2012 AL Championship Series- Yankees at Tigers, Game 4 (Redux)

yaaawn….

After waiting out last night’s rain delay (Cardinals over Giants 3 – 1) and postponement I find myself sleepier, less enthused, and with very little to add.  At least we’ll get to see Lola again.

Though when it rains, it pours (have I ever told you that putting a few grains of white rice (not Minute, but Uncle Ben’s is ok) at the bottom of your salt shaker will keep your salt clump free even in high humidity?).  Headlining what little news there is (same line up, same starters) is this interesting factoid- if the series travels back to the Bronx they won’t get a travel day to rest. This means we are seeing CC Sabathia for the last time this series and perhaps for the year unless they can win 3 straight without him.

Hmm, maybe I should have made that a happier story.  Auto Bailout!

In retrospect, Red Sox lucked out on A-Rod

Posted by Matt Pepin, Boston Globe Staff

October 17, 2012 11:03 AM

But at least Rodriguez is preparing for the worst. According to published reports in New York, Rodriguez was flirting with Treacy at Yankee Stadium during the final innings of Game 1, acquiring her phone number via a ballboy courier in a 6-4 New York loss during which Rodriguez went 1 for 3 with a strikeout.

A-Rod Benched Again, With Granderson This Time

By NOAH TRISTER AP Baseball Writer

DETROIT October 18, 2012

“We will go forward. Alex will go forward,” Yankees general manager Brian Cashman said before Game 4 was postponed because of a forecast of heavy rain. The game was rescheduled for Thursday.

“That doesn’t mean that he’s done, that he’s finished, that he is not capable. He is still a big threat, but for whatever reason right now we are adjusting to what we are seeing,” he said.

Whether the Yankees keep him on the bench or put him in another postseason game, “it doesn’t mean by doing so we’re not going to have to deal with legitimate questions,” Cashman said.

“That’s all for another day,” he said. “All we are concentrating on is the here and now and what is best for us today.”

Junior League Games will be carried on TBS, Senior on Faux.

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    • on 10/19/2012 at 00:23
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    • on 10/19/2012 at 00:23
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    • on 10/19/2012 at 00:28
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    • on 10/19/2012 at 00:28
    • on 10/19/2012 at 00:30
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    Well, he’s at bat anyway.

    In for Ibanez.

    • on 10/19/2012 at 00:31

    He’ll stay in the game. Smyly is a left handed pitcher.

    CBS commentators are optimist idiots

    • on 10/19/2012 at 00:32
    • on 10/19/2012 at 00:32
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    • on 10/19/2012 at 00:33

    doing the digest at dd.

    • on 10/19/2012 at 00:42
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    • on 10/19/2012 at 00:53
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    • on 10/19/2012 at 00:56
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    • on 10/19/2012 at 01:33

    with the Yankees’ pitching staff.  

    • on 10/19/2012 at 01:34
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    • on 10/19/2012 at 02:03
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    The Outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:

    The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.

    And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,

    A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

    A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest

    Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;

    They thought, if only Casey could get but a whack at that –

    We’d put up even money, now, with Casey at the bat.

    But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,

    And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;

    So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,

    For there seemed but little chance of Casey’s getting to the bat.

    But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,

    And Blake, the much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball;

    And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,

    There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

    Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;

    It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;

    It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,

    For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

    There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place;

    There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile on Casey’s face.

    And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,

    No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Casey at the bat.

    Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;

    Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.

    Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,

    Defiance gleamed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip.

    And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,

    And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.

    Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-

    “That ain’t my style,” said Casey. “Strike one,” the umpire said.

    From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,

    Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.

    “Kill him! Kill the umpire!” shouted someone on the stand;

    And its likely they’d a-killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

    With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone;

    He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;

    He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;

    But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, “Strike two.”

    “Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;

    But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.

    They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,

    And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.

    The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;

    He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.

    And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,

    And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.

    Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;

    The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,

    And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;

    But there is no joy in Mudville – mighty Casey has struck out.

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