I may be a Yankees fan, but I can appreciate the intensity and devotion of fans of other teams. That’s why I’m so fascinated by Red Sox fans, even though they make my life hell from time to time, and why I can’t understand Giants fans, who I’ll tell you all about in a future entry. Last month, however, I got my first look at Oakland A’s fans in their natural habitat, the largely maligned Network Associates Coliseum.

Having heard many a radio broadcast and watched many a postseason telecast from the coliseum, you’d think that the place was some kind of a pit. Well, it’s not. In many ways, the Coliseum is to Yankee Stadium what the Bay Area is to the New York Area–there are some striking similarities, and yet some sharp distinctions. Two of the most cosmopolitan and colorful cities in the world, both famed for their diversity, culture, their place in American history, with lots of Old World blood mixed with an always future-minded fashion sense. There are moments when I’m there when I, as an urban-born New Yorker, feel right at home. But there are times when a familiar situation suddenly seems odd. California is undeniably different.

You can’t go anywhere in San Francisco, Berkeley, or Oakland, it seems, without being panhandled. There are bums in the streets holding cardboard signs at every major intersection: "Homeless. Hungry. Please Help." "War Veteran-Disabled." "No lies, no stories, just need help." The weather is mild enough that the winter doesn’t drive people south, and squatters set up cardboard houses under highway overpasses. While we were there, nine homeless people were arrested for taking over a city building to protest the lack of cheap housing–a building with an earthquake crack so large in it, even an East Coaster like me could see it. I suppose when you’re used to sleeping in a shopping cart, even a deathrap seems like a good thing.

Earthquakes were on my mind a lot at the coliseum, as I tried hard to remember what park the teams were in when the Loma Prieta earthquake hit in 1989, as we felt tremors pass through from time to time, and as the A’s played earthshakingly great baseball. They swept the Red Sox and then turned their sights to the Yankees.

corwin and I arrived at the park the day after the A’s drove Ted Lilly from the mound and walloped the bombers 8-1. We took the subway, just as we have to games in Boston. In our pinstripes, hats, and other Yankees fan gear, we were heckled a bit by Oakland fans, but always in a nice way. They say what distinguishes the A’s from other teams (especially the angst-ridden Red Sox) is that they know how to have fun. Their fans seem to carry that spirit as well. "You like the Yankees?" one guy said to us as the train approached his stop. "Gee, what was your first clue?" I answered back. "Oh man, just go easy on my boys tonight, a’ight?" he said, as he stepped of the train. "Y’all had enough fun last year, hear?"

On the walking bridge from the train station over to the coliseum, a man approached us. "Got any tickets?" he asked, as we expected. "Nope," we answered. "Got any loose change?" he then asked. Geez, come on man, one schtick at a time! Did I mention the incessant panhandling? At least in the Bronx it’s one OR the other, not both!

A few moments later, we were at the ass end of the coliseum, entering behind the outfield stands.

I tend to judge the dedication level of fans by the cleverness and quality of their handmade signs. At Fenway, signs are prohibited, but not so in the free-spirited Bay Area (though I did read in the rules that broom handles are not allowed… too dangerous). As we made our way down the wide ramps toward the dugout level, I saw a kid carrying a well-drawn sign sporting the A’s elephant mascot ("Stomper") that read "Trample The Yanks." Looking good!

After a quick look at the food options (garlic fries, barbecue, ballpark fare), I made my way down to the Yankees dugout. The A’s were still taking batting practice and it was early yet. I had fun showing my photos from spring training and Camden Yards to the other fans there while we waited and hoped for some autographs and photo ops. Randy Choate came out and signed for quite a while, going back and forth along the dugout. He’s such a cutie, and such a nice guy. Then the Yankees took the field, and he went out to stretch with the team.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched the Yankees team stretch. I could probably lead the routine myself. After doing their leg work–jogging backward, side to side, etc.–each player got a giant rubber band and stretched his legs and torso. Then, as always, as they’d probably done since their Little League days, they warmed up their arms by playing catch.

I guess when you play catch every single day, and you’re a jokester at heart like Luis Sojo is, you just can’t pass up any opportunity to liven things up. At Camden Yards, Luis played catch sitting in a chair. In Oakland, he was throwing with Clay Bellinger, who was a sometime catcher in the minors. Somehow their normal throwing turned into Luis pitching and Clay squatting to catch. Enrique Wilson got into the act as a batter–first with an actual bat and then just miming swinging and missing. Clay called balls and strikes. You know something? Sojo’s got pretty good control.

It’s tough to know where to stand when you’re waiting for autographs. Just a few feet to one side or the other can make a difference. I felt I was in a pretty good spot, but baseball is a game of inches. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, wanted Derek Jeter’s autograph. I had some photos of him I hoped to get him to sign, but I wasn’t too anxious. Ever since I got him that once in spring training, I’ve felt like I didn’t want to take away chances from others who haven’t had the chance yet. But if he happened to come right to me, well, I wouldn’t walk away!

All eyes were on Jeter as he took BP. You can usually tell what kind of a game Jeter will have at the plate by watching his BP. This time, he didn’t really light up the audience by spraying hits all over, but he did jack a few into one section of left centerfield seats. When he was done, the Yankees were just about finished with their allotted forty minutes of BP time. Jeter then came to the dugout roof, and began to sign. He started about three feet over to my left, and unfortunately for me, then worked his way further left. He had time for about two dozen signatures before he ducked into the clubhouse with the rest of the guys.

Just for the record, when we were seated in the stands and Jeter came in to lead off the game, I told some friends of ours, baseball neophytes, that I wasn’t sure what Jeter was going to do in the game, but that he had hit a bunch of BP balls into that… section… of… well, before I could finish my sentence, Jeter took the first pitch over the wall into that very section of seats in left center. Thanks for making me look like a genius once again, Derek!

Before I forget to mention it, Paul O’Neill signed a bunch, too, down at the other end of the dugout. That kind of shut up some guys behind me who had been going on and on about how O’Neill had gotten too "stuck up" to sign for people since going to the Yankees from Cincinnati…

Up in the stands, we settled ourselves in my favorite place, upper deck behind home plate, and discovered one of the drawbacks to the football-favoring coliseum. The scoreboards are too damn small–instead of one big scoreboard in centerfield, there were two smaller ones in each end zone (off first and off third). I couldn’t read the Runs Hits Errors totals they were so dinky! I had not brought my binoculaurs from the East Coast, but heck, you shouldn’t need binoculaurs to read a major league scoreboard!

As long as I’m on the subject of the Oakland Coliseum’s shortcomings, here’s a big one, but one that is common to many stadia, and that is not enough food vendors wandering the aisles. I don’t like to get up during the game, and in fact, sometimes I get downright superstitious about it (e.g. if I get up now, the other team will score). In Yankee Stadium, you see a hot dog vendor about once an inning. I also don’t like to stand in line and miss any of the game when I DO get up. So I am big on people bringing me food. In Oakland, there are NO roaming hot dog vendors. In fact, the only vendors I saw were one selling Red Ropes (giant, yard-long Twizzlers), and one selling frozen chocolate malt in a cup.

I can understand why this is, if what I’ve heard is true–the A’s don’t make any money from concessions, it all goes to the Oakland Raiders. Feh, there’s that damn football thing again. So what incentive do they have to sell more food faster? They don’t.

This doesn’t explain why you don’t see hot dog vendors in many other parks, but that is an essay for another day. But Oakland is not unique in this deficiency.

Otherwise, really, the Oakland Coliseum is nowhere near as bad as people have been making it out to be for years. In fact, there’s nothing wrong with the place that couldn’t be fixed by the removal of the football influence. That includes getting rid of the sky-high seats behind centerfield, the dinky scoreboards, and the strangely zealous fans with the air horns.

Yeah, air horns. Oh, and you probably know about the drums. Some guys get seats in left field, and they form a kind of marching band drum section. I actually didn’t mind the drums–I think they’re kind of nice, but you know I love it when fans take initiative. And they beat the pants off that monotonous tom-tom in Cleveland. But the drums are another football influence. Take it from a marching band veteran such as myself–I know.

