Why not pre-load their virtual bookshelf with some ebooks to get them started? Suggestions for baseball titles available in ebook form are welcome in the comments below, but here are a few of my own.

I got started thinking about this topic for obvious reasons: since I took the Publications position at SABR, I’ve been working to launch more digital books under the SABR umbrella. The first big one just went live and the timing is no coincidence. We wanted to make sure that “Can He Play?”– the definitive book on the history of scouts and scouting, produced by SABR’s Scouts Committee–would be live and available by the time all those holiday e-readers were unwrapped.

Some intro info in case you’re new to this, too. The three biggest players in the ebook device wars each comes equipped to buy from a dedicated online store, but you DON’T HAVE TO stick to that one outlet if you don’t want. Here are the setups the manufacturers want.

• Kinde: Amazon’s Kindle Store
• Nook: Barnes & Noble Nookstore
• iPad/iPod/iPhone: Apple iBookstore

But note that you can run the Kindle app on the iPad, for example. The Kindle store sells files in .amz format but files that are purchased elsewhere in .MOBI or .PRC format can be read by your Kindle, too. The iPad can also run other e-reading software that takes the ePub format, which the Nook also uses. (Basically, EVERYONE now uses EPUB except for Amazon.)

But let’s not rock the boat to get started. Assuming you’ll start with your “native” online bookstore before branching out. Here are some of the gems one can get:

MONEYBALL
by Michael Lewis
If you’re like me, you read this book back in 2003, then lent it to someone and never got it back. After seeing the movie, I wanted to re-read it. So I downloaded a new copy. The paperback costs $15.95. The ebook is about half that.
Kindle Store $8.29
B&N Nookstore $8.29
Apple iBookstore $8.29

BASEBALL BETWEEN THE NUMBERS
by Jonah Keri and the Baseball Prospectus crew
Many people have said that after Moneyball opened their eyes to the actual relevance of stats on the game and how they have been used and mis-used, the next book they read was Baseball Between the Numbers. Full disclosure, I’m working for Baseball Prospectus myself now, but I thought they were keen long before that (and that’s why I wanted to work with them).
The book only seems to be available in the Kindle store right now. I couldn’t find it on Nook or Apple. The Apple iBookstore is almost impossible to search, though, which is one of its biggest drawbacks. You have to know what you’re looking for. More on this later.
Kindle Store $9.87

THE CAPTAIN
by Ian O’Connor
This book about Derek Jeter came out this past April. I feel the publisher has priced the ebook a little high–and if you look you’ll see it’s priced differently at different stores! Curious, no? See the list below. At this point O’Connor probably needs to write a revision that includes him reaching 3000 hits, too, but they’ll probably wait until he retires to revise.
The hardcover list price is $26.
Apple iBookstore$12.99 ebook
B&N Nookstore$15.60 ebook (they sell the hardcover for $17.33)
Amazon Kindle Store$9.10 ebook (they sell the hardcover for $17.16)

THE LAST BOY: Mickey Mantle
by Jane Leavy
While we’re talking about great Yankees, if you’re a Yankees fan of a certain age and haven’t read this bio of Mantle yet, you probably should.
Nookstore $9.99
Amazon Kindle Store $9.99
Apple iBookstore $9.99

One of the coolest things about ebooks, though, is that they are just as easy to get from small publishers as from the big guys. Publishers who have almost no chance of making it onto what little physical shelf space is left in America’s shrinking book retail world can now reach readers through digital.

Here are some of the lesser known books I should mention:

PUMPSIE AND PROGRESS
by Bill Nowlin and several other researchers
Built around a biographical essay on the life and career of Pumpsie Green, the first African American to play for the Boston Red Sox, the last major league team to integrate, Pumpsie & Progress offers essays from a half-dozen authors on matters ranging from Jackie Robinson to the Red Sox of today. Because of a pricing glitch, this ebook was $14.20, but now it’s $9.99. Right now it’s only available on the Kindle Store, but Rounder Books may expand their ebook program in the future to other formats.
Amazon Kindle Store $9.99

In keeping with the theme, how about this one?

