It is absolutely gorgeous in New York today. Emily and I woke up around eight, and when we rolled around the corner to pick up the papers and some breakfast, it was downright chilly. Em loves the fall so she's all happy. The sun is out too. If there was a Platonic Ideal of a New York day on Labor Day weekend, this would be it. You can feel that summer is over and that fall is right around the corner. You know this is a great day for food. Especially local produce like corn and tomatoes, which will only be in season for another two, three weeks. And barbeque. Mmmm, ribsaque.

This is my last Sunday in my apartment here on 232nd street, up the block from the IHOP. I'm moving up the hill to Riverdale. I'm going from a working class Spanish and Irish neighborhood, to a upper middle class Jewish neighborhood. We'll see how that works out. For now, I'm having neighborhood-seperation-anxiety.

Today will be the last Yankee game I watch in this apartment too. I moved in here three years ago, a week and a half before the Mets played the Yanks in the World Serious. I broke this apartment in with the 2000 Serious, how cool is that? It was the first apartment I ever had to myself and I've had a great time here.

I'm really looking forward to living with Emily. It's the first time I've ever lived with a woman, so fug it, I'm taking the Nestea Plunge. Besides, she loves baseball, and puts up with all the nonsense I put myself through during the course of the year, so how can I complain? Still, I'm having some sadness about leaving this joint.

The subway is just half a block away, and above ground. I'm accustom to the sound of the passing trains; it is a soothing, predicatble rukus. I don't hear it anymore. But this past week, I've paid attention plenty. I feel like I've been counting down the times I'll hear the subway again for days. So each time I hear it whoosh by, I stop what I'm doing and take a deep breath. And just let it all in.

Ihop wafting in through the window, Spanish music played from an upstairs apartment. The Broadway traffic and passing trains down the block.

Rocket Clemens is pitching his last game at Fenway Park this afternoon (that is unless the Sox and Yanks meet up in the playoffs, and even in that case, I bet Torre would avoid using Rocket in Boston if he could get away with it). Emotional day for the Big Texan. He's usally terrible when he's all worked up, and you know that the crowd will be all over him. But I wouldn't be surprised to see him go out and pitch a good game.

It'll make for a memorable day. I know my emotions are heightened and all out of wack as it is; unless the game is a total stinker, I'm sure it will be one that I remember for a long time, no matter who wins.

Saturday's game was probably the best game I didn't see all season. OK, I checked the score cowardly at one point, and I did listen to the ninth on the radio, but I didn't watch the game. If I had, I would have sat through one of the most exhausting---dare I say operatic?---games of the year.

After the game, Johnny Damon wasn't fazed: "We're a great team."

Tyler Kepner's beat coverage of the game in the Times today is outstanding. It's simple, clear and succint: a lean piece of reporting:

BOSTON, Aug. 30 - So here were the Red Sox, with a three-run lead in the first inning and their best pitcher on the mound. In the last 10 days, they had chewed four games off the Yankees' division lead. They were the hunter, and the Yankees were fleeing in fright.

The Red Sox fought to the end at Fenway Park this afternoon, but they could not stop the Yankees from punching back. When 222 minutes of battle finally expired, it was Mariano Rivera who held the ball in his glove, stepping on first for the final putout of a heart-pounding 10-7 Yankees victory.

It was pure exhaustion, said Joe Torre, the Yankees' manager. But it was exhilarating, too. The Yankees had come back off Pedro Martínez, then survived a scare in the eighth inning when three runs scored while Rivera was on the mound. They regained their four-and-a-half-game lead in the American League East on the strength of Andy Pettitte's pitching and big hits from Jorge Posada, Nick Johnson and Enrique Wilson. There was no shame in saying the game was huge.

Joe Torre had the sauce:

"This could be the biggest game of the year, basically, because we fell behind Pedro, and then what happened in the eighth inning," Torre said. "I know there's going to be a lot of talk about Rivera and what he gave up. But the fact that he struck out the last hitter in the eighth speaks volumes of him, more so than the other stuff."

Jack Curry adds a good appreciation of Andy Pettitte, while John Harper takes issue with Prince Pedro.

I hope today's game is worth writing about. But hell, I'll be writing about it "irregardless" as they say here in the Bronx.

And remember: You can't spell hip hop without IHop.

Are the Red Sox better than the Yankees? Joel Sherman thinks they could be, and he makes a good case in today's Post. You know, everyone keeps talking about the Royals being this year's Anahiem Angels but I think the Red Sox are the team that could be this year's fuggin Angels. That is if they can survive their bullpen and eighty some-odd years of history. (Red Sox fans have been treated to a charismatic, and spirited group of players this year; even if the Sox fall short, you'd have to say they are about as appealing a team as you could ever hope to root for.)

I avoided the game today as long as I possibly could. It was a muggy Saturday in New York; in the early afternoon, Emily and I decided to take a much-needed break from unpacking. So we drove up to the country to visit my mother and my step-father and their new puppy.

I knew it would be dangerous to check the score cause I was in my step-father's house. He is a New Englander, and though he doesn't give a spit about baseball, he grew up a Red Sox fan and a Republican. The TV in his house is cursed accordingly.

It was close to 4:30 when I turned the game on: it was the bottom of the eighth and the Sox had the bases loaded, with the Yanks ahead 8-4. Gabe White was pitching. I couldn't bear it so I walked away. Five minutes later I saw Rivera give up a double and the score was 8-6. That was enough for me. I didn't want to make a scene.

Instead, Emily and I drove back down to the city and we listened to the ninth inning in the car. When her boy Jorge Posada hit his second homer of the game, I almost crashed the car I was so happy. (Actually, that's a fib; we were at a stop light. But I did shake a lot and make a whole lot of noise.) The final score: Yankees 10, Red Sox 7.

Andy Pettitte gutted it out and earned his 17th win of the year. The Yankee bullpen was shaky again but then again the Boston relievers were nothing to write home about either. Pedro Martinez only pitched four innings and took the loss. The Yankees continue to fare well against The Great One.

Nick Johnson had four hits and Enrique Wilson played well against Martinez once again. Jason Giambi continues to slump; Will Carroll admits that the big boy hasn't been the same since he was plunked twice last week. (Call me a drama queen will ya.)

Rocket Clemens will pitch tomorrow. Act III should be a doozie.

The Sox finished the Yanks off, and took the first game of the series. Boston now trails the Yanks by just 3 1/2 games with their ace going this afternoon. I am going to be busy moving stuff with Emily to our new apartment today and would be a crazy man if I tried to watch the game. I don't know what the numbers are, but I always feel like the Yanks lose when the play on the Fox Saturday Game of the Week. Dealing with Pedro and the Fenway Faithful is tough enough; add Joe Buck to the mix, and I'll be out of my bird.

Boomer Wells didn't take long to fire back at his pitching coach and manager. The classy southpaw ripped Torre and Stottlemyre on Michael Kay's radio show yesterday, suggesting: "The way I feel sometimes, I think I've worn out my welcome, and it's a shame."

Someone should tell the fat bastard that he wore out his welcome years ago. Still, no matter how much of a baby Wells is, he's proven that a little controversy can go a long way. What are the odds that he pitches well on Monday?

So what did you think Jeff Weaver was going to do? He is a sad sack and a sap. He left after the sixth inning. The Sox have fattened up their lead to 10-5, and they are cruising. Yankee pitching is getting stomped again. Tough week to play any kind of Sox for the Yanks, white or red. With two innings left, the Sox pen would have to implode in a rather royal way to blow this one.

Darn.

Both Lowe and Contreras pitched two easy innings. But Lowe was wild again in the fourth and gave up a 3-run double to Aaron Boone---on a 0-2 pitch of all things. The Yankees took a 5-3 lead.

Then Contreras couldn't get anyone out in the bottom of the fourth. Bill Mueller hit his 17 homer of the year--a two run shot, and then Gabe Kapler added an RBI double. The Sox regain the lead, 6-5.

Contreras was replaced by Jeff Weaver. The beat writers are mulling whether they'll need to change their storylines or simply augment the running ones. Will Weaver make the most of the opportunity or will he get his ticket punched too? The Boston crowd is yelling, "Weaver, Weaver." It has an ominous, distinctly college-cadence; it sounds like a frat chant or something you'd hear at a hazing ritual.

Johnny Damon flies out to left and Varitek tags up from third. Boston leads 7-5.
Weaver then strikes Todd Walker out looking on a 2-2 breaking ball. He follows that by striking Nomar out too.

End of the fourth:

Boston 7
Yankees 5

In the top of the first, Jeter doubled to right and then Giambi walked. Giambi missed a fat pitch on the 3-1 count; he’s been slumping lately and it showed there. Bernie grounded out and moved the runners over. Then Matsui came up and worked the count to 3-2. The 2-2 was close and Lowe wanted it badly. So did the crowd. Godziller banged a double off the Green Monster, and the Yanks led, 2-0.

As Posada came to the plate you could hear militia chants of “Yankees Suck, Yankees Suck” echo through the crowd. Posada grounded out to second to end the inning.

Bottom of the first

Play-By-Play

Contreras strikes Johnny Damon out on a forkball, fishing. The pitch almost knuckles. It kind of floats up there. The big Cuban falls behind Todd Walker, 1-0 and then 2-1, then 3-1 and then he walks him. Nomar smacks the first pitch he sees into right field like he’s Fast Eddie Felson; Walker holds at second. Contreras falls behind David Ortiz and then gets a swing and a miss on a forkball, but the pitch gets passed Posada and the runners advance. Contreras misses with a fastball, 2-1. Another pitch in the dirt, Posada is lucky to have snagged it, 3-1. Ortiz singles to left, Todd Walker scores. Nice piece of hitting by Ortiz.

Yanks lead, 2-1. First and third with one out for Kevin Millar. It’s hot and muggy and currently raining in New York. Looks hot up in Boston, but Contreras should be used to the heat. Posada’s going to get his money’s worth tonight, this forkball is wild in the dirt. Contreras ends up striking Millar out on a barely-visible foul tip that Posada held on to. Groans from the crowd.

Contreras falls behind Trot Nixon, 2-0 and then 3-1 and the he walks him to load to the bases. Mel Stottlemyre comes out to talk with Contreras. The entire infield meets him on the mound. There is a lot of head-nodding going on. Everyone seems to agree on something.

Contreras starts Bill Mueller out with a strike on the outside corner. Then a breaking ball low and outside for a ball, 1-1. The next pitch is a fastball inside, waist high. Mueller backs off and it is called a ball, 2-1. Mueller then fattens his average by smacking a single up the middle. Two runs score, and the Sox lead, 3-2.

First pitch to Varitek is high. The catcher swings right through it for a strike, but the pitch gets away. The runners move up to second and third. Forkball in the dirt, blocked by Posada. This inning is taking forever. It’s the first inning and already we’ve got a Tennesse Williams play over here. Fastball for a strike on the outside corner. Contreras continues to fidget. Posada goes out to the mound. The fans boo. Contreras throws a nasty splitter on the outside corner and Varitek waves at it. The big guy strikes out the side and the first inning is over after 33 minutes.

