To Hell With the Purity of the Game: Left Field, Left-Center, Right-Center, Right

The Yankees finished their sweep of the Devil Rays tonight using a selection of rookie pitchers (Darrell Rasner looked good enough to eat) and an outfield of Bernie Williams, Kevin Thompson, and Aaron Guiel. This is where normally I might make a crack about the Rays, but honestly, I don’t have the stomach for it anymore. Hideki Matsui is back and has gone 5 for 10 in his three games since coming off the DL; I could only be happier if he would grow a mustache (work your magic, Sal Fasano!). Or if Bud Selig would create a new fourth outfield position for Melky Cabrera to play.

But with an 11.5 game lead and barely more than two weeks left to play, the drama is long gone from the AL East; the Central is where the action is (and the cluster of mediocre teams in the NL fighting for the chance to be swept by the Mets, but whatever). On that note, there’s good but strange news about Twins rookie phenom Francisco Liriano: he returned from the DL yesterday only to leave the game with renewed elbow pain, and everybody thought he was out for the year – Ron Gardenhire looked like he was about to cry in the postgame interview, and you can’t blame him – but the MRI shows no damage. He may still be out for the season, though, which is too bad and an ill omen for the Twins, because as terrific as Johan Santana is, he’s only one man. Well, maybe one and a half. Just look at those beautiful stats… they’re so shiny…

I was poking around ESPN.com today when, with a shock of realization, it suddenly became clear to me why the Orioles are so hopeless right now: former Mets GM Jim Duquette is their VP of baseball operations. Of course – how did I not know this? I can’t believe I didn’t sense his presence the last time the Yanks were in Baltimore; the plague of locusts should have been a tip-off. “Cautious optimism” is how Duquette describes the vibe at Camden Yards these days. Really? I would have described it as “empty.”

Finally, Jim Kaat retired as an announcer after tonight’s game. He was my favorite, and I’ll miss him – it’s not so much what he says, I realize, though I generally find him intelligent and reasonable, as it is a visceral response to the tone of his voice.

MUSTACHE WATCH 06: No ‘stache news to report, but I did discover today that after “eephus,” the most popular Google search that brings people to this site is “giambi mustache.” Seriously. Clearly there is an underserved market out there for information about baseball player facial hair.

Elegy For a Mustache

Greetings from the Wellfleet public library. I have neither internet access nor cable TV where I'm staying, which means I’m nice and relaxed but have only a very, very sketchy idea of what’s going on. But it seems that, in sum, Randy Johnson and Jorge Posada are heating up, Hideki Matsui is on his way back, and the Royals still pretty much suck. Is that about right?

I was sorry to see that Doug Mientkiewicz is injured, because for a while there the Royals’ infield was a real Festival of Consonants. “Grudzielanek to Mientkiewicz for the force”… not exactly “Tinkers to Evers to Chance,” is it? The Royals also have a relief pitcher named Ambiorix. Awesome. He’s like a long-lost Asterix character.

While the local Boston news resolutely refuses to show me even 30 seconds’ worth of Yankees highlights, or even tell me the score, they did show a quick, sweet clip of Anibal Sanchez’s no-hitter for the Marlins last night; it was only his 13th major league start. It’s really remarkable how well the Marlins are doing this year, given that their most established player is probably Dontrelle Willis, and I’m not even sure he can drink legally yet. I hope they win the Wild Card -- it would be a great story, and they're only three games back from the Padres, about whom I have a lifelong inability to care.

Meanwhile, the Mets did indeed exorcise some Braves demons yesterday, thanks in part to New York’s best (okay, fine, only) Jewish pro athlete. Thank you, Shawn Green, for making my grandfather very proud.

MUSTACHE WATCH ’06: It’s a sad day here at Mustache Watch. Jason Giambi has finally shaved off the porn ‘stache. I admit that I was appalled at first, but I now believe that reaction was born out of ignorance and fear; the moustache worked hard every day, and slowly, it earned my respect -- yes, and even my affection. In other words, it grew on me... though not, thank Christ, literally. Our thoughts are with Giambi and his family at this difficult time, and out of respect for what his mustache accomplished in its too-short time among us, this feature will be suspended until future notice.

