Freestyle...

         Of course I’m looking forward to the playoffs.  Me, the big boy, Cousin Angelo, aka “Big Ange,” Tony Sherry.  We’ve all secured our playoff seats in section 24, and it’s going to be completely nuts.  But it’s not all about section 24.  We usually get the crew together for all the road games too.  We’ve had upwards of twenty-something people in front of somebody’s TV in glorious years past.  But the Mrs. is currently watching her playoffs.  The season premiere of Grey’s Anatomy.  The girl is head over heels for that show.  I’m not even really allowed in the room.  I guess I just don’t get it.  It’s a chick show.  But then, she doesn’t get how I can ramble on for twenty minutes about the unparalleled ridiculousness of that d*uchebag Joe West calling Robbie Cano out of the baseline (when his foot was directly on the line the entire way to first) with two on and two out in game five of the ALDS last year.  I still, almost a year later, can’t put into words how much that infuriates me.  That still may be the worst call I’ve ever seen.  At least until that A.J. Pierzynski call in the World Series by Doug Eddings.  I will completely freak out if that *sshole Joe West comes within twenty rows of the field this year in the postseason.  My only question is whether or not he has watched the replay, and whether or not he cares that he blew that one.  But enough on that.  See how easy it is to set me off?

         The question came up today about a potential Subway Series.  There are some that won’t talk about it because they don’t want to “get ahead of themselves.”  Any body who reads the BPS regularly knows I think that’s ridiculous.  Big Joe (father-in-law) will hit me with that every once in a while, and then he’ll quickly remember that go nuts when people say that.  We don’t play in the games.  We’re fans.  That’s what fun about being a fan.  You’re allowed to get ahead of yourself.  Why not?  You get to think about what kind of potential matchups there can be, how things might play out.  Get ahead of yourself.  It’s not going to affect the Yankees’ performance on the field if any of us get ahead of ourselves, I assure you.

         So the Subway Series.  Here’s the story.  The Mets can hit with almost anybody.  Just not the Yankees.  If you go through the line-ups (accommodating the fact that some guys are not 100%), the Yankees come out on top.  Comparing the batting orders, it looks like this (this may just be an elaborate ruse to see if I can coax Grossman into commenting twice in one week):  Damon or Reyes.  I’ll give it to Reyes.  Lo Duca or Jeter.  Please… Abreu or Beltran.  Beltran.  Delgado or Giambi.  Exact same type of player, but Giambi’s OBP is almost 60 points higher, so he gets the nod.  But if Giambi isn’t healthy, I’ll allow an asterisk.  Allie-boy or Wright.  I’ll give them Wright, only because I don’t feel like arguing.  That’s when it gets weird.  Floyd vs. The Ferocious Lion.  Even though Floyd might not even play – The Ferocious Lion.  Sheffield vs. Shawn Green.  If he’s healthy, Sheffield.  But again, I’ll allow the asterisk.  But if they’re both healthy, Sheffield is hands-down the better player.  Endy Chavez vs. Posada.  Posada.  Robbie Cano vs. Jose Valentin.  Cano.  There it is.  Six to three.  And the Mets staff is an even bigger question mark.  Even if you were to stretch and say Moose/Pedro and Glavine/Randall canceled each other out, the Mets have no Wang.  That’s the huge difference.  And the bullpens are about even until you get to a certain gentleman from Panama.  Top to bottom, the Yanks are a better collection of talent.  I don’t even think the Met fans would dispute that.  But I’ll tell you what.  If you were to throw karma and mojo in there, the Mets would come out ahead.  They just seem to have that magic this year.  We’ll see what happens in the playoffs.  I’ve been wildly wrong before (more times than I would care to admit, actually).  The Yankees have been battling the black cloud all year.  The incessant injuries, the turmoil.  Even the way the two teams clinched was night and day.  The Mets clinched with a win at home to the cheers and adoration of the fans.  The Yanks clinched sitting in the clubhouse on couches after a loss on the road.  Maybe it’s bad karma, but maybe it’s just making them stronger.  We’ll find out.

         Good news on the home-field front, as Detroit and Minnesota lost.  That gives us a little cushion.  Every little bit helps.

         Giambi’s talking about another cortisone shot.  I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure three of those in a month is not the best thing to do to yourself.  But he’s willing to do whatever it takes to win.  You have to admire that.

         Apparently the Yankee “victory song” is It’s Goin’ Down by Yong Joc.  Okay.  I’m in.  And apparently they kick off all celebrations by gathering around Johnny Damon, who starts a dance circle.  Nice….

          Today is a famous day in disco lore.  Earth, Wind, and Fire.  “Do you remember the 21st night of September…”  A little before my time maybe (Ras may have been a disco star), but still good.

         Apropos of nothing, Joe Theismann is the worst broadcaster on TV, in any sport.  I’ve never seen a more front-running butt-kisser in my life.  I hate listening to that guy.

         Great article in the Times today about the baseball author, film-maker and historian Peter J. Nash.  He lives in Cooperstown, appropriately, and he can rattle-off entire rosters, including stats, of teams from the 1850’s as well as today.  But you may know him by the name he went by back in Brooklyn.  Prime Minister Pete Nice.  Fascinating article.

        Playoffs getting closer by the second.  This is what I’m talking about.