Such a busy day for me before the Yankees even got to the East Room.
Just kidding. I don’t have a purple cardigan sweater with buttons like that, although I do have a pinstriped shirt (well, a pinstriped jersey). Anyhow, I know the Yanks have been to the White House several times, but it never gets old. I was teary eyed throughout the whole ceremony this afternoon. How could I not be when the event provided moments like this, where the President got to shake the hand of God?
* Where was Hank Steinbrenner?
* Why was Phil Hughes the only one wearing a gray suit?
* Who were all those people chanting “Hip Hip Jorge?”
* Why were Marte, Cano and Cervelli chewing gum?
* How many times did Obama mention the White Sox?/Don’t we already know he’s their #1 fan?/Did he burn the Yankees jersey right after everybody left?
* Did A-Rod feel uncomfortable meeting Obama, after the Prez called the revelations about his PED use “depressing” last February?
* Why did John Sterling get to stand right smack in the middle of the players?
* Couldn’t Biden have been allowed to say something nice about the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre Yankees?
* If the Yankees win again this year will they let bloggers go to the White House next year?
* How jealous am I of this kid?
Chase Utley hit a couple of solo shots off CC, who otherwise pitched seven solid innings and was more than good enough to win on any given night. There was just one problem: Cliff Lee. The guy was lights out.
Jeter had three hits and scored the Yankees’ lone run in the 6-1 loss. But Lee took care of everybody else. He could have been pitching in his backyard in Arkansas, not a care in the world, especially on Damon’s pop up in the sixth. He hardly moved a step to catch it and was like, “Oh. Yawn. I think I’ll just stick my glove out and see what happens.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pitcher so relaxed. Even on Cano’s tricky eighth-inning comebacker, which Lee corralled from behind his back, he could just as easily have been doing this.
So I’ll simply tip my cap and say: “Good job, Cliff. Now get back on that Amtrak train so I never have to see you again.”
The Yankees didn’t play badly, but I’m concerned about the bullpen. Marte was effective, but Robertson, Bruney and Coke? Stinkeroo. And Phil Hughes? What happened to Mr. Setup-for-Mo? He hasn’t pitched well in the postseason and I want to know why. Is it some mechanical problem? A glitch in his delivery? Or just playoff butterflies?
There really isn’t much else to say about the game, except that the Stadium looked beautiful all decked out in its World Series finery, even with the steady drizzle. And I loved seeing Yogi walk out to the mound during the pre-game ceremony, flanked by two heavy-duty she-fans.
But my favorite moment was right after the ceremonial first pitch. I snuck into the Yankees clubhouse, stole one of those nifty World Series sweatshirts/jackets/whatever they were, and rushed onto the field – just as Jeter was approaching Yogi and the others. What a thrill it was when Jeet leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek!
Talk about a World Series to remember.