I guess it’s that time of year again.  Time to pick my favorites for the postseason awards.  I went 6 for 8 last year, missing both of the MVP awards.  Not bad, I guess.  This year should be different.  I’m going to nail them all.

AL MVP: Derek Jeter – There are a lot of people who could potentially win this award this year, and if there’s one I may miss, it may be this one.  But DJ has had such a great year.  He hit .334, had 66 ribbies, 18 dingers, 212 hits, and scored 107 runs.  He also had 30 stolen bases. But the most telling, I think, are his.406 on base percentage, his .465 slugging percentage and his .871 OPS.  This was a monster year for The Captain, who overtook Lou Gehrig as the Yankee’s all-time hits leader.  If he doesn’t win it this year, I will consider it a robbery.

NL MVP: Albert Pujols – I gotta go with last year’s winner on this one.  Granted, my reason for going with Ryan Howard last year was that he had his team in the playoffs.  He took them all the way to the Series and won it last year.  Who knows?  He might be able to duplicate that this year.  I hope not, but he could.  Albert, though, was super human.  .327 batting average, 47 taters, 135 RBIs, and a staggering 1.011 OPS.  Amazing.  No doubt about this one.

AL Cy Young: Zack Greinke – A member of the Royals winning it?  You bet.  The man was unbelievable.  Playing with a team that finished 32 games under .500 and 21 games behind the Tigers, he won 16 games with a 2.06 ERA.  He also threw three shutouts and finished second in K’s in the American League.  I don’t think this one is close, either.

NL Cy Young: Chris Carpenter – I could give this to either Carpenter or Adam Wainwright because they both deserve it.  But I chose Carpenter because of the comeback aspect of it all.  Making just four starts the last two years, he came back and laid waste to the NL by winning 16 games, posting a 2.30 ERA and throwing three complete games, two for 1-hitters.  Don’t get me wrong.  Wainwright will probably win.  But my sentimental vote goes to Carpenter.

AL Rookie of the Year:  Rick Porcello -
I could give this one to Brett Gardner or to a handful of other guys, but I think Porcello handled himself admirably down the stretch.  He went 5-2 with an ERA of just north of 3.00 in his last 13 starts.  In the 31 starts he had over the full season, he went 14-9 with 89 K’s, pitching 170 innings and an ERA just under 4.  I think his WHIP is impressive, too, at only 1.34.  Not bad for a 20-year old just up from the minors.  Not only that, but did you see who the Tigers pitched in that classic tiebreaker, game 163?  Yea, Porcello.  And he struck out 8 Twinkies.

NL Rookie of the Year:  Andrew McCutchen – If Chris Coghlan had kept up his torrid April pace, this would be a no-brainer.  Unfortunately for him, he cooled with rise in mercury.  McCutchen just kept getting hotter and hotter.  He hit .286 with 12 dingers, 54 RBIs and 74 runs.  He also logged 22 steals in 27 attempts.  He was on base 37 percent of the time, had a slugging average of .471 and an OPS of .836.  He also had 9 triples.  Can’t argue with speed.

AL Manager of the Year:  Mike Scioscia – I’d love to give this award to Joe Girardi, but he just has too much talent.  His team was supposed to win.  I’m sure he will get some consideration for molding the egos on this club into a true team, but Scioscia, as much as I hate to admit it, did a great job this year.  His club won the AL West going away (10 games).  They finished second to the Yankees in the American League, going 97-65.  That’s saying a lot, especially when you consider the death of Nick Adenhart, just after the start of the regular season.  Scioscia kept the team together and honored the fallen pitcher throughout the season.

NL Manager of the Year: Jim Tracy – I like Joe Torre.  I think he’s the best manager in the game today.  But Joe has talent on his team.  Lots of it.  Tracy, however, did more this year with less talent than any other manager in baseball.  Sure, he’s got Barmes, Giambi, Helton, Tulo and Hawpe.  But they will never be mistaken for the Dodgers.  All Tracy did this year was take an 18-28 team and have them go 74-42 the rest of the way, winning the NL Wild Card.  Anyone who can make a team like the Rockies go 74-42 deserves this award.

