Take A-Trip into A-Rod's A-Future!

If it's an even year, everyone hates A-Rod and he's only 2nd in the AL in OPS instead of MVP, so it's no surprise that here in New York, no one is talking about the Red Sox. Double Play-Rod is the phrase du jour.

So I'd love to talk more about what an enjoyable game yesterday's victory was, from its rekindling my love affair with Coco Crisp (timely bloop hitting, clever and incredibly daring baserunning to score from 2nd on an infield single, something I've never seen before and something Coco had to be thinking of at just one glance at the ol' Dancing Mustachioed Bear there at 1st base), Justin Masterson (one thing he can do is induce the ground ball), Hideki Okajima (the precision-thrown curve he struck his fellow Hideki out with was a BALLsy pitch on a 3-2 count), and Terry Francona (for reshuffling the bullpen and putting Delcarmen into the Aardsma role, the wisdom of which was promptly rewarded with two walks and a single).

Yes, I'd love to. But when in Rome, act like the Romans. When in Brooklyn, we contemplate all the nicknames A-Rod's stupid nickname has spawned, and what may be next. Yes, this is Alex Rodriguez, past and future, two or so syllables at a time.



Babe-Rod

A-Child

A-Kid

A-Rod

A-Fraud (say the Mariners fans as he leaves for the $$$)

A-Yawn (the collective impact, in wins, of his Texas time)

Gay-Rod (Alex gets to make his first trips to Boston, Fenway fan base descends accordingly with A-Rod has AIDS t-shirts, I roll my eyes and open another bottle of Knob Creek)

Stray-Rod (she's kinda hideous except in a generic blonde sense, too)

Hey!-Rod (when this bullshit went down)

A-God (my friend Nick's name for him last season, fully justified; he was then promptly struck down by a bolt of lightning and A-Rod promptly sucked in another Yankees ALDS exit)

Double Play-Rod

Alimony-Rod

A-Bawd? (Alex Rodriguez's number found in Tampa madam's little red book; no charges filed.)

Overpaid-Rod! (NY Post headline at the conclusion of 2009 season, when he only hits, gasp, 32 HRs)

A-Mob (Yankee Stadium crowd attacks the field after Alex Rodriguez grounds out to end the last game of the season, putting the Yanks out of the playoffs for the third straight season. Alex survives with minor injuries, multiple foreign objects embedded in various locations.)

A-Slob (34-year-old Rodriguez shows up to spring training looking like Ray King. Has a resurgent power year in spite of "Fatty fatty fat fat!" taunts league-wide)

A-Hob(bled) (severe knee injury)

Kra-Rod (NY Post headline as "long-time good friends" Lenny Kravitz and Cynthia Rodriguez are wed. Editor who came up with this headline promptly fired.)

Blue Jay-Rod (or Ray-Rod, L.A.-Rod, Padre-Rod, or whatever pasture of the moment he is put out to spend his last years in)

Hall of Fame-Rod

A-Sob (In an interview with the New York Daily PostNews-Gazette-Shopper, Alex admits to not feeling his legacy has been appreciated. Interview followed with seven pages of scathing editorials making fun of him; rest of the paper, as is traditional for Daily PostNews-Gazette-Shopper, consists of hardcore pornography.)

Slay-Rod (Imagine your own tawdry murder fantasy.)

A-Corpse

Back from break...a little late.

It has been a long time, barflies, but June became the month I squandered most of my vacation days while working double time at the road office to make up for it, so sadly, the ol' barangrill went a bit to seed. I'm also sorry to come back to this state of affairs.



Bullpens and relief pitchers are funny things. The relievers so critical to 2004's success, especially in the extra innings of the middle of the ALCS, fell flat on their faces in 2005, in no small part because Keith Foulke's knees died for our sins during said series.

The seemingly boffo (TM, Variety) Eric Gagne trade didn't work because...well, there's a myriad of reasons best summarized in the famed phrase "Gagne sucks" (or "Gagne suces" in his native tongue), but apparently saving meaningless games for a sub .500 team and holding leads for a World Series contenders are bananas and pomegranates.

