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October 30, 2009 Prospectus Hit and RunA Night to Remember
My season came full circle on Thursday night. Back on April 3, I got my first look at the new Yankee Stadium via the park's unofficial opener, a Friday night exhibition against the Cubs for which I was in the right field bleachers. Having spent last fall detailing my mixed emotions regarding the old ballpark's passing, and the winter kvetching about the way me and my crew were being treated, it was with more ambivalence than excitement that I watched that game and beheld the billion-dollar boondoggle. "It feels as though the team put some idealized hybrid of Yankee Stadiums I and II on a steroid regimen, then stuck it in the middle of Times Square," I wrote, "Pure sensory overload-bright flashing lights with sound surrounding you from every angle, and a ginormous scoreboard video dominating the action on the field." I spent this year's allotment of games in the uppermost part of the upper deck, about four rows away from Hoboken. The view wasn't optimal but the price-$20 a pop, less than a typical trip's expenditure on beer-was right, and gradually, my frosty reception for the park thawed enough for me to admit that yes, I could have a good time in this venue. Particularly with the stretch I've enjoyed for the last month, a run that someone in a less baseball-blessed city might be lucky to experience once in a lifetime: attendance at the September 27 game where the Yankees not only notched their 100th victory but clinched the AL East championship, attendance at Sunday night's ALCS clincher, and now this, my first World Series game since 2003. In a dozen seasons of roughly a dozen games a year at the ballparks in the Bronx, I've not had a run like this. As fate would have it, our seats for Thursday night were once again in the bleachers, this time on the far section on the left field side. Despite Wednesday night's throttling of the Yankee offense by Cliff Lee, more than a hint of optimism was in the air. The previous night's rain had cleared, allowing the pregame entertainment, a performance of the new New York anthem, "Empire State of Mind," by Jay-Z with Alicia Keys, to proceed. "I'm the new Sinatra," he raps in the first verse, and when he does, you don't have to know anything about hip hop to understand why the song connected with the Yankees and their followers from the moment team captain Derek Jeter began using it as his at-bat music towards the end of the year. This is a grand celebration not just of the city but also of making it there. The Yankee starter, A.J. Burnett, took the hill with his ability to do just that still in question after his uneven ALCS Game Five outing. One of the pregame factoids floating around the Twitosphere showed that at least in 2009, Burnett was most vulnerable during his first 25 pitches of the game, often getting taken deep: Split HR AVG OBP SLG OPS Pitch 1-25 8 .263 .356 .441 .797 Pitch 26-50 5 .249 .330 .378 .709 Pitch 51-75 7 .232 .329 .400 .729 Pitch 76-100 5 .262 .319 .406 .725 Pitch 101+ 0 .174 .371 .174 .545 Viewers with the memory of his last outing fresh in their heads don't need the data to recall that Burnett had dug the Yankees a 4-0 hole within his first 12 pitches. It would be different on this night. Taking inspiration from Lee's performance and his postgame words about trusting his stuff—Burnett's can stand with any pitcher in the AL's, but it's the ten-cent head that often sets him back—he came out firing, offering hints that on this night, the "Good A.J." would show up. He breezed through the first inning on 12 pitches, and though the Phillies touched him for a run via a ground rule double by Raul Ibanez and a single by Matt Stairs in the second, he got first-pitch strikes on the lineup's first eight hitters—the Phillies' plan clearly was to take and rake—and didn't go to a 1-0 count until Chase Utley's second at-bat in the third.
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Jay, I think the Phillies felt like they were playing with house money after snagging home field advantage away from the Yankees, and that played into the decisionmaking re: Pedro. Manuel badly wanted to get Pedro the win, and showed the same sort of sentimentality he displayed when he let Brad Lidge pitch the last out of the NL East-clinching win at CPB. Since the Phils already had a game in hand, I assume it was easier to give in to the sentiment and live with the results if it didn't work out.
Also, it's a minor point, but it stuck in my craw. I don't think either one of us can read Pedro's mind, but I don't think he was sending out mental warm fuzzies as he left the field. From his bitter comments about the New York media before the game, and his (apocryphal?) post-game story about the guy behind the dugout with his daughter, who was yelling unprintable things at Pedro as he left the field, it's by no means assured that his smile was the product of genuine happiness or satisfaction. There's more than likely some humiliation involved in (once again) not being able to make Yankee fans eat their words. And so, while I suppose it's tempting to exonerate the thousands of fellow Yankee fans who jeered stupidly at a 38 year year old HOF legend who just pitched his ass off by suggesting that the HOF'er -- in that moment -- enjoyed the razzing, and that it was a heart warming moment, it seems like a misinterpretation of events.
Not that the fans in Philly will be any classier. God forbid A Rod gets plunked in the head and goes down Michael Irvin style.
Re Pedro, my interpretation of the video is colored by listening to his postgame comments several times. I won't profess to know what goes on in his head any more than that of any other player, but I read the smile as genuine, if somewhat bittersweet, and took his postgame words as sincere. His disgust with the boor-with-daughter notwithstanding, he sounded quite satisfied with his performance, by how far he's come in rehabbing from injury, and by the extent to which he can still stir the emotions of the opposing crowd at Yankee Stadium. Not bitter, and not the least bit humiliated. More likely above it all, secure in his understanding of his place in history (go back to his comments a few years ago about going from sitting under a mango tree to being the center of attention in New York, as recounted here). Beaten on the scoreboard on this particular night, perhaps, but beaten in spirit? Hell no.