Bronx, N.Y., August 7, 2003 — I’m sure I don’t need to go into any length trying to describe to Yankee fans how depressing it felt to witness the ninth inning of Wednesday’s 5-4 loss to the Rangers from the Upper Deck in the Bronx. Enthusiasts prone to wager a buck or two on the ponies will tell you that a race in which your horse gets blown out right from the gate is painless, but the experience of being nipped just once in the stretch, or at the wire, is a whole night worth of pain.
And David Wells put up such a brave fight, against both the Rangers and a body not currently in great shape to hurl a baseball, for seven-plus innings. It was inspiring to take a lead against a game and tough Rangers righty John Thomson (for the second time in Yankee Stadium this year!), largely on the strength of upper deck jacks from Jason Giambi and Nick Johnson.
It’s no secret that Boomer’s game is to throw strikes. But on this night when he lacked his finest command, the numbers he put up were pretty astounding. Wells threw 24 of 30 first-pitch strikes, but his overall ball/strike ratio was even more telling. By the time Alex Rodriguez swung and missed at the eight inning’s second pitch, David had thrown 88 strikes out of 110 pitches, or exactly four strikes for every ball.
I’ve been a Mariano Rivera fan too long to go on and on about how devastating that loss was, particularly in light of the fact that Boston’s victory was flashed on the out-of-town scoreboard right about when things were at their lowest. But suffice it to say we were pretty numb struggling up the four levels of stairs to the (elevated) subway, and then the five levels from the subway back to ground level when we arrived at the train station, and sat speechless during the train ride home.
When I made for the same train this morning for the return trip to the Bronx, it felt like a continuation of the evening before. It would be classless to complain about the weather when I was off from work for the day and did manage to sit outside relatively rain-free all afternoon, but the sky was a mix of light and dark overcast, and it stayed that way. I love going to weekday day games in the summner, as the stands are filled with the sight of little league teams and youth clubs all attired in their various bright colors. But on this day, I felt like I was watching the game on a black and white television.
It is the job of the fan to cheer his team on, I’ve always felt, to expend a little energy to convince the players that we in the stands believe that they can excel and win, even if they’re having some trouble being confident in that themselves. But the pallor of the preceding evening’s defeat seemed to hang in the air, as prevalent as the dark and threatening clouds that filled the Stadium sky.
Mussina started Texas second baseman Michael Young off Thursday with a ball, but had him down 1-2 when Young rolled the fourth pitch into the hole between first and second. Enrique Wilson, subbing for Alfonso Soriano for a second straight day (something that I viewed with disappointment, I’ll admit), reached the ball, gloved it, and spun, but his throw carried past Jason Giambi, where Posada backed up. Then when Hank Blalock lined the next pitch into center, the Rangers had two on with no out, and that numbing residue of doomed feeling gripped me just a bit more. Spirits lifted a bit as Arod fouled to Giambi and I was hopeful, until DH Rafael Palmeiro calmly lined the 1-1 pitch into the short porch in right, and the Rangers had a quick 3-0 lead.
It was on this day in 1957 that Oliver Hardy, half of the classic Laurel and Hardy duo that dominated the comedy scene for much of the last century’s first six decades (until color TV, at least), passed away. If the nineties had Dumb and Dumber, you might label these guys Unlucky and Unluckier (or Hopeless and Hopeless-er?). Invariably when their misdaventures would spin out of control, big rotund Ollie would leer at the wiry and diminutive Stan and say, “This is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into.” I knew just how he felt as I looked forlornly at the mound while Raffy circled the bases.
Texas starter Joaquin Benoit initially flourished with the prosperity Raffy had provided him. He discovered early that Larry Young’s strike zone was decidedly larger on the outside half, and he used it to strike out both Jeter (looking) and Johnson (swinging) to start the inning’s bottom half. When Giambi popped to Shane Spencer in left the only encouraging sign from a Yankee perspective was Benoit’s slightly elevated pitch count of 16. As the expression goes, we hadn’t seen nothing yet.
Moose was struggling to find something meanwhile, and he would receive some big boosts from his defense. Right fielder Laynce Nix lined a double to right center to start the second but veteran Donnie Sadler had to leave the game when he hurt a finger fouling off the next pitch trying to bunt. Ramon Nivar came on and flied to left, but catcher Einar Diaz lofted a soft and sinking liner to center that Nix judged would fall, and he broke for third. Matsui, playing center as Joe Torre gave Bernie Williams a day off, charged long and hard, and made a lunging catch, with plenty of time to rise to his feet and double Nix off second.
