The Futility Infielder

Even with the Yankees having clinched the AL East and the Mets having long since given up the ghost, the final days of the regular season have brought no shortage of memorable moments and milestones. I spent Thursday night at Shea Stadium and Friday night at the House That Ruth Built and enjoyed goosebump moments at both ballgames, and I drew similar results from this weekend's Yankee games, which I watched on TV.

Thursday night's ballgame between the Mets and the Pirates honored retiring radio announcer Bob Murphy, who'd been calling Mets games since the franchise's inglorious inception in 1962 (another reason to bring up the original Mets). Murphy looms large in the field of broadcasting, having received the Ford C. Frick Award from the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1994.

Thirty minutes of tributes prior to the game featured former Met superstar Tom Seaver, current Mets Al Leiter and John Franco, colleagues Ralph Kiner and Gary Cohen, and New York City mayor Michael Bloomberg (who was booed lustily), and though the crowd was sparse (25,081 officially, but likely less), they cheered loudly. Not being much of a Mets fan myself or having listened extensively to Murphy, I'll admit that I felt a bit out of place at this affair. It was like being at a birthday party for a friend's relative I didn't know so well (which, come to think of it, actually happened last weekend in Maine). But I can respect a man who put 42 years into his job and was so well-loved by Mets fans that he earned the name "The Voice of Summer," so I smiled and clapped along with the faithful as they warmly paid tribute to the Murph.

Cohen was eloquent as he MCed the ceremony: "A love affair began in 1962. The Mets may have subscribed to Murphy's Law that year but it was Murphy's voice to which the fans tuned in. Whether it was tension-filled pennant drives or as the muffled voice from transistor radios beneath our pillows, each syllable spelled elation or devastation." Leiter and Franco presented Murphy with a Mets jersey bearing the number 42 which they said had been signed by the team (one hopes it was a team of better vintage than the current squad).

Between innings of the ballgame, fellow Frickians from around the league, such as Vin Scully, Harry Kalas, Marty Brennaman, Chuck Thompson, Curt Gowdy, Bob Uecker and Jon Miller (who hasn't actually received the award yet, just like Mike Piazza hasn't made the Hall of Fame) paid tribute via video clips on the Jumbotron.

The game itself was something of an afterthought, with the Mets losing 3-1, preventing Murphy from signing off with one more of his signature Happy Recaps. Most notable for the Mets was literally "Who's On First?" To accompany starter Tom Glavine, his younger brother Mike was the starting first baseman, batting eighth. Promoted in September as an obvious favor to his brother, the younger Glavine is a 30-year-old journeyman who hasn't made much impact beyond AA except in the independent Atlantic League. Argably a less able hitter than his brother, the younger Glavine went 0-for-2 while the elder walked in his only plate appearance before being pinch-hit for by Tony Clark. Manager Art Howe killed two birds with one stone by pulling the double-switch, leaving Clark to play first.

With the Mets trailing 3-1, my girlfriend and I left prior to the ninth inning to catch the LIRR back to Manhattan. But we heard a couple of huge cheers go up as we exited the stadium, figuring the Mets had started a rally. As it turns out, the ovations were for Mike Piazza, who -- after months of handwringing from the catcher, the organization, the player, the manager, the media, and every potential WFAN caller in the entire tri-state area -- took the field at first base for the first time as a Met and promptly snared a line drive. Yippee.

• • •

Friday night's drama was considerably less contrived. The Yanks had already played the Orioles at the front end of a doubleheader (the makeup game for that ridiculous Hurricane Isabel affair which culminated in an abbreviated tie) and won 11-2, and so Joe Torre chose the nightcap to spotlight his September callups. The Columbus Clipper connection included starting pitcher Jorge DePaula, catcher Michel Hernandez, first baseman Fernando Seguignol (the 2003 International League MVP), shortstop Erick Almonte and third baseman/quarterback-to-be Drew Henson. Playing second base and making his 2003 debut as a Yankee was Luis Sojo, possibly the first player to participate in a team's Old-Timer's Day game and an official game in the same season. Hell, Sojo had actually managed DePaula and Almone at Norwich last season. Only DH Jason Giambi and rightfielder Ruben Sierra represented the Yankee regulars.

