The rejuvenated, confident New York Yankees started a three game set in Fenway Park, ready to take the next step. Championship caliber pieces were primed. Lights, cameras, action...
Girardi shuffles the rotation, putting hired gun and designated Sox killer A.J. Burnett on the front line. The Yankees' mercenary gets mangled--again. Bomber momentum slams to a 7-0 stop.
Wang holds the key to game two. Will the former ace regain vintage form? Long stints on rehab mountain leave a key cog in the lurch. Control and command never make it to the mound. Another game. Another early hole. Melky and the miracles come up short. A broom casts a shadow over a recurring nightmare.
The best ace money can buy takes the hill in a statement game. The big man carries the load to the 8TH. A-Rod and Melky deliver. Time to close it out.(Uh-Oh.) CC hits a 123 pitch wall and hands a perilous lead wrought with RISP to Alfredo Aceves. The refugee from the Mexican League morphs from useful long-man to go-to-guy in crunch time. Girardi goes with who he's got. Boston battles back. Fenway rocks. The broom is back.
In the good old days, a contrite Pedro Martinez had the trademark smirk wiped off his face by Torre's team. The heart-warming words, "The Yankees are my Daddys." followed. Boston has won nine straight from New York. Words don't do it justice.
Editor's note: a computer glitch caused an early, partial draft to be published prematurely. Oops.
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