Bronx, N.Y., June 30, 2002 — If you’ve been reading here for the last week, I apologize right off the bat for using this musical reference in conjunction with the fabulous “Tales of Brave Ulysses” by Cream and The Who’s “The Punk and the Godfather,” mentioned in recent columns.

But I was just wondering how many Yankee players are tempted to call manager Joe Torre “Buttercup,” rather than the formal “Sir,” the “Mr. Torre” Derek always uses or the more informal “Skipper,” or “Skip.” I mean no disrespect, as I have nothing but respect for the job Joe does making out his lineups, his in-game strategy, and the way he goes to great lengths to shield his players from the Press, a fickle fan base, and sometimes hostile ownership.

But sometimes I think the most critical job he does is the one that is described in that old 1970’s song’s title. Those who like to dwell on the criticism side of the like/dislike fan spectrum know without my having to tell them that there have been many negatives mixed in with all the positives this team has experienced in its 6.5 years under Joe’s stewardship. And if one of the highlights was in the 2000 World Series domination of the crosstown rival Mets, one of the lowlights was the September the Yanks stumbled through on the way to that postseason. Rather than take a scattershot approach to describing the team’s putrid performance in that final month of the regular season, I’m going to focus on the struggle of one player, lefty reliever Mike Stanton.

Still paired with Jeff Nelson that year as the two-headed setup for super closer Mariano Rivera, Mike had totally lost it as the season’s end approached. Referred to as “Curly” by some critical fans both for his shaven-headed similarity to that member of the Three Stooges troupe and for some ugly failures he had experienced in the past, fans were not greeting his late August and early September 2000 difficulties with cries of “Nyuk, Nyuk, Nyuk,” I can assure you. One night in particular that year I shared a row with a fan who quietly and respectfully viewed the game all evening as if it were the ballet, until Mike was brought into the game. At that point, the good Dr. Jekyll eerily transformed into a Yankee fan Mr. Hyde, leaping onto his chair and hurling oaths and obscenities at Mr. Stanton; his complexion turned from pale white to bright crimson as the bile spewed from the depths of his being. (I also remember, unfortunately, Mike performing totally down to Hyde’s expectations in an ugly Yankee loss in the Bronx.)

But Joe Torre was in a bind. Mike had been one of his most reliable relievers since we got him in ’97, Joe is loyal to players who have perfomed well for him in the past, and Mike was really his only “reliable” left-handed option. Knowing this, and also that Rivera was suffering from overuse, Joe gave Mike a shot at a save on Wednesday, September 6, in Kansas City. A Yankee team and fan base starved for victories had been buoyed that evening by el duque, who had surrendered only one run in eight innings (on an eighth-inning rbi double by Jerome Dye), and we went to the bottom of the ninth up 2-1 on singleton homers by Jeter in the fourth and Paulie in the sixth.

Anguished Yankee fans watching the Kansas City action from around the country cringed as Joe brought Mike in for the save to start the ninth. Feeling Joe was exercising misplaced loyalty, they swore and pleaded as Mike gave up a booming double to the leadoff pinch hitter, and relaxed only slightly when he notched a strike out. But the doomsayers were truth sayers on this night, and we watched in horror as Beltran delivered the tying run with a single. Next, lefty Stanton facing lefty Johnny Damon proved to be a mismatch as Johhny boomed another double, scoring Carlos and sending the sparse Kansas City crowd home happy.

I like to think we got past the ALDS, and went a long way toward winning the 2000 World Series, on that frustrating September night. Joe knew that Mike would be unable to build any confidence in himself if he felt no one else on the team believed that he was better than what he had been showing in recent performances. He had to make Mike believe that as manager he wouldn’t hesitate to get him up in the pen, or to stride to the mound pointing to his left arm, when the game (and/or the season) was on the line.

