Empyreal Environs

Game 32: May 9, 2006
Red Sox (20-12), 14
Yankees (18-12), 3
W: Josh Beckett (4-1)
L: Randy Johnson (5-3)

I wonder if there’s a support group for erratic outfielders. “Hi, my name is Melky Cabrera. I got called up from Columbus. My first start will be against the Red Sox. At Yankee Stadium.”

Wily Mo Peña, Alfonso Soriano, and Adam Dunn: “Hi, Melky.”

Peña played every outfield position last night. Terry Francona might have been putting him on display to the Yankee fans as a way of saying, “Look what you could’ve had. Neener neener.”

Cabrera, you may remember, as charged with another key error back on July 15th, which was also blowout win by the Red Sox. That error was also partially Gary Sheffield’s fault, as he didn’t back up Cabrera. Last night was all on the young right fielder, however, as the ball bounced out of Cabrera’s globe, causing Little League coaches everywhere to exclaim, “Two hands!”

Cabrera did drive in Robinson Cano in the fifth inning with his single to center field, but he wasn’t joined by very many of his teammates in this regard. It might be enough to save him the trip back to Columbus.

It seems each Yankee could probably use their own special lifestyle workshops. Randy Johnson, with his three and two-thirds innings of work comprising a line of five hits seven runs (two earned), five walks, and three strikeouts, could join “Life Begins at 40: Making the Most of Middle Age” along with Bernie Williams. Alex Rodriguez could gain much benefit from “Hair Don’ts.”

Josh Beckett seemed to replicate his recent shaky starts; he surrendered a one-out, two-run homer to Jason Giambi in the first inning. He settled down to get Alex Rodriguez and Hideki Matsui out to end the visitors’ half of the first, but it appeared the Red Sox chances for victory were in peril as they had to overcome an early deficit.

In the top of the third with two out, Rodriguez bobbled what should have been a routine grounder off the bat of David Ortiz. Since Yankees are infallible, it must have been the uneven infield dirt. I’m sure Michael Kay can attest to this. Dustan Mohr, who had singled to lead off the inning, scored the first Boston run and Alex Gonzalez, who had walked, advanced to third base. Johnson dilapidated before the frenzied New York crowd and pitched errantly to Manny Ramirez to allow Gonzalez to tie the score. Ramirez lined single to Matsui, who was swift in relaying the ball and had a chance to put out Ortiz. That speedster Ortiz was off on contact, however, and represented the go-ahead run. The Yankees would never retake the lead.

The Red Sox scored enough runs to give Rudy Seanez a chance to pitch without completely throwing the game into jeopardy. Leading the scoring barrage was Boston shortstop Alex Gonzalez.

Even though Gonzalez’s batting average and on-base percentage are (.221 and .317 after last night) atrocious, it’s appealing to me how seriously he takes each at bat. He doesn’t act like a nine-hole hitter when he’s at the dish. He believes he can bat better than everyone else thinks he can, and that may make all the difference. It reminds me of the difference between Mugsy Bogues and Spud Webb; the former played with an intense fervor and never thought of himself as a sideshow while the later became the novelty act that people portrayed him to be. Most don’t think of Gonzalez as a major league hitting threat, but that doesn’t cause the shortstop to shirk his duties at the plate.

Gonzalez crushed a three-run roundtripper into the left field bleachers, just missing the upper deck. And he had the audacity to nearly strike a pose as he watched it recede into the night, as if he does this sort of thing on an Ortiz-like basis.

There was some beaning, albeit lackadaisical. In the eighth, Trot Nixon was hit by Ron Villone and Bubba Crosby was hit by Keith Foulke. It was as pro forma as sex between a couple married for a couple of decades. Dugouts were warned, yada yada yada.

As luxuriant as runaway wins are, I prefer well-played games. So, I’m calling on the Yankees to at least put up a bit of a fight in the next two games. As tarnished as the mystique and aura might be, it’s rather shameful to play the sport like profligate Romans.