John Sterling coined a nickname for Yankee CF Trent Grisham. He called him "Mr. Cool," for the way Grish loped after flies into the gap, snagging them at the last moment and making difficult catches look easy. Grisham's ambling presence conveyed a gracefulness the Yanks have seldom seen in this rather wretched millennium.
I'm sorta glad The Master didn't have to witness last night's game, which hinged on "Mr. Cool" once again trotting towards an uncertain fate.
Unfortunately, this time, Grisham wasn't chasing down a liner. He was seeking to score in the 8th inning of 2-1 heartbreaker.
Grisham was thrown out on split-second relay from a centerfielder who busted his ass from start to finish. Meanwhile, replays showed Grisham stutter-stepping towards second, slowly ramping up towards third and finally reaching home a moment too late.
"Mr. Cool," indeed.
You live by the lope, you die by the lope.
Once again, the Yankees collapsed in the crosshairs of a quality team. It's becoming their trademark. They squandered not only a chance to close on Tampa - which was swept by Boston - but they crapped on an otherwise great outing by Gerrit Cole, a commodity that looks increasingly finite.
Once again, the Yankees found themselves on the receiving end of a brutal Dodgers' message: You're not in our league, literally and figuratively.
Okay, I suppose we should all get a grip. The season didn't end last night. We play LA tonight and Sunday night, two marquee matchups that - when scheduled last winter - were meant to showcase baseball's two greatest sluggers. Nobody anticipated Max Schuemann. But here we are, bent over and waiting for the paddle.
It's time to start preparing for the worst.
For the first time since April, the Redsocks sit at .500. Every Yank fan in captivity knows what comes next, and we can anticipate it like explosive diarrhea from that contaminated lettuce.
It's happening again.
You can feel it.
Boston spent the last four years growing its farm system, while we systematically traded our future for spare parts, which often didn't even work. Suddenly, they have all the momentum, and we have all the baggage. We're awaiting scans on Aaron Judge, while Giancarlo Stanton can't even open a bag of potato chips, and the very air around us makes us feel like a smoked brisket.
Live by the lope, die by the lope.
Start spreading the news. And expect the worst.
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3 comments:
Aside from the Loper, I disagree. I think we showed that we're not only in the same league, but that LA bumbles as if they were human. The one run we scored was thanks to bumbling, in fact. And Cole almost made that stand up. Cruz looked pretty good, too, though human.
So we'll see. After watching the replay of last night, these guys don't scare me.
Boston is worrisome, though. 11 straight. Christ on a bike.
Please sir, more gruel...
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