Who strarted Last N

Portrait of a WinWarble that Wasn't

Sooooo close. Melky's drive goes over the shortstop and into the gap, and John Sterling might have a new WinWarble record.

If election day were today, would you vote for Joba starting in the playoffs?

Game I: Sabathia v. Lackey

Game II: Burnett v. Weaver

Game III: TBA v TBA

Game four: Sabathia v Lackey...

For the record, I've no quarrel with Dave Eilland's work. But it seems as though we have no clue WTF goes on inside Joba Chamberlain's size 14 head. Over the all-star break, our nipple ringed leviathan goes home to the meth lab, plays Wii, eats macaroni and cheese, and then returns as Victor Zambrano. Everything hunky dory.

Then, as soon as we start penciling him in as a win, he reverts to the 4-inning, 102-pitch, Stephen King directed movie bomb (Think "Maximum Overdrive.")

So what does Eilland do? What anybody would do. He orchestrates a virtual all-star break, gives our boy 10 days off to wander the shopping malls and download porn, like any other self-respecting 23-year-old demon child of the corn. Makes perfect sense.

What happens? "Maximum Overdrive," starring Chris Farley.

Right now, we have no fourth starter. Right now, we have no fifth starter. We win those games by scoring 10 runs. Last night, we scored nine. Wasn't enough.

What we do have, though, is a plump, juicy, six-game lead, three veteran starters and a relatively decent bullpen. And come Monday, we can unleash the hordes of Scranton -- everybody from Edwar, to Alba, to Melancon -- everybody.

But somebody's gotta figure this out. Way I see it, the Small Market Sox are about to receive a huge influx of pitchers. And where the hell goeth Phil Hughes?

Yanks use surgical game-ending DP to torture Small Market Sox

Hats off to Joe! He orders the Nick Swisher pop-up bunt, then Melky's game-ending DP liner -- keeping Texas in the Wild Card race and Socks newlywed medical marvel John Henry in the Prosac and Cialis cocktails!

Sure, it always hurts to lose, and let's not develop some psyche complex about Pudge Rodriguez, who John considers a great human being. I'm saying we keep Josh Hamilton in strippers and day-drunks until Sept. 31, if that's what it takes to rally the Rangers. But hell, why sweep now?

For the record: This is not expressing fear of Boston. This is playing with cafeteria food. This is walking to your Country Kitchen booth with a huge plate of mashed potatos (Big Papi) and peas (Papelbon) -- small market food -- then sculpting a hockey goal and firing shots into it with your knife. If we've got corn, let's make succotash. Sufferin' succotash.

Don't get swept at home. One more loss? I can take it. Last night's only downside? John would have had a great WinWarble.

Remember that Johan Santana deal? Well..

He's going under the knife.

Because those who cannot remember the past...

December 2007...

"Britney Spears is moving with as much speed toward Shakespearean theatre as the Yanks are moving toward true rebuilding.

"With another $200 million payroll and a positional roster that might have to be carbon dated to determine its age, the 2008 Yanks will remain a now team. This is why they must sacrifice even more precious youth - think Phil Hughes, Melky Cabrera and Jose Tabata - to land Johan Santana."

"So to keep up with the Red Sox, the Yanks need their Beckett. The cost is going to be staggering. In fact, right now, the Twins' asking price is even higher than Hughes/Cabrera/Tabata. But this is just the infancy of negotiations, and if the Yanks can take requests to that area, they must act, in part as a way of protecting the young starters left after this deal."

Question: Should we lose to the Rangers just to piss off the Small Market Sox?

I see no reason to sweep Texas. We lost a game in Smalltown. We should lose at least one to the Rangers.

Start Sergio Mitre, then go to Swisher. Let Melky play first. Give Jeet the night off, and let Molina play shortstop. Can we make a roster change so Suzyn can get an at bat?

Bring up that first round draft pick -- Slade Hitchcock, Heathrow, whatever -- and bat him cleanup.

Billy Crystal! He been working out in Tampa?

Wagner Goes To Sox For A Bag of Balls

The Boston Red Sox, feeling the pressure of not enough payroll and not enough big names on their roster, have been awarded the Met's Billy Wagner  for two mid-level AA players.

The Red Sox granted Wagner's request to release him from any obligation next season so, when he does sign with another team, the Red Sox will get draft picks.  And the Red Sox do not have to pick up his $10 million contract.

No top prospect of the Sox was involved in this transaction, per usual. 

 The Indians didn't want any good players for Victor Martinez, and the Mets didn't want any for Wagner.  Both wanted career minor leaguers to fill up holes in their rosters.

 Why does everyone give up proven talent to the small market Red sox and want nothing back?

Is this a conspiracy that the baseball Commissioner should investigate?

I need a gallon of manhattans, followed by tranquilizers.

We will rue this deal in the playoffs.

John & Suzyn backing Georgie in page dispute

For the record, they have to back Georgie.

It's like Thumper backing Bambi. They have to.

10 events that would make this the greatest season in history

1. We win the World Series in seven over Joe's Dodgers. (Duh.)

2. Jeter named MVP; Tex in second.

3. Small Market Sox miss playoffs after Papelbon blows 2-run lead.

4. John Sterling breaks 9-second WinWarble barrier.

5. Michael Jackson's deranged killer, Paul McCartney, brought to justice.

6. All 103 MLB steroid users -- including members of Small Market Sox -- publicly revealed.

7. Carl Pavano pulls hammy. (NOTE: We do not wish arm trouble on any pitcher; a twanging hammy will suffice.)

8. In final game, NY fans give Hideki Matsui the "PAUL O'NEILL!" treatment.

9. Kate Hudson & Minka Kelly overcome differences, unite to work for world peace.

10. Republicans & Democrats, inspired by Kate Hudson & Minka Kelly, overcome differences, unite for world death panels.

"Small Market Sox" in Wild Card battle

Last night, the Small Market Sox -- those plucky, cherished, living baseball embodiments of the movie "Hoosiers" -- somehow managed to beat the mean old Big Market Sox from Chicago.

Led by Happy Smile Papi and Rumage Sale Youk, these Slumdog heros are chasing immortality in the fight of their lives, battling the huge, gold-plated Gotham Goliaths of the baseball world.

How are they doing it? Well, Flea Market Theo is always on the scrounge for a bargain basement castoff, such as Dollar Store Billy Wagner, who was pitched overboard by the Gomorah Mets.

Let's hope this beloved band of misfits can put together a miracle finish and bring another championship to Small Town, U.S.A.

