Yanks 6, Tribe 1

It is strange for a Wednesday-night game between non-divisional, non-regional rivals to produce as many subplots as a Russian novel. Tonight, though, was an exception. In order:

1. The Yankees seem to go through a three- to four-year period during which one player is the designated plunkee: the one who gets hit by pitches all the time. Yankee faithful will remember that Tino Martinez held the honorific in the late-90's, including one evening in Camden Yards in 1998 that followed a Bernie Williams game-breaking homer, was a clear retaliation for same, and precipitated a Yanks-Birds brawl that carried into the Orioles' dugout.

Lately, the job seems to fall to Jorge Posada. I'm not sure about the statistics, but to my untrained memory Posada seems to have gotten more HBPs than the rest of the team combined in the post O'Neill/Tino/Scottie era, 2002 to the present. Part of it is retaliation, part is dumb luck. Tonight, with the Yankees holding to a 3-1 lead in the sixth, with a runner on first, Jason Johnson's throw at Posada could not, under any conceivable scenario, be a plunking. Not with a two-run deficit. Not to push a runner in scoring position.

So let's play amateur psychologist. Let's say, deep down, Posada knew the HBP wasn't intentional. All right, so how to explain his outburst? I think, first, he was indulging in gamesmanship; he saw the chance to gain a slight edge, perhaps help his team, just that much, put a game away at a time when the Yanks are still attempting to climb out of a losing streak.

And second, I think there is a little in Posada that I saw in Tino toward the end--a case of, "Oh, crap, me again?" And really, who can blame him? The Yankees score three more runs, go up 6-1 with the Unit flying. To the extent that Posada was overreacting on purpose, well, good job.

2. Before I get to the Unit's response, this observation: in the same way that (we're told) spouses begin to resemble each other and masters begin to favour their pets, so to do television broadcasters begin to resemble the squads they cover--and, to a certain extent, their cities. The St. Louis broadcast team is smart and professional. The Braves bunch believes the game was invented in Atlanta. Cincinnati is modest and fair, always sure to point out a superlative play by the opposition. The Yankees group is confident and smooth, delivering games like a Goldman Sachs CEO delivering earnings reports. The Red Sox: mostly relaxed with a streak of paranoia, as if waiting to be brought to ruins by the Sons of Sam Horn. The White Sox: hog-calling yahoos, ridiculed daily by broadcasting community at large ("Put it on the booooaaaaard . . . . YES!" Ugh.)

What I noticed about the Cleveland announcers seem defensive and myopic. Perhaps one can extend this to the entire Cleveland production team. Understand: considering all that followed from the Posada HBP, not one replay of the incident aired on the network, saved for a washed-out, un-commented-upon image as part of a montage to accompany the bump music. Think about that: twenty comments about Posada's plunking, not one real replay.

3. As to the Unit. Once again, I would wonder what he was thinking. Seventy-seven pitches, big lead, clearly flying, and all the momentum in the world, plus . . . didn't everyone see and appreciate the whole Posada moment in contrext? Leaving that aside, is this the first time in history that a pitcher was thrown out for almost hitting a batter? Was it his smirk?

Look, I've always been a settle-it-on-the-field guy. But the sixth and seventh innings of tonight's game just left me scratching my head.

And still: Johnny Damon, Andy Phillips. The youth movement expands. And the Unit, who definitely got away with a few hanging sliders, still showed he has something.