The Adventure of the Confounding First Inning.

 

"Come, Watson, the game's afoot!" cried Sherlock Holmes, bounding up from his ottoman at the six-foot hookah he and Watson were sharing.

"Um, what's that now?" asked Watson, a little slower to break away from the marvelous hash and mescaline mix Holmes had concocted that morning.

"There's no time for dawdling! We must away to Tampa, to solve the deadly mystery lurking there!" Holmes replied, dragging the good doctor across the carpet by his boots.

"You are aware that Tampa is in Florida, aren't you Holmes? And that this is July?"

"All the more reason we must hurry, before the pennant has completely slipped through our fingers! We must warn the Yankees!"

"Warn them...of what?"

Holmes whipped a sheet of paper out of his trusty portfolio, and waved it before his friend's still dilated eyes.

"Do you see this, Watson? It's a key clue, one I heard on our YES subscription last night. At first I thought I might be hallucinating, due to those mushrooms we were conducting scientific experiments on last night. But this morning, I went on baseballreference to verify it—and it's true!"

"What is?"

"Why, it's all in the first inning!"

"Huh?"

"It's elementary, my dear Watson! Consider: the Yankees are a major-league worst 6-17 over their last 23 games."

"Yes?"

"During that time, the Yankees also led the major leagues by giving up 22 runs in the first inning of play! Now do you see?"

"By God, Holmes!" 

Watson's eyes bulged wide at last, and he bounded up from the floor—only to have his bad knee give out, and crash into the settee and knock over the tea service.

"Why, that must be the answer!" he continued, untangling himself from the Earl Grey. "Obviously, Yankees pitchers are tipping their offerings to the other teams!"

"Or—starting each game so predictably that other ball clubs know exactly what they are going to throw!"

"But-but, that's impossible!" Watson sputtered. "Why, the Yankees are run by trained professionals, with many years in the sport. Surely, they would have reached the same conclusion weeks ago!"

Holmes nodded grimly.

"That makes this case all the more insidious, Watson. No manager, no coaching stuff could remain this oblivious to what is going on. Obviously, they are all under the influence of some kind of awful mesmerism, or perhaps a mind-altering drug! All the more reason we must get there at once!"

"Yes, that must be why Cashman is in Tampa already," Watson agree, peeling a lemon slice off his moustache. "We must get there before he and Hal fall under its pernicious influence! Shall I book our flight?"

"No need, Watson! Let us just climb aboard this giant flying rabbit right here!"

"Of course, why didn't I think of that?"

"Hi-ho Silver, away!"