It's going to be a long night.

(Though Lowe sets the Yankees down quickly in the second, and Contreras responds with a 1-2-3 inning of his own. Maybe they'll just settle down...)

When the White Sox scored a couple of runs off Mike Mussina in the top of the first inning this afternoon at the Stadium, it looked as if the great Chicago Hit Parade was picking up where it had left off last night. But the Yankees responded with five runs of their own in the bottom of the first, which helped them along to a 7-5 win.

The Yankees are now 4 1/2 up on the Sox, who had the day off. Hey, the Bombers even scored a run on a saftey squeeze, which means Zim was alert and awake and having himself a good day. I watched the game as I packed up over thirty five boxes filled with nothing but books and records. Brother.

Mussina was far from spectacular but he pitched six innings and gave up three runs. Nelson allowed a couple of runs in relief. Gabe White retired his man in the eighth, and Rivera came in to get a four-out save. He got a fly ball to right to end the inning. In the ninth, the Yanks scored an insurance run and then Rivera went to work on the Sox. He jammed Sandy Alomar to lead off the inning. Alomar hit a short pop fly that landed several feet in front of Soriano. When it landed on the infield dirt, that ball spun off to the side like a marble. By the time Soriano fielded it and made the throw to first, Alomar was able to hustle out a single. He twisted his foot in the process and was replaced by a pinch runner.

Rivera then struck out Robbie Alomar on three pitches. The future Hall of Famer didn't stand a chance. After a stolen base, Carlos Lee flied out to left-center field. Bernie Williams covered a decent amount of ground to make the play; runner tagged to third. The Big Hurt came to the plate and smacked the first pitch right at Bernie in center to end the game. Hot dog.

The slumping Godziller Matsui was back in the line up today. Must have had his eel today. Jorge Posada was given the day off and John Flaherty contributed again.

It was a good win for the Yanks. The White Sox made their point. Now, the Bombers head for Boston with Jose Contreras starting against Derek Lowe tomorrow night. Lowe was nasty last Sunday against the M's; Contreras was sharp against the O's in his return outing.

On Saturday, Prince Pedro faces Andy Pettitte, who has a good career mark against Boston. You have to figure that game will be a riveting one. The Yankees have faired relatively well against Martinez, but you can't bank on that: he's just too good. Little bastard. Sunday gives the knuckle baller Tim Wakefield vs. Rocket Clemens. Unless the Sox and the Yanks face each other in the playoffs this could very well be the last time Clemens pitches in Fenway Park.

All in all, it should be a boffo weekend for the greatest rivalry in the East. It's easy to expect a high scoring, back-and-forth game. Or perhaps a devastating pitching performance or two. But no matter what kind of games these two teams play--whether it's a 2-1 pitching duel or a 9-8 slugger's fest---they are almost sure to be tense, dramatic and worth the price of admission.

Will Carroll, the injury guru over at Baseball Prospectus, ran a terrific little interview with Rickey Henderson earlier this week that is well-worth reading (Nate Silver, one of the fine baseball analysts at BP conducted the interview with Carroll). Will also took the time to bust my chops in his Under The Knife column yesterday. He wrote:

I don't wish harm on anyone, let alone the Yankees. I've heard my dad's tales of Mickey Mantle for more years than I care to count. Still, it's always fun to get an e-mail from my pal Alex Belth anytime something bad happens to the Bombers. He cries, he bitches, he moans--it's like having my own private manic depressive in my Inbox, but he's more entertaining than most people with real mental illnesses. I think there was about a six-second gap between Jason Giambi being hit on the hand by a 90-mph heater and Alex punching out a wailing electronic missive bemoaning the fate of Deodorant Boy. Giambi was hit on the hand by a pitch that wasn't terribly inside--and where's QuesTec when you want to see just how far inside a pitch really was?--and while he's sore and the hand slightly swollen, the X-rays were negative and he reported good progress. Calm down, Yanks fans, he'll be fine.

A few corrections are in order. I don't bitch, I kvetch. I don't moan, I whine (and then I shout and throw things). And I don't cry. I wail.

Capice? (I can't have my character besmirched, after all.)

SMOKED MEAT

The Big Bad White Sox continued to beat up the Yankees at home last night, crushing the Bombers, 11-2. Actually, the Yanks didn't get crushed, they were creamolished. David Wells took it on the chin, while Bartolo Colon shut the Yankees down with ease. Yankee pitching coach, Mel Stottlemyre had some cherce words for Boomer. According to The New York Times:

"He just needs to do more work," Stottlemyre said. "He hasn't been throwing in between starts, and I think he needs that. I think it's showing. The last two games, at the same point in the game, he hasn't made very good pitches."

..."I don't know if he has a bad back," Stottlemyre said. "If he has a bad back and it's bothering him, for the sake of the ball club, he should say it."

..."I would say he's not in as good a shape as he was early in the year, because he's not throwing between starts every time," Stottlemyre said. "The only reason I bring that up is because I feel that's part of the problem."

..."If he was pitching all right, I would never address this situation," Stottlemyre said. "But it's very unusual for him to make that many location mistakes. Boomer has very good control, the best control of anyone on the staff."

Asked if he and Wells were at odds, Stottlemyre said: "We may be now, but we haven't been. I'm normally pretty easy to get along with. Most of my pitchers have differing programs, and I usually go along with that until it doesn't work. And obviously, it's not working.

"I'm going to talk with him about it. If he does it, he does it. He's got the ball in his hand. I can't make him. He's going to do what he's going to do."

Stottlemyre did not seek out the reporters he spoke to last night, but he answered the questions willingly. He only wished he could have talked to Wells first. "Actually, I shouldn't even be talking about this before I address him," Stottlemyre said, standing by a locker close to Wells's stall. "But he isn't here."

Joe Torre took the game in stride:

"I can't be angry at this," Manager Joe Torre said. "These are just bad outings by our pitchers. If I felt they didn't care, that's one thing. But I don't feel that way."

While Jorge Posada tried to blame himself:

"I'm just angry," Posada said. "I'm that kind of person. I just care; 11-2 and 13-2 are not scores you can go home with and think about. It's tough on me. I'm calling the game and I'm making suggestions, and I'm getting hit."

The loss cost the Yanks a game in the standings as Boston rallied to beat Doc Halladay and the Blue Jays, 6-3. The Yankee lead is down to four games (five in the loss column). The Bombers play an afternoon game today and look to Mike Mussina to end the hurt before heading up to Boston for a big, three-game serious this weekend.

I'm up to my ears in boxes here in the Bronx. I'm in the middle of moving, so I fear that blogging will be light over the weekend. Still, I'll try the best I can to take a few moments to make a comment or two.

I was thinking last night about how much I enjoy writing about baseball on a daily basis. I want to thank the people who have been reading Bronx Banter this year. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the feedback and comments you've sent me as the season has rolled along.

On that note, I'd like to ask for some help. Anyone who has any impressions or thoughts about the Yankee-Sox games this weekend, please feel free to send them over. I'm going to have to rely on you guys, because I don't know how much of it I'll be able to catch myself.

Thanks in advance.

Alex

The Pirates finally moved Brian Giles to the Padres yesterday, in a long-rumored trade. The good news for the Pads is that they didn't have to take Jason Kendell. The great news for the Pads is that they have Brian Giles! Think Pads fans are excited? Just ask Geoff over at Duck Snorts. Aaron Gleeman gives his take on the deal as well.

I don't think they have a burning need for a shortstop, but I would love to see Miguel Tejada in a San Diego uniform.

There is a Blue Jay's-based website called "Batter's Box" that has an extremely well-done interview with Toronto's general manager, J.P. Ricciardi. Ricciardi is clearly a bright and affable guy. I think he's very interesting-looking too. There is something exaggerated about him that reminds me of an Al Hirshfield illustration. It's his long, narrow face. Or he could be one of those slick-looking rodents, dressed in a zoot suit, that you'd find in an old Warner Bros. cartoon. It's not that he's ugly either, you can actually see that he's handsome. But from certain angles, he's all of a piece.

On top of all that, he's a good interview. Kudos to the guys at Batter's Box for a job well done.

I had a bad feeling about Roger Clemens before the game last night, and when I saw his little, ol' mom throw out the first pitch and then clutch at her hulking son, shaking with tears, I figured it was going to be a long night for the Rocket (you know how emotional he can get). Or a short night, depending on how you look at it. The White Sox played like the Gashouse Gorrillas and handed Clemens one of the worst beatings of his Hall of Fame career, as the Sox pounded the Bombers, 13-2. Esteban Loaiza was nasty and showed the Yankees why he's a leading candidate for the Cy Young award. He moved in and out, and spotted his pitches, all of which seemed to have a good deal of movement on them.

The Yankees welcomed Felix Heredia and Gabe White to the bullpen, and released Jesse Orosco. Jeff Weaver is headed to Tampa single A, mostly to work with pitching-guru (and the former Mr. Seka) Billy Conners. Weaver will be called up next week in order to make the post-season roster:

"A lot of things have happened this year that I wouldn't have expected, but this is one year out of hopefully many," Weaver said. "Hopefully, 10 years from now, I'll say that 2003 was the year that built me as a player and as a person.

"I jumped to conclusions too much when things went wrong," he added, "and flooded my whole approach with stuff that was basically useless. Maybe I've taken a wrong turn a couple of times, trying to get back. I've made too many corrections, too many adjustments."

..."I have no problems here," Weaver added. "They want results right away. I look at it as my fifth year in the league and the first one that I've struggled. I wouldn't say I've been treated unfairly for what they're trying to accomplish here."

Since I had an inclination that Rocket might get spanked, I didn't find the game upsetting, especially since Toronto jumped all over the Sox in Boston. Of course the Red Sox stormed back and made things exciting, but the Blue Jays were able to hold on for the victory, and the Yanks lead over Boston remains at five games (six in the loss). The A's edged by the Orioles, 2-1 in extra innings and now lead the Sox by a game in the wildcard.

Whew.

I caught two funny moments in the game as well. Jose Contreras, the Yankees' sleepy Cuban pitcher who is Delroy Lindo dark, was sitting on the bench in the fourth inning. His eye-lids were heavy and it looked as if he could barely stay awake. Why is he always so sleepy? I don't know why, but I find it amusing.

Also, in the second inning, Bernie Williams was rounding second, when the bag jumped up and bit him. Bernie seemed to forget where the bag was I guess. He wiped out, flat on his face. A sympathetic Robbie Alomar tried to contain a smile. He was probably happy that it didn't happen to him, and not surprised that it happened to Bernie. Williams smiled sheepishly at Willie Randolph at the end of the frame, and must have taken plenty of abuse from his teammates in the clubhouse later on.

