Finding Perspective

I come into this posting with mixed emotions. On one hand I'm still buzzing from Yankees ace Chien-Ming Wang's near-perfect performance at Fenway last night, but we'll get to that later. First I need to clear the air about my last post, and specifically the reaction it induced from friend, colleague and fellow Yankee diehard Carlos "Mexican Manchild" Israel. (Check out his blog to see how he confronted my Yankee negativity.)

Before explaining myself, I'm going to do something that baseball legends Pete Rose, Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire and Roger Clemens before me have yet to do publicly: admit when I'm wrong, and then say I'm sorry. It's time for my mea culpa to the rest of the blogging community. You will hear no "I'm not here to talk about the past" from me. I'm facing this thing head on.

It was shameful the way I got so down on my beloved Yankees so early in the season. What can I say? I let my emotions get the better of me. Like Jeffrey Lebowski ("The other Lebowski. The millionaire!") said: "Strong men also cry. Strong men . . . also . . . cry." But let me again explain my rationale for delivering such an off-the-cuff lambasting of the 2008 Yankees squad. It's very simple - I'm a New York sports fan, this is what we do! We cry and kick and scream and cheer at every little peak and valley during the arduous 6-month season. We live and die with each new game, no matter if there are eight or 80 left to be played.

But this is no excuse. I must find some kind of perspective, some kind of middle ground, and I thank the Manchild for pointing this out. The last thing I want to end up being is a bitter old retired man living in Arizona, calling for Brian Cashman's head every time the Yankees lose two games in a row. Have you ever heard radio host Chris "Mad Dog" Russo's father call the show and rant with Armageddon-like ferocity about how the Yankees are doomed, devastated and crumbling to pieces? That's exactly who I don't want to be.

So let's move on. No more overreacting. No more doomsday rhetoric or exaggerated celebrations. From now on I will try to keep an even keel. To find balance. To remember that the season is 162 games long. In short, I will act more zen than Phil Jackson.

That being said, did anyone see how Wang baffled the defending champs in Boston last night? Unbelievable. And this was at a place where he had struggled, going 2-3 with a 6.17 ERA at Fenway going into the game. Not even Manny and the floundering Big Papi (a combined 0-6 with three strikeouts and a double play), who usually own the Yankees staff, could break Wang's robot-like concentration. In fact, I think he is a robot. Even after dominating the powerful Sox lineup, Wang looked about as excited as a guy who received the first season of Everybody Loves Raymond on DVD for Christmas. Someone should check him for a pulse.

But I digress. The Yankees, save for Abreu's "attempt" at catching J.D. Drew's homer, played brilliantly last night. This was a statement game for the rest of the AL East. Wang made giant strides last night at capturing his first of what should be a string of Cy Young Awards. Even Giambi hit an opposite field bomb last night. The Yankees are rolling. There's no stopping this team now. The only question is, who will they play in October? There's no telling how many records this team will break—

Wait! Calm down, it's only April! Remember, balance! Balance!

Right. Sorry. Um, great game, guys. Go out there and do it again tonight.

We're 2.5 games behind the Orioles?!

Okay, I know it's early. Of course it is, Giambi hasn't even landed on the 15-day DL yet (does anyone really believe he'll start a hundred games at first this season?). But just let me get this out of my system. I need to expel my anxiety about how the season is already in jeopardy, how this might be the year the Yankees finally miss the postseason for the first time in 15 years. Yes, I know this sounds completely ludicrous just eight games in, but as a New York sports fan I took an oath to overreact at every single twist and turn the season has to offer. And unlike our former governor, I take my oaths very seriously. So here goes.

Let's start with the hitting. As in, "When the hell are they going to start hitting?" This is an All-Star lineup, right? I just sat through one of the most excruciating displays of "offense" I've ever had the misfortune of witnessing. And it came against the staff of the sudden powerhouse Kansas City Royals, who struck out A-Rod four times. Again, it is early, but consider that this was only the fourth time in his career that he's picked up the Golden Sombrero.

Think about these numbers: 10 for 53. That's what the Yankees are batting so far with runners in scoring position, a paltry .189. Are we in the playoffs already? Someone needs to tell this lineup that it's April and not October. To make matters even worse, now Jeter, arguably the team's best clutch hitter, is out for at least this series against the Royals. I don't know how much longer I can watch Wilson Betemit (with 3 strikeouts of his own today in Jeter's place) do his best Mark Bellhorn impersonation facing batting practice-type fastballs.

The pitching? Sure, Wang has been outstanding, and even Moose resembled a crafty veteran last night mixing up pitches, changing speeds and using pinpoint accuracy to make the most of a below 90s fastball. But did anyone catch the last starts of neophytes Ian Kennedy and Phil Hughes? They had about as much control as Ricky Vaughn before his manager fitted him with a pair of bifocals. We chose these guys over Johan? Come on, you knew that one was coming. It was only a matter of time.

Not to be completely negative, here's a ray of hope: Joba and Rivera are the game's best 1-2 punch coming out of the bullpen. Wait, did someone say bullpen? That word gives me heart palpitations, simply because of two names: Kyle Farnsworth and LaTroy Hawkins. I can just see GM Brian Cashman sitting down with the Steinbrenners during the offseason to discuss potential bullpen acquisitions. The conversation may have gone something like this:

Cashman: "You know, we could always use another washed up ex-Cub closer in the 'pen. How about bringing back Tom Gordon?"

Hank Steinbrenner: "No, Dad didn't like how he wore his hat. It was too crooked. Who else ya got?"

Hal Steinbrenner (frowning at an OTB racing form): "There's no way that horse is 10 to 1."

Cashman: "Antonio Alfonseca?"

Hank: "No, he has too many fingers. Might scare away the kids, and we want to break the attendance record again this year. Anyone else?"

Hal: "Tiramisu. What an odd name for a racehorse."

Cashman (snapping his fingers): "I've got it! LaTroy Hawkins! He's always available!"

Hank: "Cash, you're a genius. But if he stinks, you're fired!"

Hal (zoning out at the racing form, whispering): "Tiramisu . . . Tiramisu."

Why do the Yankees have to make an inexplicably worthless signing every offseason? Every time I see Hawkins or Farnsworth so much as pick up a baseball in the bullpen, I start crying harder than the first time I watched the ending of In America. 

Okay, okay. Now that I've purged a week's worth of "The sky is falling!" emotions, we can move on with the season. We Yankees fans must believe that sooner or later the lineup's batting averages will stop resembling interstate highway markers, the young pitchers will start throwing strikes and Giambi will look spry playing gold glove-caliber defense at first. Alright, how about 2 out of 3?

And one more thing. No matter how bleak things may look this season, no matter how low the high-priced Bombers may sink, there's always one piece of information that will offer the ailing fan at least a hint of solace during the dark times. 

Repeat after me: "Hey, at least they're not as bad as the Knicks."