And then Benoit strode to the mound and showed me what a fine mess was really all about. He fell behind, 2-0, to Posada leading off the second, and Jorge stroked the first of really only three Yankee hits that would hurt the Rangers all game. Matsui worked a full count, fouled off another, and took a walk. Even the already struggling Aaron Boone kicked in a contribution, in the pitch-count sense at least, in that he fouled off two third strikes before learning the lesson of Larry Young’s outside corner, striking out on a called pitch. Karim Garcia, playing left this day, fouled off six pitches before walking to load the bases, and a crowd of 51,000 hoped for another walk as the light-hitting Enrique Wilson strode to the plate. Benoit’s pitch count was zooming out of control as he started Enrique with a ball, but turned the tables with strike one and two. But Enrique followed the game plan and fouled off a pitch as the count went full.
If the inning were a poker hand, ball four would have equated to two pair perhaps. A two-run single? Maybe a straight or three of a kind. A flush or full house might translate to a bases-clearing extra base hit. Who would have guessed we’d get the straight (or even royal) flush, as Enrique drove a grand slam into the lower porch in right, and the Yankees had a 4-3 lead? Inexplicably, Showalter stuck with Benoit, who whiffed Dellucci, gave a Jeter single, wild pitch and walk to Nick Johnson. That was enough for 44 pitches and the hook, and young lefty Brian Shouse came on to end the frame with a strike out of Giambi.
Mussina continued to struggle, however, and Young and Blalock drove Matsui and Dellucci, respectively, to the center and right field walls to haul in their long drives (fine catches, both of them), and Arod homered to right for the tie. But that seemed to do it and Moose stiffened. He struck out Palmeiro and then proceeded to retire 13 of the next 15 until Michael Young’s eighth-inning single (his third hit) sent Moose to the showers. Mussina threw 16 of 28 first pitches for strikes, walked no one, and had a 66/29 strikes/balls ratio in his 95 pitches.
Shouse, on the other hand, was in command, and dealing. He got through the third and fourth innings on 18 pitches, then got very lucky, very good with his glove, or both, in the fifth. Jeter singled on a 3-2 pitch and Nick Johnson lined hard up the middle, but Brian nabbed it and doubled Jeter off in the blink of an eye. This became especially painful as Giambi lofted a double to left and Posada walked. It was all for naught, but the lack of Yankee fortune in this inning would turn in the seventh on this day where five of the seven Yankees who scored reached base on walks in the first place.
Lefty Shouse gave way to lefty Aaron Fultz to start the sixth, a frame he powered through in a mere five pitches. But Fultz walked Bernie Williams (pinch-hitting for Dellucci) and Jeter to start the seventh, Johnson surprised us all with a sac bunt and Giambi got a free pass. Fultz gave way to righty Erasmo Garcia who threw one pitch that became Posada’s two-run single to right. Lefty Erasmo Ramirez allowed Matsui’s sac fly and the Yankees had a three-run lead.
The Yanks had gotten the game off with the sounds of the Stones’s “Start Me Up” at 12:53, with newcomer Aaron Boone standing and signing autographs for a few minutes about 20 feet past the home dugout down the first base line. There were fouls caroming around me early, until Benoit was replaced by three lefties and the Yanks stopped lining them up at us. One of the things one sees on the lip of the tier all the time is a sign saying, “Keep Objects Off Ledge,” a directive Security is constantly reminding the fans of. When Nick Johnson swung at the first pitch to him in the bottom of the first he lined hard our way, and his liner struck a full soda sitting on the ledge in front of Box 620 to our right. Fans in the front row of Box 607 on the other side, and in Box 616, made fine one-handed bare-handed catches of fouls struck by Boone and Wilson, respectively, during Benoit’s meltdown in the second.
Once Moose gave that single to Young in the eighth, Orosco retired a batter, as did the returning Jeff Nelson, although it wasn’t as pretty as we all had hoped. Mariano Rivera’s top of the ninth was no work of art either, but a win is a win, and I’ll take it, given the choices. I’ve been through One Fine Mess Wednesday night, and another early Thursday afternoon. But the Yankees and their fans did today what Laurel and Hardy never did, due to the pitching of Mussina and Wilson and Posada’s timely hits. They started with a mess, and ended with a win.
BTW,TYW
YANKEE BASEBALL!!!