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.