Bronx, N.Y., September 4, 2004 — It was obviously with a heavy heart that I trudged up the billion steps it seemed it would take to emerge from the subway at 125th St. in Harlem last night. Baltimore closer Jorge Julio had just struck out three Yankees in the bottom of the ninth on 13 pitches to close out a disappointing 3-1 loss in the Stadium. And I didn’t even know then about the disastrous turn of events involving Kevin Brown in the clubhouse yet.

The night had started so well. Despite throwing his first pitch back to the screen and falling behind 3-0 to Orioles lead-off man Brian Roberts, John Olerud started us on our way with the first of two fabulous plays on full-body dives to the line, rising to nip the speedy Roberts for a 3-Unassisted, on a 3-2 grounder. Ten pitches later David Newhan and Melvin Mora had struck out, and four pitches (and one out) after that Derek Jeter put the Yanks up 1-0 with a hard line-drive home run to right.

The festive atmosphere continued as Gary Sheffield singled past third on an 0-2 pitch, and Baltimore starter Rodrigo Lopez loaded the bases on walks to A-Rod and Matsui. But Jorge Posada smacked an 0-1 pitch to Roberts at second and the Yankee offense shut down for the night after the 4-6-3 closed the frame.

Allowing a walk and double and then single and double to the leadoff guys in the next two innings, Brown actually pitched quite well to escape with one just run scoring in each, but the Yanks were down 2-1. Notching at least a strike out per inning, Kevin held it that way until the first of two disasters struck with two down in the fifth. Covering first on a routine Geronimo Gil grounder, Brown dropped Olerud’s throw, went down on all fours, and hurt his knee as he nipped Gil for the third out. Then Roberts scored after a leadoff double in the sixth when Miguel Tejada’s one-out bouncer glanced off Brown, careening to center for a single.

Fans in the stands, of course, had no idea that Brown then punched the clubhouse wall and broke his left hand, and we were plenty deflated anyway. I heard a rumor about the break on the train home, had it confirmed before going to bed, and read the papers and saw Torre, Cashman, and Posada video clips Saturday morning.

Despite a nice cool evening and a two-game win streak, I had started my trip to the Bronx Friday night pensive. A friend had e-mailed with a link regarding Jason Giambi’s pituitary gland tumor, and disavowed his fan-ness over what he saw as the Yankees first baseman displaying classless behavior and “cheating.” Perhaps generational differences explain our varied points of view, but I don’t see that big a problem with Jason, except that it did not work out. I think Ty Cobb would have taken a baseball-sized pill for 100 hits, and I find it puzzling that Mark McGwire was a hero in 1998, but because attitudes (and rules) have changed, much of his accomplishment is “andro”-tinged today.

One of my most beloved ballplayers is Graig Nettles, and that worshipful approach was not turned askew even a little bit when he suffered the embarrassment of having his superball-filled bat shatter in a game. In the fifties, Broadway crowds surged to the hit “Damn Yankees,” a show whose premise was that a ballplayer sold his soul to the devil to beat the Yankees. And the players who populated this team when they were still called the Highlanders would probably have considered the gloves players use to handle hard throws and flag down frozen-rope line drives today huge, too cushioned, and unmanly.

So now Jason is struggling to reclaim his health and his strength, both of which he apparently gambled with and lost in hopes of achieving even greater results on the playing diamond. A few fans hope he can recover and be a 2004 postseason factor; most find that unlikely. And Kevin Brown will see a hand specialist, with part of the Yankee faithful hoping he can return, and others so wounded by his selfish act that the prospect of his return enrages them. One of these guys removed himself due to self-inflicted injury in a fit of pique. The other went above (or below, if you insist) and beyond the call to try to do better. Which player do you think I have trouble with?

Fans look to the hard-charging Red Sox, who used a shutout by one half of their two-headed ace to close to within yet one more game of the Yanks, shaving eight games off the lead in roughly a month. Manny Ramirez stroked his seemingly daily first-inning home run, and it was enough. Fans ask how the Yanks can possibly withstand the Sox challenge when Boston bats are bashing, and their rotation is pitching circles around that of the Yanks, however New York sets it up in response to this latest crisis.

