White, You Huckleberry..

"Bum cheese on rye with ham and prosciutto
Got more Louie than Phillip Rizzuto"
--Beastie Boys

I was born in 1975, the same month that Carlton Fisk hit his famous home run. At that point, Phil Rizzuto was already 18 years into his fabled broadcasting career calling Yankees games for radio and television.

For me, like so many other Yankees fans who came of age after 1957, Phil Rizzuto was the Yankees. More than Don Mattingly, more than Billy Martin, more than George Steinbrenner, more than Guidry, and Pags, and Boggs, and Rags, and Jeter and O'Neill, The Scooter represented what being a Yankees fan meant.

Other than grainy highlight videos, I never got to watch Rizzuto play, although by all accounts he was the original Captain Intangibles. So I only know him by his broadcasting. Which means I feel like I know him as well as my own grandfather. His rambling personal anecdotes during boring stretches of games introduced me to his wife, Cora, his kids and his grandchildren, not to mention Rosie from Newark who is turning 87 today.

Watching baseball has never been quite the same since Scooter retired following the 1996 season. No one else can match his combination of passion, charm and humor. Those who try fall miserably short. Those who don't try come across like bland robot announcers, endlessly reciting the same statistics and analyses.

Rizzuto had an effortless chemistry with every broadcaster he ever partnered with. He and Bill White were like an old, bickering married couple sitting at the next table over at dinner, except you wanted to join them and listen to their stories (at least until Rizzuto left before dessert to beat the traffic). His presence and cajoling allowed Bobby Murcer to loosen up in the booth, and he even drew some drops of personality from Tom Seaver, who has never been as likable since. Scooter would endlessly razz newcomer Rick Cerone, until the former catcher lost his facade of professionalism and broke down into gales of hearty Italian laughter.

Sure, Scooter rooted for the Yankees, but he was never a dick about it. He was the anti-Hawk Harrelson. It wasn't for show, he was a New York kid, and you could tell he genuinely lived and died with the team, even long after his playing days were over. Maybe if I was a fan of another team watching the games, the homerism would have pissed me off. But I was a Yankees fan, so I loved it.

(And while we're talking about other broadcasters, Harry Caray can fuck himself and go die all over again with his claim that he originated "Holy Cow!" Rizzuto says he was using that expression all his life, and I believe him. Scooter earned my trust. He brazenly admitted on air when he wasn't paying attention or when he was leaving early to get over the bridge. Harry Caray was a slurring drunk, so it stands to reason he was a liar also.)

Rizzuto had so many idiosyncrasies as a broadcaster, they're impossible to list or count. He loved cannoli, this we know. And he grew to love Seinfeld in his later years, often recounting the exploits of Kramer and Newman on-air after watching the re-runs in syndication.

1996 was Rizzuto's last year on the air, and the first year of a budding new Yankees dynasty. Scooter had a blatant crush on Derek Jeter, often commenting on the amusing facial expressions and tics of his heir apparent. Like Jeter, Rizzuto did all the little things right on the field, and stood as the centerpiece of a team for the ages.

Being a Yankees fan means having a lot of heroes. And being a Yankees fan means watching a lot of heroes die. Thurman Munson went suddenly, tragically, inexplicably. Billy Martin went like he lived, drunk and violent, poignant and sad. Mickey Mantle went before his time, after treating his body like a punching bag for too many years. Joe Dimaggio went with grace, solitary and resolute to the end. But nothing's ever been sadder than saying goodbye to the Scooter.

Phil Rizzuto's left early to get over the bridge one last time. Fuck, I'm going to miss him.

I Feel Like I've Been Shot

Phil Rizzuto died today. I don't have anything to say right now.

Captain Intangibles Strikes Again!

With the game on the line, and the Yankees needing a win to keep pace with Boston, the legendary clutch ability of Derek Jeter shone through again.

With runners on first and third and one out in a tie game in the bottom of the ninth, Derek Jeter stood at the plate knowing he needed to drive in a run to win the game. So what did he do? He drove in a run. Because that's what he does.

Whatever the team needs, whenever the team needs it, Captain Intangibles delivers. After patiently working the count like a true Yankee against Orioles semi-closer Chad Bradford, our hero lunged at the first pitch with his patented inside-out swing and sent a screaming rocket up the middle. Bradford was lucky to get a glove on the hot shot, and he sent the ball racing in the direction of second bagger Brian Roberts. Melky Cabrera raced home from third, clearly given an extra boost of speed from the inspiration he received watching the Captain's courage. Roberts could barely field since a hard-hit ball, even after it was deflected, and was unable to throw Cabrera out at home. Yankees win! All thanks to good ol' #2! Foooooooor he's a jolly good fellow, he's a jolly good fellow...

Bobby Abreu, Joge Posada, Joba Chamberlain and the other Yankees must have partied well into the night, raising their glass to the superior focus and determination of Mr. Jeter, and telling tales of his glories from days gone by.

Only a player with the heart and experience of Derek Jeter could have positioned that frozen rope so that it hit off Bradford's glove just so, ensuring yet another Yankees victory.

To the engraver who is already preparing Jeter's Hall of Fame plaque: better leave some extra space at the bottom, sonny. There's more to come.

She Said "Father Can I Tell Your Congregation...

...how a resurrection really feels?"

The Yankees are back from the dead, despite a flawed roster, woeful managing and a hideous start, thanks to a youth movement similar to what we saw in 2005 under similar circumstances, and one of the greatest offensive stretches in the history of the game.

The Yankees showed they're a legitimate threat by sweeping a Cleveland team that, while struggling, remains a serious playoff contender. The Bombers now lie in wait, 4 games behind Boston, and tied for the Wild Card lead with a Seattle team that everyone keeps waiting on to fade.