The only question? Who will play them in the Ron Howard movie?

"Small Market Sox?:" HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Let this, from the Boston Dirt Dogs, remind us all
of why we became Yankee fans.

"Smackdown Big Apple Payroll 8
Small Market Sox 4"

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

From now on, to me, they shall
always be
the "Small Market Sox."

Update: Hahahahahahaha.

Update: HAHAHAHAHA!

Great quotes by John Sterling

My fave is the one about the ideal client.

Only 4 days 'till MAX -- the amazing ancient crystal skull -- comes to Syracuse, while Scranton plays tiddlywinks on the periphery

MAX, the Ancient Crystal Healing Skull -- with caretaker Joann Parks (above, on right) -- is coming to Syracuse this weekend.

Joann Parks inherited MAX from a Tibetan healer, Norbu Chen, where she worked as a receptionist/assistant, upon his passing. Joann now travels all over the country, and sometimes abroad, sharing MAX with people who desire to experience a meeting with a crystal skull! She also brings minature crystal skulls, for purchase. Each carries the energies of MAX.

Amazingly... and strangely... the arrival of MAX will be sandwiched by contests between the Syracuse Chiefs and the Scranton-Wilkes Barre Red Baron-Yankees!

Don't believe it? HERE'S PROOF!



NOTE: For unexplained reasons, Syracuse will play Louisville while MAX is in town. Why?

Taking Alphonso's advice, I'm on a grueling scouting mission

Since I felt guilty having Alphonso do all our advance scouting work in the South Mexican Dirt League, I have undertaken a scouting mission of my own, scouring the beaches of the East Coast searching for the next great arm. I believe Andrew Brackman was discovered this way.

If the next great arm is only, say, 14, then we can simple have him shipped to Latin America, have him lie and say he's 16 and sign him for several million dollars -- taking, of course, a generous "consulting fee." Bud Selig has assured us that he's OK with that.

I'd get into more details, but the sun is hot and the Utica Club is cold. Yes, the grueling work of scouting calls.

-- BBB

In speech fraught with metaphor and parable, Jim Rice was using Jeet as literary device

Statement from Redsock Hall of Famer Jim Rice, regarding his misquoted comments last week that Little Leaguers should not emulate Derek Jeter:



"It is deeply regretful that, regretably, once again our tone-deaf media trogdolytes failed to identify the employment of literary symbolism in my speech last week to the wee folk.

"In mentioning Mr. Jeter, I was, in fact, not targeting him per se, but the rampantly self-indulgent commercialization of sports, which denigrates not only the educational instutions of athleticism but the very soul of the games that we so cherish, which occasionally occurs when players such as he is publicly identified in speeches.

"My humorous and fundamentally positve reference to Mr. Jeter appeared in a multi-textured context which, apparently, was too complex for the sensibilities of my journalist friends.

"This is regretable, because the children that day clearly understood my pure meaning, which I will not re-explain, because I fear reporters would only re-misinterpret it, adding to the regretful dialogue which has already mischaracterized both myself, Mr. Jeter and the good people of Boston.

"To those who callously twist meanings of my words, I say this: "My fists are raised. Do it again, and you shall be heartily beaten off."

If Anyone Tells You They Could Have Predicted This, Suzyn, They Are Out Of Their Effing Minds, Pardon My French

MLB.com has video of last night's five (5) NYY homers WITH AUDIO OF JOHN STERLING'S CALLS! RIGHT HERE!

Question to Mr. Sterling: Do we have to play every game?

Some people suggest playing hard now and then, not putting forth one's absolute best team effort in every game, regardless of the situation. What's your opinion?

John's analysis of the situation touches Suzyn's soul

John Sterling's recap of WHERE WE ARE brings out a true glimpse of Suzyn Waldman's soul.

Saving it for the Playoffs? John's Redsock Rubber Warble is only 6.04 seconds

Have the Yankees put him on a Warble count?

We beat Boston at home, beat Beckett at him, basically clinch a post-season birth and maybe screw the Redsocks from the playoffs... and he doesn't hit 6.50 seconds?

Something's up.

Public Service Announcement for the Morning of 8/24

Blast both of these great tunes when your Red Sox co-workers get to work tomorrow:

I told You Earlier: This Yankee Team Is A Turkey

Aj Burnett was paid $100 million plus by Brian Cashman to beat the Fu***** Red Sox in the late season and playoffs.

So far, he is very effective against the Royals.

CC can't beat anyone either, when it matters.

No one in our line-up can beat a former industrial league pitcher form Japan.

And watch them all flail at the air when Tim Wakefield returns.

This team will make the playoffs.  Whooppeee.  And be out in round one.

They are useless cowards and failures.  Dream on you dreamers.  They are doing nothing once it really matters.

They are turkeys.  Miserable, succulent turkeys.

I hope you all like football.

BREAKING: Peter Gammons At Fenway For Tonight's Game

In a surprise move, ESPN's Peter Gammons will be offering commentary live and in person at tonight's game!!!

If we lose tonight, season's over

If we lose tonight... forget the post-season, forget that pennant-clinch party, forget that trip to New York for the Canyon of Heroes, forget MVP, forget sunsets, forget rainbows, forget wearing knee socks to your prostitute, forget everything. It's over, done, gone, kaput, rogga, cloim, booglah. No happy times. No birthdays. No phone calls from the Pope. End of summer. End of puberty. End of time. No economic recovery, no free content, no candy, no tomorrow.

It's that simple: Win tonight... or our lead is cut to 5.

Illinois high school plans to name room after Robert Novak

Go for it!

World Exclusive: Joba is going back to the pen!

No, not to visit his mother.

According to the Yankees brain trust, he'll be restricted to six more starts this season. Do the math (I can't be bothered).

He's not going to get a start during the post season. He'll be part of an "all hands on deck" bullpen.

Just you wait and see.

Developing. Must credit "IT IS HIGH..."


And check out this lovely work of art, while you're here.



Click on the image to visit the artist's online gallery. (Boobs!)

Tom Ridge Homeland Threat Index explained

Question to Mr. Sterling: Will yesterday's game affect today's game?

The Curse of Creed?

Comment from "J" unveils the nasty, hurtful business of this wretched band:

"Johnny goes to a Creed concert. He gets injured and taken out of the game 3 pitches into his first at-bat.

"Bruney goes to a Creed concert. He walks the bases loaded.

"I'm scared to see Robertson's next outing... "

Let's just pray that, during Robertson's wind-up, he doesn't pitch with arms wide open.