Up at our seats that night, we initiated two friends to Yankee baseball, and baseball in general. Behind us was a large group of Bay Area Yankees fans, who started the Let’s Go Yankees cheer the moment the National Anthem finished. Below us were some die-hard A’s fans with an air horn, next to them a pair with one of those giant plastic trumpets. I finally figured out what is so great about those giant foam fingers. THEY’RE SILENT. Anyway, these two groups of boisterous fans took each other’s presence with good humor and we all got along pretty well. Like I said, A’s fans know how to have fun.

For example, Jeter was leading off, with Justice batting second, and Bernie third. At one point in the game, Jeter came up to bat and the A’s fans in front of us began chanting "Ma-RI-ah Ca-rey!" because, well, Jeter used to date her in the olden days. Well, Jeter got a hit. Then came Justice. They started chanting "Ha-lle Ber-ry!" (who David was formerly married to) and lo, Justice got a hit. Bernie then came to the plate, the A’s fans shut up, and all the Yankees fans in our section started chanting "Miss-us Wil-liams!" That cracked the A’s fans up but good. But what do you know? Bernie got a hit, too!

Here’s another something you wouldn’t see in New York. It was Law Enforcement Night, which meant that before the anthem, a few dozen police officers from local precincts were introduced. The notable thing is that they each came onto the field riding a motorcycle with full lights and sirens blaring. What is it with Oakland and loud noises? Each pair of cops came riding in through a gate in center, then split up and went down the warning track to either side. It was only a few under a zillion motorcycles and the whole thing took forever–well, several minutes anyway as they lined up about thirty motocycles on a side. I suppose motorcycles couldn’ tbe worse for the field than pre-season football. And this is the land of CHiPs… When they were done, they rode off into the sunset. I will note that we witnessed no brawls during the game. Hmmm.

The A’s. What can you say about their muscular, energetic lineup? They stumbled out of the gate in 2001, but began a mid-season surge so exciting, so tantalizing, that GM Billy Beane reversed plans to dismantle the team and send soon-to-be free agents Jason Isringhausen and franchise player Jason Giambi elsewhere, instead acquiring Jermaine Dye.

When the A’s are running wild, they look unbeatable. They swept the then-favorites for the AL Wild Card, the Boston Red Sox, in the days before the Yankees came to town. And, as we Yankees fans discovered, everything has to go right if you’re going to top the A’s when they are surging.

My prediction for Saturday night’s game was that the Yankee offense would be buzzing like a bunch of frustrated hornets after the 8-1 loss the night before (the only run was a Paul O’Neill homer), and as Jeter’s leadoff homer showed, it certainly was. But even though they tallied thirteen hits, the Yankees were always fighting the tide, scratching out one run at a time but unable to get a big rally going. Meanwhile Sterling Hitchcock, the Yankees other recent stretch-run acquisition, was looking shakey on the mound. We all know Hitchcock can pitch, but as he’s still not fully recovered from Tommy John surgery, he’s only at 75-80% much of the time. The result is enough chinks in the armor that a team of hot, young sluggers like the A’s can jump all over him. And they did, scoring eight runs on eleven hits and driving him from the game after only 3 1/3 innings. It was like a boxing match with the two lineups landing blows, and with both teams within reach of the win until the very last out.

Unfortunately for the Yankees, the A’s held them off. The turning point of the game came early–in the second. After Jeter’s leadoff homer, the A’s got two back in the bottom of the inning. Going into the bottom of the second it was still 2-1 A’s, and it would have stayed that way if after recording a quick two outs, Hitchcock had been able to retire the number eight batter, Ramon hernandez (catcher) and avoid facing Jeremy Giambi, who was DHing in the nine hole. Unfortunately, Hitchcock walked the only light hitter on the team, and with Hernandez on you just knew what was going to happen… and it did. Jeremy hit a two run home run, and the A’s followed with a rally for two more runs with three singles and a walk before Terence Long, the ninth batter in the inning, grounded out. At the time, I explained to my friends that I thought the walk was the turning point, and it was all a question of whether the Yankees would be able to turn the tide back again.

Soriano tried to do it. He hit the first pitch of the third inning into the seats, but rookie pitcher Erik Hiljus (no, I don’t know who he is either…) was able to keep the damage to just the one run, despite giving up hits to Jeter and Bernie. When he left the game in the fifth it was 6-2 A’s. The Yankees scratched out single runs in the fifth, sixth, seventh, and ninth, but the A’s tacked on two more–final score 8-6 A’s. If Hitchcock had not had that four run inning in the second, if he’d only gotten Hernandez instead of walking him, we would have likely won it. But as I said, everything had to go right. It’s pretty rare for the Yankees to have eleven hits and lose. Jeter went four for five and Soriano went three for four.

The rowdy New Yorkers behind us were placing bets on who would hit a home run. One fellow had Clay Bellinger as his player. Clay Bellinger, for those of you not familiar with him, is one of Torre’s favorite players, because he can play any position, even catch. But he never plays enough to be a consistent hitter and his average coming into the game was something like .170. He had hit a home run a few days before, though, which gave the poor fan some hope. "Come on Clay, hit one out!" he yelled when Bellinger came to the plate. "I’ll split the fifteen bucks with ya!" Later, when Torre lifted Bellinger for a pinch hitter, he called out, "Joe! You owe me fifteen bucks!"

Anyway, we lost. Yankees fans were thinking: Oh yeah? So you beat up on our two suspect lefties. Just wait ’til you face one of our GOOD pitchers. That’s what we were saying as we sat for about an hour in the car trying to get out of the parking lot (our friends had come by car). So, okay, put one more thing on the list of improvements the coliseum needs–better traffic control. Maybe they’re just not used to getting a sell-out crowd out of there? Our friends then took us on an excursion south to the only Krispy Kreme donuts in the Bay Area. Mmm, nothing like a good load of poping hot sugar, fat, and starch to assuage the sting of a tough loss. Very exciting game though, lots to cheer about. We just didn’t get a W out of it.

The next day we boarded BART again, and again made the walk over the concrete bridge to the coliseum. This time I actually had a ticket to sell, so I had my eye out for scalpers. My experience the day before led me to think I wouldn’t have much trouble finding someone. In the Bronx, no one ever wants to take just one ticket, though, and you can expect to haggle a bit to get a decent dollar value out of someone. But here in Oakland, as I have probably said, things are different. At least this time I didn’t get panhandled. Instead, a guy approached asked if I had any extra. I said yeah, just one. He offered me five bucks. I said how about ten? He said "Okay" and handed me ten bucks. Now, I’m sure he was able to sell it for more than that, but still, the New Yorker in me couldn’t help thinking "what a pushover…"

That Sunday Mike Mussina took the hill with Yankee pride resting on his shoulders. Let me say this about Mussina. He has been absolutely everything the Yankees wanted when they blew their wad picking him up as a free agent in the off season. Casual fans or those who don’t watch all the games, who just look at the stats, are going to see his won-loss record this year and think, jeez, this for $88 mil? But you have to see him pitch game after game (in which the Yankees usually score three or fewer runs) to realize what a master he is. Once in a while he just doesn’t have his stuff, and it’s obvious. But when he’s on, you can see him going to school on hitters, setting them up the way Coney used to (and still does, up on Boston). (NOTE: I wrote this entry BEFORE the near-perfecto in Boston…)

Mussina was masterful that Sunday in Oakland, finishing each pitch with a pounce to the foot of the mound, ready to grab an up the middle smash, looking almost like he’s ready for the batter himself to rush him like a linebacker. He looked good, struck out nine, walked none and gave up only two hits in eight full innings of work. THe gem was only marred by the twohits–back to back home runs in the fifth to Miguel Tejada and Eric Chavez. You know the cliche: he pitched good enough to win.

But the A’s young pitchers are something special, and Mark Mulder was matching Mussina pitch for pitch, almost like he was learning from him every time they traded places on the mound.

And there were sparkling defensive plays all around. We had brought a friend with us to the game this time, a Giants fan, who remarked at one point what a remarkably well-played game it was. Our answer was, well, actually, this is what we’re used to seeing regularly! The Yankees are not an overpowering team–they don’t homer you into submission, their pitching depends on rock solid defense, they have to manufacture runs. They take advantage of errors and don’t let their own hurt them. And every team, even the lowly Devil Rays, raises their game when they play the World Champions. So yeah, we’re used to seeing a high level of play all the time, we’re used to a lot of one run and two run games. We’re spoiled rotten, in fact, and we love it.