Curveball: The Remarkable Story of Toni Stone the First Woman to Play Professional Baseball in the Negro League
by Martha Ackerman
Amazon Kindle Store

Or how about this gem? I haven’t read it yet, but the professional reviews look very promising:

Playing with the Enemy: A Baseball Prodigy, a World at War, and a Field of Broken Dreams
by Gary Moore

I’ll just quote the BOOKLIST Review: “Gene Moore, from tiny Sesser, Illinois, was signed by the Brooklyn Dodgers at age 15 in 1940. After Pearl Harbor, the Dodgers arranged for him to be a member of a traveling U.S. Navy baseball team to entertain troops in the European theater. Eventually, the team was assigned stateside to guard a select group of German prisoners in Louisiana. The Germans had been captured when their submarine, the U-505 (now a featured attraction at Chicago’s Museum of Science and Industry), experienced mechanical problems in the vicinity of Allied warships. The story of the relationship that developed between the prisoners and their guards is a fascinating one. [Gene teaches them to play baseball. -ctan] … A moving profile of one, nearly unknown member of the Greatest Generation.”
Amazon Kindle Store $9.99

I discovered the above book, by the way, from a niche bestseller list on Amazon, which lists the top sellers for the Kindle on the subject of Baseball History. You can see that list here: http://www.amazon.com/gp/bestsellers/digital-text/159822011/ref=pd_zg_hrsr_kinc_2_6_last

And look what’s already cracked the top ten! The book I just worked on for SABR, the Scouts book, CAN HE PLAY?

CAN HE PLAY? collects the contributions of 26 members of the Society for American Baseball Research on the subject of scouts, including biographies and historical essays. The book touches on more than a century of scouts and scouting with a focus on the men (and the occasional woman) who have taken on the task of scouring the world for the best ballplayers available. In CAN HE PLAY? we meet the “King of Weeds,” a Ph.D. we call “Baseball’s Renaissance Man,” a husband-and-wife team, pioneering Latin scouts, and a Japanese-American interned during World War II who became a successful scout—and many, many more. The legendary Tom Greenwade and the development of the New York Yankees scouting system, interviews with former players Johnny Pesky and Fernando Perez about being scouted, and much more.

Amazon Kindle Store $9.99
B&N Nookstore $9.99
OmniLit $9.99 (.mobi, .epub, and .pdf all for sale here)

There’s much more to discover in the digital realm, so much more than the one-size-fits-all conglomerate chain bookstores could ever serve.

Hey, maybe I should do a Why I Like Baseball ebook…

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m married to my childhood sweetheart (the Yankees), and live with an annoying roommate (the Red Sox), so sometimes I yearn for something new and exciting. Last summer I had a sweet dalliance with the Seattle Mariners. This year, on Opening Day, I decided to flirt with the A’s.

It’s been quite an interesting long distance relationship. There were thrills in April–the hot start, Carlos Pena equaling former-A Jason Giambi’s home run total, the resurgence of David Justice, and Eric Chavez’ fascinating habit of making every hit an extra base hit. But then the A’s turned cold on me, went into a slide–what, don’t you love me anymore? Next thing you knew, Carlos Pena was gone, the other Giambi as well, and I wondered if my A’s would ever be the same.

Interleague play brought the fun and passion back. Did they lose a single game to the NL Central? Noooo….. And how about them Giants? Hah! Watching Barry Zito facing Barry Bonds I knew I’d made the right choice.

It’s been a torrid affair since then, and finally consummated.

That’s right, consummated. I found myself in San Diego on Labor Day Weekend for a convention: the World Science Fiction Convention, where I was speaking, reading, autographing … that is in-between running back to my room to check ESPN for updates on the baseball labor negotiations and the state of the A’s historic winning streak. The strike was averted, the winning streak continued, and how fortuitous it was that I was not scheduled to appear at the convention on Monday. I checked out of my hotel Sunday night and spent the night in San Francisco with only one thing in mind: be at the Coliseum for Game Nineteen.