The Yankees didn't play a particularly good game last night but they came away with a win anyhow. Baltimore repeatedly opened the door for them, and they refused to take advantage. Andy Pettitte bull-dogged his way into the seventh and earned his 16th win of the year; the Yanks added a couple of runs in the ninth and beat the O's 5-2.

Jeff Weaver relieved Jesse Orosco with one out in the eighth, and after getting the second out he served up a long home run, which cut the score to 3-2. But Lil Sori, who led off the game with his 10th lead-off homer of the season, had a big, two-run, two-out single in the ninth to seal the victory. Mariano pitched a flawless, four-out save.

Jason Giambi was plunked twice. The second time, he was pelted in the right hand on a 3-0 pitch. Giambi spun around and shook his hand in anger. Yankee fans held their breath. He eventually left the game. Initial x-rays were negative and Giambi said he's 50-50 for tonight's game. We'll see. I'll be nervous until he's back in there swinging the bat again.

Lefty relief pitcher Gabe White has joined the team and the Yanks have also picked up another southpaw for the pen in Felix Heredia. Cashman picked him off waivers, blocking him from going to another team. This likely spells the end for Jesse Orosco. Another pitcher must go as well. Either Jeff Weaver will be demoted to the minors or Antonio Osuna could be released.

The Yanks start a three-game series vs. the streaking Chicago White Sox tonight. The Sox play Toronto.

Pedro Martinez continued to master the Mariners yesterday afternoon at the Fens, as Boston swept the M's to end their grueling two-weeks vs. Oakland and Seattle in fine form. (Martinez might not be happy in Boston, but an angry Pedro is an effective Pedro.) They remain tied with the A's for the wildcard---Oakland is now tied with Seattle for first place in the west---and trail the Yanks by five (six in the loss column).

The Ron Guidry festivites on Saturday afternoon were overshadowed by the announcement that Bobby Bonds had passed away. Bob Shepard, the voice of the Yankees, addressed the crowd immediately before the anthem played. The crowd gasped. Shepard listed Bonds' accomplishments and then asked for a moment of silence. When he said that Bonds was only 57 there was another, deeper gasp from the crowd.

The Orioles then went out and handled the Yankees, behind a strong, complete-game performance from Rodrigo Lopez. The breaking ball was working and Lopez K'd 10 Bombers. Mike Mussina wasn't awful, and he trailed 3-2 going into the ninth before the O's scored four runs and put the game out of reach.

The Sox beat the Mariners in extra innings, surviving a blown save from B. Y. Kim.

On Sunday---which was even more beautiful than Saturday---the Yankees rebounded behind a stellar outing from Jose Contreras. There was a chill in the air that reminded me that fall is just around the corner. While the Yankee brass is crowing about the triumphant return of their soporific Cuban, I'll wait and see how he does in Boston this Friday before getting too excited.

The Red Sox beat the Mariners for the third straight day too. The A's crushed Toronto, and Tim Hudson looked just fine. Oakland and Boston are tied for the wildcard while the Sox trail the Yanks by five (six in the loss column).

Pedro Martinez will pitch this afternoon as the Sox go for the sweep.

It's amazing how quickly fortunes can change. The night of the blackout last week the Yankees beat the O's down in Baltimore and then they won six more in a row. In the meantime, Boston's mighty offense was experiencing one of its few collective droughts of the season, and the Yankees put some room between the two teams. Going into Friday's game, the Bombers led Boston by seven, eight in the loss column.

Buster Olney wrote in an e-mail this past week, "The Red Sox are fading, right on schedule. They're like homing pigeons finding their way back to their cages; you don't quiet understand how, but it's absolutely predictable."

The A's are Boston's cheif competition for the wildcard. After Oakland swiped the first two games in Boston this week, Red Sox Nation was ready to damn it all and jump off the bridge. Yes, the offense was back in the final game, and they pounded Rich Harden, who pitched in place of a bruised Tim Hudson (only been just about the best pitcher in the league this year). But they blew those two games. 17 men left on base!

Last night, the Sox beat the Mariners, 6-4 while the A's faced a long night with Roy Halladay--the other guy who could be the best pitcher in the league. The Blue Jays beat the A's 6-3, and Doc had his 17th win. The Sox and A's are now tied for the wildcard spot.

But the fortune for Red Sox Nation gets better as Mark Mulder, one of Oakland's Big Three, could be out for the rest of the year. (Mulder had to leave after three innings this past week in Boston.) In his Under the Knife column yesterday Will Carroll, the injury guru over at Baseball Prospectus, wrote:

The A's pushed Mark Mulder onto the DL while he rehabs a strained hip. As with Randy Johnson's knee, this is Mulder's right (plant) leg, which understandably takes a lot of impact and torque in the pitching motion, even with great mechanics like Mulder. Mulder will miss at least two starts while on the list, but since he will be able to keep his arm loose, he shouldn't need much work before jumping back into the rotation. Expect the A's to be aggressive but smart with his rehab.

But it's apparently worse than that (I'm sure we'll hear more from Will in the next couple of days). According to the Associated Press:

A's left-hander Mark Mulder has a stress fracture in his right hip, a startling injury that will likely sideline him for the rest of the season.

"Yeah, six weeks I think is unrealistic to expect that he'll be in pitching shape," A's general manager Billy Beane said Friday night. "So yeah, we're resigned (that Mulder is done for the year.)"

Oh, man this is brutal for the A's. Somewhere, Michael Lewis is fuming. It reinforces just how much Oakland's success has depended upon the healthy, durable trio of Hudson, Mulder, and Barry Zito. Forget the other stuff, it's the Big Three or bust. They can still make the playoffs without the great offense, but it remains to be seen if they can do it without their top flight pitching.

I don't know how many times Oakland has to play Seattle again, but I know the Sox get to play Tampa and Baltimore a whole bunch. With this sudden turn of events, the wildcard will be Boston's to lose. They've got the advantage. I know Sox fans like Ed Cossette who have remained confident in this particular Boston squad throughout the painful losses and the slumps. Ed and his friends might have something to shout about in October after all.

Oakland's chances rest on the fate of Tim Hudson. I don't know how the hand injury will effect him, if it will slow him down any, screw with the way he throws certain pitches. He's been remarkable all year and is the soul of thier staff. If he's OK, and can bulldog his way through the next six weeks, Oakland will still be in it.

Meanwhile, the Yanks lost a close one to Baltimore in the Bronx last night, 4-3. The winning streak ends at seven. David Wells pitched well enough to lose, and Pat Hentgen threw a nice game for the O's. The Yankees had their chances late. Bernie couldn't do anything with two runners on in the eighth, and Nick Johnson had a chance with the bases loaded and two out in the ninth. But then he didn't. The O's brought in the ol' southpaw Buddy Groom, so Torre countered with Ruben Ruben Sierra. Sierra had 5 hits in like 10 or 12 at bats against Groom so Torre went with the percentages.

But I'm sure I was not alone among those Yankee fans who instinctively groaned. Aw, man, don't take Nicky Johnson out. Sierra looked at one pitch and he swung at that pitch. A strike-one fastball. Sierra swung late, and popped the ball to Gibbons in right to end the game.

The Yanks lead Boston by six games, seven in the loss column.

The other story of the night is that Brian Cashman finally traded Sterling Hitchcock to the Cardinals. The Yankees recevied two young pitchers in return. According to Newsday:

The Yankees received a pair of 23-year-old pitchers: righthander Justin Pope (4-11, 4.92 ERA for Class A Palm Beach) and lefthander Ben Julianel (4-2, 1.05 ERA, 9 saves, 78 Ks in 51 2/3 innings for Class A Peoria).

Hitchcock finally gets out of his penthouse prison and will get a chance to start meaningful games for a team struggling to make the playoffs. I wish him luck and am relieved, for him and for us, that he's finally gone.

GATOR GETS HIS

Today is Ron Guidry Day at the Stadium. I'm going with my friend Mindy, and a couple of her friends. I went to high school with Mindy but we didn't start to bond on the baseball tip until last season. Since then, we're famous baseball pals. Mindy went to spring training earlier this year and actually got to meet Guidry. She said he was a real humble southern gentleman, and she had a great time talking with him.

I was seven years old when Gator had his amazing 1978 season and I suppose it's the first memory in my baseball consciousness. I don't really remember the '78 season in any coherent way, but I was aware of the skinny little lefty who just killed it every time he pitched. I started following baseball in a deliberate, aware way starting the next year in '79. So I have much stronger memories of the playoff sweep in '80 by the Royals--George Brett's Revenge!--and the disastrous 1981 World Serious than I do of Reggie's homers or Chambliss' shot.

Guidry was my favorite pitcher and second favorite player overall next to Reggie Jackson. Willie Randolph was my third favorite. I liked the skinny guys because I was a skinny guy. I was also drawn to the quiet disposition, the cool professionalism that both Wille and Guidry displayed. Reggie of course was a totally different animal, but that's another story. You got to have a ying to your yang.

Anyhow, I'm going to enjoy giving the Gator his props in person today. I hope to have lots of casual conversations with fellow Guidry fans and get swallowed up in the collective memories of the crowd. That will be interesting. Should be a long-ass afternoon; we'll arrive at 2:00 for the ceremony. The game doesn't start until 4:00, so that'll be close to six hours out there when it's all said and done (sun block: check).

Fortunately, it's a tremendous day here in New York. It's one of those days that the radio calls one of the 10 best of the year. Absolutely perfecto. Hot, sunny, but not humid. With a cool breeze cutting the heat nicely. The city is dead, with everyone still on vacation, and I love it. This is usally my favorite time of year. When you can get great corn, and fresh tomatoes, and nobody is in New York. Couldn't have a lovelier Saturday for a wedding or a tribute to Ron Guidry at the Stadium.

Jim Bouton is the author of perhaps the most famous baseball book of all, "Ball Four." He also pitched for the New York Yankees, was a sportscaster and an actor, and also helped create "Big League Chew" bubble gum. Mostly, he's an author and a motivational speaker. His latest effort, a self-published book called "Foul Ball" is about Bouton's crusade to save a minor-league ballpark in the Berkshires. I had the opportunity to speak with Bouton last month. He speaks in a raspy, soft voice, and he laughs often. Here is our conversation.

Enjoy and have a great weekend.

Bronx Banter: In your new book, “Foul Ball,” you write that there have been two experiences in your life that you’ve felt compelled to write about. One was your time as a player, which you wrote about in “Ball Four.” The other one was your campaign to save a minor league ballpark in the Berkshires, which resulted in “Foul Ball.” What drew you to this story?

Jim Bouton: Well it was a story I hadn’t intended to write about. My partner, Chip Elitzer and I simply had a plan that we thought was a revolutionary plan to resurrect an old ballpark in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, with our own money, private money, and have a locally owned baseball team so that Pittsfield would never again be faced with the situation that they’ve always faced which is: Build us a new stadium or lose your team. They’ve been running up against that for years. The people have voted three different times against a new stadium. So our plan to save Wahconah Park, we thought would be embraced by the community, and we would have a lot of fun. But then when we started running into opposition from the leadership in the community, not the people, who were a hundred percent behind us, but the leadership of the community, which is to say Berkshire Bank, The Berkshire Eagle—the local newspaper--, a Law firm, and General Electric, well, I started taking notes. And I’m glad I did because as our fortunes got worse, the story got better.

