The more I think about it, the more I'm relieved the Yankees didn't beat the Angels on Monday. Because being up 3-0 would have undoubtedly cued a barrage of clips from The Unspeakable Year. And if they had won 3, then lost 1? Forget about it, the sports world would have had a veritable field day predicting "Here we go again!"
But that's not the case. The Yanks have Anaheim right where they want 'em: 27 outs away from the final hurdle in the Road to 27. A.J. Burnett (13-9, 4.04) gets the honor of trying to close out this series, while John Lackey (11-8, 3.83) gets the chore of trying to avoid headlining Anaheim's season swan song.
Burnett, who I assign a generous helping of credit to for lighting a fire under this team's ass, is too much of a pistol to not rise to the occasion here. In his last start, he let up 2 earned runs and 2 unearned, with his wild penchants discernibly surfacing before getting pulled. Lackey got worked in Game 1, giving up 9 runs and 4 runs over 5.2 IP.
The Yanks won't be able to rely on their sit-on technique that worked like clockwork again Scott Kazmir: Lackey's a 1st-pitch-strike kind of guy (my head is already hurting from T-Mac and Buck marveling at this for about 89 mentions.)
This also might be a good time for Mark Teixeira flex his offensive muscles and break out of his .133 postseason freeze. #13 can only compensate for his buddy's sleeping bat for so long... As for predictions, I think #34 delivers us to 4-3 final tonight, giving the Yanks their 40th pennant with a 4-1 series victory. All on the eve of #41's 31st birthday.
LET'S GO YANKEES. THE TITLE AWAITS!
Hurt Angels, hurt Angels,
Will you beat them?
My darling Yankees,
Who tee off on their pen,
I'm just a fan,
A fan who loves Yankees.
Hurt Angels, hurt Angels,
The team we abhor,
You've beat us forever, and ever more,
But not this year,
You'll be the ones out the door...
I root for you, and I knew,
The value of the Tex and CC trades,
I hoped and I pray that next month,
I'll see you riding in the World Series parade.
Oh oh oh oh oh OH!
Hurt Angels, hurt Angels,
Beat L.A.,
My darling Yankees,
Will take it all the way,
Angels are fools,
For thinking they'd top youuu.
I watch you play, and I say,
"They're something like the early dynasty,"
The bats and the arms of this club,
Are out to prove their superiority.
Oh oh oh oh oh OH!
Hurt Angels, hurt Angels,
Win in five,
My darling Yankees,
You've almost arrived,
I'm just a fan,
A fan in love with Yankees.