By the fourth it was clear that this game would not be an offensive romp for either team. Mussina hadn’t allowed any hits yet, and Mulder had allowed only a Bernie Williams double. "Betcha fifteen bucks Clay hits a home run," I said to corwin, who laughed. Well, I should have made that bet, because the big moment for Yankees fans came in the eighth, when Bellinger came up to the plate. Soriano was on first, having singled. You figure Clay’s one advantage is that he plays so rarely, opposing managers don’t have much of a book on him. But, well, the one thing they ought to know is that bench guys can hit the fastball. That’s the only pitch they see (in BP), and that’s the only pitch they’ll sit on. Bellinger sat fastball, got one, and hammered it into the seats. Everyone in blue in the stadium went bonkers. corwin was up getting food at the time and when he got back I said "You owe me fifteen bucks!" Tie game, 2-2.

The excitement came back for the A’s fans though, in probably the most dramatic way. Ninth inning, tie score, Mike Stanton on the mound. Stanton traditionally goes through a slump in August, but we thought he had a shot to be great here. He struck out Menechino looking, then walked Johnny Damon on four pitches, oops. Again I felt the walk was the downfall, because if he had gotten Damon out, then we wouldn’t have reached Jason Giambi that inning. Instead, with a man on he struck out pinch hitter Saenz, and then there was Giambi. One on, two out, tie game, bottom of the ninth.

Stanton worked the count full and then threw ball four.

Unfortunately for us, Giambi–who was the real winner of the All-Star home run derby this year, as far as I’m concerned–golfed that ball into the right field seats for a walk-off game winning two-run homer. I just knew that was going to happen when Damon walked. And sure enough, it did. The A’s had swept the Yankees and had won eight straight. The crowd stayed in their seats, not a single one moved for several minutes until Giambi came out for a curtain call. I’m glad I like Jason Giambi because otherwise it would have been a hard moment to take. As a Yankees fan, it was a tough loss, but as a baseball fan, what a scene, what a moment. Giambi is a great player, and on that day, his greatness was greater than Stanton’s.

The idea that keeps Yankees fans from worrying about the postseason, though, is that this is the absolute best the A’s can be. They are at their peak, whereas the Yankees will take it to another level when October comes. At least, we hope so. Last year, there were moments of doubt, as the team sputtered in September and squeaked into the postseason with only 87 wins, and then ran hot and cold in the ALDS and the ALCS, pouring it on only when things began to look desperate. But they did reach that higher level of play, and by the time they faced the Mets, they were clicking on all cylinders.

This year Yankees fans look forward to the same thing. At the time I write this, the Red Sox are deep into their patented annual slide–they fired their manager and immediately slid further in the standings, and were just swept by the Yanks at Fenway 3-1, 2-1, and 1-0–they are now nine games out of the AL East and eight behind the A’s in the wild card race. With Seattle running away with the West, it looks likely that the Yankees will face the same opponents they did last year: the A’s in the best of five series, and the Mariners in the best of seven, or possibly the other way around, depending on how hot Cleveland is.

The A’s and their fans are great. But we’ll see you in October.

I’ve been sitting here in the Bronx trying to figure out what to say about tonight’s game, or the season, but part of me says “What is there to say?” We got beat. Now I get a few free weekends I didn’t think I’d have, and I get a big refund on my ALCS and World Series tickets, which means I can buy a new oven.

Okay, I thought of something to say. I’m reminded of the 1960 World Series, which pre-dates me, but I’ve read about it, y’know. In the series, the Pirates were outscored by the Yankees by a lot, yet still managed to win the series by winning the close games.

The Yankees bashed the Tigers’ brains in twice, but got beat by one run twice, and by two runs once. The difference, in other words, was either the pitching just had to be a LITTLE bit better or they had to have ONE big hit go their way which didn’t. If only CC had been just a little sharper, for example, they could have beat Verlander.

Or take tonight as an example. There were numerous times where just one hit–not even a home run, just a base hit–would have likely meant two runs. That’s the difference between them winning by one run and losing by one run. Teixeira had one deep drive that was caught at the wall. So did Jeter. If either of those balls goes out, they win the game.

Or if A-Rod had managed a hit in numerous examples. It’s clear he wasn’t fully healthy this October. He had too many setbacks with injuries and didn’t have his timing together by the time the postseason rolled around. If A-Rod has a postseason like he did in 2009, they might run the table. Or at least advance to the next round.

Or if Nova had not given up two meatballs in the first inning. Two consecutive pitches meant two runs and a deflated and nervous crowd. Girardi said in the postgame press conference that they knew something was wrong with Nova because in the first inning his fastball was cutting. His fastball doesn’t cut. It also doesn’t normally stay up like that. But the damage was done so quickly, and so decisively, it demoralized the crowd.

Twice tonight the Yankees had the bases loaded and were just waiting for a big hit. The Stadium was like a roman candle ready to shoot off if only someone would light the ignition. But the hit never came. The first run of the game was a solo home run by Robbie Cano; they only pitch to Cano when the bases are empty. The second one came on a bases loaded walk. We were on our feet for the entire inning both times, only to sit back down with little to show for it.

Yankees fans won’t soon forget how Jorge Posada hit in this series. .429 with a triple (!) and four walks, for a .600 OBP and 1.200 slugging percentage. And how about Brett Gardner? .412 with 4 RBIs. And Cano would have probably had more to show for it if after Game One they didn’t just decide to quit pitching to him entirely…

The Tigers beat us fair and square. Their pitching was just good enough. Their hitting was just good enough. And they were just lucky enough.

127 days until pitchers and catchers report.

The front dining room is mostly a bar area, brightly lit and featuring a large sculpture of a “Holy Cow” that has been autographed by tons of Yankees. (Guess who signed right between the horns.*) The cow has the retired numbers down its tail, and the championship years through 2000 on its flank. Most of the autographs are on the back.

There is also a rear dining room, and there might have been a private dining room, as well. We were the last customers of the night (they close at 9pm on Sundays) and so I didn’t poke around as long as I might have, as the staff looked like they probably wanted to go home and I didn’t want to hold them up.

Now, how about the food? They have a fairly nice-looking pub menu, with many of the expected items like appetizers chicken wings and mozzarella sticks. (Mo’s-za-rella sticks–no, I’m not making that up…) The main items include burgers and various steaks, and the specials that night included a salmon steak and a swordfish.

I settled quickly on The Panama Special, though, as my meal of choice. A pounded, marinated skirt steak, served on mashed yucca with plantains and salsa. The mashed yucca was too gummy, though quite tasty. To snazz the yucca up I’d suggest making frites out of them instead. The plantains were perfect.

And the steak was fabulous. It’s difficult not to overcook the super-thin skirt steak, but they delivered it medium rare as requested, a nice char on the outside and still juicy on the inside. The salsa on top was piquant without being overpowering. The kitchen also gets extra points for serving the bread slightly toasted and crusty warm, a simple thing that makes a world of difference between mediocre bread and great bread.

Mo’s is in downtown New Rochelle and was fairly easy to get to from the Hutchinson Parkway. For anyone headed north after a day game at Yankee Stadium, it’s a reasonable (and reasonably priced) place to stop for a solid meal.

–
(*Derek Jeter)

In the ninth inning, when it got dark and started to rain around the time the Yankees brought the tying run to the plate for the first time, I started writing metaphorical ledes for this story. Like “It was sunny all day for the Detroit Tigers… until it wasn’t.”

But, unfortunately, the rest of the ninth inning did not pan out the way I might have wanted. I feel sorry for the people who left early, because they missed the best part of the game, a thrilling ninth, even if the Yankees did fall short.

The day began, as I mentioned, not raining. It was partly sunny and quite windy in the Bronx today. When we took our seats for the first pitch the temperature was 61 degrees, but a stiff wind was blowing straight in from center field.