The Horror, the Horror (Also, the Royals)

The Yankees had a nice easy win yesterday; as much as I like the Twins, they seem to be skidding, and if they don't get Liriano back in the very near future, I fear for their playoff chances. Darrell Rasner pitched an excellent game in his first Yankee start, but this has been happening a lot recently -- unknown, lousy, or aging pitchers often throw like aces in their Yankee debuts; I give you Brad Halsey, Al Leiter, Sidney Ponson, and Aaron Small, just off the top of my head, but I know there've been many more. I hereby dub this The Ponson Effect. Meanwhile, the third baseman... yeah, he's back.

The Mets yesterday managed to lose, 2-1, a game in which they only allowed the Astros one hit. Ah, I do miss El Duque. They'll take on the Braves tonight, and though they’ve already proven they can beat them this year, it’s still fascinating to watch a team exorcise its demons on live television. That game promises to hold more interest than tonight’s Yanks-Royals match-up, however fun it is to watch Chien-Ming Wang pitch. The problem with the Royals is that when a good team beats them, it’s unimpressive, while if they lose it’s embarrassing (well, okay -- that’s one of the problems with the Royals). They did just take two of three from the Twins and White Sox, however, so at least we can expect them to put up a fight.

I’ll be on vacation tomorrow through Sunday, September 10th – into the heart of darkness, or at least Red Sox territory, on Cape Cod. I will blog as my sporadic access to wifi allows. In previous years I wore Yankees shirts to the beach just to be difficult, but this month the combination of the Sox falling nine games behind, Ortiz’s heart scare, and, most of all, rookie pitcher John Lester’s awful diagnosis of lymphoma (fortunately a treatable form, it sounds like) have sucked all the fun out of the rivalry. Horribly selfish of them, really.

Meanwhile, here’s one more reason to dislike Kenny Lofton, his relatively poor performance for the Yankees aside: I was flipping past the YES network this afternoon, and caught the tail end of Jim Abbott’s 1993 no-hitter against the Indians. This is a game that, if you try to describe it to people who weren’t following baseball at the time, they will absolutely refuse to believe it really happened. Anyway, I tuned in at the beginning of the ninth inning, in which Lofton led off -- and tried to bunt his way on base. Now, I understand that he was just trying do his job and get his team some baserunners, especially since it was still a close game... and I can respect that, I really can… but, dude. The man has one hand. Swing the fucking bat.

Mustache Watch ’06: While I missed most of yesterday’s game, I’m told that Craig Wilson seems to have shaved as well (many thanks to my loyal readers, on whom I rely for these kinds of hot tips). The tide seems to be turning, though Jason Giambi still stands like a rock. Please don't hesitate to shoot me an email, or post a comment, if there are any new developments in my absence.

Talk About Impaired Judgement... Where Are That Girl's Friends?!

These games with the Twins were supposed to be another possible playoff preview, but it hasn’t quite worked out that way; Cory Lidle against Carlos Silva last night was probably the marquee pitching match-up of the weekend. Today’s game featured Scott Baker and Jeff Karstens, and while Karstens seems like a promising young pitcher, if you see him starting a game in the postseason it will mean that something has gone horribly wrong. He actually pitched extremely well, but Baker, with his 6.55 ERA and 3-7 record, temporarily morphed into Walter Johnson (nifty trick, that), and the Yanks lost the rain-shortened game 6-1.

Jim Kaat and Al Leiter are the best announcing team the Yankees have fielded for a while, both smart (about baseball, anyway), reasonable, and affable. When Leiter’s in the booth, I can’t help remembering that classic photo of him apparently playing beer pong with a bunch of random college kids, originally posted on the sleazy yet enticing gossip site On the DL -- though of course, it only makes me like him more. Stars: they’re just like Us!

Unfortunately, while trying to find that link, I inadvertently stumbled onto this decidedly disconcerting picture of our old friend Sir Sidney Ponson, which is forcing me to seriously consider swearing off alcohol forever.

Meanwhile, In a battle of ineffective ex-Yankee pitchers, Jeff Weaver took on Shawn Chacon in today’s Cardinals-Pirates game. I was about to make a snarky comment about how, according to the rules, one team would nevertheless have to win, but I see the final score was 1-0 Pittsburgh. Well, fine. Never mind then.

Mustache Watch ‘06: One mustache falls, and another rises to take its place. Ron Villone’s lip-caterpillar is no more (perhaps when he got back from the Yankees’ recent road trip he had a little chat with his wife). Bullpen newcomer Brian Bruney’s, however, is coming along nicely.