It’s not every day one witnesses history. The 1947 Yankees were the last team to win 19 straight. I knew from a quick visit to MLB.com that tickets were available. So 10:30 am of Labor Day 2002 found me at the walk up window asking for the best ticket available.

One thing I love about the A’s. They’re a cheap date. Twenty-two bucks got me a great seat on the first base side of home plate, just far enough back to be in the shade most of the day. Adjacent to the ticket window was the entrance to a souvenir shop that led into the stadium. I knew what I was going to do. I had been planning it since the night before, but I still felt extremely naughty doing it. I bought an A’s cap, black on black (adjustable, not fitted, that’s how you know it’s not everlasting love…) and brought it to the counter.

"You want the tags off it?" the man at the register asked.

"Yes, please."

He clipped the tags. I took my weather-beaten NY cap from my head, and slipped the A’s cap on. The people behind me in line clapped. Thank you, thank you. The pleasure was all mine. The store clerk put my Yankees hat into a bag and handed it to me. I was ready for "baseball, A’s style."

Out in the Coliseum a rare heat wave had coincided with the hot streak. The sky was cloudless and the temperature climbed toward ninety. To beat the heat, the Athletics had taken early BP and had conceded the field to the Royals. I waited behind the A’s dugout along with some green-clad faithful, but the only A who signed that day was submariner Chad Bradford, and I missed him. That was alright by me–I’d rather see Barry Zito pitch than have his signature. And just my luck, Zito was scheduled to start.

Much to my shock, though, Zito did not perform as expected. He struggled from the very first batter, missing high in the strike zone and going to a full count. He recorded a 1-2-3 inning, but threw 24 pitches in the process. The crowd, and I was right there with them, was geared up to see something amazing today, and expected it from Zito. But when he gave up a single with one out in the second, there was a very audible groan from the crowd. The A’s were going for 19 in a row, to tie the American League record, Barry was going for 20 and a legitimate shot at the Cy Young (Pedro was scratched from a start), and it seemed so possible that a miracle could occur. But "no-hitter" was not the miracle we would witness.

We would instead see Zito give up back to back homers in the third, to two guys who didn’t have ten homers between them coming into the game (Neifi Perez, two, A. J. Hinch, six). And the Royals would slash him up for three more in the fourth, on four singles, a sac fly, and an error. But Barry hung in there. In the fifth he struck out two and retired the side on only 8 pitches. Momentum was beginning to swing. By the end of the sixth, the A’s led the game 6-5, on a David Justice two run shot in the fifth, and another Justice hit, a two-RBI single in the sixth which followed a double steal! If there is one thing you cannot say about the A’s, you cannot say that they are not exciting. This game was all about clutch hitting.

But the Royals would not lie down and die. They scored the tying run in the eighth on a double play. 6-6 score! It was all to set up the drama of the ninth, I guess. The A’s will take you to the edge, but will they take you home?

Terrence Long led off the ninth inning with a triple. Wait, let me try that again. T-long f–ing tripled!!! With no one out, Tony Pena’s hand was forced to desperate measures. Two men were intentionally walked to set up the force out at home plate, an outfielder became a fifth infielder as they stood on the infield grass, while Jason Grimsley tried to get a ground ball. He got one, out of Scott Hatteberg, and there was one out. But that brought Miguel Tejada to the plate.

There are many guys to love on the A’s, but Tejada has to be one of the most lovable. The night before the streak had been in jeopardy, and they lost the lead in the top nine on three consecutive home runs! No problem, said Miggy, who whacked a three-run game winner in the bottom half of the frame. This time, all he had to do was get a ball through five infielders and a sinkerball pitcher.

