On the Road Again

Bronx, N.Y., June 26, 2002 — It’s been a strange trip, this latest one, but I’m close to quoting the wrong musician there. My title is inspired by today being the birthday (1942) of Larry Taylor of Canned Heat, most famous for the Woodstock-era song of the same title. And that’s not the only birthday today. Most Yankee fans can tell you that it’s Derek Jeter’s birthday too. And with whom would Derek share a birthday?

Abner Doubleday, the man most often credited with creating baseball, this most marvelous and magical of sports, was born this day in 1819, what should surely be a national holiday.

We take short trips around our neighborhoods all the time, but it’s rare that they are three-day ones. And few will deny that the time the Yanks spent in Shea, although it involved two teams of players wielding bats, gloves and balls, had very little to do with America’s pastime.

Trips are often made to the mountains, and the “Arena Baseball” of Colorado took place next on this trip. The games were played as if the Lords of Baseball had decided that runs were the only thing, had replaced the mound with a ditch, had pulled in the fences, and had presented guides on corking bats to every player with their daily meal stipend. We won two out of three, and couldn’t wait to get out of town, as if our hosts had not “left the light on” for us.

And the seashore. What a marvelous destination! After a horrible first night during which we played as if we were the one of the two teams that had not yet gotten used to playing with sand in our trunks, we went into a time warp back to 1968, when pitching was king. (That is how the next two games were played, and we escaped with wins in each.) Carl Yastrzemski was the only player in the American League to hit .300 in 1968, winning the batting title with a scintillating .301 average. These were the days when the Dodgers were in contention every year with an offense that was accurately reflected in the following coversation that the late Don Drysdale reported having with a friend:

“Hey, did you guys win last night?” the friend asked.

“Didn’t you hear? Sandy threw a one-hitter!” Don replied.

“Yeah, but did you win?” came the answer.

Was it any wonder that we couldn’t wait to get back home? But unfortunately home was not to be our destination. No, rather another popular place for those “on the road,” Baltimore with its bewitching harbor and, until recently, friendly-to-the-Yankees ballpark, was the next stop.

And it would be easy to characterize what has happened there the last two nights as a travesty to all things Yankee. Surely I won’t try to describe the moments I’ve spent witnessing these games as pleasant. Falling behind Tuesday night in the bottom of the first, and gamely coming back to tie the game twice, it was not only frustrating to lose to the Orioles on a seventh-inning run, it was maddening when I was all too aware that this was the third time in June 2002 that we had fallen to the Orioles by a 4-3 score!

And tonight, I admit to twice allowing a big smile once we had taken a two-run lead with the Rocket on the mound, in the first at 2-0 and then 6-4 in the fourth. My heart fell and I pounded my defenseless thigh with my fist when Batista delivered the winner off Karsay in the bottom of the ninth. First place is not kind to new visitors who celebrate with two-game losing streaks, and we have paid for it by losing that position oh so quickly.

But even the most jaded of Yankee fans would have to admit, I think, that even if we are doing it very poorly, the Yankees have returned to playing the game we’re used to these last two nights, and in a familiar site. I’ve always thought that the suicide squeeze was the ultimate weapon of the underdog late in a game, and I credit both Hargrove for calling it and Hairston for executing it.

And tonight’s game was even more crushing. You are supposed to win when Clemens pitches and you have a two-run lead, twice. You’re supposed to win when you have the go ahead run at second with no outs in a tie game late in three consecutive innings. You’re supposed to win when Mariano Rivera comes in and strikes out the side. But you can’t tell me it wasn’t an entertaining game. I have Yankee fan friends in the Baltimore area who attended the game. Put the horns on me for the loss if you will, because when I heard they were going I told them to have a good time first, and bring in a win second, the fan corollary to the old “It’s not whether you win or lose…” cliche.

Think back, Yankee fans. It was only a decade or so ago that what the Orioles have managed to do the last two nights, and earlier in the month in the Stadium, represented the kind of wins that we would carry with us to keep us warm all winter. Who can forget the Memorial Day (or was it Labor?) bottom of the ninth rally against the Red Sox, where Mel Hall capped it with a three-run bomb, and the Scoreboard played “Shout” for what seemed like an hour? Fans who didn’t even know one another were hugging and crying like we had just won Game 7. And fifteen years ago today, we were in the Stadium and losing 9-0 to the Red Sox, and then came up and had a magical, incredible 11-run third, and won the game 12-11 in 10! Let the Orioles fans enjoy two glorious wins against the best there is. We’re playing baseball, it’s summer and it’s hot, and all is well, even after two close losses.

Thinking back to those wins we managed in the leaner times, I recall one of my finest old Stadium memories. It was from a game in 1988. It was late in the season, and we were out of it. We played the Detroit Tigers for six hours, tied at 2-2 from the ninth inning on. Then they got up in the top of the 18th and finally scored a run. We got someone on in the bottom of the 18th, and then Claudell Washington homered and sent a select group of fans home very happy. The year, like I said, was 1988. The day?

September 11.

YANKEE BASEBALL!!!