The Futility Infielder

I've seen a lot in the ten years I've been going to ballgames in the Bronx. Everything from the historic (the 1999 World Series clincher, and a few other Fall Classics) to the spectacular (another Derek Jeter throw from deep in the hole, an improbable late-inning rally) to the heartwarming (the ovation Luis Sojo received upon his return to the Yanks in 2000) to the forgettable (the bombing of Mike Jerzembeck) to the bizzare (a Hasidic Jew falling out of the leftfield stands and onto the playing field). With all of the success the Yankees have had over that timespan, at times I run the risk of feeling a bit jaded.

Tuesday night was not one of those nights.

As my pal Nick and I sized up our seats upon entering the playing area -- Tier Box MVP, upper deck between home plate and the Yankees' on-deck circle, a great view -- we recounted one of those memorable games at the Stadium. Bartolo Colon, the Angels' starter on this night but then pitching for the Indians, took a no-hitter into the eighth inning before settling for a one-hit shutout, the closest I've ever been to a no-no among several close calls.

Looking at the stat sheet as the pregame festivities began (something about Randy Johnson and Derek Jeter receiving the Montgomery Burns Award for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Excellence), I noted that the one Yankee who'd had significant success against Colon was Alex Rodriguez, 13-for-37 with three homers in his career. With this morsel of information in mind, Nick picked apart Joe Torre's decision to bat Rodriguez fifth in the lineup, down from his usual number two slot.

Yes, officer, I swear this conversation took place.

By the time Rodriguez came up to face Colon in the first inning, the Yanks had two men aboard; Jeter had drawn a leadoff walk, and Hideki Matsui eked a two-out pass as well. Rodriguez went to 2-2 against Colon, then absolutely crushed a ball to left-center for a three-run homer and the obligatory curtain call, a great start to the night. As if he could perhaps will the ball back, Colon stood facing the departure point of the blast for a good thirty seconds before turning around and accepting a new ball from catcher Jose Molina. Meanwhile, Nick and I shared a laugh about the reputed dying words of former Boston Braves manager George Stallings: "Oh, those bases on balls."

Though the Angels had clawed for a pair of runs off of Carl Pavano in the top of the third, the Yankee crowd was still basking in the glow of that three-run jack when Rodriguez came to bat in the bottom half of the inning. Again, Colon had issued a walk to precede the at-bat, this time to Gary Sheffield, while somewhere Stallings rolled over in his grave. On Colon's second pitch to Rodriguez, the Yankee third baseman drilled another shot, this time to leftfield. No doubt about it, a two-run homer and another curtain call. Given Rodriguez's early-season struggles as well as those of the team, it had to feel good.

Rodriguez is a supremely talented player, but he arrived in the Bronx last year carrying more baggage than even most great players can bear, and the Samsonite continues to multiply: the Quarter Billion Dollar Man, averaging 52 homers a year from the comfort of last place in the AL West while his former team rolled to a record-setting regular season the first year he was gone... nearly a Red Sock but for financial complications amid a ridiculously public trade negotiation, enduring a slow start in pinstripes and some early-season failures in the clutch, then the infamous slap in the ALCS Game Six, followed by a winter of having to listen to the sorest winners in baseball history -- guys who couldn't carry his jockstrap if they were cycling on steroids -- badmouth him about not being a "true" Yankee... give me a fucking break.

It all sold papers, many of them by a company with a vested interest in the Yanks' chief rivals.... hmmm. As if Rodriguez's selflessly yielding his position upon being traded to the Yankees, picking up a new one and playing stellar defense, wasn't worth something. As if putting up stats that once the desert air was let out of them weren't too dissimilar from his previous accomplishments, hitting "only" 36 homers to a .286/.375/.512 tune, wasn't worth something. As if his one-out double, gutsy steal of third base, and heads-up jaunt home on a wild pitch to score the series-winning run against the Twins in the AL Divisional Series wasn't proof that the man can come through in the clutch.

It's easy to take the excellence of a superstar like Rodriguez for granted, especially when he's not shooting exploding fireworks out of his butt while helping little old ladies from burning buildings, hitting 600-foot home runs and diving into the stands to save babies from devouring lead paint. Note the cynicism with which his actual heroism in Boston was viewed. Perhaps that's why it's so refreshing to be not-so-subtly reminded of the man's superstardom with a tour de force performance to such as the one he was already putting up after two at-bats on Tueesday night. On a good day -- and this was shaping up to be a very good day so far -- Alex Rodriguez just might be the best ballplayer in the world.