He did. No, wait, let me try that more like an A’s fan. Did you see that?? He f—ing slashed it right through! Clutch baby, clutch! The Coliseum exploded. There were only 26,325 on hand (9,000 in walk up sales), but we were loud, our throats were already raw from all the screaming and excitement that preceded it, but we kept right on yelling. Right through the A’s mobbing Miggy near second base, right through the interview he did in the dugout, right until the final roar as he came up for a curtain call.

Oh, Yankees loyalists may call me Hester Prynne, but I will wear my A proudly. At least until October.

[Retrosheet play by play of the game: http://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/2002/B09020OAK2002.htm]

I don’t mean to shock anyone, but I’ve always believed in "open relationships." Sure, of course I believe in true love and having a special partnership with that special someone, but I also think experiencing the fullness of life means leaving the door open to other things as well, so long as everyone involved agrees it’s okay. I know a lot of people disagree with me on this. Especially when it comes to baseball.

I have my first love–my deep, abiding, long-term love–and that is the Yankees. If I had to choose between the Yankees and another team, there would be no question who I would choose. I fell in love with the Yankees before I ever even looked at another team. When I was a fan in the seventies, I could name you the whole Yankees starting lineup, but I could probably only name you four or five players in the rest of the league. I’m more mature now, and have expanded my tastes a bit.

Last year, I had a summer fling with the Seattle Mariners. I had picked them during the offseason, when A-rod had jilted them for the Rangers’ money, I found myself really wanting to root for the M’s. The Mariners turned out to be a good choice. After all, their games don’t start until 10pm Eastern, when most of the Yankees games are ending. They’re in a different division, so there was very little direct conflict of interest for me. And then, of course, the M’s went on a tear, as Ichiro proved his star burned just as bright in the American League as in Japan, Bret Boone blossomed, and Mike Cameron continued to make it look like Ken Griffey, Jr. wasn’t missed. It was a historic campaign for the Mariners in 2001, as they went on to win 116 regular season games and tie the major league record.

But they didn’t come close to matching the 125 wins of the 1998 Yankees, thanks to the Yankees. Oh, I had a wonderful time, traveling to Seattle in the summer, getting to root for the M’s and get autographs from Bret Boone and Mike Cameron. It was fun. But when October came, it was clear who my primary partner was. I wanted the Mariners to beat the Indians, but as soon as my two teams faced each other, well … you dance with the one that brung ya. Thanks for the memories, Mariners, and drop by and see me when you’re in Boston. (Hm, I guess it’s me who will have to do the dropping by.)

Speaking of Boston, I suppose if I’m married to the Yankees, the Red Sox are like the annoying housemate you can’t get away from. You know all about their problems and you have to live with them. Sigh. Anyway, you can be sure there will be no love affair between me and the Red Sox.

So who will my fling be with this year? I thought about the San Francisco Giants, because I had a great time at PacBell last year, and I know I will have an eye on Barry Bonds, as will everyone else. But… nah. I like the Giants, but they just don’t get my heart racing. How about the St. Louis Cardinals? Tino Martinez is there now. But I already have a longstanding flirtation with the Cubs, so I can’t really go with another National League Central team. I thought about maybe adopting the Kansas City Royals this season, to see how things go with Chuck Knoblauch there, but I don’t enjoy suffering enough to make it with KC. (See Red Sox, above.)

My favorite non-Yankee player last year was Jason Giambi. I saw him play in person twice, once in Anaheim and once in Oakland, and he hit home runs both times. I thought he should have won the Home Run Derby. And I have really enjoyed watching the upstart A’s romp all over the league. So I kind of thought, hmm, maybe the A’s?

Then, of course, Giambi came to the Yankees, but I find myself still very interested in the A’s. They lost Giambi and Johnny Damon, and their closer, but might they still get better? Mulder-Hudson-Zito, deadly. And you have to love a guy like Barry Zito, a lefty in the Bill "Spaceman" Lee mode. Eric Chavez got the Gold Glove last year–but will he finally get over his postseason jitters this season? Jermaine Dye broke his leg and has yet to return, but when he does you hope he rebounds well…

I listened to the first three A’s games of the year and that settled it. They were against the Texas Rangers (boo hiss, A-rod, Rocker, and Carl Everett all in one place! And glove-thief Ruben Rivera in their minor league system now!). So here you have the three best young pitchers in the league, facing the scariest lineup in the league three nights in a row. And beating them. Oh man, talk about exciting games! The A’s play exciting baseball. Wow, my heart is starting to beat harder just thinking about it. Home runs, awesome pitching, a lot of heart, grit, and fun.