The rest is history. The older Yankees were forced to fly to Oakland for an ALDS Game 5 showdown, and even though we got off to a 6-run first, Andy Pettitte had managed to give back all but one run of the lead before the fourth was over. Then Joe signaled for “Curley,” who put a stop to the comeback, as we went on to a 7-5 victory. Mike would go on to pitch 4.3 innings in both the ALDS and the World Series that year, notching a 2-0 record in the former with a 2.08 era, and 1-0 in the latter, giving up no runs. (He got the win in the twelve-inning nail-biter in World Series Game 1 too, a Mets loss that many felt effectively ended their chances.)

I mused about this memory the other night when a struggling Andy Pettitte seemed to find something in the middle innings of a tight game in Baltimore. Even though this was only his third start off the DL (along with minor-league rehab), and the first two had been poor, Joe liked what he saw from Andy as the game went on, and sent him out to pitch the seventh despite the fact that he had already thrown 97 pitches. And Andy did not get hammered. But he gave up a one-out single to Brian Rogers, and then a bloop to Melvin Mora, sending Rogers to third.

The Orioles scored the tie-breaking run and used it to beat us that night. And again the howls went up from the Yankee fan nation. But Joe had a hurt pitcher, physically healing but emotionally unsure and searching. To Joe, his job was clear. Andy went out knowing that his manager believed in him. And he knew that about Joe tonight too.

And now, perhaps, he knows it about the entire Yankee fan family. As with Mike on a lonely night in KC, Andy’s last 100-pitch endeavor got us a tough loss, but what doesn’t kill him makes him stonger, and he could hardly have been stronger, or more confident, tonight. He threw five perfect innings, walked two (one when obviously upset that Bill Miller doesn’t know what a balk is, or isn’t), and only three hits. Picking one of the walks off, he pitched to four men more than the 27-batter minimum. He had a nine-pitch inning, two 11’s, a 12, a 13, a 14, a 15, a 16, and threw 19 pitches the inning of the two walks.

Although the night started and stayed beautiful, the fan behavior in the stands proved what my friend Herb said, “Lopsided games bring out the worst.” There were skirmishes all night, particularly in right field. Which is a shame. We were on national TV in prime time. We were observed by the Fuji Blimp, and had among us in the stands ABC newsman Charles Gibson, Billy Crystal, Robin Williams and Sean Lennon, to name a few. The first pitch was thrown out by Long Island’s own Olympic Figure Skating Gold Medalist Sara Hughes, and we were treated to an efficient, quick and professional Star Spangled Banner by Broadway’s own “Thoroughly Modern Millie” star Sutton Foster (such a good omen that both names are those of baseball players, don’t you think?)

And if the baseball only pleased the fans rooting for the guys in Pinstripes (certainly well in the majority), there were foul balls aplenty caroming around the stands for any fans brave and agile enough to grab them all evening. Perhaps the ugliest was the one that Alfonso struck in the fourth just in front of Row A of Box 619 in the Tier, above the Yankee dugout. Sure it was short of the row, but the fact that it struck the top of the French’s Mustard billboard at their feet proves it was easily reachable. On the other hand a bare-handed fan in row D of Box 610 made a fine catch on a drive off Bernie’s bat before he walked to drive in a run off Benitez in the eighth. But let’s split the difference and go with the quirky one off Mo Vaughn’s bat in the seventh. Sailing over my usual seats in Box 622 (I was in 603 right behind the plate tonight), it landed briefly in one hand of the first fan in Row B of Tier section 12, but when he tried to corral it with his other hand, all he manged to do was flip it directly over the tunnel to the last fan in Row A of Section 10. They could have been two of the Flying Karamazov Brothers, the transfer was so smooth!

The Red Sox lost, we are two games up, and tied in the loss column. We certainly repaid the Queens-based team for the indignities of yesterday. I congratulate John Vander Wal for getting us started with his solo shot in the third, the rbi single in the fourth, and a fine catch on Alomar in the fourth, and I hope he is OK after fouling one off his ankle in the eighth. Derek and Robin deserve defensive bows too, as does Alfonso and his booming bat. But this game was about the manager who builds confidence and the pitcher who showed it, in spades. In the words of the Scoreboard,

Awesome Andy!

BTW,TYW

YANKEE BASEBALL!!!