The wind was evident in the top of the first, when Brett Gardner moved to catch a high fly ball and ended up running almost all the way to the infield to get it. Not home run weather, despite the predictions, which were based on the facts that Max Scherzer was in the top three in home runs allowed this year and the Yankees were the top home-run hitting team. The only kind of homer that would go out with the wind like that would be a low line drive.

Unfortunately, that’s what Miguel Cabrera hit in the top of the first. And unfortunately, there was a man on. Another “Yankee Stadium” homer that just cleared the short porch wall inside the foul pole. I’m not even sure the pitch was a strike.

That was pretty much all the action for a while. Scherzer no-hit the Yankees through five complete innings. After giving up the two-run Cabrera shot in the first, Freddy Garcia largely matched him.

Then in the sixth, the Tigers opened the inning with a bounding ball up the middle that Freddy Garcia slowed down, then Jeter got it and rushed his throw, low in the dirt, which Teixeira was unable to dig out. Thus, Austin Jackson reached, and Magglio Ordonez followed with a hit-and-run single while Jackson went to third. Freddy struck out Delmon Young, but then gave up two singles, and two runs, and left the game on the losing end. Boone Logan came in, and despite a balk, struck out the next two batters to quash any further rally. But two more runsa, unearned, had been scored. 4-0 Yankees.

In the Yankees’ half of the sixth, they had some offense, too… Cano broke up the no hitter with a single. That’s it. The crowd roared like he’d hit a home run. But he didn’t.

Corey Wade pitched two scoreless innings but the Yankees were only able to cut the Tigers’ 4-0 lead by one run. They put the first two men on in the seventh (Swisher walked, Jorge singled), but that ended Scherzer’s day, and Joaquin Benoit came in. All they got off Benoit was a Granderson solo homer in the eighth.

Luis Ayala gave that run back in the ninth to make it 5-1 going into the bottom of the inning. Jose Valverde, the Tigers closer, took the mound in the non-save situation, but somehow it felt as tight as any save.

Well, especially when the first man he faced, Nick Swisher, hit a solo shot to make it 5-2. Next up was Jorge Posada, who tripled.

Yes, Jorge tripled. Remember that big triple that Joe Girardi hit in the World Series back when he was a Yankee? Joe ran faster, though. In his postgame press conference, Girardi was asked for his thoughts about Posada getting a triple there. “Well, it’s certainly unusual,” Girardi said.

This was one of the loudest, most intense ninth innings I’ve been through at the new Stadium. Swisher’s shot really brought people to life, and then Posada’s triple had the place jumping. It really was too bad that thanks to two previous rain showers during the game, neither of which stopped play for more than a few minutes while some extra drying agent was sprinkled on the field, 40% of the fans had left. (And at least 10% never made it there, thanks to the rescheduled game.)

Every pitch that wasn’t a strike was cheered raucously. Martin worked a walk. With the score 5-2, that meant the man coming to the plate represented the tying run. It was Andruw Jones. The inning before, Girardi had pinch hit for Gardner with Eric Chavez. As he said in his postgame comments about the move: “I was hoping he would pop one.” Then Jones went in to play left and keep that spot in the batting order.

I was hoping he would “pop one” here. But he ended up hitting a long fly ball that brought Posada in easily. 5-3 Tigers, with a man on and the tying run coming to the plate again, this time Jeter.

We all well know that Jeter can’t be the hero every time, every day. And he wasn’t. Although he had a fairly long at bat, with much chanting and cheering, he struck out. That brought up Granderson, whose appearance prompted many chants of “MVP!”

Granderson worked the count to 2-2, and then popped up. Except Alex Avila slipped on the wet on deck circle–did I mention it had started to rain AGAIN?–and couldn’t get to it. With renewed life, Granderson worked a walk. Phil Coke was warming up in the Tigers bullpen. And that brought Robinson Cano to the plate. Cano, who broke up the no hitter, and who yesterday had the big blow with the grand slam. On XM Radio this morning the commentators were opining that Cano wouldn’t see another good pitch to hit all month.

A home run would have meant a walk-off win, and pie. But Robbie grounded into a force play and the game was over. To win in the postseason you have to be lucky as well as good. If the Yankees end up losing the series, we’ll think back on this game and how Scherzer shut down one of the toughest lineups in baseball, and how the breaks just didn’t go our way.

Yesterday started usually enough. corwin and I packed up rain ponchos and scorecards and headed for the stadium at 5pm from Riverdale (the hoity toity part of the northern Bronx where a good friend and fellow fan has a welcoming fold-out couch). It takes about a half hour to travel down the Grand Concourse from here to the environs of the Stadium. On weekdays, the parking spaces around the courthouse become legal to all comers at 6pm. If you get there by 5:30, you too can sit in your car in one of those spaces until 6pm and then leave. There are even a few local characters who act like “parking attendants” directing people to park in the spaces. I presume once in a while some tourist gives them some money, but they seem to do it just for the fun of it.

On a normal day, we’d lock the doors and walk to the Stadium one hour before the first pitch. However, because this is the postseason, first pitch wouldn’t be until 8:37 pm. That meant we had plenty of time for dinner at El Molino Rojo (The Red Mill), a Dominican joint just two blocks from the Stadium. Look into that dining room on any night before game-time and all you will see is a sea of pinstripes and NY logos. And cops. A lot of the local cops eat there.

After stuffing ourselves well for very little money, we moseyed the rest of the way to the Stadium. Compared to many postseason visits to the Stadium, this was a warm night. We took a lap around the lower deck concourses, just soaking in the atmosphere. corwin remarked at one point on our walk, “Isn’t it remarkable that this never gets boring?”

It never does.

We were in our seats in plenty of time to take in the ceremonies, which included the usual introductions of all the rosters of both teams. Miguel Cabrera was the only Tiger who seemed to be booed much (and later in the game was serenaded with chants of “DUI, DUI” from the bleachers).

Then came the ceremonial first pitch. For those who don’t think the first pitch is a Big Deal, all I can tell you is that I overheard at least two different conversations at the Red Mill speculating on who it would be, and earlier that day I’d remarked to corwin myself that I thought they wouldn’t bring out the “big guns” like Yogi until the World Series. “Tino, maybe?” corwin thought maybe we’d get lucky and it would be Bernie and he’d play the National Anthem, too. I thought that would be more likely in the ALCS, should we get that far. “I bet we might get Pettitte,” I guessed.

I thought for a moment I might be right when they started introducing the person throwing out the first pitch… but it quickly became obvious it wasn’t Andy the announcer was talking about. As it turned out, the ceremonial first pitch was thrown by a hero of similar vintage to Pettitte, but one who is still in uniform. Mariano Rivera took the ball.

And then they introduced his catcher, and Jorge Posada came out in full catching gear, and I admit I got a little choked up. So did a lot of folks. It’s difficult to encapsulate what people feel about Posada. His bad baserunning and slumps drive a lot of folks crazy. But we can’t help it. We love the guy. He’s been here so long, and been a part of this team’s success for so long, it’s staggering to realize how many team leaderboards he’s on. He was never a Superstar like Jeter, but people forget how punishing the catching position is, and just how difficult it is to produce as a catcher year after year. Look at Joe Mauer for an an example of a guy who looked headed for the Hall of Fame when he won the batting title, and now looks human, all too human, when troubled by injuries and of late pneumonia. (Yeah.)

Posada waved his glove at Mo, as if to say “Go from the rubber!” So Mo did, and threw a ball that was just a bit outside. It seemed weird to have current players doing it, and yet it created an emotional moment. And the Yankees are not above doing what they can to enhance the drama of October. Heck. That’s the whole point.

So, we had the pitch, and the anthem with the giant West Point flag, and the introductions, all like usual. The Stadium always looks even more like a giant birthday cake than usual when all done up with bunting.

And then the actual game, the much touted match-up between aces Justin Verlander, the shoe-in for this year’s Cy Young award, and CC Sabathia, one of the two who probably would get runner-up for the award if such a thing were given. Scouting reports on Verlander were to watch his velocity. If he was getting into the upper 90s, it would mean he was too hyped up and was vulnerable. CC, meanwhile, has had some rocky starts of late, but would be going on extra rest.

