13 Days Until Spring Training: Mike Pagliarulo

Baseball players have long been a superstitious bunch: don't step on the foul lines, don't talk to the pitcher during a no-hitter, keep your routine, eat your chicken before every game, virtually every action Turk Wendell ever took, etc.

So given triskaidekaphobia, fear of the the number 13, it's no surprise that the Yankees had been wearing uniform numbers for more than eight full seasons when rookie Spud Chandler became the first to wear it in 1937 . Even at that, it was one of three different numbers Chandler wore that year. The next year, journeyman Lee Stine wore it, and despite appearing in only four games, he too managed to wear two different uniform numbers during that time.

It would be ten years before the number was worn again, this time by rookie outfielder Cliff Mapes. He had begun the year wearing number 3, the eighth and final Yankee to wear the number after Babe Ruth. But with the Babe being terminally ill, the Yankees retired his former number on June 18th. Only then did Mapes switch to number 13, and by 1949 he had switched to number 7, perhaps making him the only man to share uniform numbers with not one but two different Yankee legends.

The number didn't emerge again until 1970. It was worn by Curt Blefary for a season and a half, then after a two year break, by Walt "No Neck" Williams for two more. It went back into the mothballs for five years, until bit players Bobby Brown and Keith Smith wore it for two seasons each, amassing just 174 games between them. Through 57 seasons of numbered Yankee uniforms, 13 had been worn sparingly by just eight men who either couldn't get rid of the number fast enough or whom the club couldn't rid themselves of fast enough.

In mid-1984 the Yankees recalled Mike Pagliarulo from Columbus. Issued the same number Don Mattingly wore in his first two seasons, 46, Pags quickly established himself as the starting third baseman. For 1985 he switched to number 6 and slugged 19 home runs in his first full season.

The following year, Roy White rejoined the coaching staff. He had worn number 6 for the final eleven years of his playing career, as well as during his previous stint as a Yankee coach. Pags relinquished his number to White, and donned the seemingly unwanted number 13. He went on to hit 28 home runs that year, then led the team with 32 in homer happy 1987. Elbow injuries soon began to sap him of his power at the plate and his arm strength in the field, and he was traded to San Diego in mid-1989.

Pags was a fan favorite during his five years manning the hot corner for the Yankees. He was the first Yankee to wear the supposedly cursed number for any extended period, but has since been surpassed by another third baseman as the most successful Bronx Bomber to don the number. Pagliarulo was kind enough to agree to an interview with us last summer. You can revisit it here and here.

Nothing Left To Do But Smile, Smile, Smile

Hey there Fackers. Well, this might be the most expensive post I've ever authored here. As I mentioned last week, I've been in Chicago since Saturday. Since my swanky hotel charges $15 a day for internet and I've been trying to keep expenses down, I've been off line since writing the Game Three recap (thanks for carrying the weight Jay - great job this week). But in the euphoria of winning tonight I decided the company can spare an extra $15 and get me online - it's cheaper than having to pay for a superstitious flight reschedule and extra hotel night had the Yankees lost tonight.

I want to share a quick story that bends a bit from the logical, rational type of thing we've tried to do all season long. As I mentioned last week, the Yankees have never won the World Series with me being at home. In the story I told earlier this year, the first time the Yankees won the World Series in my lifetime, 16 year old Matt was on a field trip to Washington, D.C., being held hostage at some lame ass dance in Washington, D.C. After courageously escaping several times to watch Game Six over the course of the night, the chaperones finally held me hostage where I was supposed to be. With no hope of escaping, I was left to find out that the Yankees won the World Series when the DJ cut in to Billy Idol's "Mony Mony" to make the announcement.

Flash forward 13+ years to tonight. Instead of a high school leadership conference dance I'm trapped in a sales meeting when the first pitch is thrown. As I anxiously await for it to end, I follow the first two innings on my phone with GameCast. As the meeting wraps and I begin walking to the hotel bar, I get notification of Hideki Matsui's home run. By the time I settle in with a few Fat Tire Ales, the Yankees are up 4-1. As Robinson Cano stepped into the box to lead off the bottom of the fourth, a familiar tune came on as the bar music. Billy Idol's "Mony Mony". The same song from 13 years earlier. No joke.