And without even touching upon Jon Papelbon's uptick in blown saves, because he still looks quite right, it's apparent that Hideki Okajima's present fall from form has hurt the team immensely, because Manny Delcarmen has come into the set-up role, and Manny Delcarmen is no '07 Okajima. No, no, no, no.

Last night, in a game a frustrated Sox team really could have used to stay within 1.5 games of the best team in baseball/first place Rays (and no, I still can't believe I typed that phrase), the Sox got the best of the Floridians in the Inefficiency-Off between Daisuke Matuszaka and Scott Kazmir (5 IP a piece, 4 runs for Scott, 1 for Daisuke). That's the good part.

Then came the odd but not wholly surprising appearance of Hideki Okajima in the 6th inning. Tito gets 3 points for putting him into a clean inning (Okajima's ERA is deceptive, since he's allowing more inherited runners to score than even Mike Timlin did in a similarly deceptive [recurring theme] 2005 season) but -5 points for the earlyness of this. Unless the plan was to pitch Okajima 2 innings, I just don't think he's the 6th inning pitcher. Hansen or Aardsma, anyone?

And then came the 7th.



And there went the lead. Craig Hansen ultimately took the loss because in a reversal of order, Hansen relieved for Delcarmen (supposed new 8th inning man, in for an ineffective Aardsma, who probably shoulda been pitching the 6th...) because Delcarmen could get no one out. Six pitchers in all, essentially the whole bullpen minus Papelbon, got into this game, with only Javier Lopez and Okajima somewhat undisgraced. And there's your game.

Four of the five losses the Medias Rojas have currently strung together are of the one-run variety, but although the sabemetrician's maxim is that one-run games are something of a matter of luck, these particular losses have either been caused by

a) Blow-ups by the setup men, or
b) Games made close by not-quite-successful 9th inning rallies. In other words, the sort you can't expect to win.

What it all adds up to is that it feels like it's 2005 all over again to me. My hope is that Big Bartolo comes back good and healthy, so we can throw a new set-up man into the mix. Here's a hint who: newspaper headlines can't help but call him Masterful.



And, oh yeah, in schadenfreude news, the above happened. A few things to note:

1) Cynthia and Alex's children's names: Natasha Alexander and Ella Alexander. Want a son much, Alex? That's not naming, that's branding. The only thing possibly dumber would be if both the Rodriguez girls' names had the initials HR in them. But even that arrogant stupidity wouldn't be original.

2) Cynthia may have left Alex for Lenny Kravitz. Alex might be shacking up with (swallows a small bit of throw-up) Madonna. This would mark the first time a marriage broke up and the shattered pieces both went to (considerably) older mates. And as far as Madonna is concerned, this would again mean that, if you believe Jose's tales of hooking Alex up with a PED dealer, A-Rod is just following Jose Canseco's lead. Years after the expiration date, no less. (Shudders again.)

Get A-Good lawyer, A-Rod!

(Shudders again at bad joke.)

(Insert some headline involving "Masterful" or somesuch variation.)

Masterful. Mastered. Mastering. Master of the Universe. Mastermastermaster.

Although apparently newspaper headlines will speak of his mastery every time he wins regardless of caliber of start because, you know, name puns, Justin Masterson was very good, albeit with a walk or two more than necessary, and unlike last time, the bullpen was good enough to hold that lead, albeit barely.

Okajima wasn't all there, but getting the second out by strikeout (with a runner on third) was almost as important as Papelbon later getting the third out. (Coincidentally, by strikeout; it's intriguing to see what he can do against righties with creative deployment of this reintroduced slider.) Gil Meche was pretty great, but one inning capped with a Lugo sac fly and a Coco double was enough. And that was that. A losable game won. Nice.

Bartolo returns tonight. No idea what to expect, but at least we aren't exactly throwing him to the...Rangers?...his first start out. I do expect a Craig Hansen sighting at some point, which will both delight me and (if it doesn't come with at least a three-run lead) chill me to my very core.

Most interesting series against the Royals I can recall in recent times, I'll say that much.