John's Warble: 4.56 seconds... Did we really win?

John & Suzyn: For at least one night, one happy couple

Turn it up

Score

Three reasons we don't want to sweep Boston

1. No matter what happens, Boston will rally in September. This notion that we'd "knock them out of the race" this weekend? Forget it. They have too many veterans. The Rangers or Rays are more likely to fold. Expect Boston to be in the post-season. Which means...

2. We're better off not sweeping them. I'm serious. If we roll them, despite the obvious pleasure it'll bring, they'll regroup and turn mean, while we grow comfy-cozy. We gotta win one game, maybe two. Save the sweep for October.

3. No matter what happens, there's a whole frickin month left. We could lose three at Fenway, then turn around and win the next 10. We cannot blow first place this weekend. But we need one game. Two is gravy. Three... we've peaked too soon.

I know the above is blasphemy. But think of it this way:

They won the first eight.

If we win the next seven, won't the pendulum be shifting their way... and in October?

Emotional reunion tonight

Damaso Marte said to be bringing his "spices" back to Pinstripes.

Jim Rice To Little Leaguers: 'I Order You To Hate Derek Jeter'

I am not even exaggerating, hardly. Go read it. [via LoHud]

Crisis of Conscience: Creed is the worst band ever, and Johnny Damon likes them

This is bad. This is very bad.

Scott Stapp and Co. grew up in the Orlando area and have known Johnny for a while now.

So Johnny rented a bus and he, Brian Bruney, Eric Hinske, Dave Robertson, Phil Coke and Kevin Long will travel from Boston to the show. Johnny arranged for everything.

Alan Horne is going to make it back

Seems like yesterday -- or 2005 -- that Alan Horne was our secret bet to claim a spot in the rotation. Then everything went blooey, and he looked to be the latest in a painful daisy chain of first-ballot designees for the Yankiverse's Hall of Fame, the Christian Parker Wing:

That is, the place for pitchers who would have made The Show, if not for shredding their arms trying.

Well, write this down: Alan Horne is going to make it.

(NOTE: In honor of the current national debate in health care, I see no reason be factual in anything I say. In fact, truth can hamper the process, seriously undermining the chance for violent acts that would dramatically increase TV ratings and revenues. Therefore, I have chosen not to look up Horne's age or research his actual chances of returning to form.)

Here's my reasoning: Now and then, Horne's dad posts on the forum of nyyfans.com, and dammot, it's hard not to root for the guy. Besides, the Christian Parker Wing is already overcrowded.

And yesteday, via Sliding Into Home, there is evidence of hope. (Keep in mind, Horne's pitching in the Gulf Coast League, which is like Justin Timberlake competing in American Idol.)

I don't care. You can be pessimistic.

Write this down: Alan Horne is going to make it.

Ready for Fenway, She-Fan dons on a reeeeeeeally short skirt

But, oh, those legs...

Olive Oyl won't sleep tonight.

If Plaxico goes to Georgetown, upstate NY fans might have a special treat next summer

Yesterday, Plax got two years -- a 20-month minimum -- for shooting the Giants in the foot last year just before the playoffs.

Odds are, he'll do at least the final stretch of his time in a minimum security prison, such as the beautiful Camp Georgetown in Madison County. If so, grid fans next summer can take a short side trip from watching the Jets train in Cortland and maybe see the former Giant star clearing shrubbery from the roads of South Otselic!

Wait a minute. Deep thought:

If three years ago, Plax accidentally dropped his gun at a secret dogfight, wounding Michael Vick's pitbull rather than himself, both players might have no problems today.

Jacoby Ellsbury on Cusp of Redsockian Fleet-footedness Immortality

Lo! The beef known as Coby shall soon
possess the most coveted honor in all of sports:

Greatest single-season basestealer for the
franchise that is synonymous with stealing bases!

Faster than Yaz!

Speedier than Mo Vaughn!

Quicker than Tony C!

He'll soon beat the reigning Redsock king of steals...
uhm... whose name escapes me...
wait... It's Harper!
Yeah, Tommy Harper!
The guy who sued the Redsocks for racial discrimination and won!

Congratulations in advance, Coby!

Open Letter to Bud Selig: Does baseball need a "Mercy Rule?"

Dear Madam or Sir,

As you know, the quality of mercy is not strained; it doth droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven into -- and out of -- Luis Castillo's glove.

But in your role as keeper of ancient traditions and hairpieces, we ask this:

Should not the gentle rain of mercy be drizzled unto the hapless wayfarers who fall 11 runs behind after four innings, and whose tortured bullpen begins to moan like a braless, blond Christina Ricci chained to a radiator in a backwoods shagpit owned by Samuel L. Jackson?

Or do you find titilating the notion of a braless, blond Christina Ricci chained to a radiator in a backwoods shagpit owned by Samuel L. Jackson? DO YOU?

Well, we at IT IS HIGH certainly don't!

A great man once said, "You cannot predict baseball, I don't care who you are or how smart you are, no one can predict the game, it's a-mayyyzing!" And his words do ring true.

No lead, however large, is ever safe and secure.

And yet... that great man also said that you can be safe and secure, if you trust your finances to the experienced managers of New York Life, with more than 60 years of experience in the field. That's New York Life... the company you keep.

Last night, the Yankees rained 20 runs of abject misery and pain upon 40,000 sad, innocent, tearful, Redsockian dickwads. If not for the mercy shone by our pitching staff, the good people of Boston would have gone home to their empty radiator shagpits with no more than juiced-Papi memories and dreams of Billy Wagner.

Sir... madam... whatever you are beneath that chinchilla-hued helmet of fur... has not the timeth come for you to rain some mercy?

Top 10 Reasons Mark Teixtiera Will Appear on Letterman Monday

10. Conan is hosting Joe Mauer.

9. Chance to show Paul Schaffer true meaning of "switch hitter."

8. Who can sleep after sweeping Redsocks at Fenway!

7. Yearning to show David what it's like to be "driven by Jeep."

6. Only person aside from Pavano capable of explaining Obama's health care proposal.

5. Waited years to perform impersonation of Larry "Bud" Melman.

4. Outside chance of meeting Rudy Guiliani.

3. Nothing else to do on a Monday in New York.

2. Need somebody to cut tension between guests Minka Kelly and Kate Hudson.

1. Nick Swisher turned it down.

Barney Franks Confronts Woman in Town Meeting Who Compares Teixtiera to Giambi

"You stand there and say they're equal in the field? This is insane! This is a testament to freedom of speech that you can be allowed to spread such idiotic misinformation. What team are you watching?"