I'm not a superstitious man, but I do believe that sometimes life taps you on the shoulder as it tries to get your attention. At that point the cautious optimism I had as I finally got watch Game Five starting with the top of the ninth, the same optimism I've felt the past two days knowing my favorite and most-trusted starting pitcher from my years as a fan was taking the mound tonight, turned to a cool confidence. Stupid, I know. The very idea of which is something I'll surely scoff at in the years to come. But at that moment, short of the Almighty Himself offering me a glimpse to the future, I don't think there's anything that could have assured me of the future more than that.

I suppose it's only appropriate that after combining music and Yankee baseball here all season long that the final night of the longest baseball season ever would end with a bit of throwaway music enveloping me in a sense of assurance. I'm not sure what more to say at this point. I just have a dumb smile across my face that won't seem to go away, and for lack of the YES Network out here in the Windy City, I'm stuck watching ESPN over and over again.

Thank you to Jay for extending the offer to me to join this little party back in May. Thanks to all our blogofriends all across the internets for all the links and the help in growing our readership here. Most of all, thanks to all of you Fackers for reading and commenting and giving us a reason to keep doing this day after day. If it weren't for you, there wouldn't be much point to this. Thank you, and we promise to do what we can to keep stoking the hot stove until we can utter the second sweetest sentence I know: "Pitchers and catchers report".

I can't hope to top Jay's choice of Old Blue Eyes as the final out was recorded. I suppose I could go with Billy Idol given my above stories, but that wouldn't quite fit our tastes here. Instead, me and my goofy smile will once again turn to the band that I leaned on so many times over the course of the year. As we all say the sweetest sentence I know - "Yankees win the World Series", and the team dog piles in the clubhouse, and the nine year World Series "drought" is gone - there's nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile. See you at the parade Fackers.

Sweet Home Chicago

Earlier this year, as the Braves and Yankees met in an interleague series, Jay and I decided to revisit both the 1996 and 1999 World Series between the two clubs, much like we did earlier this week with the 1950 Yanks-Phils World Series. In addition to recaps of each of the six games in the '96 Series, I tacked on an additional entry summarizing my personal memories of that Series.

In short, I was pumped that the Yankees were back in the World Series for the first time since I was a year old. Games One and Two were in New York, and the Yankees dropped them both. Game One was postponed a day by rain, but was a total beat down when played, with Andruw Jones knocking two out of the park. The morning of Game Three I boarded a plane, flew to Washington D.C. for a conference, and spent the remainder of the World Series there. I returned the following Sunday, the day of a potential Game Seven that wasn't be necessary. While in D.C. I didn't get to watch the games as closely as I wanted to, but the Yankees didn't lose again, taking home their first Championship in my lifetime.

I thought of those days quite often this week. The Phillies entered this Series as the defending World Champions, the first NL club to do so since those '96 Braves. They defeated the Yankees convincingly in a rainy Game One, with Chase Utley hitting two home runs. Thankfully Game Two went a little different this time around.

Tomorrow afternoon I'm going to hop on a plane again. I'm heading to Chicago, and I'll remain there until Thursday morning, the day of a potential Game Seven. Thanks to work obligations, I likely will miss the early innings of at least Games Four and Five.

This trip has been scheduled for quite some time. There's no getting out of it. At some point maybe two months ago, I realized that it would be happening smack dab in the middle of the World Series, and that it could have a negative impact on my watching my favorite team in the Series. A few weeks ago I had a sit down with my boss, who is British and does not like baseball at all. I explained my potential conundrum, and thankfully he lent a sympathetic ear. I'm hopeful I'll be given a bit of leeway next week so that I can watch the games in their entirety.

And yet, part of me isn't worried. In an old Simpsons episode, Lisa walks by Bart's room, and overhears him praying for a snowstorm to postpone the test for which he is not prepared. "Prayer," she says to herself, "the last refuge of a scoundrel". I like to think of myself as a bit better than a scoundrel, and I don't believe that the folks who answer prayers are particularly interested in baseball. But the tension of the post-season does have the ability to turn my usually rational self into a bit of a superstitious being.

I've never been in my home state of Connecticut when the Yankees have won the World Series. I was in D.C. in '96 and away at college in '98, '99, in '00. A good part of me can't wait to get on that plane tomorrow; I'm hoping it'll play out like the previous times I've been away from home during Yankee World Series appearances. For strictly superstitious reasons, I'm looking forward to calling Chicago my sweet home for the next five days.

Game 154: Empire State Of Mind

The Yankees return home tonight, coming off what was a pretty decent road trip. They got themselves in a 1-3 hole starting with a series loss to the Mariners, but won the last two against the Angels to break even on the six game swing.

