Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Solo Home Runs and an end-of-summer poem

There's obviously some serious sorting out to do after the crazy dual-events of last night. First off, the Yankees left 11 men on base, while hitting three solo home runs to account for three of their four runs. Call it what you want: lack of team spirit, no clutch hitting, but the Bronx Bombers didn't deliver the goods. I know I came out in favor of the Wang start, but that was obviously the wrong start, as Mussina, who came on in relief was much sharper. Dr.D made the battle cry last month not to give up on the Moose, and it looks like he was right, while Torre and I were wrong.

As a result, it may be time for Torre to go. Yeah, he's been a great steadying hand for all these veterans over the years, but the new Yankees and the future of the Yankees are the kids: Hughes, Chamerlain, Melky, Cano, Kennedy, etc. We'll keep Jeter around, cuz he's Jeter, but I'm up for a house cleaning on the rest: Giambi, Abreu, A-Rod, even Jorge, Mussina, Clemens, Rivera (sadly). It's time to move on and build a young team that will stick together and not hit solo homers while leaving men on base in other situations. And Joe Girardi is that guy to build that team. I know it's not all as simple as it sounds, but that would be my ultimate vision.

As for the Bills, forget about it. (Check out my prediciton from a couple days ago.) They still have some of the best fans in the league and will be formidable at home as long as their fans turn out and cheer like they did last night. That place can be a scary place for opposing teams, and the Cowboys sure got a scare put into them.

Warning: attempted verse ahead
Finally, as the dark clouds moved in this morning, on the heels of yesterday's very summer-like 85-degree day , I went outside to take the cushions off the swing in the back yard. I could feel the fall chill rolling in with the clouds and thought I saw a green leaf turn to orange right before my eyes. As the breeze pushed me toward the garage, I began to brace myself for another long, cold Erie winter, and I felt my eyes well up, for it hit me that I might not be pulling those cushions out again for another six months.

For me last night marked the end of another glorious summer, the end of the baseball year, and the end of hope... at least until next year!

Cheers

Ralph

6 comments:

Dr. Downing said...

Well, you were right about the Bills game: Dallas didn't cover. I would have lost that bet.

It seems that Dallas and I will never get along. I never liked the Cowboys, with all that "America's Team" bullshit. And while I admit they've had some good teams over the years, I never cared much for the Texas swagger and silver-spur braggadocio.

And even if I were to bet on them---because I think they're good---they'd still make me into a loser...by winning on a last-second field goal.

We'll see if they can get past the Patriots this week. New England has traditionally had a tough time in Tejas.

DDDDDDDDDD

Ralph said...

I have reached the point where I don't care if I ever watch sports again...

Dr. Downing said...

WOW! That's saying a lot.

I'm ready to get off the all-sports channel myself.

Let's talk about something else, like music, myth, or literature.

I guess you already got it started with the Jewel entry.

According to Wikipedia, Jewel was born in Utah and grew up in Alaska.

She recorded the CD, Pieces of You, when she was 19! That CD has the famous song, "Who Will Save Your Soul"?

She also has a book of poetry called A Night Without Armor. We should check it out.

DDDDDDDDDDDDD

Ralph said...

On the PBS show, she claimed "Who Will Save Your Show" was the first song she ever wrote. Apparently, she was hitchiking from some music/arts school in Michigan to Tijuana and used that song, which she kept making up new lyrics for, to raise money as a street musician. I guess Bukowski is one of her heroes as well, which is pretty nice.

Dr. Downing said...

"Who Will Save Your Show"?

Huuuuhhh?

Just kidding....

DDDD

Ralph said...

Dreaded typos, although that's a pretty good Freudian one, when you think about it.

Cheers.
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