Where have you gone, Giuseppi Franco?

The Redsock Nation turns its lonely eyes to you.

(Hey, he's Giuseppi Franco, and he wasn't going to put his name on a team that wouldn't make the playoffs!)

Will we someday make jokes about W.B. Mason?

Did You See This Tweet From Last Week? Doesn't It Look Like The Turd Has A Future As John's Successor?

I know John thinks he's being all modern 'n' shit with the "Tex message" call, but from now on I want to hear "Texsual healing" when MVP goes high/far/gone. Also -- and forgive me for making you wait for this, it's been days since I've blogged because I've been living what people offline call a "life" -- did you see the Neil Best thing in Newsday last Friday? The profile of John that mentioned this one awesome Yankees blog?

The most frequent complaint is his anticipating of plays, often wrongly. There even is a blog dedicated to him under the banner, "It is high, it is far, it is . . . caught.''

Yes, there even is, Newsday... and thank you for giving our John a chance to fight back against the haters! And to bring the discussion back around to my original point, Suzyn, Newsday's Neil Best made a sidebar about John's home run calls, and it reveals who thought up "Swishilicious!" Answer: who do you think?

Nick Swisher didn't like "Jolly Old St. Nick,'' telling Sterling, "It makes me seem fat and old.'' So he suggested "Swishilicious,'' a nickname from his Oakland days.

On basis of last night, Gaudin rises to 2nd on "All-Time Yankee Chads" rankings

Current rankings ALL-TIME YANKEE CHADS:

1. Curtis
2. Gaudin
3. Moeller

Congratulations to all Chads who competed!

John & Suzyn in "Marty Dodges the Whip"

Yankeetorial: It's a wonder anyone follows West Coast teams

Last week, Yank fans received a textbook lesson in why the AL East is baseball's toughest division -- and why nobody cares about those godforsaken teams -- the Dodgers, Giants, Mariners; I'd list them all, but who cares? -- that play on the godforsaken West Coast.

It's their ridiculous starting times.

Considering that their first pitch takes place after 10:16 p.m., it's a wonder they have any fans at all! Obviously, what fans they do have -- stupid wretches -- are more sheep than human. Why else stand for games that start too late to even see the outcome!

And what about children! Does anyone out there -- with their tanned and lipsticked mouths full of Califuckinfornia cuisine -- speak for the children? How can the tiny people of Los Angeles follow their teams, when games start long after they should be tucked into beds! What do they do with tykes, keep them up by having them snort cocaine and ride from club to club? A regular 3-hour game won't end until after 1 a.m. How does a third-grader get to school next day!

Last week, the obvious fatigue in John's and Suzyn's voices was painful to hear. Being good sports and polite guests, they made only oblique references to the horrible, mind-draining time schedules, but John's WinWarbles clearly suffered. As for me, listening at home with my family gathered around the radio, my children wiping the sleep from their red eyes, I found myself screaming at the infernal machine: "START THE GAMES EARLIER, FOOLS! STOP COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW WE SIGN THE BIG MONEY PLAYERS! PLAY THE GAMES IN THE EVENING INSTEAD OF DURING THE LETTERMAN SHOW, AND YOU CAN AFFORD CC SABATHIA, TOO!"

I know what they're thinking: "We're California. We're better than you. We have Hollywood. We have the game shows. We get all the good-looking girls from Topeka, sleeping their way to the top, so we'll party until 10 p.m., then watch the game! We're the West Coast." Well, no wonder they elected a weight-lifter who can't balance the budget. They can't afford their government, much less winning ballclubs.

Still... it amazes me that the lords of baseball -- most notably Bud "$18-million-per-year" Selig -- refuse to do anything. Selig's in with them because he buys his hairpieces in LA. He's afraid they'll cut him off.

PLAY GAMES EARLIER, WEST COAST! WE'RE SICK OF STAYING UP LATE TO BEAT YOUR STINKING CHEAP TEAMS!

Favre, Clemens, Nixon: Top Retirers of all-time?

Most announced retirements:

1. Sophie Tucker: 1,494 (estimated)
2. Frank Sinatra: 129
3. Bill Cosby: 70
4. Peter Townsend: 53
5. Al Orter: 9
6. Joe Torre*, Michael Jordan: 4
8. Roger Clemens, Richard Nixon, Dick Cheney, David Chappelle*: 3
10. Brett Favre*: 2

*Still active

Mets Fans Turning Furious

A Few Observations Before A Perfect Manhattan

In approximatel 43 minutes, I will be sitting at a bar sipping the first of many perfect manhattans and sluicing down a plateful of blue points.

And beer.

So, before I become incoherent and begin text messaging She-Fan for information on her Santa Barbara paradise, I thought I should get a few items off my chest:

1. The mystery of Eric Duncan has been solved.

Many ( read; "all" ) Yankee fans have wondered why this number one pick from Seton Hall Prep never developed into any kind of Yankee prospect.

It turns out, he was beaned by a 93 mph fastball in Trenton 4 years ago. Given that he is only 24 years old, that means he had climbed the prospect ladder pretty well to already be at AA ball at age 20.

Unfortunately, he has never recovered and is pretty much settled in as a .220 hitter with no power and not much range on defense.

But it isn't his fault.

I was beaned by a 45 mph fastball a few years back and look what that did to my prospects.

2. The Yankees are finally getting smart.

Damaso Marte recovered from his arm ailment about 2 months ago, but the Yankees have given him time off to attend to some personal matters.

They have recently extended Damaso's "timeout."

Some personal matters he should consider upon his return, include:

A. His inability to throw strikes when not in the bullpen.
B. His unusual quirk that prevents him from getting either lefties or righties out.
C. His recent dietary ugrade to "sliders and fries."

3. Brett Tomko will not win another game all year.

The Yankees just cannot hit pitchers they have never seen before.

The John Sterling Drinking Game

Do this, and soon you'll be john hurling.

From Rebecca.

A word from Suzyn

Comment of the Week

From our good friend, Anonymous:

Lets consider John Sterling the MEL ALLEN of our time. Mr Allen, had a THOUSAND nicknames for the players ('ol reliable, The Chairman of The Board, the Commerce Comet, Superchief, Springfield rifle..et al) Mr Allen ROUTINELY performed surgery on his calls to keep pace with the game, and he flubbed his share, they all do! Im hearing a LOT of Sterling bashing, yet hear ZERO comments as to who should REPLACE him when and IF he leaves...hint..HE AINT LEAVIN ANYTIME SOON!!!! The Lovers love and the Haters cant wait to hear what he will say next. All you haters out there, admit it...YOU LOVE HIM!!!!!!