This 3 game set in the Bronx will round out the Red Sox final road trip of the season. After dropping the first two against the Royals, the Sox rallied to halve the four game set and these next three against the Yanks will determine if it will be a winning or losing one. It will also determine if the season series between the two teams will be won by the Red Sox or be a wash. It currently sits at 9-6, so if the Yankees win all three, they can square it up.

The tiny superstitious part of me that hasn't been beaten down by studying game theory, years of analyzing market research data and attempting to do objective baseball analysis would rather see the Yankees simply take two out of three than sweep. I guess the fear is that a sweep would make it seem like the Red Sox were due to win some games should they meet in the ALCS.

However, I really hope that one of those two games is tonight. Young Master Joba only has two chances to come up with a respectable start or he might have to face the reality of being left off the postseason roster. His last start in Seattle was downright terrible and even his most ardent supporters need to see something good out of him tonight to regain some confidence in him. Not getting shelled would be nice. Making it though the sixth inning would be a pleasant surprise.

Jon Lester faces the Yanks tonight for the first time since throwing 7 innings of one run ball against them in the Boogie Down back on August 9th. He and Andy Pettitte were locked in a scoreless duel until the 7th inning that night when A-Rod took Lester deep. Victor Martinez answered with a two run homer in the top of the 8th but Johnny Damon and Mark Teixeira countered with solo homers off of Daniel Baaahhhd in the bottom half to put the Yanks over the top.

That night the Yanks completed a 4 game sweep, went up 6.5 games up in the division and they haven't been separated by less than 5 games since. With the margin sitting at 5.5 right now, the Sox have the chance to breach that 5 game barrier.

When the schedule first came out in the beginning of the year, there was certainly the potential that this series could have more direct implications on the outcome of the divison. Nonetheless, there's a good chance some champagne will be popped at some point over the weekend. I'm just glad that the best case scenario for my team isn't celebrating it in the Stadium of the club we're trailing for first place.

Unlike the Red Sox, the Yanks got last night off, slept in their own beds and should be refreshed and ready to go as they open their final homestand of the year. Let's hope for an inspired performance from Joba et al. tonight.

Concrete jungle, where dreams are made of,
There's nothing you can’t do,
Now you’re in New York,
These streets will make you feel brand new,
Big lights will inspire you,
Let's hear it for New York, New York, New York.

Hate To Break It To You, But There Is No Santa Claus Either

[Jinx is Magic Hat's Scotch Ale]

As A.J. Burnett walked off the mound in the bottom of the fourth inning last night, John Sterling mentioned that he was carrying a no-hitter. I couldn't see the box score, and I cringed for a second, knowing that there are scores of people out there who actually think that mentioning a no-hitter or perfect game in progress "jinxes" it. Apparently Michael Kay said it on the YES broadcast as well.

Friends, we live in an age of science and reason. How, exactly, does what an announcer says into a microphone in a box 50 feet above the field impact what happens when a pitch crosses home plate? You think that's the only thing stopping a pitcher from throwing a no-no every time he takes the mound? Where do you draw the line? What if a fan in the stands mentions it? What about you at home? What if I type it? ZOMG JINX!!!1!one1!!exclamationpoint!!

No-hitters are extremely rare, there have only been 256 in the history of the MLB, or about two per year. You know what keeps them from happening? Probability. Why doesn't this apply for the cycle? There are just about as uncommon, and when a batter comes up to the plate with a 1B, 2B and a HR, you hear the announcer say "Just a triple short of the cycle" every single time and no one says a peep.

I think it's cool that the players leave the pitcher alone in the dugout. It's a great old-timey baseball tradition/superstition, and it could actually directly affect the pitcher. If a person says something odd to a pitcher that gets in his head, it might put him in the wrong frame of mind when he goes back out to the hill. I get that.

What I don't get are the morons who are going to call into the Michael Kay Show today and bitch about the fact that Kay mentioned it on the air. If John Sterling took calls during the pregame, he'd have to deal with these Druids too. Until Sterling mentioned it, I didn't know Burnett hadn't given up a hit yet. If he had never brought it up, who knows how many in the radio audience would not have realized what was taking place. It's called broadcasting. You are supposed to inform your audience of what is going on. It made the game a whole lot more interesting for the listeners.

If you are outraged that broadcasters mention no-hitters on the air, please go to Thesaurus.com and look at the antonyms for superstition:

Antonyms: fact, reality, truth

Dueling Jinxes

CC gets the cover but the Mets get the World Series prediction.

WHICH WILL BE WRONGEST???