Due to a scheduling mixup, we arrived late at the ballgame, finding that Sierra had put the Yanks up 2-0 with a first-inning home run. But that quickly became a sidelight to what we were about to witness. As I scrambled to catch up on my scorecard, I realized that with seventh batter Deivi Cruz leading off the third and a zero in the hits column, DePaula had been perfect through two innings. When he put the O's down 1-2-3 in the third, my butterflies kicked in.

I have been to a handful short of a hundred professional ballgames in my lifetime, from A ball in Walla Walla to the deciding game of a World Series at Yankee Stadium, and I have never seen a no-hitter in person (TV is another story). Three sorta-close calls stand out. A few months after he pitched his perfect game in '98, I saw David Wells take another perfect line into the seventh against the Oakland A'. It was broken up by a blooper to right by Jason Giambi, to whom Boomer gestured thanks immediately afterwards. Once in a season was enough excitement for a man of his carriage, apparently. Two years later, Bartolo Colon, pitching for the Cleveland Indians, a took a no-no into the eighth against the Yanks. I'd just about reached the tipping point in my day's rooting allegiance -- I'd have given it up for Colon in the ninth, but Luis Polonia beat me to the punch with a one-out single. At a Brooklyn Cyclones game a couple of summers ago, I watched two A-ball teams slash away in hopes of getting an official game played before a torrential rainstorm hit. Cyclones starter Jason Scobie took a no-hitter into the seventh before it was broken up, and shortly after that an ominous-looking black sky broke open, washing the rest of the game away.

That's as close as I've gotten in person, unless one counts showing up at a ballpark fifteen hours after one's been thrown. But anytime I see three no-hit innings on the board, I begin taking inventory: oxygen mask, check; defibrillator, check.

With the tantalizing possibility of a no-hitter growing ever more apparent to the crowd of 45,000+, the next three innings breezed by, with neither team getting a hit. The Yanks kept popping up on the first or second pitch against Rodrigio Lopez, who got through the third inning in five pitches, the fourth in ten, the fifth in six. Meanwhile, DePaula continued slicing through the Baltimore lineup like a hot knife through butter. The O's were hacking; every batter seemed to be hitting out of an 0-2 hole. It wasn't as though Baltimore had matched the Yanks by fielding AAA ballplayers -- most of their frontliners, with the exception of injured Melvin Mora, were in the lineup. The kid DePaula was looking mighty impressive in his first major-league start.

The tension continued to build. With two outs in the fifth, DePaula fell behind 3-0 to B.J. Surhoff. He came back to 3-2 before Surhoff hit a long fly ball to rightfield that looked like trouble. But a hustling Sierra caught the ball while backing into the wall. The crowd erupted, but except for one loudmouth, nobody within earshot used the words "perfect" or "no-hitter." Andra (my gal) needed no explanation as to what was going on; she was as cool as a little Fonzie when it came to the superstitions surrounding such affairs.

With one out in the sixth, pudgy DH Jack Cust worked a walk off of DePaula as the crowd groaned, its shot at perfection gone. But the young Yankee hurler recovered, striking out catcher Geronimo Gil looking and then retiring Jerry Hairston Jr. on a fly ball. Still no hits.

Luis Matos struck out to start the seventh, DePaula's sixth K on the night. He came within a strike of victim number seven, Larry Bigbie. But the Oriole leftfielder instead lashed a ball up the middle that glanced off of DePaula's glove and eluded second baseman Sojo, ending the no-hit bid. Joe Torre was instantly out of the dugout and on the mound, calling to the bullpen. Torre later explained that he wouldn't have let DePaula complete the game given how long the rookie had been idle. But that wasn't known at the time -- all the crowd knew was that despite the makeshift lineup, this kid had given them a thrill, and so they gave one back in the form of a raucous standing ovation.

After things calmed down, lefty Gabe White got the Yanks out of trouble with two ground balls to end the seventh seemed to cruise as he retired the first two batters in the eighth. But Cust, the pest, singled, and Jeff Nelson came on in relief to face pinch-hitter Pedro Swann. As has been all too common, Nelson couldn't find the plate too well, and he walked Swann on a 3-2 pitch. He fell behind Hairston, who hit one to deep right-center, where "centerfielder" Karim Garcia took forever to get to the ball, apparently stopping to ask directions from an usher. By the time Garcia relayed the ball to Seguignol, both runs had scored and Hairston had rounded third, trying for an inside-the-park home run. Seguignol's relay to Hernandez had Hairston by 10 feet, and when the little punk tried to run through the Buddha-bellied catcher, he was flicked away like an insect. Still, Nelson had surrendered the tying run, depriving DePaula of a victory.

