Giorgio Morandi is one of my favorite painters.  He was a little old Italian guy who almost excusively painted still life pictures.  They are humble and deeply satisfying--he's a painter's painter.  Even though the subject matter is traditional, his pictures tackle space, form and composition just like the great modern abstract painters.

The reason I mention him, is because looking at his drawings and paintings is a simple but cherished pleasure for me.  And last night was filled with simple pleasures. It started when I arrived home with a dozen white roses for my wife.  I got caught in the rain and was soaking wet but didn't mind a bit.  When the rain stopped, we saw a rainbow outside of our apartment window in the Bronx.  Later, a full yellow moon beamed high in the black night.  The weather was crisp and unseasonably cool, almost too good to be true.  

At the Stadium, there was Robinson Cano, who is really starting to swing the bat well, and Joe Girardi seeking out Melky Cabrera on the bench after Melky lined-out in the second inning, then offering him words of encouragement.  Later, Melky made a head-first slide into second that looked more like a belly flop into a swimming pool.  It was a potentially reckless play but one that gave his teammates a good laugh. 

There was the joy of watching one of the all-time greats in fine form.  Alex Rodriguez stole a base, made a wonderful throw to end the fourth inning and crushed a solo home run off of Jake Peavy.   David Cone, who just keeps getting better, looser, funnier, John Flaherty and Michael Kay provided entertaining and informative commentary throughout.  At one point, Kay mentioned that the demonstrative Peavy does not curse and he asked Cone if he ever had any teammates that did not swear.  "None that I trusted," said Cone.

There was pleasure to be found in the Yankees not folding, even after Edwar Ramirez gave up two solo homers and Kyle Farnsworth gave up one of his own.  What makes a fan feel better than insurance runs?  Uh, Johnny Damon's doing pretty well these days, ain't he?  And there was Mo, of course, getting a brother-to-brother double play to end the game.  Finally, there was the pleasure of watching the game on-line with the Banterites, who are not only insightful but funny.  Diana had the best line of the night, even though she invoked one of those dreadful 80s pop songs that stick in your head for days:

We can score when we want to
We can kick your team's behind
Cause your team can't score and if they can't score
Well they're no threat to mine