I find it ironic that this kind of problem has befallen the Yankees before, with Doyle Alexander displaying the very same behavior in 1983 (and compounding it by starring for Toronto and Detroit teams after he and the Yankees parted ways). But if we find similar demons in the Yankee past, we can find inspiration and hope there as well. It was a different game in 1977, with no Wild Card entrance available to the postseason, and only two levels of playoffs. The Yanks survived a dogfight to eke out the Division by 2.5 games over both the Orioles and the Red Sox, and a worse battle to beat the Royals in the ALCS in the maximum five games.

After beating the Phillies in four games in the NLCS, the Dodgers, who had coasted to a 10-game win in the NL West, had their pitching set for the World Series, as the Yanks stumbled in. L.A. came to New York with the 14-8 Don Sutton and the 12-7 Burt Hooton ready to start Games One and Two. The Yanks, meanwhile, had to turn to veterans Don Gullett, winless since July, and Catfish Hunter, whose last victory had come on August 24. Hunter’s September was terrible, and he had taken a 19-3 beating from the lowly expansion Blue Jays on September 10.

But Gullett was heroic in Game One, and the Yanks, who prevailed in extra innings, went to L.A. with the Series tied at one game apiece. They won that Classic in six. And until 1996, it was the best victory of my life. Yankee fans don’t often have the opportunity to root for the underdog. The time was there in both those years, and it is here yet again. The 1996 Series victory, with its recovery from 0-2 to Atlanta in the Championship, was the most fun of the Torre era, precisely for that reason.

Much is made of the Yanks’ loss to Wild Card teams in the 2002 ALDS and the 2003 World Series. Well, regardless of what happens in September, this Yankee team has become a “wild card” in its own right. But it is not a team without weapons. Highlighted by an MVP-worthy season from right fielder Gary Sheffield, this offense has comeback victories in bunches. Their bullpen is potentially the best in the majors, and maybe the best they’ve had in nine years.

And there is talent in the starting rotation too. Mike Mussina has ace-like stuff despite an oft-injured and inconsistent season. Young Javier Vazquez has been both brilliant and horrible, with more of the latter of late unfortunately. Jon Lieber blows no one way, but he hits bats, and knows his strengths and how to pitch to them.

In last year’s mammoth ALCS Game 7 win over Boston, Willie Randolph turned to Aaron Boone in extra innings and told him that he was the “X factor.” There are a couple of guys on this Yankee pitching staff that could be the “Z factor,” the guy who excels when so few in the crowd expect him to. Could it be Tanyon Sturtze? Quite possibly. Or does Esteban Loaiza have a reserve of back-to-the-wall stubbornness and the grit not to give in, and to turn it around? I certainly do not know. The Admiral, young Brett Halsey is yet another possibility.

It is perhaps a bit of a cliche to say that baseball is all about failure, that even the best players do not come though most of the time. That’s what makes it so special when Jim Leyritz homers off Mark Wohlers, or when Paul O’Neill stretches to flag down Luis Polonia’s liner toward the gap to close Game Five in 1996. Well, fans have their moments too. And as a fan, I thoroughly enjoyed the 12 straight victories to win the Series in 1998-2000. But the Yanks didn’t need me in my finest fettle then. My services were crucial in 1977; they needed me in 1996 as well.

Today, and most everyday from here until late October, I believe Willie Randolph will be scanning the bench, looking for this year’s magical player. Although a position guy in his playing days, Willie’s sure to be looking for a pitcher this time. But while I will call it the “Z factor” and look to Tanyon, Esteban, and Brett to be the guy, if bench coach Randolph thinks the team needs an extra spark, I have some advice for him.

Look up in the Tier boxes, Willie. I am a Yankee fan who realizes that the heavy lifting portion of the season has arrived.

Root, root, root for the Yankees;
if they don’t win it’s shame.

Dan the fan reporting for duty, Mr. Randolph.

YANKEE BASEBALL!!!