Hernandez got his own milestone in the bottom of the eighth, strokign a single to right for his first major-league hit, then yielding to pinch-runner Alfonso Soriano. Almonte sacrificed him to second, but the Yanks couldn't convert. They threatened again in the ninth, with pinch-hitter Bernie Williams pounding a leadoff double. Seguignol, the next hitter, tapped one back to pitcher B.J. Ryan, whose throw to first was bobbled by Surhoff. First base ump Ed Montague called Seguignol out, blowing the call as the crowd howled. But after a visit from Torre, home plate ump Brian Gorman overruled Montague, and Seguignol took first. One out and a new pitcher later, a Juan Rivera grounder confused shortstop Deivi Cruz, as Williams staying put long enough to prevent Cruz from turning two, then advanced to third. Nick Johnson pinch-hit for Henson, but flew out to end the inning.

Facing Chris Hammond, Surhoff led off the tenth with a grounder that Almonte couldn't stop and reached on the error -- but at a price. Surhoff apparently pulled a groin muscle in the process and he was escorted off by the Oriole trainer, yielding to pinch-runner Jose Morban. After a sacrifice, Tim Raines Jr. walked, and then catcher Robert Machado slapped a grounder to left, scoring the go-ahead run.

The Yanks threatened again in the tenth. John Flaherty led off with a single and one out later, took third on an Enrique Wilson single. But Oriole closer Jorge Julio struck out both Sierra and Williams to preserve the 3-2 victory. Still, given that the division had already been clinched and that the crowd had been treated to a special performance, this was one loss that hardly hurt at all.

• • •

The weekend's Yankee games continued the goosebump theme. Saturday was Roger Clemens' final regular-season start, and possibly his final start in Yankee Stadium, and the Rocket was up to the task. He didn't dominate, but he didn't give the Orioles too much ground either, allowing only three hits and two runs over six innings. Juan Rivera backed the Rocket's cause with two homers and a 4-for-4 day, continuing his torrid run (a 1215 OPS September).

But the payoff came in the seventh inning. Torre sent Clemens out to do his warmups, then ceremoniously removed the pitcher to an incredible ovation. As the Rocket walked off the field, he pointed to the crowd and then to his heart, then emerged from the dugout for a curtain call and tipped his cap. The entire Oriole duguout joined in the ovation, a classy gesture which harkened back to the Yanks paying tribute to Cal Ripken Jr. when he ended his consecutive game streak against them.

It was a touching moment that had me flashing back to another Clemens ovation at the Stadium, one for which I'd been a part: Game Four of the 1999 World Series. Clemens was the new kid on the block, having joined the Yanks in that controversial trade for David Wells which shook up the defending champions as they opened spring training. I'd jeered the Rocket several times that season as he put up a fat 4.60 ERA to go with his meager 14 wins, and scorned him as he'd been pounded at Fenway Park during the ALCS. But on this night, with the Yanks up 3-0 in games against the Atlanta Braves, the Rocket's first World Series ring was within his grasp, and he did the job with zeal. Clemens pitched 7.2 innings and left with a 3-0 lead and two men on, and when Joe Torre pulled him it, the Stadium shook. It didn't stop shaking for the next hour and a half. Mariano Rivera extricated the Yanks from a jam (which Jeff Nelson had aided), Jim Leyritz homered in the bottom of the inning, the Yanks closed the deal in the top of the ninth, and suddenly 56,782 people were piling on each other and singing "New York, New York" at the top of their lungs. Now THAT was an ovation.

The one on Saturday couldn't quite approach that, but it was a true feel-good moment for a pitcher who's been anything but touchy-feely throughout his career. But any man with 309 wins, 4099 strikeouts, and six Cy Young Awards under his belt deserves a moment like that.

Clemens' reward for victory number 310 was a job promotion: acting manager for the Yanks' final game of the season. With Joe Torre offering his "suggestions," the job of writing out the lineup card and making strategic decisions was left to Clemens, with Andy Pettitte as his bench coach, and MIke Mussina as his pitching coach.