Comeback Player of the Year: Chris Carpenter – Ok. I should have given the Cy Young award to Adam Wainwright since Carpenter gets my nod here, but doggone it, Carpenter deserves them both.  He went 17-4 in 28 starts.  He gave up only 7 home runs all year.  Walked only 38 and struck out 144 batters.  Opposing hitters hit a measly .226 off him.  If anyone deserves this award, it’s Carpenter.

As is my custom, I rise, shower and dress before the sun comes over the
now hue-dappled hills.  My wife is barely breathing when I kiss her on
the cheek to tell her I love her and to wish her a good day. 

Then,
quietly, I make my way into my daughter’s room and kiss her, too.  “I
love you, daddy,” she infrequently says.  Most days she just rolls over
and falls back into dreamland.  “I love you, too, peanut.”

Last,
but not least, I tiptoe into my son’s room to complete this daily
routine.  He’s a heavy sleeper, so I seldom get much of a response from
him.  This morning it was different.

It was nearly 9:30pm last night, the game was only in the bottom of the fourth inning, and my kids were ready for bed. 

“But dad, can’t I watch just a little more?” my son protested.

I
sighed heavily.  “No son.  I’m sorry.  You know how hard it is to get
up in the mornings when you go to bed too late.  And you’ve got a test
tomorrow.  Besides, you know how your mom is.  She wants you in bed an
hour ago.”

He looked at my sadly with those big hazel eyes. 
“Well, then you have to promise you’ll write me a note in the morning
to let me know how the game ends.”  I’ve written my share of game
summaries in his 10-year old life, but this one was different.  This is
the first time in his life, that he can remember, that the Yankees were
this close to the World Series.

“I promise,” I said, and we walked up the stairs together.

Ten
minutes later I found myself racing back up the stairs, albeit quietly this time,
with big news.  “Tex hits a screaming single to center, A-Rod comes up
and hits a two-run dinger to left.  Yankees 5, Angels nothing.”

He sat bolt up in the bed.  “Really?” he exclaimed.

“Really, really,” I replied.  “I love you.  Go to sleep.”

“I love you, too, dad” he said as he nestled back down beneath the gray and blue Yankee comforter in his
Yankee-decorated room.  He quickly fell fast asleep, no doubt with visions of
DJ, A-Rod and Jorgie dancing in his head.

As
I leaned over him this morning to kiss him goodbye for the day, he sat
up and looked me square in the face.  “What was the final score, dad?”
he asked with just a trace of sleep in his bleary eyes.

I smiled as I gave him a hug.  “10-1 Yankees,” I replied.

“Wow,” he said as he smiled and fell back asleep.

Yea, wow.

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.

Ok, here are my end-of-year picks for all of the hardware that will handed out over the next couple of weeks. 

AL MVP: Joe Mauer – I should probably give it to Dustin Pedrouia, but I just can’t see giving it to a member of the Sox. Besides, it’s not like Mauer didn’t have a monster year.  The man is the class of MLB catchers.  A .330 batting average, a .415 OBP and an .869 OPS land him in first place on my ballot.

NL MVP: Ryan Howard – A lot of people are probably going to go with Albert Pujols for this award, but Howard has his team in the playoffs and Pujols doesn’t.  Pujols leads Howard in the Slugging and OPS departments, but look at Howard’s 48 home runs, .339 OBP and 146 RBIs and you’ll see why he gets my vote.

AL Cy Young: Cliff Lee – I’d really like to vote for Mike Mussina for this one, as I’m a Moose fan.  Winning 20 games for the first time in his career is a BIG accomplishment and one that will no doubt land him in the Hall of Fame.  But Lee went 22-3.  It’s hard to argue with that, especially when you look at his 170 K’s and miniscule 1.11 WHIP.  No doubt about this one.

NL Cy Young: Tim Lincecum – This one is a little bit closer, what with Brandon Webb and Johan Santana having such monster years.  But Lincecum wins it because of 252 strikeouts, a .223 opponent’s batting average, and because he plays on a team that stinks, and he still went 17-5.  Can’t argue with that.

AL Rookie of the Year:  Evan Longoria – Not only does he have a cool name, but I heard this name night after night after night during the regular season.  His team won the AL East for the first time ever, and even though he was out for 30 games and still leads all AL rookies in in RBI’s and total bases.  Not only that, but he didn’t even make the team in Spring Training!  Now no one will ever forget his name, and not because of the actress, either.