Discuss...

John's Skinny-Legged Warble in Oakland Last Night

He didn't even reach 5.00 seconds.

Yeah, it was a West Coast game, we're in first, we had a lead, it's Oakland, but... less than 5.00?

Is he getting too comfy, resting on laurels, complacent, fat?

A 4.85-second warble... trouble in paradise?

Yankeetorial: This guy Jeter might be pretty good someday

Guy told me a story yesterday about meeting Jeter. He's on vacation, returning from golf. He finds his wife sunning on a deck chair, about five feet away from Jeter. (Jeet is skinnier than you'd expect.) He whispers to his wife, "THAT'S FUCKING DEREK JETER." She'd sat four hours beside him, never noticed. Also, she'd been getting pie-eyed. Naturally, she acosted Jeter. The guy was pleasant. A pro. Gracious. He was willing to trade four hours of privacy for a slobbering drunk woman's half-baked advances.

A few more hits last night. Another six-game hitting streak. Those Ivy League profs with the defense software? They're on sabatical in Samoa.

If Joe Mauer gets swine flu, this could be the year.

He's got Minka on Friday Nights. He's got Damon hitting behind him. (Why did it take two years to put Damon behind him?) He's got ARod absorbing media. He's got the Redsocks imploding. He's got fast baserunners hitting ninth. (Why did it take 10 years to get fast baserunners?)

If Joe Mauer stubbs his toe, this could be the year.

Jeter has always set the standard. Like that drunk woman in the sunseat, we've practically become oblivious to his greatness.

This could be the year.

Could this launch a winning streak?

Jack Cust: Truthteller

Walter Cronkite didn't die after all:

"With all the other stuff going on, with a lot of the guys coming out recently -- big-name guys -- to me it's kind of funny they spent all that money on the Mitchell Report and a bunch of hearsay and the guy who made all the money off it happened to work for the Red Sox," Cust told the AP.

"Were there any Red Sox on the report? To me, that's kind of a joke. How does that happen? It's coming out now with guys on that team. The guy worked for the Red Sox -- they spent all kinds of millions of dollars -- and then no one there had their name brought up," he said.

Amen, bro.

He never really loved us

Ortiz goes three and out.

Cancel those future bookings at the Ramada Inn, where the signs would have said, MEET FORMER YANKEE RUSS ORTIZ.

He never wore the cloth. He's as much a former Yankee as Mons Meg.

And she's no former Yankee.

Giants win, thuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh Giants win

If John called New York Giants games, last night he might have yeowled a 9-second WinWarble.

For an exhibition game, no less.

On the last play, two future laundry workers sandwiched the 20th string Carolina QB, knocked loose the ball and ran for the winning touchdown -- eliminating the need for overtime.

Somehow, I gotta believe nobody on that field wanted overtime.

John wouldn't have cared though.

A walkoff touchdown.

IT IS TWENTY... IT IS TEN... IT IS... TOUCHDOWN!

AN E-BOMB... FROM ELI!

GRIDGAME OVER. GIANTS WIN. THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH GIANTS WIN.

The cast is off the wrist, and we're 0-2

Has our arch foe returned?

If the wrist has healed... is he back on the field?

Having clinched pennant, Yanks take enjoyable West Coast vacation

Now that we've clinched the AL East, it's fun to let our minds wander barefoot and pregnant through the Canyon of Heroes. Won't it be great! Johnny'll get his new contract! Tex will be MVP! Joba can buy his mom a new meth lab!

And while we're celebrating our World Series victory, why not help an old friend -- Brett Tomko -- upgrade his boat!

Last night, we played like a team that has 25 Tomko velvets coming on consignment, paid for with 15 outs.

Oh well, no worries! What clothes should we wear to the White House? Think President Obama will know everybody's name? Does Kate Hudson have sisters?

Nothing can derail us, right?

Yankeetorial: Our first pick, Heathcott, signed for less than a 16-year-old

Reason #34 why baseball's leadership should be neutered:


Yesterday, we signed Slade Heathcott -- our "5-tool" (post-surgery) first-round, can't-miss, draft pick -- for a whopping $2.2 million... a figure that will cause Commissioner Bud "$18 million per year" Selig to squirm beneath his $2 rug, because it's "over the slot."

In other words, too much. Teams are supposed to cry poverty with talent.

After all, U.S. players have no leverage, other than to go on and play college ball, for free.


It's rumored that Selig will fine teams for dishing out too much to the 18- and 19-year-olds, who've graduated from high school, or the older guys in college.


Well, on July 2, we shelled out $2.5 million for Gary Sanchez, a 16-year-old Latino catcher.


Yes, age sixteen.

Not only does the current Latino system turn local scouts into pimps, but baseball rewards the main components of the exploitation.

We paid this 16-year-old more than our first draft pick? WTF? How good can he be? How tested could he have been?

If we signed him at 15, would he have wanted more?

I know the lines: "They don't have much down there... it's a different culture... the money goes to large familes... they're hungrier... local traditions... blah, blah, blah..."

If this is such a righteous policy, let's sign U.S. kids at 16? They can forego their junior and senior years of high school, so they can just train to be ballplayers... nothing more!

Think we'd be raising a generation of engineers and doctors?

How many of these Latino kids end up on the scrap heap. They sign at age 12 to a local headhunter (who takes a generous cut), being evaluated by scouts (who are corrupt), and then enter pro ball at 16?

Bud Selig could change it. His legacy will be that he approved it.

Just Like Vietnam, Only Without The Vagina And Cool Music

Look, I get it that this has nothing to do with the Yankees.

But Vietnam War reenactors in rural Pennsylvania?

Forget Joba...this is what Alphonso should worry about.

We got Heathcott

We signed Slade the Blade, plus our umpteenth catcher, the second-rounder.

Hell, in five years, we might just have a decent team.

I Have To Sing This Song One More Time

I know I have no right to complain.

The Yankees cold hardly be playing better.

But, for those of you who know me, I am like Samson without hair when everything is going so well.

I have to fantasize about problems when sitting at the bar getting sloshed.

So here is my song:

Every time Joba gets a start, I say to myself: " he'll give us 4.2 - 5.2 innings; 4 earned runs; 2-3 bases on balls; 4K's; and 104-106 pitches.

And it is depressing how many times I have been right, including yesterday.