CC took the mound first, and looked sharp, hitting the corners in two strikeouts, and then giving up a solo homer to Delmon Young that just cleared the wall into the short porch in right. It looked for a second like maybe Swisher had a chance to rob the homer, but no, it went out. CC and the crowd shrugged it off. CC still looked good and that would have been an out in any other park.

Verlander, meanwhile, started the inning throwing 93-94 and got faster as the inning went on. But he also threw ball one a lot, showing his control wasn’ quite there. He also walked two men. But although he didn’t allow a hit, he still let in the tying run. Derek Jeter, leading off the game, did something that happens fairly rarely: he reached on a dropped third strike. (Official scoring: strikeout wild pitch.) And he ended up scoring the Yankees’ first run, moving over on a walk to Granderson, then a Cano groundout, and then A-Rod grounded out to bring him in.

The next batter was Mark Teixeira. (I did not see an explanation as to why Cano was batting third and Teixeira fifth instead of the other way around.) Just as Tex worked the count to 3-2, it began to rain. He walked. But then Nick Swisher grounded out.

CC had a one-two-three second inning, but the rain had not let up. What had been a 20% chance of showers turned into a steady, heavy rain. The tarp came out, and I checked the weather radar on my phone. The forecast was not good. A line of showers appeared to be passing not across the Bronx but ALONG it, keeping us in steady rain while some other areas very close by were getting no rain at all.

After more than an hour delay, MLB announced that the game would be postponed until Saturday, and Saturday’s game would be moved to Sunday at 3:07pm.

This was a disappointing turn of events, to say the least. After all that build-up and to have barely gotten anything of the game in!

But what else could we do? We made our way back to the car in the pouring rain, and drove home. We got a good night’s sleep. (corwin slept 11 hours.) Then we got up and went into Manhattan for a late lunch. We went to the Momofuku Noodle Bar, David Chang’s hipster ramen restaurant, and we were not disappointed with that foodie adventure. And then we discovered Veniero’s Bakery, continuously operated as an Italian pastry shop since 1894. There were a bunch of bakeries in that neighborhood but this was the only one with a line out the door. Seemed a good recommendation. So we loaded up with pastry to eat later during the game. Then we trundled up to the Stadium, arriving at the courthouse at almost exactly the same time as the day before. Unfortunately, it now being Saturday, the prime parking was not available, but we found a space on the street just two more blocks down.

It wasn’t quite six o’clock when we approached the Stadium this time, and so the gates were not open yet. People were lined up outside. We went to buy some bottled water (Tip: buy it for $1 outside and keep it sealed and they will let you bring it in. The same water is $5 inside.) and ended up watching some of the Phillies/Cardinals game on the big screen TVs at the McDonald’s. We had been listening to the game on the drive, and things had looked good for the Cards then, leading off the game with a three-run homer from Lance Berkman. The Cards’ Kyle Lohse escaped a jam and worked around an error in what we watched, but we’d later see that for naught as the out of town scoreboard would reveal Howard and Victorino going back to back. But that was later.

Water acquired, on to the Stadium we went. The place felt deserted. There were more FanFoto photographers in the Great Hall than fans. We were stopped by several and let them take our pictures.

Then corwin had a brilliant idea. “Let’s go to Monument Park!” We discovered no line at all to get in, and the place only sparsely filled.

I saw something there I’d never seen at the Stadium: a goldfinch. The FanFoto guy assigned to the MP logo pointed it out. It was a tiny, cute yellow bird, hanging on the netting and looking at us all suspiciously. Then it flew off and tried to get through the windows of the batter’s eye bar, but failed.

“I hope his cousin the Bluebird of Happiness is around, too,” I said as the bird flew off.

We had a leisurely stroll through the Monuments. I’ve never had such a relaxing time in Monument Park since the new Stadium was built. It’s always been crammed with people when I’ve gone. But while we were talking to Babe Ruth (I know I’m not the only one who talks to the Babe, am I?) it started to rain again. The wind was biting, and I began to wonder if we were even going to get this game in. But it was only 6:30. More than two hours to go.

Up at our seats it was deserted. And cold. Very cold. Yesterday’s balmy temperatures were gone. And it was raining again. We tried drinking hot chocolate, but we were still cold.

“Do you think I should buy a blanket?” I asked corwin.

“Just think how cute the photos will be of our kittens sleeping on it,” he said. That decided it. I went in search of a souvenir blanket prepared to pay whatever exorbitant price they offered.

The first two souvenir stands I visited, though, did not have blankets. Both advised me to try the big store. I took the elevator back to the Great Hall and went into the really large team store there, asking a uniformed employee where the blankets were. “There might be some downstairs,” he said. “Someone’s trying to bring some up, but I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“Wait, you mean you don’t have them in stock, but you might have them in storage?” I asked.

“Basically.” He shrugged. Two more people came up and asked him the same question.

Just then a guy pushing a cart full of inventory boxes came into the store and several other store employees pounced on him. “Is that the blankets?” “Are the blankets in that box?”

He shook his head. “This is hoodies. Just hoodies. Lots and lots of hoodies.”

“What about blankets?” several people asked him.

“I don’t know about blankets,” he said. “We sent someone around to all the stores to see if they have any.”

Well, that didn’t sound too promising, but I tried the large store at the top of the escalator, too. No dice. No blankets. And for once there were none of those “get a free gift for signing up for a credit card” offer stands, either! Many times in the past they’ve offered a blanket, but I’ve never been that tempted. Tonight I would have happily gotten a credit card with a ridiculous APR if it would have gotten me a blanket.

Instead, we just had to huddle for warmth. By the time of the first pitch, the seats had filled in a little. I’d say it ended up about 85% -90% full which was certainly far better than I had feared a few hours before. If anything, the crowd was more raucous than the night before, perhaps because of the cold and perhaps because it was all die-hards there.

Because the “first pitch” of the game at 8:37 pm was actually the 53rd pitch of the game, there was no national anthem. The umpires met at the plate and then the game jumped right into the bottom of the second inning. The lineups were the same, but the starting pitcher’s were not.

Doug Fister was on the mound for the Tigers. They got him from Seattle at the trade deadline, and he had gone 8-1 with an ERA under 2.00. In fact, the Tigers had gone on a tear at the end of the season. Another way to look at it, though, is that in their final 50 games of the season, the Tigers faced a team with a better than .500 record only four times. How much of Fister’s success was facing weak opposition?

Well, the Yankees looked poised to jump on him right away. Jorge Posada led off the night’s festivities with a single that brought roar out of the crowd. That was followed by a Russell Martin double, and with men on 2nd and 3rd and no outs, it really seemed the Yankees had spent all night grinding their teeth waiting to get up to mash the ball.

But. Then Gardner hit a soft grounder to third and for some reason Jorge Posada was caught halfway to home plate with a deer in the headlights look. He was tagged out, and then there were men on first and second and one out. Not nearly as much fun. Fister then balked! So, it was men on second and third again, but Fister wiggled out of it, striking out Jeter and Granderson to escape.

In the top of the third, the Yankees took the field for the first time that day, and the Bleacher Creature roll call seemed even louder than usual. What ensued was a pitchers duel in which Ivan Nova and Fister traded 1-2-3 innings for a while. In the top of the fifth, Nova got into and out of trouble, helped by a some fabulous defense. After striking out Victor Martinez, he walked Alex Avila. Ryan Raburn then had a soft hit, and Avila went to second. Up came Jhonny Peralta, who lined a shot into center field, but Granderson came up throwing, pegged Jeter, who pegged Martin, who pegged the baserunner Avila in a play that wasn’t even that close! The runners moved up to second and third, but then there were two out, and Granderson hauled in a fly ball in left center to end the inning.

Fister also had a modicum of trouble in the fifth, but this time the Yankees looked on the verge of getting to him. First Gardner led off with a shot to right that went to the warning track and on a warmer night or one where the wind wasn’t blowing briskly in (brrrrr, it really was in our faces the whole night) it would have been a home run. Jeter grounded out, but then Granderson singled and it felt like a breakthrough, first baserunner since that first inning of the night (which was actually the second). Cano followed Granderson’s hit with a long drive of his own, which bounced off the top of the wall. This ended up going to video review to prove it was a double and a good call. Cano stayed at second, but Granderson scored to make it 2-1 Yankees, at least. A-Rod followed that with ANOTHER long drive to the warning track, this one to center, this one caught.

