The evening started off so promisingly. My dinner guests arrived, unsuspecting that I had ordered the special Yankees cap cake (see previous entry). Everybody was having fun, the Yankees were up 5-4, and the bullpen was pitching scoreless baseball. The only sour note was that Vasquez was given a quick hook again. (Would it have been so horrendous for Girardi to leave him in for another inning? I feel sorry for Javy at this point.) Oh, and there was that abysmal call at second base where replays showed that Jeter clearly tagged Kinsler. But OK, we could win this. I felt pretty good. And then Joba served up this.
And Nelson Cruz ate it up to tie the score. From then on it was the battle of the pens, and I started getting really tired and cranky. My guests had gone home. I had dishes to wash and leftovers to put away. I wanted to go to sleep – with the game firmly in the win column. Instead, I sat there like an idiot watching us strand runner after runner. It was sickening. It seemed inevitable that Gaudin would serve Cruz a meatball too, and all those wasted opportunities would end in disaster. I hated the game. I hated that I stayed up late to watch the game. I hated that my evening with friends – my end-of-vacation thank-you dinner to them – was tainted.
Or was it? There was still the Yankees cake, and we really enjoyed it. Not only did it look great but it tasted incredible. Underneath the cap was a moist chocolate dessert with creamy vanilla frosting – three layers worth!