When You're Right, You're Right

Johan Santana - 40.1 IP, 3.12 ERA, 0.92 WHIP, 39/8 K/BB.
Phil Hughes - 22 IP, 9.00 ERA, 2.14 WHIP, 13/13 K/BB.

Hip, Hip...

As I've explained before, the Yankees couldn't hope to re-capture last year's offensive numbers because, for one, they couldn't expect Jorge Posada to repeat his career year. But I don't think .280/20/90 seemed unreasonable.

This team's in big trouble now. They need their young pitching to stop pitching like young pitching, and start making up for some of the offense's lack of productivity.

I'm Sorry, Joba

Last night was my first time seeing Phil Hughes and Joba Chamberlain pitch live. (Yes, I live in Chicago. No, I won't apologize for it. At least this city's not closing Wrigley Field.) I lost my Joba-ginity, you might say.

What happens now is obvious - every time I'm at a game and Joba comes in, I have to leave the ballpark.

Quadrophenia

Given the recent spate of quad injuries, dead arms and other maladies, shouldn't the Yankees scapegoat and fire their fitness coach like they did last year during Hamstringgate '07?

The Eternal Organ Fill

You did not go gentle into that good night, Phantom Dan.

Mike Mussina - Still Dunzo

Mike Mussina should never be allowed to pitch to a team with a good offense again. He simply doesn't throw hard enough anymore to get by against decent hitters. Last night's performance, when the Yankees dearly needed to save their bullpen, was disgraceful.

When Joba Chamberlain returns to the team, he should head straight to Mussina's spot in the rotation.

Lay Off Latroy Hawkins

I love Paul O'Neill as much any anybody (just look in the right-hand column of this page), but Yankees' fans treatment of Latroy Hawkins has been borderline retarded. He's a mediocre reliever. That's not his fault. Blame the Yankees for signing him. Booing the ever-loving shit out of him will not help him pitch better.

Peter Abraham has it exactly right.

Feel free to boo Kyle Farnsworth all you want, though.

Devil Rays Forever

Two interesting things happened in the stands of the Tropicana Dome behind home plate during this two-game series, both captured by the centerfield cameras.

1) While Ian Kennedy was pitching, some guy in a big, inflatable mascot suit (I can't find a picture) stood directly in Kennedy's line of vision and jumped up and down in a blatant attempt to distract him. In the MAJOR leagues. For reals, you guys. Also, this mascot-type thing had like a two-foot long tongue hanging out of its mouth, and looked like it was poised to make some lady mascot very happy.

2) During last night's game, Brian Knobs of The Nasty Boys sat in the front row behind home plate.

Sign of the Apocalypse

That this fucking insane story about the T-shirt buried in Yankee Stadium is being discussed on talk radio, on ESPN.com’s front page and pretty much everywhere. I expect nothing from the New York Post, but the rest of you should be ashamed.

A Plea to Yankees' Fans

As we prepare for our first Yankees/Red Sox apocalypse of the year, I have a request for Yankees fans. Please, please, please do not chant "18-1" at Red Sox fans. Ever.

If you do, you'll be no better than the Bostonians who chant "Yankees suck" at Patriots' Super Bowl parades.

Glad to be Done with Kansas City

Watching the Yankees/Royals last night, I was struck by how shockingly amateurish the FSN Kansas City coverage came across. I’m not a huge fan of the YES Network, or the way they handle games, but seeing some small-market coverage served as a reminder of how much worse things could be. It was like watching the Channel 9 news in Peoria or something, then comparing it with Ernie Anastos and Bill Beutel at their smoothest.

The camerawork was beyond shoddy, with quick, disorienting cuts between the dugout and close-ups of the pitcher. Announcers Paul Splittorff and Ryan Lefebvre played the part of small-town yokels, complete with hilarious comments like, “It’s a good thing the Yankees/Red Sox game is on ESPN Sunday night, because we really don’t see enough of them.”