NL Rookie of the Year:  Geovany Soto – I can’t believe this guy is a rookie.  He plays like he’s been in the majors for years.  Having satellite tv I am able to watch WGN a lot and I have taken in more than a couple Cubs games.  Soto’s 23 dingers and his start in the All-Star game land him in the ROTY seat on my ballot.

AL Manager of the Year: Joe Madden – Is there really any question about this one?  If Madden doesn’t win this there ought to be an investigation.  He’s got the Rays playing like they could win it all, and you know what?  They just might.  A first-time AL East championship and a great young nucleus will have them around for many years.  The Rays are for real and Madden is a major reason why.

NL Manager of the Year: Lou Piniella – I’d actually like to give this award to one of the Manuel “brothers”, Charlie and Jerry.  But the Mets are out and the Cubs are in.  Not only are they in, but they have as good a chance of winning the whole thing as they’ve had in more than 100 years.  Literally.  Piniella has kept this team believing through injuries, cold spells and a Chicago summer, and not only that, but he’s ex-Yankee.  Gotta love Sweet Lou for that.

Comeback Player of the Year: The only guy I’m voting for for this award this year, in both leagues, is the Moose.  Maybe I should say, 20-game winner, Mike Mussina.  How does that sound, Mike?  Written off at the beginning of the year, Moose went on to have the best season of his career.  Good for you, Mike.  I hope you come back next year, but if you don’t, I’ll understand.  Go home to PA and coach you son in Little League.  That sounds like a great time.  Enjoy it.  And thank you for keeping the Yanks in the picture for so long this year.  It would not have been nearly as good without you.

Way back last year, when the Yankees unceremoniously insulted Joe Torre with their contract offer, I told my son that I hoped Joe Torre signed with a team and took them to the playoffs and that the Yankees did not.  Well, now it looks like I’ve got my wish.  I hope you’re happy, Hank.  You got exactly what you paid for.

Joe Torre, in my eyes, is the best manager in baseball today.  He was a perfect fit in NYC.  Calm.  Patient.  Smart.  Clueless Joe he was not.  He knew how to handle the Steinbrenners and Cashman and the media.  Now it looks like he’s a perfect fit in LA, too.  Good for you, Joe.  Good for you.  I hope you go far in the playoffs.  Win it all, if you want.  I’ll be rooting for you.

What’s left in the Bronx, however, is just a big fat mess.  Pitching is the biggest bugaboo.  Come on, Yankee braintrust, you’ve got to do something about this.  You’ve just got to get us someone in here who can pitch.  Leaving the future of the proudest and greatest team in all of sports to a couple of youngsters can not bring anything but heartache.  I love Phil Hughes.  I think he’s going to be great someday, but he’s not now. I think Kennedy will be good one day, too, but he’s even further away than Hughes.  Joba is a great pitcher already, but you’ve got to figure out where you’re going to use him and then leave him the heck there.

Second base, center field, first base…all big concerns. Get out there and make some news this offseason, will you?  We’re all depending on you.  Another season like this and we’re all going to be looking for new jobs.

Cliff Lee, you stink!!

I picked you up off the waiver wire in my fantasy league way back in May.  Since then, you’ve been absolute money…until I needed you most.  Last night you took the L in a 5-4 loss to the Sox.  I hate to say it, Cliff, but what have you done for me lately?  A 22-3 record, 170 K’s, two shutouts, and a 2.54 ERA will win you the Cy Young Award going away.  But you know what?  It’ll also earn you a trip back to the waiver wire.

What’s so hard about going out and doing what you’ve been doing all season?  Hmm?  What’s so hard about it?  When I needed you most, you let me down.  22-3?  I’m dumping your sorry butt because you went 0-1 on September 23, the one day I had to have you win.

I’m not talking fantasy league here, either, buddy.  I’m talking real life.  You were the only thing standing between the Yankees and the first at-home off season in Derek Jeter’s whole career.  Did you do what you’re paid to do?  No!  Instead you go out and lose.  Nice, real nice.

I know the chances of making it to the postseason this year were paper thin.  I know that every star in the heavens had to be aligned just right in order for it to work, but just so there is no misunderstanding here, you, Cliff Lee, are a terrible disappointment.  You were the one star I depended on to get in line.  You were the one pitcher I thought would give us a break. 