BB: How does Pittsfield differ from the other towns in the Berkshires?

JB: It’s a town that’s in decline. It used to be the home of General Electric until they pulled out. Then of course, they pulled out a lot of population with that when the jobs dried up. It’s an older community and it’s struggling to regain it’s footing. The city is $9 million in debt. About the only claim to fame in this city is the fact that they have a ballpark there. They erwere in jeopardy of losing that and they still are by their own newspaper, The Berkshire Eagle, which has threatened to either build a new stadium in Pittsfield, whether the people want it or not, or even worse, build it in a nearby community. Pittsfield would then lose its natural baseball monopoly, which they’ve had since the turn of the century.

BB: What part did General Electric play in this story?

JB: When my partner and I discovered that the local newspaper and the power guys were insisting on building a new baseball stadium on property owned by the newspaper in the middle of town, we tried to figure out why they would insist on doing that when they could have spent their $20 million in tax dollars on another kind of a building. A civic center, an indoor arena, a concert hall; another reason for people to come to Pittsfield. When we saw that their opposition made no sense, we tried to figure out why. I guessed, correctly it turns out, that they were trying to cover up toxic waste on that property. One of the last documents in my book is a release notification form, which confirms that the newspaper knew this property was polluted before they tried to “donate” it as a site to the city of Pittsfield for a new stadium. Now, we don’t know whether General Electric has polluted that site in addition to the pollution that we DO know about. There have been a number of test borings done on that site that have never been made public. Since the property used to be junk yards many years ago, and General Electric was using junk yards as PCB dumping grounds, there may be worse chemicals down there. But people don’t know about these things because they’ve been kept secret. It’s a very secretive town, and people don’t have all the information they need to have to make decisions about their lives. In any case, that’s how General Electric got involved. They were a back-story. Is this polluted by General Electric or what’s the story? I still don’t know if there is PCB pollution on the proposed stadium property, but I do know that the publisher I had signed a contract with to publish my book [Public Affairs], “Foul Ball,” sat down and said that I would need to get balancing comments from General Electric for whatever I was saying about them in the book. I said I wasn’t going to do that. I didn’t get balancing comments from major league baseball about “Ball Four,” and I wasn’t going to do it with General Electric. Then the president of the publishing company told me that one of his friends is the top lawyer for General Electric and that this lawyer was going to be investing in the publishing company. A week after that, I was told by the editor who I had been working with on this book, that I had to remove all references to pollution and General Electric. And I refused to do that, and as a result I terminated my contract with Public Affairs. During which time, by the way, the publisher’s lawyer told my agent that I could keep half of my advance if I promised not to say why I was leaving Public Affairs. I don’t know what my price for silence is but I know it’s not $25, 000.

BB: In writing a book that was certain to make local political enemies in Pittsfield as well as much bigger enemies with a company like GE, did you ever feel that you or your family was at risk?

JB: I didn’t, but my wife did, and still does. Other people have warned us about angering powerful people who have a lot of money at stake. I mean if they find out that there are PCBs on this property the clean up could run into the tens of millions of dollars. So, who knows? I haven’t been threatened by anyone. I tend to brush it off but I think others are more concerned than I am.

BB: One of the most endearing parts of the book is how you and your partner in crime, Chip Elitzer, had the begrudging support of your wives.

JB: I’d say they were reluctant warriors. They were with us in the beginning but then we turned it into a daily campaign. This became a 24-hour crusade for Chip and I. The more we were opposed by this power group and the more nonsensical their opposition became, the more we pressed. We went to the people, we took to the streets: we had petitions and e-mails and faxes and posters. You name it. Chip and I would send each other e-mails and instant messages at three, four o’clock in the morning. We would read one of the newspaper editorials’ attacking us on-line, and we would have an answer for it before the newspaper hit the stands the next morning. We were nuts, you know. It was like a great buddy flick thing. I remember at one point I said to my wife, I said, “Paula. Who else but Chip and I could do a thing like this?” And my wife said, “Single people mostly.”

BB: You talk about having known Chip for only several years before you started this mission. You talk about building a tree house together and I know you have to get along pretty well with a guy to undertake a project like that. I think that male companionship is the emotional theme of the book. On some level, the book is really about how guys get along, even when they are married. What they do together, how they interact. You built the tree house together; you rallied around the ballpark together.

JB: Yeah, the tree hut that was fun. But we really bonded on this one. We went through this campaign together, and we now greet each other like old war buddies. Like, “Hey, we’ve been through some real traumatic experience together.’ We have a certain kind of a bond. You’re right. It’s a rare opportunity to go through something like this, and come to know another human being in a way that you wouldn’t have known him otherwise.

BB: Yeah, it’s like an a-sexual marriage.

JB: Well at one point my wife Paula said, “You know you and Chip---“ this is earlier on when she didn’t mind it so much---“you and Chip really work well together, you make a good team, you anticipate each other’s moves. It’s almost like dancers, the way you work together. And I said to her, “You know we’re getting married in August.” Paula said, “Well, you make a lovely couple.”

BB: At some point in the book it seems that you guys are aware that your chances to get your plan passed were remote, but the competitor in you seemed compelled by the challenge. It’s like you got off on testing yourselves, and recognized that the results were well out of your control.

JB: Yeah. When it became obvious that they were not going to give us a license to play in Wahconah Park, which would have been the key that opened the door to us renovating it and putting a locally owned team in there, no matter what, we began to sweeten our offer to see how far they would go. What would they turn down? We decided to plum the depths of their unreasonableness. It turned out that there was no bottom to it.

BB: I understand the ethical motivation behind your campaign, but on a personal level what was in it for you? The challenge?

JB: Yeah. Our original goal was to do something fun. We thought it would be a fun adventure to restore an old ballpark and put a locally owned team in there. We would get a big kick out of that, and that was our original goal. But after a while the goal changed, “Let’s see who these guys are. Let’s see how far they will go.” So it was a challenge to stay in the game. Besides people were begging us on the streets. They’d stop us and say, “Don’t go away." Please don’t be discouraged. Keep fighting. That’s what they [the powers at be] they always are. They discourage people and then they go away.” We said, “Nope, we’re not going away, we’re staying here ‘til the end.” Don’t worry about it. So we felt we had a compact with the people of Pittsfield. We owed it to them to stay in there and hang in there and fight this battle. In the process, turn over all these rocks in the pits of these dark caves. It was like turning over one rock after another, and you’d see all the bugs running. That’s really what it was like. So our pleasure then, at that point became in exposing the system. The beauty of it was we paid no penalty for this. Chip and I don’t work in Pittsfield, we don’t need the bank, we don’t need the law firm, the newspaper. So this is the first time anybody got inside who didn’t need the leadership in the community. As Chip said, “We don’t owe them any favors, they don’t owe us any favors, therefore they’re scared of us.”

BB: This brought out the old ‘60s Idealists in you.

JB: They didn’t know how to deal with us because we weren’t a political entity. We had to be dealt with on the merits of our arguments. They were totally at Sea with how to deal with something like that.

BB: I found it poignant that this crusade helped energize you in a way that you hadn’t been since the death of your daughter, Laurie, several years ago. Was that something that you were aware of while it was happening?

JB: I wasn’t conscious of it. I wasn’t conscious of it at all. But I do remember at some point in the summer, on the anniversary of Laurie’s death, I said to Paula, “You know this is the most alive I’ve felt since Laurie died.” Which was in 1997. And Paula said, “I’ve known that. And I’ve been watching that, and I’m glad to see that this adventure has made you come alive again.”

BB: Is that one of the reasons why you think she put up with it and supported you?

JB: It might be. Yeah, I think that was part of it. Seeing me smiling and enthusiastic and totally absorbed in something.

BB: Waking up at four in the morning to write letters to the editor.

JB: Right. Here I was acting like a kid again. She liked seeing that, so even though it was a burden on our time together, it certainly was good to feel that energy level back again.

BB: Your wife served as the editor of the book too.

JB: Well, she’s a wonderful editor. She reads all the time. She knows when she likes something and when she doesn’t. She would be the editor of the first drafts of stuff that I would write. And of course she was in the story, so she knew all the characters. She was also a fact-checker and she provided valuable assistance. And she’s not one of these little shy editors who puts a little note in the margin that says, “Open this up a bit more here.” Her comments were more like: “Boring!” “Get Rid of This.” Or one of my favorites, “Out, Out, Out!!!”

BB: Did you find that it was a difficult book to write?

JB: No, it wasn’t a difficult book to write at all. As a matter of fact, it was an easy one to write because it was such a great story. All I had to do was keep notes. It was difficult in the sense of having to pay attention every single day. At one point I decided, “You know I need to start keeping notes here.” I kept notes every single day: phone conversations, meetings, transcriptions of video taped council meetings, parks commissions meetings. Plus, I had e-mails and newspaper articles, etcetera. I had very good notes of conversations, with quotes. So I had about seven piles of papers, all dated that I drew from in order to recreate the season day-by-day. Not one single person has come forward and said they were misquoted.

BB: Getting back to your buddy relationship with Chip. Since you guys are both irreverent '60s guys, there were times when you reminded me of Donald Sutherland and Elliot Gould in “M*A*S*H.” Then I remembered that you acted in Altman’s movie version of Raymond Chandler’s last novel, “The Long Goodbye.” The movie happened to be one of the inspirations for the Coen brothers’ movie, “The Big Lebowski,” which I happened to work on.

JB: That was with Elliot Gould also.

BB: How did you get the job?

JB: I had run into Elliot Gould at a fundraiser in New York of some kind. I forget. Afterwards he was going to be going off to play some pick-up basketball, and I joined him. So we played pick-up basketball together, and I said, “This was fun. Let’s get together next week.” And he said, “Well, I’m going to be in California making a movie. I’ll be there for about a month, I’ll give you a call when I get back.” I said, “OK, fine.” Anyhow, three days later, I get a call at three o’clock in the morning. It’s Elliot Gould. He and Robert Altman are at a party somewhere in California. Stacey Keach just got sick and he can’t play the role of the killer. Elliot told Robert Altman that he thought I’d be good for that role. I don’t know what that says about me. In any case, Altman and Elliot are on the other line and I said, “You guys know what time it is?” They said, “It’s midnight.” I said, “Well, it’s thee o’clock in the morning in New Jersey.” Anyway they said, “Get on the next plane. Bring a toothbrush; you’re going to play the part of Terry Lennox. You’ll be perfect for the part.” I said, “Well, OK.” Flew out there. Did a little screen test, which took about two minutes, and I was in the movie.

BB: How was Altman with you?