It could have come apart for Nova in the top of the sixth, but it didn’t. After a leadoff walk to Austin Jackson, Magglio Ordonez swung the bat in a hit and run… but Cano ran to cover second and the ball was a hopper up the middle. It meant Ordonez hit into an easy double play instead of avoiding it by starting the runner. Cano snagged the ball right at second base and threw easily to first to complete the double play. And then Delmon Young sent a flare into right that Nick Swisher caught in a full body dive to end the inning.

It could have come apart for Doug Fister in the bottom of the sixth or he might have escaped it. But he did not escape this time. Teixeira doubled to lead off the inning, but Swisher stranded him there staring at a called strike three. Then Jorge walked, but Martin grounded out. One more out and Fister would wiggle free. But Gardner hit a seeing eye single through the infield, scoring two, and then Jeter followed that with a hit-and-run single that send Gardner to third. Granderson then walked to load the bases, and with the score still 2-1, manager Jim Leyland went to his bullpen. On came Al Albuquerque, whose last name is so long, the poor clubhouse guys had to sew his name onto the back of his jersey almost in a full circle around his number.

On Albuquerque’s second pitch, Cano hit one almost all the way to Albuquerque. It was a no doubter, grand slam, into the second deck. If a stiff wind hadn’t been blowing in, I think it would have been the third deck. The score was suddenly 8-1 Yankees, and that was pretty much the ballgame.

There was a smattering of action toward the end. The Yankees scratched one more off a reliever names Daniel Schlereth in the eighth, and Nova finally reached 100 pitches in the 9th (but it was like the 7th since it had been the third when he started pitching) and the Tigers finally reached Nova. He’d given up only two hits prior to the inning, but with one out he gave up two hits and a walk, and left the mound to a thunderous ovation. Luis Ayala came in to mop up, but only made more of a mess, giving up two more hits and allowing two men to score, at which point Girardi had had enough and just went straight to Mariano Rivera to get the final out of the game.

Three pitches later Rivera had mowed down Wilson Betemit, good morning, good afternoon, and good night. And now it is time to say good night. I’ll be back at the Stadium tomorrow for the 3:07 pm first pitch.

Freddy Garcia made a bid to be just as good as hamstrung Bartolo Colon. after a dismal outing against the Red Sox, he was at his crafty best, throwing 6.2 innings, scattering 7 hits, and giving up only one run. Boone Logan, Luis Ayala, and Kevin Whelan did the rest. Logan was poised under pressure as he came in with two outs and a man on, then promptly walked Grady Sizemore. The next play let a runner on with an error (A-Rod fielded the ball but threw wide to Cano.) With the bases loaded, and what was then only a 6-1 lead, the wheels could have come off. But Logan got Shin Soo Choo to line softly to Jeter to end the threat. Whelan controlled his jitters much better than he did Friday, walking only one in an otherwise uneventful ninth.

The pitching wasn’t the story today though, really. The offense was. The lumber that has slumbered through the cold months of April and May is finally waking up. The lineup banged out 18 hits today, and nine runs. Jeter had two hits, and they were both RBI hits, plus he sent two balls deep to the warning track that on a favorable-wind-day would have likely been out of the park. In five plate appearances, Granderson was 4-for-4 with an RBI sac fly. A-Rod had three hits, including a key double in the 5th inning’s 5-run rally. Cano, Swisher, and Jorge each had two hits, and Brett Gardner had three hits: two doubles and triple. Curiously, there were no home runs in today’s barrage. Just the good old “keep the line moving” approach.

There were no bench-clearing incidents, no moments of high drama or reversal, no nail-biting, and no one leaving the game injured. Which made it the odd game out when one considers all that has happened this past week between getting swept by the Red Sox, all the beanball warring, injuries to Colon and Joba and so on.

Just a nice Sunday afternoon of baseball.

Other notes from today’s stadium excursion:

Jeter’s hits today were #2,992 and #2,993. One of the beat writers tweeted that it’s been one year and a day since Jeter hit a home run out of the park at Yankee Stadium. (He did have an inside-the-park homer between now and then.) He really did come close today. That first one he hit off Josh Tomlin went straight to dead center, and Michael Brantley caught it with his back to the plate, on the warning track in front of the 408 ft. sign, the deepest spot in the park.

corwin and I spent some time walking around the ballpark before the game today. The line for the museum was too long, so we walked around a bit instead. Today in particular I noticed a lot of women wearing Victoria’s Secret brand Yankees stuff. Yes, in case you haven’t heard of this, Victoria’s Secret has a whole line of “casual wear” (the “PINK” line, which isn’t actually colored pink, sweats and pajamas mostly, as opposed to lingerie/bras) that is themed to MLB teams. Some years ago Bud Selig undertook a study of women’s economic impact in baseball and discovered 1) most ticket-buying decisions are made by the female in a couple or family, and 2) a huge untapped market for merchandising aimed at women. The first thing you saw was the pink jerseys and hats appearing in major league team souvenir stores. This is the next logical step. (Amusingly but not surprisingly, the Yankees are the most popular team by a factor more than two over the next most popular team among Victoria’s Secret shoppers. click to see for yourself). I myself don’t wear pink nor do I shop at Victoria’s Secret, but kudos to Selig for recognizing that both sides of the bread are being buttered.

Beware the hot wings from the NYY Steak Express stand. corwin got 8 wings. They’re large, breaded to soak up maximum hot sauce, and were so hot that even a pepperhead like him had to pace himself eating them. Afterward he even had to go buy a soda to try to cool down. And he missed the entire seventh inning later while, um, paying his dues. This made the new scoreboard promo (along the lines of the French’s Mustard Smile Cam and the 24 Hour Fitness Fan Cam), the Frank’s Hot Sauce Cam, extra funny.

Speaking of both concessions and women’s stuff being pink, they now have the ice cream helmet cups in both blue and pink. I might have to get some ice cream just to say I have a complete collection.

We did not get the Mark Teixeira bat today, as we did not bring a youngster with us. In the moment when the “bat day tradition” of everyone holding up their bats was going on, I really missed Bob Sheppard. His voice was so authoritative when he would instruct the children throughout the stadium to SLOWWWLY and CAREFULLLY raise their bats in the air… that you’d see kids looking around and doing it with great deliberation. After all, GOD just told them to do it that way. Today’s announcement lacked that oomph. It was still fun to see all the kids, though.

One more thing I miss about the old Stadium. There doesn’t seem to be anywhere good for fans to stick up “K” signs. The facing of the upper deck is completely covered with electronic ribbon-board, and many of the “guard rail” areas are mesh or Plexiglas. Sticking them to the wall inside the Jim Beam Club just isn’t the same, you know?

Today instead of the game taking place on a hot, muggy night, it was a chilly, rainy day. We got to our seats in the upper deck, behind home plate, to discover a driving wind into our faces, meaning that even though we are under the roof, there was no shelter from the non-stop horizontal drizzle. We resorted to plastic ponchos immediately.

Bartolo Colon was on the mound for the Yankees, while Mitch Talbot took the hill for the Indians. Through the first three innings, there wasn’t much to write home about. Each team had one hit and not much else. I could mention that Gardner was caught stealing twice, once on a pitch out, once at third base. But that’s reaching. There was also a Posada baserunning blunder–picked off second. I’ll get back to that.

Colon was vintage, giving up only 2 hits and no runs through 6 innings. Meanwhile the Yankees were up to their old tricks, as A-Rod homered in the 4th on a low line drive. That was the way to get a ball out, since the wind was blowing in so intensely that popups were crazy, every fielder running in and in to get them. And then Granderson homered, too, in the 6th. I tweeted at the time, thinking about the recent kerfuffle last night with Carmona and Teixeira: “Granderson goes boom! 2-0 Yanks. Is Talbot thinking ‘don’t plunk Teixeira, don’t plunk Teixeira?’”