I’m making a business trip to the Bay Area at the end of August. I guess I’ll have to make a date with my boys then. Because by October, you know it’ll be over.

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.

The last two standing are the Texas Rangers and the St. Louis Cardinals, and the Cardinals were one of those two last-day squeak-in wild card teams who made it into the postseason as much as a result of the Atlanta Braves’ collapse as their own mojo. The Rangers, of course, have a lot of prove after getting smothered by the Giants in the World Series last year.

I have no real rooting interest in this series; I mostly just wanted to see dramatic baseball. Thus far, this postseason has had plenty of that, but tonight’s performance was over the top.

I started my evening listening the the XM Sirius pregame show, which turned out to be quite good. They had Nolan Ryan on, as well as Rangers GM John Daniels, and even an interview with tonight’s pitcher, Colby Lewis, which had been taped during yesterday’s rain delay/cancellation.

That’s right, there was even an extra smidgen of anticipation in the air in St. Louis tonight because yesterday’s game had to be postponed due to weather. Lewis’s backstory was much talked about last year, as well–a guy who went to pitch in Japan when no more big league opportunities presented themselves, figuring that he had seen the last of MLB. And now he’s been in the World Series two years in a row.

The XM pregame was very Rangers’ heavy, actually, and several times interviewers or hosts made it sound like the Rangers’ winning was a forgone conclusion. Maybe it was just that at the point where I tuned it, it was all Rangers’ people they were talking to. Ryan was gracious and thanked the fans for their support this year (some kind of new attendance record in Arlington?) and for making the trek to St. Louis, too. Sounded like lots of Rangers fans made the trip and the XM hosts commented on it.

However, it was far too early to count St. Louis out… though it took eleven innings to prove that.

I’m trying to decide how to recap all the action in this game, which was a serious seesaw. In the words of Inigo Montoya, “There is too much. Let me sum up.” And since this is the Internet, that means MAKE A TOP TEN LIST.

Top Ten Things I Don’t Want to Forget About This Game:

1. Mike Shannon was on fire tonight on the KMOX broadcast. In the first inning, he repeated about a dozen times that Colby Lewis “has never given up a run in the first inning of a postseason game,” because “not that we want to jinx him or anything…” After the Berkman blast, he said, “we usually don’t like to jinx people like that up here, but what the heck.”

2. How it was “Albert Pujols’ last at-bat in a Cardinals uniform” at least three times. (And who know how many more tomorrow?)

3. My vote for NL comeback player of the year (if I had one), Lance Berkman. Two-run homer in the first inning to give the Cards a lead. Game-tying hit with the Cards down two runs in the bottom of the ninth and down to their last strike! All told: 3-for-5 with a walk, 4 runs scored, and 3 RBIs!

4. Texas scored in six of the 11 innings. St. Louis scored in seven.

INN   1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  R   H   E
TEX   1   1   0   1   1   0   3   0   0   2   0   9  15   2
STL   2   0   0   1   0   1   0   1   2   2   1  10  13   3

5. Texas’s homers kept looking like the death blow: Beltre and Cruz with back-to-back shots! And Josh Hamilton (who has a hernia and has been suffering this series) hit a Kirk-Gibsonesque two-run blow in the 10th inning! But somehow the Cardinals kept clawing their way back!