JB: Well, Altman was great. He’s considered an actor’s director and I can see why. I had taken a couple of acting courses from Lee Strasburg at the Actor’s Studio.

BB: This was after your playing days?

JB: This was after I had retired, but before I made the movie. So it was a coincidence when he asked me to make the movie that I had taken a couple of acting lessons. The great thing about Altman was he said, “You read the script?” I said, “Yeah.” He said, “OK, well then just forget about it. Here’s the story: you haven’t seen your old friend Phillip Marlowe for a couple of years, and now you need a ride to Mexico cause you’ve just killed your wife, but you’re not going to tell him that. But you want him to drop you off at the border. So I don’t care what you say to each other. You’re two guys, you haven’t seen each other in a long time. At some point in the conversation you gotta tell him you want him to give you a lift down to the Mexican border. Other than that, I don’t care what you say.” So that was great, even though in my mind I was trying to stick close to the script. I didn’t want to just have an adlib conversation with Elliot Gould. I didn’t know what that would be like. I guess as sort of a rookie actor trick, Elliot comes over to me, just before they’re ready to shoot the first scene and he says to me, “Did you get the changes?” Of course, there were no changes, but he just wanted to see the look on my face. The funny part about it is that they shoot the scene and I walk into his apartment, and the way he started talking and acting real casual, hardly paying much attention. And he was distracted, doing something else. I thought the camera wasn’t rolling because it didn’t seem like he was acting. Of course that’s what real acting is: to make it seem like you’re not acting. At some point I said, “Hey, is the camera rolling here?” “Yes. Cut! Try it again.”

BB: There was an amusing exchange with you and Moose Skowron at the Yankees Old-Timer’s Game in 2001 where he took exception with your feeling that the modern players are superior to the one’s you played with. What makes the current generation of players better?

JB: In terms of the quality of play, the players are just better than we were. They’re bigger, they’re stronger, they’re faster. They are better trained, they have weight training, and personal coaches, they have computers, they have videotapes now to help them with their motions and their batting swings. There are just all sorts of advances that are way ahead of us. But Moose believes, still, that the 1960s were better. I said, “Moose, don’t you remember the Old Timer’s days in Yankee Stadium when we would sit there, in 1962, for example, and Bill Dickey would come in from the 1930s and tell us how much better they were back in the ‘30s. We used to think the guy was an old nut.” I said, “That’s what you look like to player’s today.” There is no way that Bill Dickey was better than Yogi and Mickey and Whitey, and there’s no way that guys today aren’t better than Mickey and Whitey.

BB: What about the argument that is usually put forth by the old guys that the modern players have terrible fundamentals and can’t do the little things to help their team win?

JB: Well, the game has changed. It’s not a bunting game. It’s a home run game. So they have big, strong guys who hit home runs. That’s the way it is. The games are now 14-10. You don’t have as many 2-1 ballgames. So if we walked off the field in 1962 and onto a baseball field today, 40 years later, we would probably be able to score three or four runs by bunting, and hitting and running, and hitting the cut-off man, and moving the runner over, and then we’d lose 14-3.

BB: Why are the old guys so threatened by the modern players? Is it because on some level they feel that they won’t be remembered?

JB: No. I don’t know that they feel threatened. But everybody thinks that their era was the best. When you were in high school that was the best music of all-time, no matter what went before or came afterwards. I feel that way about my music when I went to high school in the ‘50s when Rock’n’Roll was just coming out of R&B. When black artists were just beginning to be played on the radio. To me that was the birth of real music in America. But I hear people who grew up in the ‘70s think the Doobie Brothers invented music. It’s just that we tend to think our era is the best. Your high school was the best. Our high school was better, our state was better, our religion was better, our skin color was better: we’re better. That’s the way we think I guess.

BB: Do any of your old Yankee teammates still have hard feelings about “Ball Four?”

JB: Oh, I’m sure there are. I don’t really pay attention to that anymore. I mean, most players who play in the big leagues today read “Ball Four” when they were in high school or college or the minor leagues. I don’t feel any resentment at all from today’s players. Occasionally, some old coach in his ‘70s will be sitting over in a corner, thinking, “There’s that Bouton guy, who wrote that book.” But they probably never read it in the first place.

BB: Sounds like the kind of criticism Michael Lewis has encountered this summer with his book, “Moneyball.”

JB: Oh yeah, who is criticizing him?

BB: Stodgy old sportswriters, TV guys, and general managers who haven’t read the book.

BB: Yeah, right. I can see that. They hate it when somebody comes in from the outside and exposes something. That was the resentment Chip and I found going into Pittsfield and it is the resentment that Michael Lewis has found in baseball. But this kind of work has to be done by an outsider. Somebody who come in with fresh eyes, somebody with no axe to grind, and somebody who can’t be compromised by the political winds.

The Red Sox got a scare yesterday when Pedro Martinez was a late scratch with the flu. But the night ended well for Red Sox Nation as Cassey Fossum stepped in and the Red Sox creamed Oakland's rookie sensation Rich Harden and the A's, 14-5. The Sox now trail Oakland by one game in the wildcard race, and the Yankees by seven games in the AL East (eight in the loss column).

Meanwhile, Jose Contreras will start for the Yankees on Sunday, leaving Jeff Weaver's immediate future up in the air. Tyler Kepner has a nice appreciation of the Yankees other famous import, the sure and steady Godziller Matsui, in the Times today.

The Yanks host the Orioles this weekend, while the Mariners visit Boston.

It's that time of year again, isn't it? The time when the Yankees get all the cherries while the Sox are stuck with the pits. The Bombers outlasted another iffy outing from Mariano Rivera, and edged the Royals, 8-7. The Yanks had led 8-3, but never count Tony Pena's bunch out. KC hit four singles off Rivera in the ninth, and if Carlos Beltran didn't make a base-running gaffe, things might have ended differently. Desi Relaford struck out to end the game instead.

The Red Sox watched the afternoon game before taking on Oakland again last night. Naturally, the talk in Boston is about the annual Sox swoon. Kevin Millar, for one, isn't having it. Before the game he opined:

"The only thing I have to remind people is that there's 37 games left," Millar said. "Take your Yankee stuff and go have fun with your Yankee stuff and watch the Yankees win and all that stuff. It's irrelevant.

"The bottom line is we're trying for a world championship. We're trying to make the playoffs. If we go 30-7, then we win the division. But the bottom line is we have to make the playoffs. If that consists of a wild card, it consists of a wild card and we'll go from there."

Then Boston went out and blew a 6-2 lead. B.Y. Kim allowed four runs in the eighth, and Oakland charged back to win, 8-6. It's not as if the Sox didn't have their chances; Boston left 17 runners on base. The frustration in Boston is mounting.

"We felt we had this game," [Johnny] Damon said. "It's huge. We could have pulled even. It's not a good spot to be in."

I wonder how Ed Cossette is handling all of this.

Still, they are a good enough team to make a run, so it's tough to count them out yet. Just ask Mr. Millar:

"You guys are going to be standing here in October saying, 'Wow, what a run,' " Millar predicted. "We're going to win. We're going to have fun. We're going to the playoffs."

The Yanks are now 7 1/2 up on the Sox. It's too early to get excited; let's not get ahead of ourselves. Still, it's nice to see the Yanks put a streak together.

Jane Leavy, author of last year’s smash hit, “Koufax,” is on a roll. Not only is “Koufax” due out in paperback this September, but Perennial (a division of Harper Collins) has issued a paperback edition of her 1990 comic novel, “Squeeze Play.” The novel follows the adventures of a woman sportswriter, A.B. Berkowitz, who happens to cover the worst team in baseball. The New York Times Book Review noted that the novel, “does baseball mythology proud…the overall effect is that of a surreal parody, with a baseball team and newsroom that Mel Brooks might have assembled, where nobody and no activity is life-size, and where sex is a metaphor for baseball: you gotta play hurt.”

I recently had a chance to speak with Jane Leavy. I hope you enjoy our conversation.

Bronx Banter: After reading “Koufax” what most impressed me about the man was that he wanted the one thing that seemed unattainable: to be regular, normal. He is attractive because he comes across as an unpretentious, decent guy.

Jane Leavy: And because he so much doesn’t want to be anything else. That is the ultimate paradox. When I first got in touch with Sandy, and try to persuade him to cooperate in whatever way he was willing to cooperate, I of course did the thing that every writer does. I sent him clips. I carefully edited everything and I did not send him a copy of “Squeeze Play.” Cause of course I didn’t know him, and I didn’t know whether the man had a sense of humor. When he called me back he said, “I want to read the novel.” I hemmed and I hawed, and I finally said, “You know, there are a lot of shlongs in it.” And he said, “Is mine one of them?” I said, “No.” And he said, “So what’s the problem?” That’s how I knew Sandy Koufax had a great sense of humor and that it would be fine.

BB: Tell us about your novel, “Squeeze Play.”

JL: Harper Collins is bringing out a Perennial edition; I’m sitting here looking at it. It just came in the mail.

BB: And it’s a loosely fictional story based on your experiences as a sportswriter?

JL: It’s not loosely fictional; it’s loosely inspired by my life as a sportswriter at The Washington Post. I was the alternate baseball writer for the Orioles between ’79 and ’83 [Tom Boswell was the senior writer]. I did a bunch of baseball, but by ’83 I started to do tennis as well, and I became the Olympic correspondent so I stopped doing quite as much baseball in the mid 80s. “Squeeze Play” is loosely inspired by my experiences in the locker room.

BB: Did you always want to be a sportswriter?

JL: I wanted to be a sportswriter because I wanted to be a writer and a teacher once told me, “Write what you know.” What I knew, and still know, is the Yankee batting order, and all the pertinent stats. This is why A.B. Berkowitz is a Yankee fan. That part of “Squeeze Play” is thoroughly and completely autobiographical. It is a love story about a girl and the national pastime. So sports writing was a natural career choice for me, particularly baseball. Also, don’t forget: I cam up in the pre-Title IX era when girls who liked to play ball were still tomboys; at puberty, we were consigned to observe. A writer is nothing if not an observer.

BB: Which sportswriters inspired you?

JL: The most formative sportswriter for me was Red Smith, the late columnist for the New York Times and the New York Herald Tribune, the paper my parents read when I was growing up. Red was literate, funny, self-deprecating and he had a hell of a good time. When I went to journalism school at Columbia University after college, I wrote my master’s essay---a fancy name for a long magazine piece—on Red Smith. This was when everyone else wanted to be Woodward and Bernstein. The professors were appalled but privately jealous, I think. I hung out with Red for six months. And I said if it’s good enough for him, it’s good enough for me. I still think the New York Times should have white space where his column once appeared.

BB: What made you write a novel instead of a non-fiction book?

JL: Because you can always tell much more of the truth in fiction than you can in fact. Certainly that was true in American journalism in 1990. I’m not sure you can make the same argument today.

BB: So you came in at the tail end of the first wave of women sportswriters to venture into the locker room in the late 1970s.