For some reason, he can't keep command and location of his pitches when he starts. He goes to 3-2 counts when he starts a batter out 0-2. He seems, in many cases to have no "out " pitch. It seems as though opposing batters are now schooled to lay off his slider, which is a wicked pitch but rarely in the strike zone.

OK. He is young. He doesn't have that much experience as a starter. He has pitched really well once or twice. Blah, blah, blah.

But mostly, he looks like a very average 5th starter who has most of his wins due to excessive run support.

And Sergio out-pitched him the other day.

Andy is , for sure, a better bet as our number 3 starter once the games get serious again.

I still think he should be in the bullpen.

10 possible reasons we lost, which the media is hiding

1. Pope had cast removed from wrist, immediately launched prayer assault.

2. Arod & Kate: Lovers' spat?

3. Team couldn't handle idea of pitcher named "Fister."

4. John's lungs needed rest from WinWarbles.

5. Mariners are bunch of really nice guys.

6. Joba took last-minute call from Mom, begging that he pitch poorly.

7. Team torn apart over proposed Obama health care plans.

8. Club gearing up to face Brett Tomko tonight.

9. Doctors drained wrong knee of Hideki Matsui.

10. Bud "$18 million per year" Selig wants a pennant race.

Some of you people don't take polls seriously

Either that, or you just wanted to see a picture of Lady Gaga's sparkler bra.

Big Papi still juicing on pitch counts

You can feel it, just by looking at him:

Any day now, Mt. Big Papi will erupt!

Or become a home to plant life.

This is sad.

Yesterday, Boston's star former slugger/ambassador of good will led the Bosocks in number of pitches, a stat recently added to the ESPN box score agate arsenal. And in case a few Yankfans out there are silently crowing about the Papster's relatively low (thinking Otto Velez here) .219 batting average, remember: the always smiling-but-dangerous-free-swinging-doubter-of-urine-tests still forced opposing Texas pitchers to throw 19 pitches!

Nineteen pitches!

This is sad.

Remember Giambi at the end? The announcers would talk about his batting eye, how the pitchers were still frightened of him, how any day now, he would start hitting. But when he ran to first base, you could see the relief in his eyes: They walked me. They remember! It was like Sally Fields winning the Oscar: You love me, you really love me! The walks are the last vestige of a slugger's career.

Nineteen pitches.

Big day for Papi.

Yanks 22-6 since Pope broke wrist, but the cast will soon come off

Obviously, his Excellency was praying against us. And praying hard.

Oh, yes, they'll deny this. Bet the house bippy on that. They'll claim the Pope never takes sides in a sporting event. They've even claimed he doesn't need his wrist to pray!

Do they think we're stupid? Do they think us blind, unable to see? Do they think we cannot do the math?

Since taking over in April 2005, a few months after Boston's championship stunned predecessor Pope Paul into his death spiral, this has been a Redsock pope. We cannot imagine what role Benedict's wrists played in engineering Boston's 2004 World Series victory, but we certainly do know this:

We've won nothing -- nothing -- with this guy in God's Oval Office.

And since July 17 -- when he apparently was clapping too hard for a Big Papi single and felt something snap -- we have gone 22 and 6, while his team of Pedroiaphiles have stumbled and mumbled into the Wild Card race.

Oh, sure, they'll claim it's coincidence. Bah. They want us to lower our guard, because the cast comes off any day now. They said he'd only wear it a month. He'll be rehabbing in Pawtucket -- (hm-mm, PAW-tucket?) -- and then what? A few ump calls going their way? Maybe the winds start blowing in when Arod comes to bat?

We have only a few more days of the Pope unable to swing his bat.

The month of September still looms. Don't get cocky, Yankiverse.

Wait a minute: A holy hamstring, maybe?

Write this down: Juan Heredia is the new Melvin Crousett

He's 20, sorta old for the Dominican Summer Preteen League, but hell, since when has that stopped some old fashioned hyperoo?

Juan Heredia, 6'3" lefty for Yankees Team 2.

Thirteen games.

Fifty-seven innings.

Sixty-three strike outs.

Two earned runs.

ERA: 0.32.

This year's Melvin?

Now It's Serious...

Minka loves Derek.

Kate loves Alex.

Minka and Kate?

Not so much, according to the paper that shows up on Mr. Torre's doorstep each morning.

I'm totally fine with this, by the way.

Yankeetorial: As enticing as they may be, the Yankiverse should still not institute Death Panels

To the Yankiverse,

When ex-governess Sarah Palin recently raised the horrific issue of death panels in American society, Yankee fans everywhere had the same basic reaction:

Death panels? Yeah!

Of course, they were intoxicated with the notion of swift and permanent judgment for the Cody Ransom who fails to replace the A-Rod, for the Sergio Mitre who doesn't fill in for, um, whoever was the fifth starter. And, hey, an old-fashioned necktie death panel for the next Raul Mondesi does indeed make for a 20-minute pleasureable fantasy - if that's what you're in to.

Well, we at IT IS HIGH are NOT into pleasurable 20-minute fantasies, and we are swayed not only by Ms. Palin's hair but her moral code, and we say,

WHAT DO WE WANT: NO DEATH PANELS FOR THE YANKIVERSE!

WHEN DON'T WE WANT THEM: NOW.

The reason: Who needs death panels when we have Scranton-Wilkes Barre.

(Think Damaso Marte.)

In fact, if the Obama Administration is seeking an alternative to death panels, we suggest one simple solution.

Scranton-Wilkes Barre.

Your granny no longer a useful cog in society? Gramps can't remember your name?

Scranton-Wilkes Barre!

Every American child deserves an opportunity to live a happy life. And how about if they do it in a great American city, a town once immortalized in a Harry Chapin song!

Summing up: DEATH PANELS? No.

SCRANTON-WILKES BARRE? Yes.

Next up: Yankee Teabagging... a danger for our children?

HOLD! THAT! LEASH! Cheers for Eagles fans with their new QB, Michael Vick

Two bits, four bits, six bits, dollar.
All for Philly, RIP OFF YOUR COLLAR!

*

Put ‘em to sleep!
Put ‘em to sleep!
LONNNNNNG, SLEEP!

*
Sic’em. Sic’em! Rip ‘em up!
THEN SEND IN ANOTHER PUP!
Sic’em, sic’em! Rip his gut!
THEN SEND IN ANOTHER MUTT!

*

That's OK, that's all right!
C'mon, Snoopy,
FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!

And more from our archives of 2007, when Atlanta was the punch line.