Oh, Master of Puppets. Forgot that one. There's a keeper, o weary editors.

GAME TWENTY-TWO: Winning streaks are fun.

Not even Dustin Pedroia's drunken Everclear-fueled incident, or Josh Beckett's sore neck, or David Pauley's...existence, can stop the Sox.

It was the third significant comeback of this six-game streak, and when one includes the mammoth comeback in a losing cause on Wednesday, it seems this team has a predilection for the dramatic. The top two of the lineup killed Angel pitching to the tune of 7-10, 4 runs, 3 RBIs, including the game winning bunt hit (Ellsbury)/ RBI double (Bushwick Dustin) combination. Add in some solid bullpen work by ol' Pizzaface Tavarez, man of shadow Okajima, Mike Timlin's one-out win (it was a big out, though), and Jon Papelbon making the baseball bleed with 99 mph stuff.



This is fun. Not so much so for the Angels, who have had the Red Sox put a hurtin' on him since at least 2004 (see above ALDS victory celebration), or maybe ever since this guy pitched for 'em. Boss Vaughn enjoys it too, maybe because the Anaheim squad jettisoned him for cash and Appier right before that championship season, maybe not. If the Angels continue their free-swinging ways, Daisuke Matsuzaka, a pitcher who has never found a strike he wasn't willing to make less strike-y, will be right at home. Keep it rollin'.

GAME EIGHTY ONE: Go outside.

Stop reading this now. Go outside. Go set off some Chinese firecrackers, or watch a hyperbolic adaptation of Japanese cartoons, or vote online for one Japanese Sox pitcher while reading about how good another one is, or even watch on TV as a Cuban, a buncha Dominicans, and a Texan are among those destroying the D'Rays. But better still, go outside and almost blow your hands off. It's your duty.

GAME EIGHTY: Eastern Influences

Celebrate a split?
With a last place team, Texas?
Sure. America!

Going to Boston
On dangerous Chinese bus.
To find soul, get drunk.

Elect Okajima.
Escobar is good, but
Oka falls with beauty.

GAMES TWENTY ONE-TWENTY THREE: You saying Jesus can't hit a curveball?

Not a bad April. Not a bad April at all, capped off as Julian Tavarez was actually really good except during a mystifying three-batter sequence to the 7-8-9 hitters (walk, walk, too wild to let Doug Mzkwhefjrkhvlitch bunt, causing Doug M. to...hit a three run homerun?) marring a solid five innings. Hideki Okajima (Oh-ka-jih-ma, not Oka-gi-ma, announcers) hasn't given up a run since his first batter of the season. Jon Papelbon hasn't given up a run this season at all. David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez (and Alex Cora?) are powering up. The Sox are 16-8 and are only starting to hit, and have their biggest division lead at the end of April ever; it isn't easy to be up by four games already, although the last time they had a three game lead, 2004, it obviously didn't last. And then they won the World Series. It worked out okay.

In New York, the question remains Joe Torre. Or does it? I miss the old Steinbrenner, the one who would have gone through three managers by now, probably Torre, Yogi Berra, and Torre again.



With no fire and brimstone coming, and with a mild desire to have the Yankees get back into contention just for the excitement of it (i.e., postpone total collapse until just after the All-Star break), I'm not sure what will keep the Yankees whole. Although their once Christ-like centerfielder went all Samson on us when he cut his hair, the Yankee pitching staff is still all about the Jesus, and nobody fucks with the Jesus. Although I have seen these subway ads tagged in all sorts of filthy ways. To revise: no one fucks with the Jesus, except in New York, where everyone fucks with the everyone.



If the Jesus plan fails, as Andy knows, there are more important things than baseball, which is good, because Jesus can't give him back his cutter, or give him another chance to protect the lead yesterday. Nor can it give the Yankees David Wells, Randy Johnson, Roger Clemens, or any other actual warm bodies to fill out their pitching staff. Nor can it give Mariano back his good stuff if he has in fact lost it.



Hmm, maybe Jesus and sports are a mismatched pairing, like Bernie Williams and a recording studio. Or maybe I just need my free brochure.