Bronx, N.Y., September 2, 2002 — “…and Carry a Big Stick.” Teddy Roosevelt uttered those words in public for the first time 101 years ago today, and I focused on them during all those times during today’s interminable game, rain delay and game again that Boston fans cheered, “Let’s Go, Red Sox.” Sure, they won today, and in the process extracted a bit of revenge for the way Mussina has treated them in their home park, though I really felt Mike’s undoing was more the work of home plate ump Mike Winters than the bats of the Red Sox.

Mike Mussina does not walk six people. His failing can be that he gets hit because he’s too stubborn to avoid the plate with pitches he believes are good enough not to get hit hard. So when Mike does manage six walks, that’s pretty strong evidence of a postage-stamp-sized strike zone on the part of the home-plate ump. Nobody needs to tell me that the conditions were horrible. I lived inside a sticky and not very comfortable parka for the better part of six hours, but I’m sorry, this guy just wouldn’t call a strike.

The Red Sox didn’t seem to find Mike overly wild, as they swung and either missed or fouled fairy regularly. But anytime they didn’t swing within the first two or three pitches, they were likely to have found themselves on the way to a walk. Mike threw 69 strikes while he was in there today. (Again, it doesn’t sound like someone overly wild — 69 strikes, 47 balls, not a bad breakdown.) Care to guess how many pitches were called strikes; how many, that is, that Mr. Winters watched cross the plate, made the decision it was a strike and actually called a strike? Nine. Nine pitches in 6.7 innings during which he threw 69 over the plate.

By comparison, Casey Fossum threw 51 strikes during his five innings, and he got the same amount of called strikes. So I guess the Yanks were a little more aggressive in the steady rain. They were aggressive, that is, until the bottom of the fourth during one of the myriad times they were one big hit from breaking this game up. Following Coomer and Rivera base hits, Soriano was hit by Fossum’s first pitch. Striding to the plate with two outs and the bases loaded, Jeter took ball one and ball two, fouled one off and took ball three. When catcher Mirabelli had to visibly pull his glove to his left and down to nab the next pitch — a pitch that did not come from far from hitting Jeter in the back foot — Derek took a stride toward first, knowing that we had just forced in the tying run. Inexplicably, Mike Winters the Statue reacted (perhaps to Jeter assuming his call, but if it is a ball, what’s the problem with that?) suddenly and called the errant throw a strike. Fossum followed with a high fastball and Derek, not wanting to take strike three standing at a plate where there was no discernible strike zone, swung threw what was probably ball four (or should I say five?).

We actually got a gift 2-0 lead in the first. Alfonso meekly rolled his 0-2 pitch up the third base line but Hillenbrand bobbled it. With unaccustomed aggression, Derek lined to right on the first pitch and Jason fouled to third on the second, but Alfonso stole second, Bernie walked and we scored on singles by Posada and Coomer. Rondell, unfortunately, fouled off two pitches and whiffed on the third, cutting the rally short.

My theory with the struggling Rondell, by the way, is to hit him only against hard throwers. His precipitous fall notwithstanding, he can swing as hard and as quickly as anyone on the team, which I believe opponent pitchers routinely take advantage of. He has probably pulled more hard fouls down the third baseline than any other two regulars, denting facades around the league and giving suits in the expensive seats plenty of souvenirs on the one hand, and a couple of ugly bruises on the other. Slop throwers bust him inside twice, confident that he can’t hit that pitch fair (and he doesn’t), and then nail him with high cheese on the outside. This guy needs an all-dairy diet: cheese, and all the time. Once he starts hitting the fast ball hard, well, we’ll see…

There was a wierd moment in the top of the third during Johnny Damon’s at bat. Nixon had walked to lead off and Sanchez advanced him with a bunt to Moose (though he was clearly trying to bunt for a base hit). With the count level at 2-2, three birds became fascinated with the infield grass in front of third base, landing in front of Alex Arias and settling in. Perhaps Moose or Arias had disturbed something in the dirt on the bunt play, but Arias had to move forward and shoo them away. They appeared ready to land on the infield’s other side, but Alfonso ran in and they moved on.

