Let me get this straight. Wake goes seven and gives up a mere one run? Mirabelli leads the offense with a home run and a couple ribbies? The team puts up a ten spot when Timmeh’s on the hill?
Right. Sure. And Leeann Tweeden’s in my kitchen, waiting to spoon-feed me fresh waffles and lapdance me into unconsciousness.
Christ, is there anyone on the team besides Wally and that white-haired Oriental dude/team massage therapist who’s more lovable than Timmeh? The softspoken, elder statesman of the team. Good guy to the Nth degree. Friend to the common man and known accomplice of Bernie & Phyl. The fella to whom Doug Mirabelli’s kids will one day owe their livelihood, or at least their college education.
Leave him off the 1999 postseason roster? No problem, pally, he’ll be there whenever you need him with a smile on his face. Stick him out to try to steal back Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS long after Grady Little had already let it get away? He’s on it, chief, and he’ll gladly carry the burden of that long, slow walk back to the dugout while Aaron Boone circles the bases and everyone in New York sh-ts themselves silly. Provide him with a measly two runs? He’ll just nod and shrug his shoulders and say the offense did the best they could.
I love him madly, yet there’s no other player who takes me to Heart Attack City more often. When he’s on, he’s on; when he’s off, it’s 8-0 in the second inning. Also, just like how Batman always carted Robin around, when you get Wakey, you get Mirabelli, and that typically means another gaping hole in the line-up.
But last night… last night he showed us that after all these years, after all the slings and arrows and indignities and champagne showers, he can still shut down a poweful line-up. And when Dougie unloaded for that home run, couldn’t you just hear his inner voice shouting, “My friend shall hunger for run support no more!” If Mr. Mira makes it his personal crusade to bring home at least a couple runs each game for his partner, I can only say that it would be a most excellent thing.
Simply put, it was a quiet, efficient performance compared to the fireworks of the Papel-Bot coming in and tying up Vladdi G so badly, he practically needed a map to find his way back to the dugout. But it wil hopefully serve as the harbinger of things to come.
All this and the Yankees lose? So much for unlucky Friday the thirteenth.