Oops, he did it again.

It’s gotta be the socks., originally uploaded by limonene.

Better late than never, right? I played hooky last Thursday because my friend R. had some good seats to the Yankees/Indians game (Tier Box MVP, which is generally a bit too rich for my blood). We almost didn’t end up going, because the weather was looking ominous in the morning, but my faith in Chris Cimino’s weather reporting carried the day and I got there after some Fun With Mass Transit.

Boy were we glad that we did. It didn’t end up raining a drop, and by the end of the game it was warm and sunny. We were sitting amongst some real characters, including the guys whose heads are in the bottom of the frame there and another guy who was trying to hit on the girl sitting next to me by quizzing her on baseball terminology. As usual, I got a funny look for being that girl keeping score, but it came in handy. When you’re in a section with foul balls whizzing to either side of you it helps to keep you paying attention to what’s going on. And as for the game itself? Things got off to a decent start, behind starter Darrel Rasner, but inexplicably he was pulled after 4.1 innings, and then things went all pear-shaped. Mike Myers did a creditable job, and Brian Bruney followed him. But then Luis Vizcaino absolutely imploded. I’ve actually blocked the memory of most of that inning. Compounding the damage, the bats just didn’t show up. Of course the fact that the guy catching the game has never reached base on a hit in a major league game might have had something to do with that. Finally, Joe brought in Phelps at first and Posada to catch–poor guy can’t get a day off–and although it didn’t pay off at first, it did in the end. Kyle Farnsworth pitched the 8th, and then Sean Henn came in for the 9th, giving up a run. By this point, all looked lost, and quite frankly the only reason we stuck with it was because that is what fans do, and the weather was nice. Even the guys in the dugout looked bummed out (but still intense):

But then, bottom of the ninth, with two outs, came the four o’clock thunder. Josh Phelps started it by hitting one out of the park. Then Posada, Damon (although he sort of scared us by attempting to bunt with two outs), Jeter, and Abreu did what they do best (singling, drawing a walk, singling in a run, and singling in another run). So once again, it all came down to this man:
And hoo boy, did he deliver. I was too busy jumping up and down and cheering to get a good photo of it. After all, first and foremost, I’m just a fan.


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