As it turned out, that was probably not what he was thinking. Teixeira then took him deep except the wind held it back and it was caught on the warning track. A homer on any other night. Talbot then drilled A-Rod in the leg on the next pitch and Dan Iassogna, the home plate ump, didn’t even flinch. He tossed Talbot immediately. Talbot whined that he had slipped on the wet mound. Replays showed that if he slipped, it wasn’t visible to the naked eye…

It took a very long time for Rafael Perez to come take the mound. Was he in the can, or something?

The Yankees got another run when Swisher led off with a hit. Jorge followed with another, a single into the corner that Choo kicked around, so he went to second and Swisher all the way home to score. (No RBI.) But Jorge was picked off a few pitches later. It looked like maybe Gardner missed a bunt and Jorge was starting too early toward third. Whoops.

But the drama came with 6 1/3 innings pitched, Colon pulled a hamstring while covering first base. That’d be the last out he made, as he limped to the bag and then was escorted away. David Robertson came in, gave up a hit but got the next out.

But then Robertson returned for the 8th. He gave up a single. Then another one as the heathens in the crowd were doing the f***ing wave. Don’t you idiots realize the tying run is now at the plate? They probably didn’t. I do wonder if they realize that the wave is also what probably caused the balk. Now men on second and third, no one out. The balk did seem to kill the wave, and I hope it stays dead.

Robertson, now without distractions, struck out the next three men in a row. Nice shooting. Mariano got up, but didn’t have to come in, yet. He stood on the bullpen mound watching.

Then the Yankees came to bat again, and Teixeira hit another home run to make it 4-0, and Mariano went and sat down. Boone Logan came in for a 1-2-3 ninth inning and then we could finally get out of the driving drizzle.

Tomorrow we break out the brooms. Freddy Garcia takes the hill. Should be interesting at the very least.

The Yankees have been the Red Sox’s punching bag so far this year, but hey, this often happens, where the Sox dominate in the early going and the Yankees dominate in the last going. (I’d rather dominate during the pennant race, thanks.) So perhaps they sprang up enlivened today merely by seeing Boston’s taillights as they pulled away last night. Or maybe it was that after a 3.5 hour rain delay last night, the fact that today was sunny and warm and summer-like lifted their spirits. (It sure lifted mine.) The pennants looked extra bright today, and the Coco Rico the old Dominicans sell on the street corner on 161st Street tasted extra sweet before the game today.

Or maybe it was that Fausto Carmona just seemed like he didn’t have it and like he was an ass on the mound. Here’s what I’m talking about.

In the first inning, youngster Ivan Nova had a nice 1-2-3 (capped by a strikeout of Grady Sizemore), and would go have a very nice quality start, 2 runs in 7 innings, never really in trouble. (His second strong start since allllmost losing his spot on the rotation.) But in the bottom of the first, Carmona started the game with a walk to Jeter, on four pitches. At the time it felt like a “screw you” move — much like Beckett plunking him yesterday. But while we’re on the subject of plunking, John and Susan quoted a stat yesterday that in their careers, Jeter and A-Rod have been hit by Red Sox pitchers 20 times. Whereas David Ortiz has NEVER been hit by a Yankee pitcher. Of course there’s the fact that they’re both righties while Ortiz is a lefty, and maybe guys in the righthanded batters box get hit more than lefties but I dunno. Maybe it’s just more of the Sox pitchers have been idiots. When Sabathia finally DID plunk Ortiz last night, a lot of people really felt vindication.

At any rate, the Yankees were still pissed off today, and came to the park ready to bash. Carmona struck our Granderson, but then walked Teixeira, and then walked A-Rod. Bases loaded and Robbie Cano at the plate? Cano fouled off many pitches and finally laced a line drive to score Jeter. Next came Swisher, who hit a deep sac fly to score Tex, and then up came Jorge Posada to a huge cheer — after all, tonight was Jorge Posada Figurine Night.

Base hit. Another run in! Three runs in the first inning, and Carmona had thrown 39 pitches. Off to a great start.

Next inning, another 1-2-3 for Nova. Meanwhile, Carmona got two out and then faced Granderson again. The scoreboard department put up some stats the effect of which was “Granderson owns Carmona.” And he did. Solo shot, and Yankees up 4-0. But that wasn’t the most exciting thing that happened in the inning. Up next was Texeira, who hit the deck when the very next pitch came straight for him and drilled him in the back. He was pissed off and yelling at Carmona who was dumb enough to not only drill him intentionally but to then gesture at him, too. Benches and bullpens emptied, and in the center of it all was a shouting match between Joe Girardi and Manny Acta, apparently. All we could see was a big scrum. But no punches were thrown.

Maybe that was just the tonic the Yankees needed, or maybe they were already well on their way, since after all it was already 4-0 at that point.

Next inning, Nova did give up a double, but there were already two outs, and no sweat. The Yankees, meanwhile, kept the pressure on Carmona. Cano opened with a single. Swish hit a line drive that was caught, but Posada got another hit, and then Gardner hit a long RBI double into right center. He would have gotten a triple, actually, except that Posada was ahead of him clogging up the basepaths. 5-0 Yankees.

In the fourth Nova again had 2 out before allowing a man on, a walk, but escaped again with nothing more. The Yankees meanwhile tacked on another run with an A-Rod solo shot in to deep left-center, into the bleachers above the driveway behind the Stanley sign. Not as far as that one we saw hit the ambulance in the old Stadium, I think, but impressively far. 6-0 Yankees.

Cleveland finally got a run in the fith, when Matt Laporta reached on an infield single, moved to second on a Cord Phelps base hit, and then after Orland Cabrera struck out, Jack Hanrahan walked to load the bases.

Then corwin brought me a sausage sandwich and I didn’t write down who got the hit that scored LaPorta, but it must have been Michael Brantley, since Asdrubal Cabrera ended the inning. One run was getting out of it cheaply enough.

The Yankees, in their half of the 5th, had a little excitement when Posada got his third hit of the night and then was promptly out trying to stretch it to a double. Nonetheless, he was already batting .295 over the previous 50 at bats to this game, and now was three for three. Not bad, Mr. Figurine. Brett Gardner followed with an infield single that he beat out, and then stole second, and a few pitches later, stole third. But he was stranded there by Jeter. By then Carmona was out of the game but it hardly seemed to matter.

In the sixth, cue “Black Magic Woman” because Carlos Santana hit a solo shot off Nova. And it was spooky, because it was one of those you would call a “rainmaker” that went so high you thought it was a pop-up, and then it just carried all the way into the bullpen. Not 30 seconds after the homer was hit, it started to rain.

But the Yankees got the run right back, as Granderson doubled, Tex walked, and then they put on the double steal (or perhaps hit and run) with Cano at the plate. Cano swung and missed, but the catcher threw to third trying to get Granderson, and threw into left field instead. Granderson scampered home. 7-2 Yankees. Jorge struck out in the rain, and then it stopped, about 20 minutes of heavy drizzle and light rain, not too bad.

Nova had a strong seventh also, with two more strikeouts, finishing with exactly 100 pitches. The Yankees then went on the attack again, with Cervelli finally joining the party with a hit (up until then the only guy without either a hit, RBI, or run scored), and then Jeter following with a ringing double that brought the crowd to their feet. Interesting to see the crowd come so alive for Jeter’s hit when it was only #2991, with no hope of him getting to the milestone tonight. (I was amused to see the posters hanging everywhere offering free cake at the Yankee Tavern on the night he finally does it.)

Thing is, for all the whining and crying about how he’s too old and can’t hit anymore, have a look at the Yankees’ team averages. ALL of them are down. A-Rod and Cano are both hitting in the .260-.270 range also, and you don’t hear anyone griping about how they are too old or being paid too much, do you? NONE of them are as hot as they are going to be, and it only seems likely that the whole team is going to get hot. Jeter included. They poured it on again in that seventh inning. With Jeter and Cervelli both on, Granderson walked to load the bases, on four pitches. Tex came up and doubled, clearing all three runners! A-Rod followed that with a double of his own, scoring Tex. Then Cano walked on four pitches. The Indians changed pitchers and that restored a semblance of order, but not until 10 Yankees had come to the plate.

