CHICAGO - By the very nature of baseball, what I saw from AJ Burnett was actually to be expected.
The fact that it came on my birthday made it a very tough pill to swallow.
For the second year in a row, I attended a Yankees game on my date of birth, and for the second time I was treated to a loss.
Safe to say, I don’t think I will attempt to go for the trifecta next season.
Last year was a must trip. It was the final season at Yankee Stadium and I was never going to miss that for anything. It was a perfect present right up until the final score and knowing that I would never have a second chance to come back to that great old place that I have called home since I was a kid. The playoffs would have been my only opportunity. Problem was the Yankees did not make it to the postseason in 2008, leaving that as my last memories.
This time, I was seeking better results. Once again, I simply showed up on the wrong day. Hell, Burnett had only been pitching like one of the best in the league over his last nine starts. Perhaps I was going to be able to catch a glimpse of his hot streak in person.
Instead, he made Sidney Ponson’s performance from last year resemble Bob Gibson and Pedro Martinez in their primes.
Did this mean the rest of the team, including the manager were allowed to play as if the game was being punted before the first pitch was ever thrown?
Let's face it, anytime you have both Jerry Hairston Jr. and Cody Ransom in the same lineup, you can safely assume the game is over. On a Saturday summer evening (that at times look like spring mixed in with fall) in Chicago, the only thing left was to decide where to eat dinner and what club to go to afterwards.
The Yankees never really had a chance. Dropping their third straight of the series to the White Sox, one worse than the other. At this rate, we have been looking more like the Pittsburgh Pirates than anyone else has.
Only difference is that we still have our players.
The Yankees lost last year's birthday edition 1-0, in a heartbreaking game that saw Mariano Rivera give up a leadoff triple and then a single to Torri Hunter to give the Angels the lead and win.
Here at US Cellular Field, the beat down came as quickly as George Foreman was able to throw right hands. In the second inning, Burnett gave up six runs and put the team in a 6-0 hole.
The breakdown of the inning: single, single, single, walk, single, double, single.
The most egregious (at the time) play came in that second inning when Burnett walked ninth place hitter Jayson Nix with the bases loaded. Nix, who will never be confused with Ted Williams, was able to coax out an RBI without swinging the bat.
It was disgusting.
Chicago was lining him up. He did not have his power curveball that he uses to generate swings and misses. The White Sox, who may not be the best hitting team in the league, but can certainly lineup a fastball, teed off on him.
It was made worse when my ears were being treated to a heavy dose of “Your Love” by The Outfield for their rookie Gordon Beckham. The kid is a nice player and has the look of potential star. But can we please change the damn song?
You can usually spot a bad Burnett outing right away. When he is confident and has his pitches working, he is a quick worker on the mound and not wasting time.
Here, with no command for his pitches and any one that is finding any area of the plate is being hit all over the lot, it was going to be "one of those" outings. He was taking about 30 seconds or so between pitches and dragging the game to a grinding halt, which for me was a good thing because I needed to have the game stretch out so we can all reach our party place closer to 8:00 PM anyway.
Was he going to be able to pull himself together? Or, was going to have himself an early evening and start dinner plans early.
"Waiter!"
In the fifth inning, Burnett appeared to be grinding it out. He had first and second and was able to get Carlos Quentin to fly out to right field for the second out. The Yankees had scored two runs in the third to cut the deficit to 6-2 and if he can just hold them off the board, perhaps he can give the offense a chance to come back.
Instead, he gives up a single to Chris Getz and brings Nix back up to the plate again. Surely, there is no way is going to let this little ninth place hitter burn him again. He gets up 0-2 on the count and is ready to put him way. Slowly, the count works up and suddenly gets to 3-2 again with Burnett’s pitch count getting closer to 100. No way in the world he is going to walk him AGAIN right?
Here it is the 3-2 pitch….ball four!
Are you kidding?
Twice? With the bases loaded? This has to be a joke. Paul Konerko scores from third. The White Sox now were ahead 7-2 and here comes Girardi to throw in the towel and end Burnett’s night. Please, get him out of there. It was so bad that even I wanted to chant “Na, Na, Na, Na, Hey, Hey, Hey, Good Bye!”
By some miracle, the Yankees look like they are creeping back into it the very next inning. They get the bases loaded with no one out and it appears to be the start of a big inning. Instead, a hard hit ball by Cabrera is caught on a line by Quentin who fired a strike home to keep Rodriguez at third. Hairston’s bloop single brought home a run, but Posada is unable to go from second to third. Huh? Then, by no one’s surprise, Ransom (which is code for “the pitcher’s spot”) strikes out.
So much for that.
Phil Coke comes into the game, and it suddenly just goes to hell. Girardi’s computer at the same time goes haywire. Dirty Coke has nothing on this day. He allows the first four men to reach before recording an out. Then, as if Girardi wasn’t spooked enough, he walks Nix (I may as well call him Teddy Ballgame now) to intentionally load the bases.
Message to Joe: Coke has NOTHING today.
The infield plays in (apparently thinking if they hold them at 9-4, they have a chance) and he walks Podsednik after being up 1-2 in the count. As if I haven’t already been disgusted. Thank goodness, I only had one hot dog, two beers and a margarita. If they were selling Patron shots, I may have been on that.
The crowd now emboldened starts chanting “Yankees Suck”, making me feel as if I am back at Fenway again. I knew the vocabulary and intelligence was waning in this place, and now it had only confirmed it.
Coke (now on punishment) gives up a double to Beckham to drive in two more runs as ‘Your Love” plays on some more. I think it has gotten louder than the airplane decibel level it was playing the previous two days. At this point, I consider the possibility of what I would do if I had a shotgun next to me.
The final score reads a White Sox 14-4 victory and I quickly look for the nearest exit. The birthday crew and I enjoyed ourselves, but not the outcome.
In the end, it was another birthday downer.
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