision to change an error into a hit - two innings too late, in a potential no-hitter by Max Fried - still smacks of a home job. The ultimate YES man, Kay, was righteous in his fury, though wrong in his self-pleasuring delivery.  

Listen: There exists a secret, underground ledger of unwritten codes, which guide sporting events in the same way that the druids control our weather. 

These iron-clad rules can never be acknowledged without threatening the sanctity of our games. They exist in the minds of players, fans and juju gods -and are easily understood, certainly more so than the infield-fly rule. 

When ignored, they leave a historical stain on home plate - or, more often - the  one-yard line.

Who has not screamed bloody murder over a last-second, football pass interference call, when a QB has simply launched a ball into the end zone, hoping for a flag. All too often, the refs comply, setting up an easy FG that reverses the outcome.

Or, worse: On that final play, an offensive tackle gets flagged for holding, a penalty that could have been called on every single play. Suddenly, the ball is moved into field goal range and - poof - they played 60 minutes... for nothing. 

Who has not railed against the Fates when a shooting guard puts up a last second 3-pointer, missing the rim, only to be gifted three free throws - to win the game - again, on the type of call that was ignored for 59:59 minutes?  

Happens all the time: A great game gets decided by a ref's questionable decision. On instant replay, maybe the call is justified. But in the final record, the one kept in our hearts, it's a travesty. 

Yesterday's Yankee game falls short of "travesty." That's where Kay's indignation turns into self-pleasurement. (By the way, no one in this world - maybe with the except of Trump - is happier than Kay, when he's discovered an issue to rail against.) 

Still, imagine the fury today across the Yankiverse if Fried's a no-hitter had been lost by the official scorer's 8th inning change of mind. 

In the final ledger, Michael Kay's rambling rage will be remembered for its  inconsequence: Fried's quest ended with an honest single. The Tampa wonk did not cost anyone his place in history. 

Kay did not need to be "flabbergasted." In the end, the scorer's change was defended by, of all people, Aaron Boone. 

But but BUT... that decision should not have taken two innings to overturn. To be announced in the 8th, crushing Fried's quest - folks, Kay was right: 

That truly, utterly, completely, formally... sucks.  

It wasn't pass interference or illegal formation. It wasn't a penalty kick. It was just one meager play in an afternoon that, I suspect, Fried will remember forever. 

And so will Bill Matthews.