6. The wacky defense. (And wacky overall play…) Not only were there five errors in the game, there were some miscues that don’t show in the box score. None bigger than Nelson Cruz not getting to at least one, maybe two, balls that turned into game-tying hits. Oh, and Mike Napoli turning his ankle at second (shoe-in for MVP if the Rangers win), and Holliday’s “slide” out of the baseline… and later getting picked off third base by Napoli! Last time guy picked off third in a World Series was Gene Tenace in 1972, if the other writers I follow are to be believed. (Tenace was picked off in Game 5 of the ’72 series according to Retrosheet.org, but I can’t verify if anyone else was in the meantime…)

7. The Cards were down two runs and down to their final strike TWICE (in the 9th and the 10th) and came back to tie both times. Both times what I posted on Twitter just before the game-tying hit was “Please don’t let this be the last out of the baseball season!” And both times I got my wish. (Which I then also had to tweet.) This is the equivalent of a Hollywood movie having not one but THREE boss fights in the third act. And all of them being heart-pumping, suspenseful, and wonderful.

8. Pitcher Kyle Lohse had to pinch hit in the 10th inning. (Sac bunt.) Not as wacky as catcher Brent Mayne being the winner pitcher in an extra-innings game in Colorado, but worth a mention, especially since it did contribute to them tying the game.

9. Jake Westbrook, remember him? Winning pitcher. Whoever had him in their office pool must be cleaning up. Oh, and must mention Darren Oliver, who got a “hold” in the game, because in one-third of an inning he gave up two hits, and earned two runs, but… well, this is why the “hold” has never caught on as a stat. It’s like the “quality start” for relievers, a “consolation” stat. Anyway, Oliver is 41 years old. That means he (born October 1970) has been around longer than the Texas Rangers, who came into their current incarnation in 1971. (In 1961 they started as a version of the Washington Senators.) The Rangers are the oldest franchise not to have won a World Series, if the TV commentators are to be believed. Anyway, it’s totally full-circle time for Oliver, who was drafted by the Rangers originally, and in 1993 had his big league debut for Texas (appearing in 2 games). You know who else played on that 1993 Rangers team? 46-year-old Nolan Ryan, now owner of the team.

10. David Freese is a hometown St. Louis guy, and he had a clutch triple, and then the walk-off homer in the 11th. Storybook, can’t make this stuff up, my entire Twitter feed of MLB players, coaches, and media just blowing up with “love baseball” and “can’t believe it!” not once but three times in the game.

And I’m probably forgetting something. I imagine that the media corps probably had to delete a lot of ledes tonight. Most of what I want to remember about tonight, though is that a spine-tingling game of baseball was played, one that moved people to extremes of emotion, even those who didn’t have a rooting interest.

As with an extra-rare cultivated fruit or aged wine, it took all season and all postseason to get to this point, and what resulted was something to be savored.

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.

I’m writing this post from the Bronx, where I am awaiting the opening of the ALDS in a few hours. End of the regular season, though, means End of Season awards. As a founding member of the Baseball Bloggers Association, I take part in the voting. We’re not as glamourous as the ink-stained wretches in the BBWAA. I suppose as bloggers we’re the eye-strained kvetches.

Here’s what we eye-strained kvetches award:

Connie Mack Award: top manager
Willie Mays Award: top rookie)
Goose Gossage Award: top reliever
Walter Johnson Award: top pitcher
Stan Musial Award: top player

Since Why I Like Baseball is ostensibly a Yankees blog (with a healthy side of Red Sox), I get to vote for the American League entry in each category. Here are my picks:

Connie Mack Award: top manager
If I were voting in the NL, I’d pick Kirk Gibson, but I’m not. But the tendency to want to pick a guy who took a load of underachievers and made them achievers, or a load of achievers and made them overachievers, is high. In that way, I’m tempted to pick Buck Showalter, especially after seeing the Orioles end their season in a dogpile after being the ones to kill Boston’s playoff hopes. Yeah, Showalter takes my #2 vote for getting those kids to prove something. And how about Don Wakamatsu taking over for John Farrell in Toronto? Let’s give him #3.