Whereas Randy Johnson's Starts Are More Like Unpredictable Cage Fights With Piranhas

I’m selfishly glad the Tigers game was rained out last night, since I was going to have to miss it anyway. This way I was able to listen at wor--... that is, check the score ever so briefly between bouts of massive productivity. Chien-Ming Wang pitched a beautiful game this afternoon, efficient and clean; this series really does have the feel of playoff-style baseball (knock on wood). The Tigers have played well so far, and their pitchers have been terrific, but the Yankees seem to match up fairly well against them (knock, knock) and honestly, at this point I think I’d be more afraid of the Twins or As in a short playoff series (knock, knock, knock. If things go wrong, you’re not pinning it on me).

Tonight, Jaret Wright skipped his usual white-knuckle, near-disaster, tightrope-walk-over-a-tank-of-piranhas act (which he occasionally varies with an exciting falling-into-a-tank-of-piranhas act) and pitched one of his best and longest games of the year. Of course, Scott Proctor then blew the 3-2 lead by allowing a home run in the ninth inning with two outs; but this didn't strike me as the crushing loss it might have been, since I couldn't help feeling that under normal circumstances, if Mariano Rivera or even Kyle Farnsworth had been available, things might well have gone differently.

Meanwhile, like everyone else, I made plenty of jokes about Carl Pavano and his crystalline body. But the fact that he cracked a couple of ribs in a car accident, and then didn’t tell anyone from the team so that he could try to pitch through it, tells me two things: one, Carl Pavano is not very bright; and two, he is sensitive to the heaping piles of criticism coming at him from all sides. As ridiculous as the entire situation is, I'm getting the uncomfortable feeling that at this point, everyone’s piling on the weakest kid in class. The media smells blood (today Bob Klapisch calls him a gutless 'roid-head weasel, more or less in those words) and his own teammates seem to loathe him. Yikes. Man, if they had just referred to his buttocks injury as a “lower back strain” or something, many of these PR issues could have been avoided.

A few more thoughts:

The Red Sox are now eight games back. They’ve been playing without Manny Ramirez AND David Ortiz, which is like trying to go for a jog without your legs. Big Papi is undergoing tests for an irregular heartbeat, which fortunately looks like it probably isn’t anything too serious, and there’s been a surprising outpouring of good wishes towards Ortiz from Yankee fans; I think we all have some variation on Stockholm Syndrome, wherein if you’re held hostage long enough, you start to sympathize with your captor. For someone who haunts my nightmares and inflicted seemingly permanent emotional scarring on me less than two years ago, he does seem like a nice enough guy.

Watching Sal Fasano run is a strange and oddly mesmerizing thing. Believe it or not, I'm having trouble finding a good photo of this to link to...

What the Christ is that thing on Magglio Ordonez’s head? Unacceptable. There are children watching these games.

Mustache Watch '06: Johnny Damon’s mustache is dead, long live Johnny Damon’s mustache. As a fun interactive bonus activity, repeat the phrase "mustache watch" under your breath for a few minutes and see how much sense those words make by the time you're done.

Think of the Children

So I see (via Deadspin and Batgirl) that the Twins are having Joe Mauer Sideburn Night, when they will give out replicas of, yes, their catcher's sideburns. This is obviously a totally awesome idea, which makes me like the Twins even more than I already did, and my first thought was that the Yankees should do this with Don Mattingly’s moustache.

A while back, a friend of mine was sitting in a hospital waiting room, watching the Yankees game. He was having trouble breathing because of what turned out later to be a collapsed lung (“spontaneous pneumothorax”), but when he sent me a text message he didn’t mention where he was or why. He just said, “Don Mattingly shaved his moustache?!?”

This was my reaction, too, last season when I first saw that shockingly naked upper lip (the ‘stache has come and gone capriciously over the last few years). Don Mattingly should realize that that moustache does not belong to him alone. It was an integral part of my childhood, and that of millions of other children of the 80s; its absence provokes the same kind of ache I felt when the house I grew up in was sold. Not only can you never go home again, but even the facial hair you assumed you could always count on won’t always be there for you.

My friend’s lung has since healed… but the pain of Donnie Baseball’s missing moustache remains. Come on, Donnie. Do what’s right. Don’t make me start an internet petition.