“Poets are like baseball pitchers. Both have their moments. The intervals are the tough things” ~Robert Frost

The blogger known as Manhattan Infidel watches Stephen Drew hit a home run into the bullpen. I am in the blue shirt right above the “M” in the Modells sign.

On a Wednesday nightt in Da Bronx the New York Yankees and Houston (pronounced How-ston) Astros interrupted having sex with people they’ve never met before to play a baseball game.

The Yankees stated Michael “Pine Tar” Pineda (2-2 2.05) and the Astros Scott Feldman (7-9 4.37).

Houston scored first in the fourth inning when Dexter Fowler doubled home Robbie Grossman. 1-0 Houston after 3 1/2.

The Yanks got a run back in the bottom of the fourth when Stephen Drew (he of the .171 batting average) homered into the Yankee bullpen. 1-1 after four.

In the bottom of the fifth the Yankees took the lead.  Ichiro Suzuki led off with a single and stole second.  He then went to third on a Derek Jeter ground out and scored on a safety squeeze by Jacoby Ellsbury.  2-1 Yanks after five.

At this point I was optimistic.  After all, the Astros are the second worst team in baseball.  If you can’t beat them, well…………

But it was not to be.  Pineda pitched effectively, giving up four hits and 2 runs while striking out three over six innings.

But then the bullpen came in.  Ah the joys of modern baseball.  Overworked bullpens flaming out in August.

Houston scored four runs in the top of the seventh on five straight singles off our bullpen.  5-2 Houston after 6 1/2.

Feldman got the win for the Astros and David Huff got the loss for the Yankees.  Esmil Rogers was also charged with his second blow save.

Notes on the game:

There is a movement in Catholic liturgical circles to reclaim “sacred silence.”  The feeling being that the Novus Ordo is too loud (which it is.)  There should be spaces.  Gaps.  Moments of silence.  This should be applied to baseball as well.

Baseball is at heart a game of gaps and silence.  It is the perfect game for a slow, lazy Summer afternoon (or evening).  But from the moment one enters a baseball stadium one is assaulted with noise.   From rock music blasting from speakers to annoying between innings “entertainment” one doesn’t have the chance to enjoy the sounds of the game (or lack thereof.)

Music should be banned as should all between innings events.  If you’re not there to enjoy the game then go watch soccer.

As for the games themselves I have addressed this before but it’s time to bring baseball back to a two hour length.  Here are more proposals to speed up the game:

1. Any pitcher who takes more than five seconds between pitches will have women make fun of the size of his penis.
2. Any batter who fouls off more than five pitches while at bat will be denied sex after the game.
3. Any manager who uses more than two pitchers in a game will have his Viagra shipments intercepted.

Some say these proposals are unduly harsh.  But I believe they will work.  After all what is the saying?  Once you have them by the balls their hearts and minds will follow.

Speed up the game people!

Before the game I went to a bar across the street from Yankee stadium. Why?  Because all the bartenders have large breasts.  I can’t help myself.  I feel the pangs of the concupiscence of the flesh.

Once again the mysterious and reclusive blogger known as Manhattan Infidel was captured on camera celebrating a Yankee home run.  I am in the blue shirt above the “M” in the Modells sign on the right.

The mysterious and reclusive blogger known as Manhattan Infidel watches Stephen Drew tie the game.

It was Joe Girardi bobblehead night at the stadium.  I carefully monitored the pitch count on my bobblehead and took him out after 5 1/3 innings.  I also gave him the cool nickname “Girdy.”

Best heckle of the game:

My heckle of “The fire of hell is called eternal, only because it never ends”  did not register with the crowd. Probably because they were comatose from the three and a half hour game that never ends.

Reader mail:

T.A.  of Roccasecca, Italy writes, “Muhammed seduced the people by promises of carnal pleasure to which the concupiscence of the flesh goads us.”

So you’re saying he was a professional athlete?

L.K. of New Jersey writes, “Can I become a professional athlete? This concupiscence sounds like fun.”

No. You live in New Jersey.  You must be punished.

A.P. of Poughkeepsie writes, “Carnal pleasure?  Is that like when I ride a Ferris wheel at a carnival?”

Yes.  That’s exactly what it means (the poor man should get out more often,)

Someone known as L.T. of New York writes, “Beep beep. Toot toot.  Hey mister.  Do you have a dime?  Hey mister.  Do you want to spend some time?”

Finally someone who understands the concupiscence of the flesh and why we should avoid it all cost.

Recommended reading material:

Light in August by William Faulker

My record this year is 3-7.  My next game is Sunday August 24th against the Chicago Sox of non-color.

Interesting fact:  Native Americans believed in the concupiscence of the flesh. That’s why they gave Europeans syphilis.

Go Yankees!

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