PA-thetic

They’ll make the playoffs, my dad said to me a few days ago.

Ha ha, I replied. If they sweep Boston, sure. If not. No way.

I watched the game last night for about one minute. I flipped over from “Burn Notice”(great show, watch it) reruns on the Web to check the score (it was 2-2 ) and just before I went to bed (4-2). I saw Robinson Cano strikeout, waving helplessly at a Manny DelCarmen offering.

This has been the most disastrous Yankees season in my memory. Not because the team stinks, it does, despite its payroll, but because the expectations the team has built for itself.

The difference, probably well-chronicled at this point, between those teams in the mid-90s and early-00s is guts, intestinal fortitude: the ability to do what's needed when it's needed. Bunt, go first to the third, hit a sac fly, a ground ball to the right side to move a runner. And pitching, that's important too. At least, consistent pitching from the same five starters and group of relievers, not the revolving cast the Yankees have gotten by with in recent seasons.

I blame Alfonso Soriano for starting the Yankees on this path. Sure, he could occasionally muscle one out, but more often he walked back to the dugout shaking head ... like our friend Alex Rodriguez.

Wave the white flag, get some pitching, get ready for next season.