There was a little more rain on the parade though. With the Yankees now up 11-2, we figured we’d see Kevin Whelan make his major league debut. Fresh from Scranton today, he was wearing #45 and carrying the hopes of the Yankees universe. If you’ve been loving under a rock then you don’t know that coming into this season the one big strength the Yankees thought they would have was their bullpen. They signed Rafael Soriano and Pedro Feliciano, who together with Joba Chamberlain and Mariano Rivera should have made an unbelievably strong relief corps.

Well, Soriano and Feliciano are both on the disabled list, and today we learned that Joba is going to have Tommy John surgery this coming Thursday. Yeah. So the entire Scranton bullpen has pretty much been called up…

Anyway, Whelan took the mound in the 8th. He got a quick out. Then he walked a guy. Then another out. Then another walk… You could see he was overthrowing and overexcited. Then he walked the bases loaded. Girardi went out and gave him a pep talk.

It didn’t work. He walked in a run, and they took pity on him and took him out. Whelan had only walked six men all season in Scranton and here he’d just walked four i one inning. That’s as many as Mariano Rivera has walked all year, as well. Whelan got a very nice ovation from the crowd anyway, and we could be magnanimous since we were still winning 11-3 at that point. Amauri Sanit struck out Orlando Cabrera looking to end the ordeal. Cabrera got himself thrown out, having a tantrum after the called third strike. This cheered the crowd a lot, too.

Then came a troublesome ninth. Sanit struck out Jack Hanrahan, who was otherwise the one bright spot for the Indians. He had doubled and walked twice, hadn’t yet made an out, and had robbed Jeter on a sparkling play at third base. But this time he struck out. Sanit, though, fell prey to the “it’s a big lead! just throw strikes!” problem of throwing strikes that were too good. After giving up four straight base hits, all singles, Sanit was cooked. Girardi got him and brought in Lance Pendleton.

When Pendleton walked his man on five pitches, Girardi said screw it. He went straight to Mariano. Who, by the way, gave up another two runs with a bloop hit, but then got the next to batters to pop up easily to end the game. Final score 11-7, but you really never felt like the Indians were in this one.

Hopefully this laugher was just the medicine the Yankees needed. I’m here at the Stadium for two more days so I hope the momentum continues! Bartolon Colon goes tomorrow!

I’m not just saying that. I’m a SABR member after all, and part of what we do is analyze history based on the statistical record. Well, looking at that record, the chance for warm on March 31st in New York City was pretty slim. The normal low on March 31st is 39 degrees, the normal high 51. 51 would have been GREAT. However note that the record low for March 31st is 22 degrees. If you love graphs, check this one out that shows the steady march upward of averages from March 1st through 31st:

(Courtesy of NYCWeather.us)

Now check out April and you’ll see the average temperatures much more firmly in the humane 50s and 60s, with even the lowest temps a bit more survivable.

The upshot of all this is that my overwhelming memory of the Opening Day 2011 season is that it was COLD. Verlander of Detroit’s Tigers pitched a three-hit gem, and yet the Yankees got three runs in the process thanks to one of them being a three-run homer by Mark Teixeira, who finally seems to have the formula to beat a “slow start” like he traditionally has. Sabathia wasn’t his best, but he kept them in the game, and Granderson added a homer against his old team as well (hit off Phil Coke, who was traded for him, haha). The final three innings were a preview of a pattern that would emerge over the following week–”Jo-So-Mo”–referring to Joba in the seventh, Soriano in the eighth, and Mariano in the ninth.

Not a lot was new at the Stadium this year that we noticed. The white championship flags that flew all last year had reverted to the usual divisional team flags (rearranged daily to show the standings). I hear there is new stuff in the museum but I wasn’t going to fight my way in there on opening day when I’ll surely have a more leisurely chance later in the season. There is a new design for collectible hot chocolate & coffee cups. That’s the kind of thing I was noticing, because it was so cold the vendors were resorting to walking around selling hot chocolate. One of my companions brought a beer back to the seats and we were too cold to drink it.

Another cold note, it was the first opening day I’ve been to without Freddy the Fan. We miss you Freddy.

I ended up spending the entire sixth inning in the women’s room, where it was like a sauna, thank goodness. Another of our group spent a whole inning in the men’s room, which he said was like a party going on there were so many people huddled in there.

The actual game-time temperature, if you must know, was 40 degrees. However, it was also drizzling with a steady wind. Acuweather’s “feels like” indicator said “Feels like 23 degrees.”

It was colder than that Opening Day where Chuck Knoblauch played left field for the first time and got a standing ovation for catching a ball. Heck, it was so cold that day that when the SUN came out, even that got a standing o. (Maybe we just felt warmer standing up…) It was also colder than the opening day where Hideki Matsui hit a grand slam, his first game at Yankee Stadium, a game which had been delayed by a day because of snow. Yes, I was there, too.

I seriously think it’s time to go back to a 154 game schedule, so that there is room for actual baseball during actual baseball weather as well as the three-tiered playoff system. The April games are the worst attended of the entire season (right, Bud?) so the revenue lost wouldn’t be that significant, and guess what? That might even make a bit of time for the World Baseball Classic to be played without making everyone scream, as well. Please Mr. Commissioner, give it a thought, or start building a dome in the Bronx.

Ah, Florida, which has been an exotic fantasyland in the minds of Northerners since the days of Henry B. Plant, the railroad magnate who convinced the cream of New York society to ride his rail system south to his Tampa Bay Hotel starting in 1891. But as with Disney, the magic in the Yankees isn’t in the frills, it’s somewhere in the heart.

This isn’t to say that the details don’t matter. They do. There are so many little things that have defined the Yankees over the decades, and when you think about it, some things that Steinbrenner insisted on–like the rule against facial hair below the lip and the road trip dress code–fit perfectly with the attitude and image of the Yankees before him. The former “Legends Field” was the warm-up act for the building of the new stadium in the Bronx. This jewelbox in Florida was the predecessor of the palace up north.

And like Disney, the Yankees draw on their history and nostalgia, while continually looking forward. Like Disney, the Yankees are always looking for the next big star. Where they differ most drastically, though, is that in sports you can’t make the story happen. You can’t make winning happen.

And of course when the fans file into the stadium on any given day, there’s no guarantee that the team will win. Especially in the spring, when winning isn’t the top goal–getting ready so that you can win during the season is. Still, everyone’s happier when the team you root for wins.

The Yankees did win tonight, 4-2 over Pittsburgh, and so a good time was had by all. Well, except maybe the guy named Joe from Pittsburgh who was sitting behind us. Although now that I think about it, he enjoyed himself quite a bit. The Pirates made some sparkling defensive plays, for example, that had him exclaiming “Wow! We threw somebody out! You don’t understand! We don’t usually do that!”

Pittsburgh suffers from lowered expectations, wouldn’t you say? That, thankfully, is not one of New York’s problems.

Our main problem, of course, this year, is pitching. We didn’t get Cliff Lee, Andy Pettitte retired, and the pitching market hasn’t been much to write home about. So Cashman did two things to deal with this. One, he packed the bullpen with top arms instead, so that the starters won’t have to pitch as long, minimizing the exposure of possibly mediocre pitching, and two, he packed camp with retreads and scrap-heap acquisitions like Freddie Garcia and tonight’s starter, Bartolo Colon.

Colon struck out the side in the first. He gave up a home run in the second, but otherwise really was good through four innings. In fact, all the guys vying for the fourth and fifth starter jobs have been pitching their little patoots off. Success in the spring doesn’t guarantee success in the regular season, but for now, this is the story. Who will sink and who will swim?

The Yankees’ four runs came on a Russell Martin first inning homer, a two run rally in the second keyed by a very Jeterian leadoff triple (lined into right), and an Andruw Jones homer in the fifth. The crowd at spring games tends to be quiet and laid back, but at night they get a little more lively. The most lively they got, though, was in the eighth inning, when a Pirate named Josh Fields was at bat. He swung so hard that his bat flew out of his hands and about 12 rows back into the stands. An old fella caught it without getting injured or hurting anyone around him, drawing a huge cheer from the entire crowd. Then a security guard came for the bat… and got a huge boo. He then handed the bat back to the guy, and a second huge cheer went up. Meanwhile, Josh Fields got a different bat from the dugout. Sorry, kid, if you had to pay for that one out of your own pocket. That’s entertainment.