JL: There were women who came before me, including ones who were around in 1927. I was really in the second wave. I hit the beach in the second wave.

BB: Did you cover any team sports besides baseball?

JL: I did a little bit of everything. I did some basketball; I did some hockey, some golf. I did some tennis, some football. I started out being a feature writer/baseball writer, then I became a tennis writer/Olympic writer.

BB: How were you treated differently from sport to sport?

JL: You know, this might sound really strange, but there were equally measures of chivalry and “Animal House” in each sport. It depended on the guys. Football players, professional football players, I have always argued are the largest, most fragile creatures in the universe. By far. You have the whole war ethos, the troops, and such. These are scared boys. It doesn’t matter how cauliflowered their necks are: they are acutely aware that they are one really nasty hit away from being sidelined forever. So they have a very acute sense of their own fragility. And at the same time they are these behemoths. They are some of the most vulnerable people that I’ve ever met. They’re also much more cowed in general by coaches, and the whole system. You know how people talk about “the system” in football. Basketball players are more hip, more sophisticated, more worldly kind of guys. I covered the Wizards some when they were still the Bullets, and I had some of my nicest experiences with basketball players. Phil Jackson probably changed my life forever because he was the first guy I met in a locker room, when I walked across the threshold in Madison Square Garden in 1978. I was on assignment for the New York Daily News, writing what now seems a fairly hilarious and dated piece about the prettiness of jocks. This was not long after Joe Namath was modeling pantyhose or whatever he was doing…

BB: Or Jim Palmer doing the Jockey ads.

JL: It was an old idea then, but what the hell. The piece was about how jocks were getting all prettied. I walked into the Knicks locker room and I was scared to death. Which of course, everyone is, male or female, the first time they walk into a professional locker room, and anyone who tells you different is lying through their teeth. I knew enough instinctively to know, you let the beat people go first. Not that I had been a beat person, but I had enough common sense to realize that somebody on a tight deadline needs to get in and out. So I cowered behind a very large notebook, which I used to shield my eyes. When you look at the new cover of “Squeeze Play,” that’ what you see: a reporter, shielding her eyes. Anyway, I hid. I stood there looking stupid until everybody was gone, and finally this guy comes out of the shower, stark naked, dripping wet: large, long and white. And he puts his arm around me and says, “Is this your first time?” Bravado escaped me, and I told the truth. I said, “Yes.” And he said, “Well, we just want you to know, you’re doing very well.” And he patted me on the head and disappeared. My mother didn’t raise me to lie, so I told the truth. The guy was Phil Jackson, and he went back into the shower. He came back out again, still naked, still white, and still very wet, and said, “By the way, what are you doing here anyway?” I said, “I’ve got to do this piece on jocks getting all pretty and sissified.” And he said, “Oh, OK.” And he went around the locker room, which was filled with Lonnie Shelton, Earl Monroe---

BB: Clyde was gone already, right?

JL: Clyde was gone. But he goes up to Pearl and goes, “Yo, Pearl. You got some smells?” Pearl had never heard sweeter words. He goes, “Smells?” And he gets up off his trunk, which was filled with approximately 100 different varieties of coco butter and cologne. Phil Jackson begins taking the stuff out and trying it all on. And he’s spraying himself, and spraying the rest of them. He’s dancing and he’s prancing. He’s having everybody sniff his wrists to see which smell becomes him more. He does this whole parade, this whole shtick for me, and then he stops and winks at me and says, “Got enough?” That is what we all know as being handed a story. He was quite deliberate, it was quite gracious, and it was quite formative. From that moment on—even though I might have taken a deep breath every time I crossed the threshold---I didn’t expect the worst. The number of times that guys were chivalrous was astonishing. Now in “Squeeze Play,” the character in question, A.B. Berkowitz, has a different experience than mine. She is much more hassled and much, much more horrified. Her experience is far more difficult than my own was. That’s why I say it’s loosely autobiographical.

BB: Did you know women that had a much harder time than you had?

JL: Sure. Absolutely. I think partly, it’s luck of the draw, who you get. How you comport yourself. It’s which sport, which team. If you get a team with some really bad red ass guys, you are going to have a brutal time. If I had been a beat writer covering a team with Dave Kingman on it, I would have been miserable. He sent Helene Elliot of Newsday a dead rat I believe. The Orioles were always described at the time as a very vanilla team. In that sense I had it pretty easy. Did I have really bad moments? Absolutely. And most of the really absurd, totally horrible things that happen to A.B. Berkowitz in “Squeeze Play” actually happened, because I’m not good enough to make some of that shit up. “Squeeze Play” is a comic novel. It is an inherently funny situation, being a woman in a men’s locker room---it’s the old theme of being a woman in a man’s world, only naked. I deliberately exaggerated the grossness in the early parts of the book in an attempt to replicate the assault on the sensibilities that occurs every time you cross that particular threshold. It’s very useful to be able to laugh. That said, “Squeeze Play,” is also a serious book about journalism and the dilemmas every reporter faces. Done well, every interview is a seduction---not in the sexual sense. It is an attempt to get people to say what they don’t intend or want to say, to reveal more of themselves that they expected. It’s a kind of power, easily abused. It always made me feel responsible for the information I elicited and charged with a responsibility to handle with care.

BB: Did you find that the black players were more sympathetic to you as an outsider, a minority?

JL: Yeah, I think so. Though I think frankly that being 5’1 was both a decided advantage and disadvantage. It was a disadvantage because of where I came up to on most of these guys, which is why I carried very large pads, and felt tip pens, so I didn’t have to look at what I didn’t want to look at. Contrary to the popular belief, you don’t go in there to look. You do your best not to look.

BB: That must be awkward because you must have to force yourself not to look.

JL: Well, you get adept at writing upside down and pirouetting in place very quickly. You position yourself---if you can---behind a pillar, or you lean in a certain way so that you can see a person’s face and not anything below the neck. I always found it incredibly amusing that there were guys who thought you were really there to ogle them. There was one guy who started bating me, a hockey guy. I asked the guy to put his pants on; I was sitting and talking to him. I really didn’t want to look at him, and I said, “Would you put your pants on?” He said, “Oh, I thought you all just came in here to look.” I said, “As a matter of fact, I really am not interested in looking at your particulars, and I would really appreciate it if you put your pants on. I’m not on deadline, there is no urgency here, believe me, I can wait.” He just looked at me incredulously, and I said, “Hey, look pal. I’ve seen them before and yours isn’t any prettier than anybody else’s. Put on your pants.” And I said it in a really loud voice, and believe me it made an impression. It was very premeditated.

BB: How much tension existed between the female sportswriters and the male sportswriters?

JL: Oh I think that was very individual. Some women had a really hard time. Sometimes I had a harder time with the reporters than I did with the athletes. Sometimes it was the reverse. I think that was luck of the draw. Early on, that might have been truer than it was later. It became pretty much common place. Though one thing I have always believed---and it is certainly a theme in this book---is that a woman reporter can be very much at an advantage, not a disadvantage. The advantage is that you are an outsider, which is what reporters are supposed to be. Too often, I think male sportswriters get involved in unseemly competition---if only with themselves---to show guys that they know as much as the real guys do. Well, they don’t. But you’ll get some old geezer who played second base in high school debating with Soriano the best way to make a play at second. You know, that’s not a reporter’s job. A reporter’s job is to ask the questions that elicit the answers. And then check them against the facts, and find out if they make sense. It’s not to say, “Hey, let me tell you about the time that I played second base.” I think that women tend not to compete with the athletes based on trying to prove themselves. And women listen better. I also think that being short was an advantage in that I was very non-threatening. A lot of the guys used to think of me as a little sister I guess. I came up to their waists, maybe, and they’d pat me on the head kind of deal. So I think you could make it work to your advantage. I also think that you had to show them in one way or another that you could get along. That you could hold your own. Athletes test themselves every day. If they play every day, that is. Or every Sunday. But they test themselves: against each other and against the opponents. They live by testing themselves. Against time and against distance and against each other. And sooner or later, they are going to find a way to test you to find out what you are made of. There are all sorts of ways you can respond to that. That is pretty individual. I always tried to let them know that it would take a lot to gross me out.

BB: Roger Angell wrote a good piece about women reporters in the late ‘70s called “Sharing the Beat.” I was particularly taken with the comments made by Jane Gross. One of the things she said was how much she appreciated how much the guys got on with each other, the companionship.

JL: I actually came to envy it. This is actually somewhere in “Squeeze Play,” but these guys actually get to sit around naked and eat sloppy joe’s, and scratch themselves, and talk to their friends, and nobody thinks it’s weird! Wouldn’t you like to able to like to do that once? Just sit around and be utterly unselfconscious? And be a complete dirtball. They are comfortable with themselves in a way that is absolutely, in a strange way, seductive. To say the least, they are earthy, but there is a comfort level with their bodies, with each other, with sitting around and not thinking twice if oops, sloppy joe is falling in my pubic hair. And I ultimately came to envy that. The experience of being in the locker room has nothing to do with sexuality; it had to do with a kind of comfort with themselves and with each other, and with their place in the world.

BB: Jane Gross said she felt more sympathetic towards men after working the beat.

JL: Well, I never felt unsympathetic to men. I should re-read that piece. But it is true that women ask different questions. One example that I’ve always used is, if a reporter says to a player, “Well, where was the pitch?” And the pitcher would say, “It was on the outside corner.” And a male reporter would interrupt, “No, I was up in the press box, it wasn’t on the outside corner, it was right down the middle.” And the pitcher would look at him like, “What planet are you on? How could you possibly be arguing with me about where the pitch was?” This would go on endlessly. Finally one day I heard Jim Palmer—or maybe it was Scott McGregor—say: “Where was the pitch? It was over the godamned fence.” That’s all you need to know. I’ve witnessed debates where guys would be sitting there, insisting to an athlete, that they know more about what happened on a particular play, and the players would sit there rolling their eyes. A female reporter is much more likely to say: “Tell me what happened.” Or in the case of a trade: “How do you feel?” That question has become ubiquitous today, and it wasn’t when Jane Gross or I started reporting. But it’s the idea of seeing the person as a complete human being and not just a piece of chattel, or a page of statistics. Sure. “How about your kids? When was the last time you tucked your kid in?”

BB: Do you think baseball is ready for an openly gay player?

JL: Gee…I don’t know. I think we live in a homophobic society, with a president who thinks that gay marriage is a sin, and feels compelled to tell us that we are all sinners as a consequence. So do I think that it would be particularly well received in a locker room? No, I doubt it would. But you know what? I’m sure there are plenty of gay athletes out there, who have figured out, for better or worse, how to get by. Maybe some friends know, maybe some friends don’t know. Certainly there are gay athletes out there. I’ve never met one who resembled the guy in “Take Me Out.”

BB: Were you pleased with the reception of the Koufax book?

