Girardi Had the Right Guy

(Disclaimer: This Yankees rant may not be suitable for all audiences)

How do you know you’re making a stupid move by changing pitchers in a playoff game?  Well, let’s see.  Your first hint should have been toying with the idea of taking out the cat who was throwing strikes, and mowing down batters.  Your second hint should have been when your pitching coach tried to tackle you before you reached the top of the dugout steps to make the call to the bullpen.  Your third hint should have been Jeter looking at you, and readjusting himself when you called the infield onto the mound to take the ball from the guy whose success made you nervous.  What makes a manager want to change pitchers when the dude on the mound is dealin’ like that chap who fleeced you at the Blackjack table in Dirty Vegas?  Why in the holy hell would you take out the aforementioned hard strike throwing guy, to bring in a nervous, wild guy who is also a right hander?  The critiquing of this move could go on forever but it would be pointless…

Well, I’ll tell you what.  Making points is less annoying than sitting idly by and not bitching about something you have absolutely no control over.  This must be what Cain felt like when he realized he was Able to kill his brother over the fruit they stole from that nude couple.  Hopefully, this mistake won’t have to be paired up with another one of the same level of stupidity and ignorance, and put on some big lost ark to insure its survivability or some shit.  If I see Charlton Heston in the stands wearing a God’s Children’s hat tonight, I’m going to cancel my NAACP membership.

You’ve got God’s Children by the throat, and you release your grip like the first time you took a leak after a snowball fight.  Jeter, A-Rod, Damon, and Posada played the home run card, and you proceed to make decisions that make observers wonder if you’re trying to get another piece pulled off a cardboard female in the locker room.  David Robertson was throwing nasty gas when he came in late; it smelled like an overturned Kit-Mo when he was on the mound.  God’s Children had squandered more opportunities to win than the Buffalo Bills in the 90’s.  A pharmacist in the stands had already came up with a prescription drug for futile dysfunction – Futilias I believe it is called.  If the futility doesn’t last long enough to win in 9 innings, then you should consult another manager.

David Robertson just looked like a lanky mofo who was confident in his stuff, and had no problem taking the mound and layin’ it all on the line.  If he was going to lose, he was going to make God’s Children take it from him.  It was a true struggle between Good (Yankees) & Evil (God’s Children).  Robertson retired the first two offspring of the Lord in the bottom of the 11th, and all signs pointed to the Yankees getting out of the inning unscathed. But then, like the wrong answer on a pregnancy test, it happened. Girardi changed pitchers.

The video replay showed Girardi consult some type of three-ring binder prior to running out to the mound, and taking the ball away from Robertson.  Maybe the pages were off kilter, like they are for 95% of the three-ring binder-using community, so he gave up turning them before finding the information he was really looking for.  Or, maybe he found it and just can’t read.  Nah.  None of those theories are correct. You know why?  The guy he brought in, Alfredo Aceves, had never faced that no-name sumbitch God’s Children brought up to the plate.  This guy was red-headed, wiry, and – if my memory serves you correctly – had a sex offender beard.  He looked liked the guy you see in the paper after one of those milk carton ads pays off.  I think I saw him wearing a raincoat outside of Chuck E. Cheese last week.  He may not be a hit with parents - or boys/girls over the age of puberty -  but he made a bunch of God’s Children’s fans happier than a holy water enema tonight.

The few pitches Aceves threw before being Gamorrahed were more high and outside than the fools in the parking lot of a Phish show.  He looked as nervous as a long-tailed cat on methamphetamine in a room full of easy lift rocking chairs.  In the words of my soon-to-be retired and nutty Yankee fan father, “His butt was so tight, you couldn’t shove a hair pin up it.”  By the look on his face, you could tell he knew bringing him in was a dumb move too; so it was just a matter of time before God’s Children figured it out, and made this self-propelling prophecy come true.  And it’s not like the guy pulled one of those broken bat, special olympics-type singles to win it either.  This fool hit the damn ball off the wall, and the Yankee’s outfielder nearly brained himself on the wall trying to make up for Girardi’s stupidity.  Aceves just stood there and looked dumber than Dumb or Dumber.  Girardi looked around like a guy who wanted to make sure he covered the spread.

If I were any angrier and less rational about something I have absolutely no control over, I’d be exactly who I am. I’m a Yankees fan and this is how we lose it – wasn’t that a Montel Williams song?  For the record, I believe the Yankees should lose 4 straight games now to teach Girardi a lesson.  I’ve all but given up, and decided this isn’t their year in the span of about an hour.  By tomorrow, my stance will have softened, but not by much.  The only thing that can bring me back to normal Yankeedom is a win, so I hope God’s Children play like hell tonight.