John Phones in from Seattle

A 4.59 WinWarble, to be expected, you'd guess, considering the 11-1 score and the long ride to Seattle.

Still... we ARE in a pennant race, are we not?

Once again, the mainstream media gets it wrong

Today, Newsday gristmeister Neil Best goes Hemingway (not Papa but Margeaux, the 1970s model with the 17-pound lips) on John Sterling, an 800-word frenzied belch of typing, in which he calls The Master -- and we quoteth: "...perhaps the most polarizing figure in New York sports media, a hot-button topic both loved and loathed - sometimes by the same people."

Thank God for the word "perhaps."

Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

As for being loved and loathed by the same people? Perhaps Best has fallen in with a strange therapy group.

But one error must be corrected. Best writes of Mr. Sterling:

"The most frequent complaint is his anticipating of plays, often wrongly. There even is a blog dedicated to him under the banner, "It is high, it is far, it is . . . caught.''

That's us. And while, perhaps it's nice to get your name in the paper, (unless its for kiddie porn), let's set the record straight.

Our title has absolutely nothing to do with John Sterling missing a call, or for that matter, John Sterling, whatsoever. Nothing. Thirty-five years ago, when SuperFrankenstein and I launched this blog out of a homeless shelter/barbecue stand in Pungo, Virginia, we never dreamed the phrase would someday ignite a nation through a future Voice of the Yankees, driven by Jeep. Hell, back then, it was tough enough just imagining the Internet.

No, we believed the phrase "It is high, it is far, it is caught" signified the eternal struggle of humankind (yes, we also imagined future political correctiveness), as he (or she) asks fundamental questions and seeks fundamental answers, sometimes to the fundamental questions, unless they are fundamental contestants on Jeopardy, in which case it's the other way around.

"It is high, it is far, it is caught" reflects a common theme in the spiritual fabric of reality, because each of us at one point must ask himself (or herself:)

Holy crap! What the hell is going on in this plane of awareness? Because if this is all just a dream, and life is nothing more than random experiences piped-up through my subconscious, why am I hunched over a radio, listening to these two people jabber about travel days and New York Life? What manner of God would subject a living entity to this, 160 times a year, no less? There must not be a God. Oh shit. Now I've done it. I've blastphemed. I'm asking fundamental questions that could get a guy (or girl) hit by lightning and, WHAT?!! HEY, IT'S AN A-BOMB... FROM A-ROD!

We love John. We don't loathe nobody, except bald Redsocks who throw their helmets.

As for Neil Best? Thanks for the ink. Next chance, take the buyout.

Violence Feared from Angry Protesters at Mets Team Hall Meetings

Authorities fear violent outbreaks could mar public gatherings conducted by the New York Mets baseball club to explain their 4-year improvement plans.

In recent days, scheduled Met events have prompted death threats, pushing and shoving, and chants of, "NO DELGATO, NOW!"
(Above, Ernest Parkworst of Secaucus shouts down Met coach Razor Shines, who was attempting to explain the reasoning behind having Livan Hernandez continue in the rotation.)

John, broadcasting unconscious, hits 7.33-second Walkoff WinWarble

To the Yankinverse:

When the game is on the line, gather the family around the Motorolla and turn the volume knob to the right, far as it will go, because John Sterling is on fire, and nobody can put it out. He is taking us to Max Yazgur's farm, riding shotguns in the sky, turning into butterflies above our nation. Or something like that.


A seven point three three second WinWarble.

And a month ago, we were doubting him. Hah. I say, Hah.

Mystery Fog Engulfs Redsock Nation

The Globe's on it like Pedroia's brother on a preschooler. Mystery fog. Pee soup. Cut it with a knife. Reference to John Carpenter (but no Adrienne Barbeau?)

What is it? Why is it? Who is it? WTF? OMG! FOG! (Pictured below.)

Well, Redsock Nation, welcome to our world.

You wonder whatever happened to the Idiots, the Cowboy Ups, Slappy Happy Papi, Manny Being Manny, and Cap'n V-Tek? Same thing that happened to us: The Paulies and Tinos morphed into Raul Mondesis and Giambinos. You wonder what happened to that endless tap of talent, that bottomless reservoir of perfect Theo trades and smooth signings. Yep, fratsters, welcome to Cloud World.



We've been in this fog for eight years. Best teams on paper. Also-rans in the cloud. Best I can figure is that the fog banks are in the chemistry. Somewhere inside it is the team. Somewhere in there are the batting averages, the ball-strike ratios. You can't see them. Because of the frickin fog.



And don't get me wrong: We're not out of that fog yet. Next week, that could be us.



But we have one fog horn. Best thing we did all year, our best (and cheapest) winter acquisition...



Pie in the face.


Yep. It's that perfect reminder -- administered by Mr. AJ Burnett (and others, lately) after a walk-off hit. It tells us that no matter how seriously we take this shit, we're all just a Soupy Sales skit, all on the level of Moe slapping Curly. It's men being clowns, boys snapping towels in the shower, kids playing with the boxes that their Christmas gifts came in.


Boston doesn't seem to be having fun. They're in a fog, and good grief, they're thinking about John Carpenter.



We're thinking about Adrienne Barbeau.

Repeating for those who missed it earlier: MAX -- the amazing ancient crystal skull -- is coming to Syracuse, while Scranton keeps its distance

MAX, the Ancient Crystal Healing Skull -- with caretaker Joann Parks (above, on right) -- is coming to Syracuse the weekend of Aug. 28-30.

Joann Parks inherited MAX from a Tibetan healer, Norbu Chen, where she worked as a receptionist/assistant, upon his passing. Joann now travels all over the country, and sometimes abroad, sharing MAX with people who desire to experience a meeting with a crystal skull! She also brings minature crystal skulls, for purchase. Each carries the energies of MAX.


Amazingly... and strangely... the arrival of MAX will be sandwiched by contests between the Syracuse Chiefs and the Scranton-Wilkes Barre Red Baron-Yankees!


Don't believe it? HERE'S PROOF!



NOTE: For unexplained reasons, Syracuse will play Louisville while MAX is in town. Why?

WTF? Yanks win day game, shattering plans of vacationgoers to listen to John tonight

This is criminal. Who is running this show, anyway?

I was planning to listen to tonight's game, to devote considerable vacation time to the systematic, empirical analysis of the Yankiverse, and now what? They played this afternoon.