But our game went with them. Winters called the next two pitches balls three and four, Hillenbrand lined the next for a single scoring Nixon and when the throw went home it was 2-1 with runners on second and third. Moose almost nailed Garciaparra on the 2-2 pitch, but Jorge couldn’t hold the tip, and then Nomar blooped one to short left for two runs and the lead.

Hillenbrand tripled with one out in the seventh, though had Bernie been a bit quicker he could have been held to two, but the conditions were bad, and not just in the seats. When Winters did not deign to make a strike call on the first two pitches to Nomar, Moose came in with one and Nomar singled Shea in right up the middle. Therefore Soriano’s leadoff homer in the bottom of the inning was not the equalizer. Tying this game would have made all the difference, but it was not to be. Jeter and Giambi went down, but Bernie singled and Jorge doubled hard. The game was in Coomer’s lap. He had singled on the first pitch in the first and the second pitch in the fourth, but this time he hit a first-pitch hopper to Nomar, and the Sox escaped our last real chance. They scored two off Stanton when Rondell couldn’t reach Trot Nixon’s bloop down the third base line and Sanchez bounced a single past a drawn-in infield. Near misses (by Juan Rivera on Nomar’s liner into the corner and Coomer on Varitek’s single) led to two more in the ninth, making Alfonso’s eighth-inning single driving in Robin no more than bookkeeping.

In Yankee history, Yogi hit his 358th homer — and last — for the Yanks on this day in 1963. (He had none in his abbreviated Mets experience.) Reggie Jackson hit his 20th homer on September 2 in 1978 (he became the 19th player to hit 20 in 11 straight years). And it was this day in 1996 that David Cone returned from his aneurysm surgery and threw no-hit ball in Oakland for seven innings. I’m sure all involved look back at that day, and at his Perfect Game three years later, with relief. It was tough for Joe to remove a guy throwing a no hitter, and tough for David to take it. Gladly he would have another chance, and cash in. One other highlight: Though he is not — and never was — a Yankee, Joe Torre’s brother Frank scored six runs in one game for the Milwaukee Braves on this day in 1957.

Despite the relentless and stubborn rain, those who stayed did have a good time in the South Bronx. Fouls into the stands became even more adventuresome than usual, because at least one hand of most fans trying for them was occupied in trying to keep them dry (holding umbrellas, tugging in poncho wings, etc.). You can imagine the fun and merry mishaps that ensued, I assume.

I tired of being wet an inning into the restarted game myself, and moved to the corner of the out-of-it but dry loge, in section 34. And in that seat, I noticed a few neat things about the pen, at which I had a much better look than the action on the field. First, while most in the crowd were probably discouraged to see Sterling Hitchcock warming in the eighth, we in Section 34 figured he was just getting some throws in and not warming for the game, because he wasn’t throwing to a catcher, but to Jeff Weaver! Then Weaver took the pitcher’s mound in the pen and threw 30-40 pitches to a catcher. Watching him throw from behind home plate I wasn’t sure of this, but I am now. His soft curve is somewhat conventional (though not very soft) in that it breaks away from a right-handed batter and sinks. The kicker: Virtually everything hard that he throws breaks back AT right-handed batters. He may not have a screw ball, but he does get a lot of screw-ball action.

We’ve played 100 years, winning 38 pennants and 26 World Championships. We still hold the lead in the AL East by 6.5 games, and the Red Sox only get two more cracks at us. Our home run total approaches 200, we have six solid starters, a banged-up lineup delighted to be free of turf for a while and on the mend. The Red Sox take heart that they are only 4.5 back in the Wild Card because the three great teams in the West will be playing one another down the stretch while the Sox will be playing only sub-.500 clubs. Well, I’ve just perused our dance card, and we play Detroit, Baltimore and Tampa Bay two more series apiece, and the White Sox once. So using the Red Sox (and their fans) own scenario, their threat to us is still a long, long shot.

And it’s a good thing too. Because they would be really bad at being good. We lost today, and I took the Red Sox fans screams lightly. Their team (and they) are desparate, looking up both at history’s ticking clock, and 2002’s. The Yankee fans routinely answered any Sox cheers with “1918,” to which some of them replied, “Arizona Diamondbacks.” Someone teach these people a little class.

Can you imagine Yankee fans having to resort to anything as lame as “New York Mets in ’86”?

YANKEE BASEBALL!!!