Ha HA! Maybe if you didn’t need to stop using your centerfield camera because mist from your ballpark’s waterfall was getting on the camera lens, people would pay more attention to the Royals.

Splittorff and Lefebvre also leaned heavily on useless stats, particularly, “Player X has hit safely in XX of his last XX games.” At one point, we were told that John Buck has hit in 3 of his last 4 games, which is a sign he’s coming out of his slump. Huh? That stat tells us absolutely nothing. Buck could have been 3-19 over his last 4 games.

I hate it when Michael Kay looks good by comparison.

Warning Signs

It's too early to panic, etc. etc. disclaimer disclaimer, BUT

-Pretty much everyone on the offense looks another year older. Last year, the Yankees made the playoffs because ARod and Jorge Posada had career years. The team made no upgrades to the offense in the off-season. ARod and Posada can't be expected to re-create their 2007 numbers, and no one else in the offense (except for Cano) can be expected to significantly improve, because THEY ARE ALL ANCIENT. And declining.

-Phil Hughes' fastball still has as much velocity as Bugs Bunny's changeup. Um...Phil? Please don't make us all look like fools for railing against the Johan trade.

Game Numero Uno

Well, that went well.

A virtuoso performance from Melky Cabrera, who looks more like a viable big league center fielder every day, led the Yankees to a 3-2 win over the Jan Brady of the A.L. East, the Toronto Blue Jays.

Chien-Ming Wang didn’t look great, but Melky, Giambi and ARod contributed defensively to get him through seven largely effective innings. Solid work from Joba and Mariano, and that was all she wrote.

The offense looked sluggish, but that can be expected against Roy Halladay. My only concern the entire game was Joe Girardi not pinch-hitting for Jason Giambi against Scott Downs, and then using a defensive replacement at first base. It’s a minor quibble, though. The Yankees looked good, and the Stadium begins its farewell lap.

Oh, one other thing….is YES going to continue with those stupid camera angles all season? I don’t need to miss pitches because I’m getting the view of the flag through the façade, or some such nonsense.

Guess Who's Back

The motherflippin’ Psycho Fan, that’s who. After a long off-season of discontent, it’s spring (though not in Chicago) and optimism is in the air (though not in America).

I didn’t write about the Yankees this winter because the day-to-day news surrounding the Yankees was miserably depressing. 2007 ended with a pathetic whimper, much like 2006, 2005 and 2004. The Torre-led Yankees showed no fight and no pride while playing matador to the charging bull of Chief Wahoo. After the ancient Mr. Torre sat on his ass while Joba Chamberlain was being attacked by a Hitchcockian plague, the Yankees laid on their backs and put four paws in the air. And then some other animal metaphors.

The embarrassing Mitchell Report (embarrassing to Bud Selig, George Mitchell and the media, NOT the players named in that fraud of a document) darkened every other baseball story this off-season. Who cares if Jorge Posada signs a new, four-year contract when our entire national pasttime is being disgraced in Congressional hearings?

This past winter has been baseball’s darkest moment of my lifetime, excluding the unforgivable 1994 World Series cancellation. (Seriously…think about that for a minute: The WORLD SERIES WAS CANCELLED. Under Bud Selig’s watch. And now he’s being lauded by some as a good commissioner? Give me a ginormous fucking break.) In addition to the ongoing steroids fiasco, the evil Red Sox won their second title in four years and talk of a dynasty has begun. Hank and Hal Steinbrenner had their bloodless coup. (Does anyone else envision the Hankster beating Brian Cashman to death with a bowling pin in a few years?) The Yankees were able to do nothing to improve their team, succeeding only in not trading away their valuable young pitching.

In short, things sucked. And no one, including me, had anything new or interesting to say about any of it.

But the season starts tonight. And hope is rekindled...blah blah blah. Sorry, my stomach can't take that kind of saccharine garbage. Let's just hope for a win.