So, last night's game was already going to be great to begin with because Tonya is in town, bringing our usual Friday Night trio to a quartet! And then the showers that were predicted mercifully only affected batting practice and remained dormant the whole game! And it was Brett Gardner bobblehead night! Even though there's a whole sect of fans who want to ship him off to Shady Pines! Yeah.
Before the game started, Tonya and I were wandering around, waiting for the gates to open, lamenting the heat Aaron Boone is taking when his team has won EIGHTY FOUR GAMES WITH A MONTH LEFT TO PLAY. Anyway, speaking of heat, I confessed to T that the only time I've considered Boone "hot" was when ESPN was trying to make the Yankees take that Sunday night game in Toronto the day before the double header in Baltimore. ESPN was all, "It's locked in the schedule," and Boone was all, "Unlock it" and thus I had to fan myself over a gentleman giving his former employer the what-for.
Anyway, fast-forward to the 5th inning last night, the Yanks are down, they don't even have a hit, the four of us are trying to find some silver lining, and all of a sudden a significant rustle goes through the crowd. Since we're on the first base side, we don't see much going on dugout-wise, so we don't understand what the deal is until Boone storms out of the dugout and gets all up in the umpire's face. BOOM. The crowd is completely nuts for this. And then, then, Boone goes all Inside the Actor's Studio behind the plate (from our angle, it looked like he was holding his arms out and measuring home plate sarcastically, but then we watched the video and realized he was crouching like a catcher and holy shit). Girardi used to tap into this sort of "use my anger as your inspiration" thing and would usually get good results out of it - and it totally worked last night for Boone. Three dingers in the next inning! Four runs! Lead taken! Metaphorical roof blown off the place! Because the manager lost his shit! Yeah, that definitely also qualifies as hot.
Rawr? Rawr.
One of those aforementioned home runs was hit by Mr. Brett Gardner, who's been taking some flak for his lack of production of late. Apparently, this is a sign of his age, if the 24-year-olds on Twitter with hot takes are running the narratives. (Like, Gleyber or Didi can slump for a prolonged period, and it's, you know, just because they're slumping, because they were not born in the Flashdance era, I guess). "Set off Gardy on an ice floe" seems to be the hottest take of late and I don't know if it's my own age or the fact that the guy has been a team spark plug FOR TEN YEARS or what, but I'm not really here for it. I was relaying all this to an equally horrified Erica, and pointed out "Like, with old age comes wisdom." To which she replied, "THAT'S RIGHT!" When he later doubles and starts the rally that gives them back the lead in the 8th, I declare that, "He ran like he was going to cash his Social Security check!" And Steph calls him "OMG," or "Old Man Gardner," repurposing our former nickname from Old Man Jeter. Like, don't bash a guy we like, people. We will lean hard into the sarcasm.
Gardy, not listening to them thar Twitter haterz.
Anyway, when Gleyber drives in the go-ahead run, it's suddenly Gleyber Day Weekend, dousing the hot flames of my dislike for Britton and whatever it is he's doing by getting the Yankees into scrapes that the lineup must valiantly save him from...Jesus effing Christ, it's like an episode of Outlander or something every time he comes in. We get a win, Tonya gets to go home with a happy Stadium memory, gifts for her Yankee fan children (sidebar: her 8-year-old daughter recently requested her softball jersey number be changed from 2 to 99 and I think my brain and heart simultaneously exploded upon hearing that), and a bobblehead for herself. My guess is Gardy gets a place of honor in her home. AS IT SHOULD BE.
No comments:
Post a Comment