Nothing is guaranteed. Nothing will be given easily. The Yankees' amazing second-half run has only put them back in the picture after a terrible, hole-digging first half. They'll need to keep playing great baseball against far more difficult competition. But a tree grows in the Bronx. Hope is alive today.

Melky Cabrera and Robinson Cano and Hughes and Joba have washed the taste of the first half out our mouths with talent and enthusiasm. (And we all know that when A man becomes preeminent, he's expected to have enthusiasms.) Even the clueless hand of Joe Torre hasn't been able to slow the Yankees' run. Meanwhile, Eric Gagne isn't even looking as good as Kyle Farnsworth, let alone Joba. Money well spent, Theo. Oh wait, I forgot, Epstein's a boy genius who can never be criticized. Sorry, Gammons, I won't make that mistake again.

The Yankees are getting their swagger back. And that means Yankees fans are getting their swagger back. Bad times for everybody else. Maybe later in the week, I'll go through all the "Yankees Are Dead/Dynasty's Over" columns from May and June, and see who the biggest idiots were.

To be fair, I thought the Yankees were dead myself, and said so, repeatedly...but I wasn't gleeful about it. This still might not be a playoff team, but at least there'll be a race, and baseball will be worth watching in September.

So now it's Baltimore for three, a team that has given the Yankees fits this year. I'll be satisfied with 2 of 3. After sweeping Cleveland, you can't ask for more than that.

My Heart Rate's Still Not Normal the Next Morning

As the Yankees began a 20-game stretch that will help us all better understand how good they actually are, rookies Phil Hughes and Joba Chamberlain shut down the A.L. Central-leading Indians for 8 innings in guiding the Yanks to an impressive 6-1 win.

Despite hitting into a seemingly endless number of rally-killing double-plays against Fausto Carmona, the offense did its part, led by Alex Rodriguez's 501st home run. Robinson Cano and...

Fuck it, who am I kidding?

Last night was all about Phil and Joba, Joba and Phil. Two 21-year-olds who hold the Yankees' present and future in their inexperienced hands. Watching Hughes pitch, you already feel like you're in the hands of a master, a guy who knows how to harness his stuff and get outs even when his control isn't all there. And Joba? My God. He looks physically like a young Roger Clemens, but throws even harder.

Seeing these two in the same game was like watching a young Jack Bauer and Tony Almeida partnering for the first time. The only problem is, I'm not sure which one is Jack anymore.

Don't love the pitching matchup today, and I'm worried that the humidity in Cleveland may be about 5-7% too high for the finicky cat, Mike Mussina. Also, I've heard the hotel the Yankees are staying in doesn't scramble Moose's eggs just the way he like them. Could be trouble.

The Yankees do catch a break, though, as Travis Hafner will likely miss the entire series with a knee injury. Good thing, too, because it's important for the Yankees to take two out of three this weekend, since Seattle is facing the dreary White Sox and Detroit plays Tampa Bay.

By the way, if Joe Torre hadn't been suspended for last night's game, what are the chances that Joba would have stayed on the bench, while more sturdy, experienced veterans like Jim Brower and Farnsie coughed the game up? Even seeing the clueless one sitting in the stands made me nervous: What if he was sending secret text messages to Mattingly?

No Justice, No Peace

In an unfathomably unfair decision, Major League Baseball has suspended Roger Clemens five games and Joe Torre one game for hitting Alex/Alexis Rios in the back with a pitch Tuesday night. These suspensions expose how backwards and twisted baseball's current warning/ejections/suspension system is, as related to HBPs.

Let's look at the chain of events:

1) Alex Rodriguez yells "Ha!" while rounding the bases, causing a pop-up to drop harmlessly in the infield. Hilarity ensues.

2) Blue Jays pitcher Jesse Litsch throws a hard object approximately 90 mph behind ARod.

3) Josh Towers, apparently in some sort of delusional rage at Tony Pena, drills ARod in the leg, causing injury.

4) Having had enough, and sticking up for his teammates, Clemens drills Rios in the back.

Now who escalated the situation here? Clemens gets punished for doing the exact thing the Blue Jays attempted to do twice, yet the Jays make off like bandits despite bringing a gun to a knife-fight.

This decision is startling in its hypocrisy, astonishing in its wrongness.

Hey...did Jays manager John Gibbons ever get suspended for trying to start fistfights in his own clubhouse?

Fuck the Blue Jays

I really used to hate the Blue Jays. Back in the heady days of the early '90s, when we were all debating whether Gennifer Flowers or Paula Jones was hotter, the Blue Jays were perennial division champs and the Yankees were also-rans. It's hard to recall that kind of Canadian-national-anthem booing passion now that the Jays haven't been a legitimate threat since the strike, thanks to a series of awful general managers.

Well, it's time to start throwing out the Canadian bacon again. What the Jays did this week was the most bush league thing I've ever seen. Steven Goldman said it best, but the Jays' response to "HA!"-gate was overzealous, disproportionate and irresponsible.

Throwing the ball behind ARod on Monday apparently wasn't enough. I guess that was more of a miss than a message from Jessie Litsch, because the immortal Josh Towers drilled ARod in the leg the next night. Thankfully, Roger Clemens was around for appropriate retaliation.

The Blue Jays were embarrassed by the "HA!" play because they fucked up and looked like Little Leaguers, so they took out their shame on ARod, who did nothing more than what countless players have done before. Unfortunately for ARod, it actually worked this time. The Blue Jays came across as frustrated, immature brats, humiliated that their ineptitude was put on display for the world.

It's time to hate this team again.