Say it ain't so, Joe

Why does Joe Girardi hate me?  I never did anything to him.  I mean, I've never even met the man.  Yet, there he was last night, on the mound in Anaheim, taking out the one reliever (who's not a closer) in whom I have confidence...David Robertson.  Stop me if you think I'm wrong, but I think it was the worst move he's made all year.

Lupica says it was overmanaging, and he may be right.  But even my son, who's only 10, knew it was the wrong thing to do before he did it.  When we saw Joe call the bullpen, as soon as he took his first step up those dugout stairs, he (my son) looked at me and said, "What's he doing?"

"I don't know," I said.  "He's been out there once already, though, so Robertson's done."

"Bad move," he said.  "Really bad move.  But as long as he doesn't bring in Aceves, we'll  be all right." 

Little did we know that the real Clueless Joe would do exactly that.

I put my head in my hands and said, "Might as well go to bed now, son.  That's the ballgame."

And it was.  Two out, no one on.  No one really dangerous coming up for three or four slots.  Yet, Joe Girardi decided it was time the Angels won a game.  Aceves?  Really?  Seriously?

Wasted - an exceptional 1st and 3rd, nobody out performance by the Sandman.
Wasted - a fine 6.1 innings from Andy Pettitte.
Wasted - a game-tying Jorgie tater in the top of the 8th.
And wasted - another quality relief stint by David Robertson.

You know how bad that move was?  Even the Angels asked, "Why'd they change pitchers there?"

You got me.

All I know is that Joe Girardi doesn't want me to get a good night's sleep.  He hates me.  He just hates me.  And I don't even know why.