In the basement
By Karlsie
I couldn't believe my eyes. Yet there it was on my screen: the Yankees are in last place in the AL East. Yes, even the Devil Rays have passed the Yankees on the tote board. If the truth be told, I am keeping a cautious eye for the four horsemen of the apocalypse to come galloping down the street. (Did you know that if you dial three 6's on your Verizon cell phone you get James Earl Jones voice welcoming you to Verizon? I ask you, how scary is that?)
Now granted there was no reason for the Sox to have blown last night's and tonight's games. During the fourth inning - when we were still leading, I was screaming, "Where's Timlin damn it? You should be warming up Timlin!" I knew that they were going for the requisite amount for Schilling to get the win, I also knew that Schilling wasn't going to last. But, as Stewart O'Nan pointed out in "Faithful," you have to yell really loud for the players on the TV to hear you. Apparently I wasn't yelling loud enough because Francona didn't hear me in time.
Why is it that I, as a fan, can look at Schilling and say, "The man won't be back in full form until at least Memorial Day," but the experts don't see that? Sorry, but I'm middle aged and I know how hard it is to recover from injuries I barely noticed in my youth. For example, I'm typing this with my right pinky finger wrapped in a "flexible" splint (read an Ace bandage that adheres to it self - medical technology can be pretty cool these days), trying to work around the letters I would normally type with that finger. I injured myself almost two weeks ago and, not just a few years ago; I would have been back to normal in no time. But now I need to take anti-inflammatories and do finger therapy for a dislocated joint in my pinky finger. I guess that will teach me to shelve books at work.
If I have to do all that for a finger boo-boo, I can't even begin to imagine how long it will really take Schilling to be fully back from some major surgery on his ankle — especially given the amount of wear and tear he puts it through. But logic dictates that if he has two strong innings and then begins to fade in the third and fourth, you have a stable of relievers to keep him healthy. You leave him in four innings tonight and pull him the first sign of trouble in the fifth to hell with the W. Then, next game, you plan on three strong innings, then four and so on. That's how you come back and strengthen from an injury.
But what do I know, I'm not making the big bucks and the demand on me carrying a team to victory are practically nil compare to what Schilling faces; however, I'd still be looking at a far bigger picture and doing my best to help him keep his eye on it too.
Perhaps it is the money that is ruining the game. I think about what Steinbrenner is paying out to be in last place. (I know, I know, it's only April and we're not even 20 games into the season yet - but how often are the Yankees EVER in last place?) I think about what we're paying our guys. Perhaps we're all missing a point. I know that playing injured is the mark of a pro — but aren't we all really fouling things up all the way around. Shortened careers, frustrated fans (Hi there owners, remember us? We're the reason you're dining on prime rib in your luxury boxes while we're hustling for tickets anywhere and everywhere we can get them), luxury taxes that feel pointless — all these are a direct result of too much money and too much pressure.
Yes, I do pine away for my $3 bleacher seats and the beer man. Yes, I know they aren't coming back — at least not to Fenway. But I miss the days when players had to get a real job when they were done with baseball. They played with a level of something that just isn't there any more. It isn't old school/new school/whatever; it is an entirely different world all together.
Well, the one comfort I have tonight: the Yankees are in the basement and we're one game out of first and there is something sweet in that knowledge.
