Where do I begin? It’s a good thing I’m only writing this post instead of speaking it, because I’m totally hoarse right now. What a game. I may never recover.
Things were looking so bleak for so many innings. Phelps was very good, but the offense? It was back to its old tricks of stranding runners. Tex was a terrible cleanup hitter (Girardi played the binder instead of putting Cano in the #4 spot) and the RISP fails were painful to watch – almost as painful as watching Gardner get picked off when he came in to pinch run.
But the pen, like Phelps, was spectacular. Except for Soriano, who had a dismal 9th before recovering in the 10th. (I doubt we’ll see him tomorrow.)
Every extra innings game is tense, but this one carried such significance. I was grateful for that little bird that hopped onto the field, probably looking for some hot dog bun crumbs to eat, because it provided a little levity. Maybe it was a Rally Bird, judging by the way things turned out.
Did anyone think, in a million years, that Cervelli would score the winning run, let alone catch for the first time all year? But there he was in the 12th.
The hero of the game, of course, was Ibanez, who hit the bomb that got us into extras. Girardi had that move right, didn’t he? And then for him to knock in Cervelli with the game winner? If AJ were still around, Raul’s bald head would have been covered in shaving cream instead of a bucket of cold water, but I’m sure the hugs he got from everybody were good enough.
I’m breathless. Wow. Just wow.
One more tomorrow night. Please, Yankees.