Yankees 13, Red Sox 6
It’s not often on this blog that I focus on a game that does not include the Braves, but since this game featured a starting pitcher named John Smoltz, I thought it worthy for noting. (Sorry in advance for the very long post)
Yesterday afternoon I swear I had butterflies churning in my stomach. I could not wait for the clock on my computer to say 5:00 so I could rush out of my office and catch the four up to Yankee Stadium. I was so excited I didn’t even care that I was so squashed onto the four train that I felt like one of those clowns in a Volkswagen. Tonight was the night I was going to see John Smoltz pitch. And even though it would be in a Red Sox uniform I didn’t care. What better way to watch Smoltz pitch into the sunset than against my most hated team, the New York Yankees. The win would be that much sweeter. But like many things in life, that perfect game was not meant to be.
As I made my way out of that crowded subway car, I rushed down the stairs onto River Avenue and made my way down to the bleacher entrance to get to my seat. Knowing that the bleachers begin at the top of the visitor’s bullpen, I positioned myself at the edge of section 238, a spot that gave me a great angle to the pitching mound below. I got to the Stadium so early, somewhere around 5:45 that the Red Sox seemed to have just begun their batting practice. The sun shone down upon me and I began to fell like what Edward Cullen looks in Twilight, sweaty and disgusting, completing regretting my fashion choice. I didn’t care. I didn’t care that the two boys flanked on either side of me would continuously scream “Throw me the ball” whenever a ball would get remotely close to a Red Sox player. I just didn’t care. I came here to watch John Smoltz for possibly the last time and nothing could ruin that.
The Yankees starting pitcher Joba Chamberlain descended upon right centerfield and began his warm-up routine, jogging then stretching than tossing. Cheers rained upon him as gleeful Yankee fans watched “the future” in front of their very eyes.
As Joba began getting ready, Victor Martinez, the Red Sox catcher and George Kottaras, the back-up catcher jogged out to center. The pair stretched and then began tossing, but there was still no sign of Smoltz. I waited patiently, trying not to laugh too hard at the unintelligent jeers being tossed Martinez’s way. Finally, Smoltz appeared. He calmly walked from the dugout to centerfield clearly in his own world. He barely even spoke to his teammates when he reached them and walked into the bullpen and then back onto the field ignoring any sounds around him. He started tossing, increasing the distance between himself and the bullpen catcher with every toss. It was about this time that the guys sitting in the seats I was standing in front of came and I moved back to my own seat 22 rows away.
As I stood and watched Smoltz warm-up, a weird feeling emerged. I had this feeling that Smoltz was going to be ok. I took that to mean he was going to have a solid start, maybe five innings giving up only a run or two. Not a feeling like today he’s going to pitch a no-hitter, but one that made me feel like tonight was going to be a good night.
Boxer Muhammad Ali was escorted via golf cart around the outfield of Yankee Stadium before stopping at home plate to be honored by the team. The moment reminded me of a scene just one year earlier at the Old Yankee Stadium when George Steinbrenner was carted around prior to the start of the All-Star game. Fans clapped, cheered and snapped photos. It was a cool moment to witness and unknowingly, the highlight of the night’s festivities.
Then it was time for the game to begin. Smoltz started off strong retiring three of the first four batters. His only misstep, a walk to Mark Teixeira, was quickly erased after striking out Alex Rodriguez looking. I couldn’t help but produce a quick fist pump after the out. Things would not continue to run so smoothly for Smoltz.
Smoltz began to labor in the second inning, surrendering a single to Jorge Posada and a walk to Robinson Cano. He escaped any damage after Nick Swisher singled to center. Posada, running from second on contact, inexplicably decided not to slide and was thrown out at home. Melky Cabrera followed with a line out to second and Smoltz walked off the mound without allowing an earned run.
Dustin Pedroia led off the Red Sox third with a solo homer off of Chamberlain staking Smoltz to a slim one run lead. Then the wheels started to fall off in the bottom of the inning. Johnny Damon tied things at one with a solo homerun and it began to look like Smoltz did not have his stuff. Something that became painfully obvious as the start progressed.
The Red Sox battled back in the top half of the fourth when Casey Kotchman, recently acquired from the Braves, hit a two run homerun scoring Mike Lowell. It would be the last time the Red Sox would lead the game. From that moment on, the Yankees would own Red Sox pitching and John Smotlz would not even be able to register more than one out in the Yankees 8 run fourth inning.
Smoltz would later call this start the worst of his career and as an eye witness, I wouldn’t argue. The night was one I didn’t expect. Not that I am entirely surprised that he gave up a couple of runs, but more that I wasn’t expecting to come to this painful conclusion, it’s time for Smoltzie to hang up his cleats. I am not saying this because of last night’s outing but because of the collection of outings he’s produced this year. I hate that he just doesn’t have it anymore, whatever it is. I hate seeing someone who I have idolized since I was eight not be the player I remember. A player that has battled back from Tommy John surgery; who has successfully transitioned from a starter to a closer to a starter again like no other player before him. Seeing him in a Red Sox uniform wasn’t uncomfortable, disappointing or odd. It was something I had adjusted to. Seeing him play so poorly was uncomfortable, disappointing and odd. It’s a moment that almost every player will get to, but one, as a fan, you never want to see.
Even with that written, I am glad that I saw it for myself. It allows me to finish this chapter and move onto the next in my fanhood, even if I still hold out hope that he can find a successful role with the Red Sox this season so that he can end his Hall of Fame career on a high note, whether that is as a reliever or a spot starter. He has earned that Hollywood ending, and hopefully, he’ll get it.
