Tagged: Comerica Park
The Yankees Win…Thanks To My Magic Pen!
I’m not saying that Phil Hughes didn’t play a major role in the Yanks’ 11-0 victory over Detroit. He was fantastic – throwing strikes, moving the ball around, pitching with authority instead of nibbling.
Molina’s grand slam didn’t hurt either, along with some impressive flashing of leather by Pena.
But I firmly believe that it was the cheesy pen I swiped from the Marriott Westshore in Tampa that caused the Tigers to spazz out in the seventh inning and hand the Yankees the win.
Look at the evidence.
Normally, I use another pen to keep score. When it ran out of ink at the end of the sixth, I grabbed the Marriott pen, which I didn’t even remember I had, and started recording each at-bat with it. The result?
Pure hell for Detroit.
Jim Leyland called on his relievers and was not amused when they couldn’t get it done. Doesn’t he look like he was having fun? I, on the other hand, was highly entertained watching someone else’s bullpen implode for a change.
Just as I was noting Ryan Perry’s ineptitude, Posada flied to left and the Tigers’ Josh Anderson misplayed the ball for an error, opening up the floodgates.
The Yankees piled on with some nice station-to-station hitting, culminating in Molina’s second career granny.
Mark Melancon pitched a scoreless inning, giving me hope for the future and providing the Tigers’ announcers with yet another name to butcher.
No, they’re not the worst I’ve ever heard, but they’re pretty lame. They blamed the near collision between Granderson and Ordonez on “loud crowd noise.” (Comerica was hardly a full house.) And when the camera found a drunken fan holding up a towel, one of them said, “Look! He’s waving his Rally ShamWow!”
Too bad I live up in the hills and am stuck with the Extra Innings package on cable; the only way I’d get YES for away games is if I had a dish on my roof.
But back to the magic pen. Obviously, it’s responsible for snapping the Yankees’ losing streak, and I will use it to score Wednesday night’s game. The Tigers will, of course, be toast.
Watching The Yankees = Watching A Horror Movie
For three straight days I was tortured by the Red Sox and their merriment. Tonight, in the Yankees’ 4-2 loss to the Tigers at Comerica, I was tortured by Justin Verlander and his 99-mph fastball. Watching my team lately has taken on the feel of this.
Every horror movie has a few likable, heroic characters, and tonight’s game was no different. Cano kept hitting (why wasn’t he batting cleanup?). CC gave the pen a night off (loved the fourth when he K-ed Ordonez, Cabrera and Guillen; he could have gotten a “W” if he’d had a little run support). And Pena continued to show why he’s a better utility infielder than both Ransom and Berroa (duh).
And then there were the scary villains….
* Justin Verlander and his high cheese.
* Placido Domingo Polanco and his oddly shaped head.
* Magglio Ordonez and his oddly shaped hair.
* Jorge Posada and his tendency to ground into rally-killing double plays.
It’s true that the Yankees didn’t arrive in Detroit until the wee hours of the morning and were probably as tired as they looked. But isn’t that what this is for?
Getting back to “Carrie,” I was thinking how empowering it would be to have her gift of telekinesis – to make things happen just by thinking about them.
Here are a few ways I would use my power to help the Yankees…
* I would heal A-Rod, Nady, Bruney and the newly banged up Damon.
* I would fix Wang’s mechanics and, if necessary, his mind.
* I would turn Brett Gardner, Melky Cabrera and Nick Swisher into better hitters. (Swish is spiraling back down to earth. I can feel it.)
* I would command Jose Veras not to walk anybody. Ditto: Marte.
* I would put ten pounds on Edwar Ramirez, as well as give him another pitch besides the change-up.
* I would make Jeter five years younger.
* I would leave Mo exactly the way he is.
* I would trade Kei Igawa for Roy Halladay straight up.
* I would insure that the Yankees win their 27th championship this year.
* I would haunt anybody who tried to thwart me.
If I Owned a Major League Baseball Team….
…I’d be joining the other owners in Paradise Valley, AZ for their quarterly meeting on Wednesday and Thursday. What will the 30 MLB owners be doing between rounds of golf and dry martinis? They’ll be hashing out rules having to do with post-season rainouts and one-game tiebreakers. Exciting.
The problem is this: All the owners are men. Take a look at some of these guys.
Seriously. I’m sure they’re all stellar human beings, but why isn’t there one single female owner among them? In the 21st century? A woman would know how to make the meetings productive, instructive and downright entertaining.
Yes, there was a woman in charge once upon a time – the only one to buy a team rather than inherit it.
But I’d do things a little differently than Marge and Schottzie, starting with the meeting in Arizona. My agenda would include:
1.) More ladies rooms at all major league ballparks.
Where it is written that women have to wait in long lines, missing all the action, while men do their thing and are back in their seats in no time?
2.) Salads at the concessions.
Sure, it’s fun to scarf down hot dogs, chicken tenders, even nachos with cheese. But how hard would it be to put something healthy on the menu. Something green. (And I don’t mean six-week-old pretzels.)
3.) Air-sick bags for over-served patrons.
There I was, enjoying myself at a Yankees-Orioles game at Camden Yards, when this girl tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Could I sit in the empty seat next to you? A guy just threw up on the seat next to me and it smells.” Air-sick bags (team logo specific) would take care of that problem.
4.) Better scoreboard contests.
I’ve been to a lot of ballparks and I’ve seen enough races between Ketchup, Mustard and Relish to last me a lifetime. I’m not wild about the “Kiss Cam” either. I propose more games involving the players. At Kauffman Stadium in KC, they have “And the Oscar Goes to…” where three Royals players act out the same scene from a movie and the crowd votes on the one they like best. It gives the fans a sense of the players’ personalities.
5.) Ushers who know what they’re doing.
I realize that men hate asking for directions, but women don’t mind a bit. If we can’t find our seats, we go, “Excuse me. Where’s section 17, row LL?” So how about ushers who actually know the answer.
6.) Prompt announcements about rain delays/postponements.
I stood in the pouring rain for two hours at Comerica Park waiting for someone – anyone – from the Tigers organization to tell us if the game was canceled or not. A little communication goes a long way.
7.) Better giveaways.
The Yankees had the nerve to hand out Hideki Matsui mouse pads that fell apart in five minutes. And no more of those foam hands with the finger sticking out. I hate when people wave them in front of me and block my view.
8.) Only really good “National Anthem” singers.
I’m not saying every park should hire Beyonce. Amateurs are fine. So are little kids. But they must know the words and they must be able to hit the high notes.
9.) A ban on the rally monkey.
I don’t mean to single out the Angels, but come on.
10.) Psychotherapists on call during all games.
A radical idea, yes. Expensive, too. But haven’t you ever had a meltdown at the ballpark when your team lost? Blow-out. Pitcher’s duel. A loss is a loss. Wouldn’t it be great to talk to someone about it? Let it all out? Work through your issues so you don’t bring them home?
More to come when I’m an owner and can vote at these meetings.
Confessions of a She-Fan 