The big story of this day was another big man in search of a milestone: David Wells going for career win number 200 in what might be his last start as a Yankee, on a mound which he has owned like no other: 44-18 with a 3.69 ERA on the Yankee Stadium hill in his 17-year career.

I wanted this one for Boomer, and I felt nervous from the moment the TV cameras showed the thick gray clouds overhead. Surely the gods couldn't take what might be Boomer's last start as a Yankee away, leaving him stranded at 199, could they? Truth be told, my unsettled stomach had as much to do with the previous night's carousing, but as I was lying prone on the futon in front of the TV, rehydrating my broken body, a realization hit me: there will be no more casual baseball moments beyond this point; it's all butterflies from here onward.

Wells fell behind 1-0 in the second inning, but Alfonso Soriano drove an Eric DuBose pitch into the netting in leftfield for a two-run homer in the third, and the Fat Man rolled, allowing only three more hits. But Boomer wasn't without drama. In the fifth inning, as the rain started to fall and the urgency to make it offical increased, an object on the field required a groundskeeper to come out of the bullpen. The cameras on him in closeup, Wells unleashed a torrent of four-letter words into his glove before finally throwing his first pitch and getting back to business.

In the top of the eighth, manager Clemens sent in a defensive reinforcement in the form of third baseman Aaron Boone, who replaced Drew Henson (who earlier in the game had stroked his first big-league hit, something which the Yankees hope will wow his offensive linemen in some Houston huddle next August).

The piece de resistance came with two outs in the seventh, as manager Clemens came to remove Wells. The pitcher stood frozen on the mound as Clemens neared, incredulous at what was about to happen. Finally, he began to smile, even a chuckle, as the Rocket arrived. Clemens gave Wells a hug while simultaneously signalling for a righthander and Wells departed to another long, thunderous ovation, cap in hand. For all of the controversy that has swirled around the bulky pitcher throughout his career in pinstripes, the man's reverence for the Stadium and his bond with the fans made this a moment to savor. If Boomer is indeed going -- the Yanks hold a $6 million option on the 40-year-old injury-prone management-tweaking Fat Man, who may wind up in his native San Diego instead -- his exit was fitting.

The matter of the ballgame and preservation of Wells' gem was still an open question, given the state of the Yankee bullpen. But Jeff Nelson, looking chastened after blowing Jorge DePaula's milestone on Friday, came in to face Tim Raines Jr., and the matchup wasn't even close. Think wolf against fluffy little bunny rabbit. Nelson broke off three nasty sliders that Little Rock could do nothing but look at, striking out without taking the bat off his shoulder to end the inning. Mariano Rivera shut the door in the ninth, and Wells had his 200th. Clemens even sat in Joe Torre's chair to field questions for the postgame reporters, and the Yanks wrapped up a 101-win regular season with a stylish smile.

• • •

Jeebus Cripes, that was a long post. If you're still reading, you know that the playoffs begin on Tuesday. I'll be at Yankee Stadium for Game One against the Minnesota Twins in the afternoon, and I can hardly wait.

The Twins are 0-13 against the Yanks over the past two seasons, and they face Mike Mussina, who's 20-2 with a 2.94 ERA in 24 starts against them in his career. But only a damn fool would count Minnesota out. This is a different team from the one the Yanks beat up on early -- Shannon Stewart has catalyzed their offense since coming over from the Blue Jays for Bobby Kielty, and the starting pitching has stabilized behind burgeoning ace Johan Santana. Statheads pointed to manager Ron Gardenhire's refusal to add Santana to the rotation as a sign of his ineptitude and use his 11-2 record and 2.86 ERA as a starter to prove their point. But Santana's early-season toiling in the bullpen limited the 24-year-old's total innings, increasing the likelihood that he'd be fresh for October. Ask the Seattle Mariners about that topic sometime.

I'll take a closer look at the playoffs in the next day or two. In the meantime, check out my man The Twins Geek (a/k/a John Bonnes) for an in-depth -- and occasionally cheeky -- preview of the Yanks-Twins series. And if he doesn't throw enough numbers at you, check out Aaron Gleeman's analysis as well.

Right now I'm looking forward to savoring the whole October experience, whether or not the Yanks can climb back to the top of the heap. It's all butterflies and from here, and I wouldn't have it any other way.