Now I’m left to wonder what might have been had you been half the pitcher I was hoping you were.  We might have overcome that Boston lead.  We might have sneaked in through the backdoor.  We might have even added another Aaron Boone and Bucky Dent to the storied history of Boston collapses.  But no, you had to go and stink up the joint.

Thanks a lot…for nothing.

I am now officially sad.  Honestly, it feels like I’m losing an old friend.  I watched the ceremonies and the game on Sunday and found tears in my eyes more than once. 

I lost my dad to cancer about 10 years ago.  Losing him was like the major leagues while this is like low rookie league.  But the same sort of feelings are there.  Yearning for just one more glimpse.  An inner-ache for just one more chance to tell them how you feel. 

Stupid, I know.  But Yankee Stadium was always a friend to me.  I saw my first major league ballgame there, with my dad.  I saw Bobby Murcer’s four-dinger doubleheader there.  I saw Ray Fosse get hit in the leg by a firecracker while catching there.  I saw John Smoltz pitch there, the Beach Boys jam there and Derek Jeter play there.  I took my son there when he was six months old and then took him back again last summer, along with my daughter, and watched Joe Torre manage there.  Old friend?  More like a member of my family.

I don’t get to see her very often.  I may make it to New York once every two or three years.  But it’s like the cousin you only get to see every other summer or the best friend you haven’t seen since high school.  Once you see each other again and start talking, all the old feelings start coming back and it’s like you’d never been apart. 

I was in my then-girlfriend’s (now wife’s) house watching game six when Lemke fouled Wetteland’s pitch off to Charlie Hayes.  Pride welled up in my heart as I watched her celebrate the end of her longest championship drought.  It made me happy that champagne again flowed through her veins. 

I watched as Wade Boggs rode around her grass on a horse.  I watched as Jetes, Booney, Brosius,  Bernie and Tino hit historic home runs.  I watched as The President tried to heal an injured country.  I watched with glee as the roll call was performed.

Soon, Edison’s magic concrete will be put to its ultimate and final test. I wish they’d leave her in place, like a giant museum to the magic that’s played out within her for 85 years.  Unfortunately, I know that can’t be.  Next year I’ll travel to NYC and will walk through the park where she now stands and will remember and will probably ache.  I wish I’d told her how I really felt before she was gone.

I’ll miss you old girl.

Moose is a man.  An Orioles fan might debate the fact with me, but Moose is a class act.  Quiet dignity.  Not one to seek out the spotlight.  Blue collar.  I hope Hank has enough sense to bring him back.  No matter what, Moose, you’ll always be able to say that you won your last game at Yankee Stadium.  You’ve come a long way since watching your first game there so many years ago.  Thank you for some terrific memories.  I only wish the club could have rewarded you with a championship.  Maybe next year.  You deserve it.

It will be good to see Bernie again on Sunday.  I’ve been listening to his cd “The Journey Within” lately and think he’s as smooth with a guitar as he was with a stick.  That’s one situation, among hundreds, the Steinbrenners did NOT handle well.  I read this morning that Girardi wants to bring him to Spring Training next year to help the younger hitters.  I pray that works out.  Bernie, you are another classy guy.

So Andy will start the last game in Yankee Stadium history.  Only fitting.  Andy, another of my favorite players, had a rough go last off season.  He’s had it rough the second half of this season, too, and may not be back in pinstripes next year.  Too bad.  He, along with Jetes, Mo and Jorge has been the nucleus of so many championship-caliber teams.  He deserves better than to be thrown a small bone or brushed away to the refuse heap.  I’ll be rooting for you with all my heart on Sunday night, Andy.  You can bank on that.

It will be good to see Mo pitch that last inning on Sunday night.  It would only be fitting that Andy pitches well and hands the game over to him in a save situation.  Imagine the thunder that will eminate from the Stadium before, during and after that game.  Imagine the ghosts who will attend.  It almost makes me shiver even now.  Let’s go Yankees! (clap, clap, clap, clap, clap)  Let’s go Yankees! (clap, clap, clap, clap, clap)  Let’s go Yankees! (clap, clap, clap, clap, clap)  Let’s go Yankees! (clap, clap, clap, clap, clap)  Let’s go Yankees! (clap, clap, clap, clap, clap)  Let’s go Yankees! (clap, clap, clap, clap, clap)  Let’s go Yankees! (clap, clap, clap, clap, clap)