Yeah, it's Cryptic

These words are by Robert Johnson, recorded in Dallas on June 20, 1937. Yanks won it all in 1937, over the Giants, and The Jolter had a pretty good year, flirting with .400 before an eye injury kept him from seeing the ball well; he slumped down to .380. You can guess what I mean by putting this all in context; whatever you come up with is fine by me.

"I got to keep movin',
I've got to keep movin'
Blues fallin' down like hail,
blues fallin' down like hail

Umm mmm mmm mmm
Blues fallin' down like hail,
blues fallin' down like hail

And the days keeps on worryin' me,
and the days keeps on worryin' me,
hellhound on my trail,
hellhound on my trail."

I had a thesis, whereupon if the Yankees swept Boston in last weekend's series at Fenway, then this devastating blow to the Red Sox' psyche would result in the Boston club collapsing like a deck of cards, possibly crashing and burning out of the playoffs. Yanks started off well, coming back from a huge deficit on Friday night to edge the Sox. Saturday was the payback for travel day, and the Yanks were swamped. Finally, Sunday night saw the Yanks hold on by their fingerprints to edge Boston. 2 out of 3 is good, but no sweep. So, I figured all was well in the Red Sox Nation.

Perhaps I was mistaken. Youkilis remains riding the pine, a victim of a CM Wang pitch that rode in as he crowded the plate. Coco Crisp sat out tonight with stiffness. Manny Ramirez should be back from injured obliques on the morrow; alas, his head is not right and the verdict is unclear. Terry Francona has used up his Japanese imports who looked so stellar to begin the year. Suddenly, Jon Papelbon is mortal, and Eric Gagne is just a shell of his former self. While the Yanks have taken two from the suddenly-sleepwalking Orioles, Boston has dropped two to Toronto. Tomorrow, Clay Buchholz goes with only a few innings remaining in his 2007 innings cap. Will he pitch only to the limit, or will Francona panic and gamble the future for a tenuous today?

What drama has imbued our consciousness! I watched the Yankees game on MLB.tv/YES 9 and followed the Red Sox and Tigers games on Gameday. I have long since had no fingernails, and my cuticles bleed continuously. This is why we watch, this is Pennant Fever. Catch it!

There's a growing sense of euphoria in Yankee-dom, and to all those who were steadfast in their grim determination, hold the line, I say: We're still in this. We can do it. We can win the division, the pennant, and the series. To all of the nervous nellies, naysayers and bandwaggoners I say, be off with ye. Shades of impending collapse in May doomed ye to the oblivion of forsaking your team - they shall not pass [on to credibility]. You were not here for the team when the chips were down, no need for you to be around now. There's something in the air now, something a-brewing [Abreau-ing?]. A New Dynasty is afoot, as prophesied by our own Queen of Optimism and Squirrels. This is exciting stuff, the pennant race, the playoffs and series, the hot stove league, spring training. This is baseball, and all is again well in our world.

There's a growing melancholy in the Red Sox Nation, blasting Eric Gagne for no longer being himself, blasting Manny Ramirez for still being himself, and blasting Terry Francona for being the skipper of a sinking ship. Bostonians, did you enjoy talking trash when the Yankees fortunes ebbed? Is it uncomfortable, as though one's shoes are too tight, or perhaps similar to one's underwear twisting around, now that things have gotten edgy? Nothing personal, no gloating here; just asking.

Weirdly, the Mets seem on the verge of total collapse. I hate to say it, because I have cheered the Mets for longer than most loyal readers have been alive [from the '69 Series, where I first learned to hate the Orioles]. I have heard a few non-attributable remarks from players; sadly, it appears Willie Randolph has lost the team. I always DID like Willie.

Now, loyal readers [loyal reader?], what to do? If you cheer the Yankees, imbue yourself with a feeling of optimism. We're still alive. We can do this! If you cheer the Red Sox, chin up! It's 2007, not 1949 or 1964 or 1978. If you don't know about this baseball thing, e-mail me and we will begin our studies at the Holy Temple, The Stadium of Stadia, The House That Ruth Built. George Herman Ruth, The Babe, The Sultan of Swat, The Bambino. Hallelujah. Amen.

Optimism. The Power of the Squirrel. Go Yankees.