Why? What are we supposed to do tonight? Watch some Yankees Classic? We don't need Yankees Classics. This season is a Yankees Classic. We're playing the best ball we've played in five years. Are we supposed to watch Jim Leyritz hit a home run, while we cheer? Jim Leyritz is in jail. Are we supposed to watch David Cone throw a perfect game again? How many times can we watch David Cone throw a perfect game. It's bad enough that every other night on YES, Michael Kay asks him to remember his perfect game.

Who did this? Who said that on a vacation week, let's screw the good people who have the sense to take a few days off, and let's deny them a Yankee game at night, so they can escape from the sunburn and the cocktail hour excesses for a few miserable moments and hear what's happening? Was it Bud Selig, the $18 million per year commissioner? Who did it? And yes, I HAVE been drinking, and Yes, I HAVE maybe had a few too many today, but dammit, I'm on vacation, it's hot outside, and I was planning to listen to the game tonight, and dammit, who did this?

We won? We had BETTER win. That's all I can say. They're goddamm lucky they won, because had they lost... well... I'm not going to say what would have happened had they lost.

What? Another beer? Make it a Stella. Excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

Whiz Kids Concoct Catchy New Name for Triple A Baseball National Championship Game: "The Triple A Baseball National Championship Game"

These crazy, hip-n-with-it guys could sell lice to the Leskimos. They swung a cool, totally rad name for what was called last year "The Brickyard Showdown." This year, it's "the Triple A Baseball National Championship Game, or Triple A Baseball National Championship, for short.

Here were the runners-up:

National Triple A Baseball Championship Game

Triple A Baseball National Championship Ballgame

Triple A Game for the National Championship of Triple A, formerly the Brickyard Showdown

Tucker Ashford Memorial Brown Jug Game

Least-Covered-Championship-Outside-of-the-Two-Cities-Playing Game

What song was John singing?

Who is John covering, Barbara...?

Or Rumpleteaser?

To Boldly Go

In an early inning last night -- I want to say the second -- John & Suzyn were bitching, as usual, about having to travel all the way across the effing continent just to play the stupid Mariners and the stupider A's (they still exist?). And John said, and you could almost hear his sly little grin when he said it, he said to Suzyn, "Do you remember... "Beam me up, Scotty?" And Suzyn took that and ran with it, saying, oh, yes, she'd love to just stand on one of those twinkly things and wake up in Seattle!

From now on, I would like all Yankee fans to refer to the Enterprise transporter as "the twinkly things." Also, please please please let us know (in the comments section of any post) when they make any cultural reference, to help me prove or debunk my theory that, to John and Suzyn, nothing outside of baseball or Broadway happened after 1980, and very little after 1960.

Here's Your Shirt to Wear at Fenway

Buy it.

Nutjobs at Town Hall Meetings Revealed

From whom do they get their information?

Are they dangerous?

Corporate logos on uniforms? We have a suggestion ...

Kevin Youkilis' helmet ...

(Just remember, Youk ... only a pathetic wimp would throw it in a fight)

Just a Reminder:

We still brake for Youkilis beanings.
Especially when from a good 'ole Jersey boy Rick Porcello.

Letter to the Editor

Hartford Courant (Connecticut)
August 3, 2009

Friday morning, I woke to three good-natured e-mails from Yankee fans. Now that Red Sox player David "Big Papi" Ortiz has been implicated in the steroid mess [Page 1, July 31, "Boston Red Shock"], one friend asked, "Is he still a hero?"

I long ago decided that until he's proved otherwise, Big Papi, along with every other professional baseball player, is a liar and cheat. I have the same opinion of every professional athlete, politician, entertainer and big business CEO.

My grandfather once told me that every man needs a hero, and I have mine.

Two weeks ago, I met a Hartford police officer on bike patrol around the Comcast Theater before the Toby Keith concert. Without being asked, the officer did a huge personal favor for my son. The officer isn't a hero because of the favor, but because of the lasting impression he's left with my son.

Next June, when my son graduates from Central Connecticut State University and fulfills a lifelong dream of joining an area police department, it's my hope that he remembers the example of the Hartford officer and pursues his career with similar high standards and integrity.

I have many heroes. Some wear uniforms, but none has "Red Sox" or "Yankees" on his chest.

Christopher D. Hasson
Newington

Misty water-colored memories: Last night, John had a Barbra Streisand moment

Hear it.

Questions that haunt us: Will Sergio Mitre face a Yankee "Death Panel?" And has Kate Hudson taught Arod to perform on the big stage?

Today's Daily Planet reports from the other Yankiverse -- our Yankiverse -- where winning streaks coincide with broken Pope wrists, and John's longest WinWarble is a primal cry for world peace (and not just a clever attempt to buy time while his soulmate scrambles to the field to secure the Yankee Star of the Game) -- claiming that recent Arod A-bombings stem from public tongue-hockey with his latest accessory, Kate "Almost Famous" Hudson, dropping in from 1989 like a Sarasota County mugshot of Pee Wee Herman. Hmmm. It's all linked somewhere. I think Arod's resurgence is more likely a result of Lou Dobb's peak interest in the Birther Movement. A scientific debate is coming. This is why we have a free press.

But let's assume the News is on to something.

Maybe the "Almost Famous" lady reprised her most famous role, in "Almost Famous," where she's 15 years younger, almost legal, and dreaming of someday being a stewardess, reciting safety instructions to tourists, telling them to don their own drop-down oxygen mask before helping grannies or children. Because that's the new Alex: He's applying his own drop-down oxygen mask before trying to help Robbie or Melky -- (even though there's no plane turbulence, it's all in his head, and everybody else is watching the in-flight movie) -- and thus, he doesn't pass out while walking back to the dugout, listening to shouted remarks about Madonna.

Madonna. Almost forgot her. Let's face it. She was trouble. For starters, she furnished an infinite number of hurtful things to shout at Alex. I won't even try to list them here. Kate, on the other hand, has "Almost Famous." Madonna might have been reprising with Arod her role in "Swept Away," which I would describe, but why bother? Nobody alive who can read movie reviews watched it. All we know: she was stuck on an island. That sums up Arod.

Which brings us to Sergio. Sarah Palin says that future Obama administration Death Panels will be judging the worthiness of human life -- (though, let's be honest here, if the fast-food industry has a representative onboard, her son will have at least one vote on his side). But she doesn't know the Yankiverse. We've been clamoring for Mitre to be hung by his thumbs in the Great Hall since Chicago. Last night, he killed our winning streak. Eye for an eye!

Wait: Does he need a 1980s movie star to pull him from the abyss? Whatever happened to Molly Ringwald!