JL: No, I really hated being on the best-seller list for 16 weeks. Somebody was saying something very sweet to me about it recently, and I said, “Look, let’s be real. This has to do with Sandy, not me.” This is a response to who he is. I was fortunate enough to be in the position to write about somebody who really touches a chord in lots of people. The mail that I have gotten has been astonishing, absolutely mind-boggling. I’m still, very slowly, wending my way through answering 1,000 letters, and that’s not including e-mails. The stories people have to tell, and the things that he meant to them, is incredible. You can say, “Well, it’s not curing cancer,” but he did something that…it wasn’t so much what he did, but how he did it that touched people.

BB: You also made a very concerted effort to paint a specific portrait of him. For instance you didn’t get into his marriages.

JL: I chose not to speak to his ex-wives. I’ll tell you something that’s fascinated me. The supposition that people made, even though it was stated quite clearly that it was my choice, was that this was something he insisted upon. I would say, “Go back and read the introduction.” He asked me only one thing: Not to speak to his niece and his nephew, and I said OK. It was my choice not to speak to his ex-wives. I knew that it was a fairly radical thing to do in modern journalism.

BB: What was the reasoning behind it?

JL: My reasoning behind it was complex. What it comes down to is, this is a book about him as a ballplayer, and about the time in which he lived and how he dominated it. It was never intended to be an expose about “Where did Sandy Koufax disappear to, and why he disappeared.” Certainly I felt that I needed to account and explain what he does now, and I think that I did that. But I didn’t want to spend 200 pages talking about what he’s done since 1966. The reason he’s a public person is because of what he did between 1955 and 1966. If he had been married to anyone during those years, I might well have had to make a different decision. Had he had children I might well have had to make a different decision. But given the fact that he’s been divorced from two women, neither of who was in his life when he played baseball, and that the book was not about the ex-ballplayer, but about the ballplayer, I felt it was a reasonable choice to make.

BB: Ultimately, there wasn’t any reason to talk to them for the purpose of the book.

JL: Part of the problem is that it’s like a temptation. It’s like a chocolate éclair that’s out there on the counter. You go down that route and…What if you do talk to them and they say really shitty things about him. You know, what do ex-wives say? Then you feel compelled to spend time and attention dealing with that. I didn’t want to be there. I don’t know whether his ex-wives would have said nasty things or whether they would have said, “You know it was a really important time of my life and I wish him well.” I don’t know what they would have said. I just didn’t want to go there. The thing that I find astonishing, Alex, is that people therefore think it’s not an intimate portrait. We’ve come to define intimacy in this country as meaning exactly one thing: who you shtup, how often and in what position. That’s not the definition of intimacy I choose to embrace. I would argue that the book is a very intimate portrait of him, without being one that is invasive. It’s not what makes him important.

BB: How did he respond to the book?

JL: I have never asked him if he read it, I have never asked him to read it. I have never asked whether he’s going to read it. I said one thing to him and that was that I respected his sense of embarrassment of being the subject of a book, and I felt it was completely consistent with who he is that he wouldn’t want to read it. I don’t know whether he’s read it; I doubt that he has.

"Squeeze Play" was released yesterday, and you can find it at a bookstore near you.

Ms. Leavy is currently doing research for her next project, a book about Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle, and Duke Snider, and is looking for all the help she can get. She asked me to pass along a request. Ms. Leavy is looking to speak with anybody who was at the famous Bobby Thompson "Shot heard round the world" game; the second game of the '51 World Serious (when Mantle tore up his knee on an exposed drain pipe); Mantle's first pre-season exhibition game vs. the Brooklyn Doders; the game where Duke Snider twisted his knee, as well as anyone who might have ever seen the Say Hey kid playing stickball in the streets of New York. If anyone out there was at any of these events, or perhaps knows somebody who was, you can contact Ms. Leavy at NYCF8@aol.com

Andy Pettitte pitched another solid game, and the Yanks survived a three-error to defeat the Royals, 6-3. With the Yanks cruising 6-0, Alfonso Soriano made two errors in the seventh; Nick Johnson made one and the Royals scored three times. But the bullpen held the lead, and the Yanks were propelled by home runs from Soriano, Bernie Williams and Karim Garcia.

Jason Giambi did his best Rickey Henderson impression in the sixth. Leading 5-0, Giambi walked. Kevin Appier wasn't paying him much mind, and the Royals didn't hold him on the bag, so Giambi swiped second. Yeah, that's right. Standing up. He then came around to score on Godzilla Matsui's bloop single to center.

Garcia crushed a first-pitch breaking ball off the upper deck facade in right field, and has provided nice pop during the last three games. The Yanks recalled Juan Rivera to play right and face right-handed pitchers today. But between Karim Dellucci and Juan Sierra, the Yanks have a four-headed right field platoon that is similiar to the left field rotation they've had in recent years.

Derek Lowe and the Red Sox were holding the A's down for much of the game last night in Boston, but the bullpen couldn't close the deal. Two walks and a Ramon Hernandez dinger later, the A's walked away with a dramamtic 3-2 win, which moved Oakland a game ahead of Boston in the wild card race. The Sox now trail the Yanks by 6 1/2 games.

Another night, another f-ugly win for the Yanks. Tell George Vecsey I ain't complaining. Jeff Weaver wasn't awful, but he was far from impressive. Weaver received a decidedly mixed reception when Joe Torre took him out of the game, but I think there were more cheers than jeers.

Weaver's counterpart, Jose Lima, was his usual animated self. He couldn't spot his fastball, and his change up could only take him so far. The Yankees blasted him, and were able to hold off K.C. for a 11-6 win. It's hard not to be taken with the Royals. Not only do they refuse to die easily, but they maintain their sense of humor whether they are winning or losing.

Carlos Beltran killed the Yanks and looked like the star we know him to be. Raul Ibanez was the hard luck player of the game, hitting two long foul balls that narrowly missed being homers (in the 4th and 6th innings). Nick Johnson had three hits for the Yanks; Jorge Posada and Karim Garcia added home runs.

There were a couple of freeze-frame moments during the game that caught my atttention. You know those slow-motion, suspended-in-air flashes where time suddenly halts; the kind that the highlight shows love.

In the third, Derek Jeter hit a shot to deep right-center field. Carlos Beltran was there in plenty of time, but he jumped too early and the ball glanced off his glove. In mid-air, Beltran braced himself to hit the wall. But it didn't come as quickly as he anticipated, and he just floated for a moment, stuck in time, until THUD, he smacked up against it.

In the following inning, Bernie Williams raced home trying to score from second. But his slide came up short, and instead of sliding through the plate, it was as if he was sliding into third. Bernie's lead foot (the left one) stopped just shy of the plate, and as his body straighten, the force of his momentum carried him off his feet entirely and he tumbled over the plate and the catcher. It looked like a startled cat, leaping out a tub. But once Bernie was in the air, time stopped again, and all Bernie could do was enjoy the ride and pray that he would land all right.

The Yankees survived another dubious night of pitching, and everything was all right in the Bronx. The Sox had the night off. New York's lead is now 5 1/2 games.

Jeff Weaver starts against Jose Lima tonight at the Stadium. This one could get ugly early. I hope Lima pulls some of his high school Charlie horseshit, just to piss the Yankees off. Then, hopefully, Jason Giambi will plant a couple in the upper deck.

Mike Mussina gave the Yankees just what the doctor ordered: a three-hit, complete-game shut-out. Mussina had his entire portfolio of pitches working, and dominated his former team as the Yanks pounded Baltimore, 8-0. (By the way, Sunday was Jorge Posada's 32nd birthday, and not Saturday night, as I had originally reported.)

Earlier in the day, the Bombers designated Todd Zeile for assingment.

The Yankees win, coupled with the Red Sox 3-1 loss to the Mariners (who says Freddie's dead?), puts New York five games ahead of Boston, six in the loss column. (It is the largest lead of the year for the Yanks.) Boy, does Rafael Soriano have a live arm or what? He could effectively do what K-Rod did for the Angels last year. The Sox went 3-4 in Oakland and Seattle. Dan Shaughnessy says the Sox potent offense needs to regain its form in order for Boston to keep up with the Yanks.

For one day, there was nothing to fret about, although according to George Vecsey in The Times, that won't last long. (I stand guilty as charged.)

The Bombers are back in New York tonight for a three-game series against the Royals.

I have a few moments to myself this morning, and I've been enjoying Sean Foreman's indispensable Baseball Newsstand. How did we ever live without it? I love cruising around, and checking out papers from all around the country for Sunday baseball articles.

Here are some links that I thought I'd pass along:

1. Joe Torre's critics must have been circling like sharks last night after he forgot to protest the O's batting out of order in the first last night. (Larry Mahnken has a great write-up on the ruling and the game.) It could have cost the Yanks the game, which had one of the wildest finishes I've ever seen. Torre's response? He was as accountable as ever:

"I slept," Torre said. "It's inexcusable. It was totally my fault."

2. Keith Law, the erstwhile Baseball Prospectus writer, who now works for the Blue Jays, wrote a letter to the New York Times addressing a recent column by William Rhoden.

3. Jack Curry has a long piece in The Times today about bunting, and how the sacrifice is regarded in the contemporary game.

4. Not wanting to take any chances, the Reds have shut down Brandon Claussen's season.

5. As always, Gordon Edes' Sunday Notes column in The Boston Globe is a must-read. Today, he talks about the changing fortunes of the Cubs and Red Sox.

6. Aaron Gleeman weighs in on the fielding prowess of Andruw Jones. Lengthy as usual, but informative and thorough.

7. Mike C takes exception with Jayson Stark's recent article on Barry Bonds. Quelle suprise, eh. David Pinto offers his take too.

8. Don't miss Christian Ruzich's excellent interview with former MLB prospect, Phil Hiatt over at The Cub Reporter.

9. Don't miss Rich Lederer's latest piece on Frank Thomas. Don't like The Big Hurt? Tough. He's only one of the best offensive players in the history of the game.

10. Finally, a team of Baseball Prospectus all-stars pen a good piece about the greatest young starting rotations in baseball history.

Hope everyone has a great afternoon.

Bottom 12

Jeff Nelson is the new pitcher for the Yanks. Tony Batista leads off for the O's; he is one of the rare right-handed hitters who does well against Nellie.

Slider outside, 1-0. Fastball, fouled back, 1-1. Another slider, outside, 2-1. Batista hits the next pitch on the screws, but it is right at Matsui in left.

One out.

B.J. Surhoff pinch hits for Fordyce. He swings and misses at a slider in the dirt, 0-1. Another slider, coming from a side-arm angle, right over the plate, 0-2. The next pitch is a heater right over the plate. Chalk up a backwards K for Nellie.

Two out.

Jack Cust is the pinch hitter. Slider, taken for a strike. Fastball, fouled back, 0-2. Fastball up and away for a ball, 1-2. Slider on the outside corner, misses, 2-2. (There are tons of Yankee fans making noise.) Slider on the outside corner. But it's low. Nellie hops off the mound, but the count is full. Slider way outside, ball four.