(Photos: PIMC)
It’s not often on this blog that I focus on a game that does not include the Braves, but since this game featured a starting pitcher named John Smoltz, I thought it worthy for noting. (Sorry in advance for the very long post)
Yesterday afternoon I swear I had butterflies churning in my stomach. I could not wait for the clock on my computer to say 5:00 so I could rush out of my office and catch the four up to Yankee Stadium. I was so excited I didn’t even care that I was so squashed onto the four train that I felt like one of those clowns in a Volkswagen. Tonight was the night I was going to see John Smoltz pitch. And even though it would be in a Red Sox uniform I didn’t care. What better way to watch Smoltz pitch into the sunset than against my most hated team, the New York Yankees. The win would be that much sweeter. But like many things in life, that perfect game was not meant to be.
As I made my way out of that crowded subway car, I rushed down the stairs onto River Avenue and made my way down to the bleacher entrance to get to my seat. Knowing that the bleachers begin at the top of the visitor’s bullpen, I positioned myself at the edge of section 238, a spot that gave me a great angle to the pitching mound below. I got to the Stadium so early, somewhere around 5:45 that the Red Sox seemed to have just begun their batting practice. The sun shone down upon me and I began to fell like what Edward Cullen looks in Twilight, sweaty and disgusting, completing regretting my fashion choice. I didn’t care. I didn’t care that the two boys flanked on either side of me would continuously scream “Throw me the ball” whenever a ball would get remotely close to a Red Sox player. I just didn’t care. I came here to watch John Smoltz for possibly the last time and nothing could ruin that.
The Yankees starting pitcher Joba Chamberlain descended upon right centerfield and began his warm-up routine, jogging then stretching than tossing. Cheers rained upon him as gleeful Yankee fans watched “the future” in front of their very eyes.
As Joba began getting ready, Victor Martinez, the Red Sox catcher and George Kottaras, the back-up catcher jogged out to center. The pair stretched and then began tossing, but there was still no sign of Smoltz. I waited patiently, trying not to laugh too hard at the unintelligent jeers being tossed Martinez’s way. Finally, Smoltz appeared. He calmly walked from the dugout to centerfield clearly in his own world. He barely even spoke to his teammates when he reached them and walked into the bullpen and then back onto the field ignoring any sounds around him. He started tossing, increasing the distance between himself and the bullpen catcher with every toss. It was about this time that the guys sitting in the seats I was standing in front of came and I moved back to my own seat 22 rows away.
As I stood and watched Smoltz warm-up, a weird feeling emerged. I had this feeling that Smoltz was going to be ok. I took that to mean he was going to have a solid start, maybe five innings giving up only a run or two. Not a feeling like today he’s going to pitch a no-hitter, but one that made me feel like tonight was going to be a good night.
Boxer Muhammad Ali was escorted via golf cart around the outfield of Yankee Stadium before stopping at home plate to be honored by the team. The moment reminded me of a scene just one year earlier at the Old Yankee Stadium when George Steinbrenner was carted around prior to the start of the All-Star game. Fans clapped, cheered and snapped photos. It was a cool moment to witness and unknowingly, the highlight of the night’s festivities.
Then it was time for the game to begin. Smoltz started off strong retiring three of the first four batters. His only misstep, a walk to Mark Teixeira, was quickly erased after striking out Alex Rodriguez looking. I couldn’t help but produce a quick fist pump after the out. Things would not continue to run so smoothly for Smoltz.
Smoltz began to labor in the second inning, surrendering a single to Jorge Posada and a walk to Robinson Cano. He escaped any damage after Nick Swisher singled to center. Posada, running from second on contact, inexplicably decided not to slide and was thrown out at home. Melky Cabrera followed with a line out to second and Smoltz walked off the mound without allowing an earned run.
Dustin Pedroia led off the Red Sox third with a solo homer off of Chamberlain staking Smoltz to a slim one run lead. Then the wheels started to fall off in the bottom of the inning. Johnny Damon tied things at one with a solo homerun and it began to look like Smoltz did not have his stuff. Something that became painfully obvious as the start progressed.
The Red Sox battled back in the top half of the fourth when Casey Kotchman, recently acquired from the Braves, hit a two run homerun scoring Mike Lowell. It would be the last time the Red Sox would lead the game. From that moment on, the Yankees would own Red Sox pitching and John Smotlz would not even be able to register more than one out in the Yankees 8 run fourth inning.
Smoltz would later call this start the worst of his career and as an eye witness, I wouldn’t argue. The night was one I didn’t expect. Not that I am entirely surprised that he gave up a couple of runs, but more that I wasn’t expecting to come to this painful conclusion, it’s time for Smoltzie to hang up his cleats. I am not saying this because of last night’s outing but because of the collection of outings he’s produced this year. I hate that he just doesn’t have it anymore, whatever it is. I hate seeing someone who I have idolized since I was eight not be the player I remember. A player that has battled back from Tommy John surgery; who has successfully transitioned from a starter to a closer to a starter again like no other player before him. Seeing him in a Red Sox uniform wasn’t uncomfortable, disappointing or odd. It was something I had adjusted to. Seeing him play so poorly was uncomfortable, disappointing and odd. It’s a moment that almost every player will get to, but one, as a fan, you never want to see.
Even with that written, I am glad that I saw it for myself. It allows me to finish this chapter and move onto the next in my fanhood, even if I still hold out hope that he can find a successful role with the Red Sox this season so that he can end his Hall of Fame career on a high note, whether that is as a reliever or a spot starter. He has earned that Hollywood ending, and hopefully, he’ll get it.
(Photos: PIMC)
UPDATE: The Red Sox have designated John Smoltz for assignment.
No comments:
Post a Comment