"I think Rodriguez's name is tattooed on Colon's butt at this point," I announced as curtain call number two died down. "He owns the guy." Indeed, everybody seemed to own Colon, who was laboring against practically every batter; A-Rod's homer came on his 58th pitch of the night, and it was getting late early for him. He walked Jason Giambi after a nine-pitch struggle, but escaped the inning when Jorge Posada went down looking at strike three.

Colon's defense let him down in the fourth. Second baseman Chone Figgins mishandled a hot shot by Andy Phillips (drawing his second starting assignment in a row and having just missed a home run in his previous at-bat), and after Derek Jeter singled two batters later, Figgins made another error on a fielder's choice that could have ended the inning with a double-play but instead allowed a run. One out later, Matsui drew another walk, setting the table, and the stage, for Rodriguez.

"What if he hits a grand slam?" Nick asked. "If he hits a grand slam, I'm going home," I laughed. "I'll have seen everything." That was utter bullshit; if he hit a third, we both knew I'd be staying to the bitter end in search of number four.

Colon had thrown 94 pitches by the time he faced A-Rod for the third time, but when he fell behind 3-1 in the count, he mustered every last reserve of oomph and blew a 97 mph heater by Rodriguez. I reminded Nick that Colon was one of the few pitchers who could actually dial it up to triple-digits as Rodriguez fouled one off to run up a full count.

The next pitch will probably be replayed so long as A-Rod's in pinstripes. Rodriguez drove one to deep centerfield, just to the left of the 408 foot sign as the crowd's roar reached a crescendo. "Go! Go! Hoooly shit!" I heard myself shouting. Nick was even more unhinged. "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" he shrieked, jumping up and down and flailing his arms. It was a sight to behold, and we were hardly the only ones struggling to keep it together. The pandemonium in the stadium hadn't died down by the time I finished shading in all of them pretty little diamonds on my scorecard. Three homers and nine RBI on the night, and it was only the fourth inning. That was it for Colon, of course, and as he departed, I couldn't help but feel we'd exacted a bit of vengeance for that evening nearly five years ago. So long, sucker!

With the Yanks now holding a 10-2 lead, the only real suspense was whether Rodriguez could do it again. As Giambi flew out to end the inning, I began counting by threes on my scorecard, then relayed my findings: he'd have one at-bat, of course, but to get a second one, the Yanks would need to put five baserunners on. They got two in the next inning, but one was erased by a double play. The plot thickened.

Around this time, I put in a call to Alex Belth, to whom I'd offered the ticket Nick had used. "You shoulda been here, man," I told him as he answered the phone, and I could tell the wheels were turning as he tried to place who it was. "Oh, you fucking... you don't think that I'm not thinking that..." he began, off on a very blue streak. I let him vent, then we had a good laugh and he filled me in on the perspective for the home viewers, reliving the fateful at-bat. He'd missed the third curtain call, as it coincided with the pitching change, but I assured him that the Yankee Stadium crowd had shown the love, even chanting "A-Rod! A-Rod! A-Rod!"

A-Rod got his fourth chance an inning later, coming up with one out and men on first and second. We'd been hoping it would be with nobody on, giving him a shot at what I termed a royal flush -- homering with nobody, one, two, and three on base. "If he homers, I'm gonna go streaking in a conga line," one of the two guys behind me said to a fellow fan. "Count me in," I declared, sure that this threat was even more idle than the last one.

Also Sprach Zarathustra (the 2001: A Space Odyssey theme) preceded the at-bat, and the crowd gave Rodriguez a standing ovation as he stepped into the box. He didn't homer, but down 0-2 in the count, he lined one sharply up the middle for an RBI, his tenth on the night. No shame there, and an impressive save of an at-bat to boot. When Giambi walked immediately following (the generous Angels' staff handed out seven passes on the night), it clinched one more chance for a fourth home run, though throngs of fans made their way towards the exit, unwilling to wait it out in this 12-3 laugher.

He didn't get it, of course, lining out to centerfield to lead off the bottom of the eighth and receiving yet another standing ovation from a thinning but nonetheless grateful crowd. From there the only suspense was whether rookie reliever Colter Bean, who'd pitched a shaky but effective 1-2-3 eighth inning as his major-league debut, would return for the ninth. He did, allowing a run and prompting considerable activity in the Yankee pen, but the young sidearmer survived walking the first two hitters to strike out two of the final three to cap things off.

Rodriguez became the first Yankee to drive in 10 runs or more in Yankee Stadium, and only the 11th major-leaguer to do so anywhere, a single RBI off of fellow Yankee Tony Lazzeri's AL record and two off of the major league record, held by Jim Bottomley, circa 1924, and Mark Whiten, circa 1993. His three-homer night, not to mention his box score line (5 3 4 10) was something I've never seen, sweeping aside any trace of ennui I had brought to the Bronx and giving me yet another set of special memories. Damn, I love this game.