Now the Orioles fans counter and make some noise of their own.

Looks like a lack of concentration on Nellie's part there. He got a little ahead of himself. Mel comes out to talk.

The first pitch to Larry Bigbie is a slider inside for a ball, 1-0. The next pitch is a fastball, down Broadway, taken for a strike, 1-1. Fastball, outside corner, strike two. He nails the pitch into right center field for a single.

Cust comes rounds third and heads for home. But he falls. Soriano takes the cut off throws and throws low to Boone at third. The ball almost got away. Boone chases him home and throws to Posada. Jorgie runs him back to third and throws back to Boone. Boone then moves towards Cust, but nobody is covering home. Nellie is not there!

But Cust falls again! Only feet away from home, he stumbles again; Boone falls on him and makes the tag and the game is over.

Holy Christ I think I just wet myself.

To paraphrase a famous football call, "Jack Cust must be the sickest man in America." Oh, baby. That's some good ol' fashioned dumb luck.

The Yanks escape with an another ugly win, but remain four ahead of the Sox.

Top 12

Nick Johnson is 0-3 with two walks on the night. He walks on five pitches.

Jeter bunts the first pitch in the air!!! (Gasp.) But it falls foul. (Sigh.) The pitch was a heater, up and in. Boy, you don't see that too often. He swings and missed at the next pitch. Johnson is running. The throw goes through to second, and they pick Johnson off first on a close play.

Good grief.

Ball low, to Jeter. The next pitch is high. Jeter spins away, 2-2. He pops the next pitch, foul and out of play behind the plate. Slider, low, and the count is full. Dag, that one was close. Yeesh. Fastball, low and inside. Jeter waves at it for the strike three.

Fastball high to Giambi, 1-0. He smashed the next pitch into the center field bleachers and the Yanks take the lead, 5-4. The big guy stood at the plate after he hit it; he knew it was gone. How do you say, Jimmy Jack? It's his 35 homer of the year, and his 94th RBI.

Bernie takes a slider for a strike. Ball, outside, 1-1. Fastball outside, 2-1. Another fastball; this one is fouled off to the left side. Fastball right down the middle, strike three.

Bottom of the 11th. I'm starting to feel nautious. Hell, I'm up now. But I want to be able to get some sleep tonight.

Dave Roberts bunts for a single.

Cruz sets to bunt and looks at two straight balls. Then he swings wildly through a change up, 1-2. He bunts the next pitch to Johnson who goes to first for the first out. Roberts heads to second.

The Orioles are up in the dugout with white towels on their heads, trying to work the rally magic.

Matos, Baltimore's hero of the night is up. He flies out to deep right field; Roberts tags and moves to third.

Jay Gibbons is next. He's 0-4 on the night, and Mel Stottlemyre comes out to talk with his pitcher.

Gibbons skies the first pitch to Bernie in center to end the inning.

Hector Carrasco comes on to face Boone. Now, will Torre have Boone bunt? I would think so. Carrasco spins, and throws to second. Bernie slides back. The throw is off; a good throw would have made the play close. Boone bunts the first pitch down the first baseline. The play is to first and the runners move up.

Ruben Sierra pinch hits for Dellucci. Why? David is a lefty, and would have likely been walked. Instead Sierra is given the intentional pass and the bases are loaded for John Flaherty. Karim Garcia pinch runs for Ruben Ruben, and Jorge Posada pinch hits for Flaherty.

Will it be a birthday knock or a birthday double play?

The first pitch to Posada is high for a ball, 1-0. The next pitch is rocketed foul down the first base line, 1-1. Fastball, low; Posada is late, and fouls it off to the left side. He's now down, 1-2. Fastball, way upstairs, and the count is even. (YES just flashed a chart: Posada is hitting .472 in the last ten days.) The next pitch is fouled back. (A fly ball to the outfield would do...) Slider, swung on and missed, strike three. Good pitch.

Happy fuggin boitday.

Here is Soriano, who is 0-5. He looks at a ball, low, 1-0. Fastball on the inside corner, 1-1. Ground ball to third. Batista steps on the base for the final out. The Yanks are 1-6 with runners in scoring position tonight and if I wasn't typing, I would throw this damn machine out of the window.

The southpaw Ryan stays in for the O's and promptly walks Bernie (batting from the right side) to start the 11th.

Matsui takes a healthy cut and fouls away the first pitch Ryan throws him. So much for the sacrifice bunt. The next pitch is a fastball on the outside corner for a strike and Gozilla is in the hole, 0-2. Fastball, upstairs, 1-2. The next pitch is a slider way outside, 2-2. Another heater, just outside; Matsui holds up, and the count is full. (Throw to first.) Wow. That one got my heart beating. The payoff pitch is a fastball, way outside, ball four.

With Boone coming to bat, that's it for Ryan. Hargrove signals for a righty.

Nick Johnson worked a one-out walk against Kerry Lightenberg, and after Jeter lined out to center on the first pitch, B.J. Ryan came in and fanned Giambi to end the inning.

Chris Hammond replaced Mo, and pitched a 1-2-3 tenth.

Mariano collected saves in the first two games of this series, but he looked fatigued last night.

Luis Matos leads off for Baltimore. He fouls and inside fastball off, 0-1. The next pitch is a fastball tailing in for a ball, 1-1. (Mo continues to tap his left foot tentatively as he comes set; it looks like a cat trying to balance himself on a ledge. I don't remember Rivera ever doing this until this season.) Matos rocks the next pitch over the left field wall and the game is tied at four. The pitch was a fastball, low and in, and straight as a string. That's the second consecutive night that the lead-off man has homered vs. Mo.

Gibbons takes a ball high for a ball, 1-0. Fastball outside, 2-0. Fastball high and away, 3-0. (Torre is going to have to answer for the first inning mistake...) Fastball, right down the middle for a strike, 3-1. The next pitch is sliced foul down the left field line. Oh, man was that ever close to being a double. The full count pitch is lined back to Rivera. One out.

Cutter, outside for a ball to Batista. The next pitch is fouled off, 1-1. Cutter, away and out of the zone; Batista waves at it, 1-2. Cutter, in on the hands, fouled back. Another cutter, tailing way outside; Batista whiffs. (That was a good pitch.)

Fordyce looks at another nice cutter for a strike. Good movement on that one. The next pitch is in the same place and Fordyce grounds out to Soriano.

We're going to extra innings, folks.

Sterling Hitchcock was about as good as anyone could have expected, allowing three runs over six innings. He didn't throw many pitches and left trailing 3-2. But John Flaherty hit his second solo homer of the game to tie the score in the seventh, and Godzilla Matsui's RBI single drove home Jason Giambi to give the Yanks the lead, 4-3 in the eighth.

Antonio Osuna worked a perfect seventh. He allowed a single with one out in the eighth, and after fouling off 4 full count pitches, D. Roberts popped out to left for the second out. Osuna is throwing relatively hard tonight. Devi Cruz is up next, and he smacks a grounder to third. Boone has to move to his left---I don't know if leadfoot Ventura reaches this one---and goes to second for the force to end the inning.

There was an odd bit of business early in the game when Batista and Gibbons batted out of order. But the Yankee bench was slow to catch the mistake and missed their opportunity to protest the error (which would have erased a Baltimore run). Torre, Zim and company suddenly had extra incentive for the Yanks to win. The questions will sting if New York loses by a run.

David Delluci laid out and made another great catch tonight (this one was on the warning track). Bernie is still swinging a good bat, and Aaron Boone has two hits. Jorge Posada turns 32 today, and was given the night off.

Mo is getting ready for the ninth. It's rare when the sight of Rivera makes one nervous, but since Mo's cutter hasn't been cutting too much lately, this one still ain't over.

Pedro Martinez was 10-0 lifetime against the Mariners going into today's game. When all was said and done he improved to 11-0, and the Sox rolled to a 5-1 win.

Will Carroll and Derek Zumsteg's Pete Rose story got some big league support Thursday from Allen Barra in The Wall Street Journal. Both Marvin Miller and Bill James are quoted in the piece; Carroll delineated the origins of the scoop to Barra (if anybody needed clarification).

Bill James put it well when he told Barra:

"I hope it is true. We can't argue forever about what Rose did or didn't do, and it isn't doing baseball any good to allow a perception to fester that the game has dealt unfairly with one of its greatest stars. At some point, you just have to move on."

It's good to have friends in high places, and Barra's column is a credibility-boost to the Zumsteg-Carroll piece. Good for them.

The Yankees did almost everything they could to lose last night in Baltimore, but Aaron Boone got his first big hit for New York, and the Bombers toppled the O's, 6-4. Roger Clemens started and although he never seemed totally comfortable, the Rocket bulldozed his way through seven innings and left the game with a 2-1 lead, which the bullpen promptly spoiled.

Jesse Orosco and Jeff Nelson were ineffective and the Orioles went into the ninth leading 3-2. With men on first and second and one out, Aaron Boone came to the plate. The O's had intentionally walked Nick Johnson twice earlier in the game to face Boone, who could not take advantage of the opportunities. He wasn't alone as the Yankees stranded two bases runners in each of the first five innings. They left another man on in the sixth, and they left the bases loaded in the eighth.

Boone hit a line drive to right field which was foul by inches. Quickly he had two strikes against him again. But he recovered and hit what looked like a three-run homer to left. But it was called foul. Boone, making his way around first, couldn't believe it and sprinted across the infield to argue the call. The umps got together and reversed the ruling. The ball was fair and the Yanks once again had the lead. It was Boone's first homer for the Yanks. Lil Sori added a solo shot for good measure.

After the game, Boone told the Post:

"I thought, What else could be happening here?" Boone said after the game. "There was a lot of disbelief. I thought - and I was positive - it was fair. I'm glad, to their credit, they got it right."

Mariano came on in the ninth and immediately served up a bomb to Jack Cust. The Orioles got two more hits before Rivera got out of the inning on a couple of comebackers. So the bullpen and the lack of clutch-hitting plagued the Yanks once again; however, they were able to come away with a win, which should keep the kvetching at bay (for today at least). Bernie Williams also hit a home run, and looks as if he's starting to get into a groove. Jorge Posada is the hottest hitter on the team right now.

Meanwhile, the Mariners were busy beating up on the Red Sox---Ichiro hit a grand slam---and the Yanks now have a four-game lead (five in the loss column). They are going to need the cushion because Sterling Hitchcock is pitching tonight. That could be an adventure. But if the bats show up, he might be all right.

Jeremy Giambi is going to have season-ending surgery on his shoulder this week. It is one of the few moves that haven't worked out for Theo Epstein this year.

Yesterday afternoon a co-worker started a dumb ass debate with me about whether Pedro Martinez is a Hall of Famer or not. He didn't think he was; I think he's out of his bird. So I e-mailed Aaron Gleeman and asked for a link to some of his articles on the subject. I was in the process of forwarding