That leaves Joe Maddon as my #1 vote, for all the teaching and training he does with the Tampa Bay Rays, which certainly makes a huge difference with a young team, and also how much he does to keep it fun. The team dressing up for themed road trips and such? Maddon’s brainchild.

Willie Mays Award: top rookie
I’ve got to give serious consideration to my own team’s rookie sensation, Ivan Nova. The only reason he was “sent down” in mid-season was because the Yankees have a huge financial investment in A.J. Burnett, who clogged up a slot a the rotation. But as I did above, I’ll give my sentimental favorite my #2 vote. There isn’t any one rookie this year I feel is running away with it. Maybe Brett Lawrie would have a shot, but I just looked him up and he hasn’t been up for that long. (Ah, turns out he had an injury or might have been called up sooner.) Well, I’ll give him #3 because of the short service time.

Which leaves my top rookie as…? Let’s go with Jeremy Hellickson, starting pitcher for the Rays. If he were in any other division, his numbers would probably be more eye-popping. Hm, my second Rays pick! Am I starting to like the Rays?

Goose Gossage Award: top reliever
You’re kidding, right? No sentimentality in this. #1 Mariano Rivera. He’s the all time saves leader now, and has had another typical great season. We’re almost jaded to how great he is, and that’s why now he’s practically under-rated. Let’s give #2 to the Yankees’ David Robertson. No, I’m not kidding. There’s a reason this guy has the nickname “Houdini.” Lowest WHIP of his career (1.125), lowest HR/9 (0.1!), highest K/9 of his career (2.86), and a 1.08 ERA in 66+ innings pitched. If you have a look at the Baseball-Reference.com leaderboards for pitchers you’ll see most of the entrants are starters. And then there’s Robertson in the top ten in Win Probability Added, Adj. Pitching Wins, and some other stat-lovers’ stats. See? I don’t just vote with my heart.

Hm, looking at those same leaderboards leads me to my #3 pick, Alfredo Aceves for the Boston Red Sox. Yes, a former Yankee, who has done yeoman work for the Sox this year. And yes, I know only I would put two set-up men on a list of “best relievers.” Truth is, I’m not that impressed with a lot of the closers this year.

Walter Johnson Award: top pitcher
#1. Verlander. No reason to even look at anyone else for that. But when it comes to the #2 and #3 guys to vote for? I’m looking at the Wins Above Replacement (WAR) list. Most of the guys on the top ten are position players, but two pitchers after Verlander stand out CC Sabathia and Jered Weaver. (James Shields and Josh Beckett just miss the cut. And I have never liked Beckett anyway.) So #2 Sabathia, #3 Weaver. Oh wait, just re-read the instructions and I get to name two more. Well, okay then: Shields #4 and Beckett #5. Have a great offseason, Josh.

Stan Musial Award: top player
We don’t mess around with semantic arguments about what part of an “MVP” is “valuable” to his team. We just vote for “best player.” Which actually makes it harder, I think.

Honestly, I think I have to give the #1 spot to Jacoby Ellsbury. He has managed to shine even while the whole rest of the Red Sox teamed seemed mired in the negativity that is the Boston legacy. #2 goes to Jose Bautista, for a breakout season for a team that is otherwise marching in place. #3 Curtis Granderson whose season is an easy comparison with DiMaggio, Mantle, and Bernie Wililams’ top seasons. (One of my writers for the Maple Street Press Yankees Annual is working on a piece on that.)

I get to name a top ten, so here they are:
1. Jacoby Ellsbury
2. Jose Bautista
3. Curtis Granderson
4. Miguel Cabrera
5. Adrian Gonzalez (Boston’s problem was not their offense)
6. Evan Longoria (and not just for that walk-off)
7. Josh Hamilton (look at that nice fat WPA)
8. Alex Gordon (ditto)
9. Dustin Pedroia (I know! Three Red Sox on this list!)
10. Derek Jeter (I needed another Yankee to balance all the Red Sox! And yeah, sentimental favorite. That 3000 hits stuff just.. yeah. You know.)