Well, now we know how Joe Girardi's gamble on a three-man, three-days-rest World Series rotation worked for him. It won the Yankees a 27th World Series title. Okay, so Hideki Matsui pretty much won Game 6. A mere technicality, sort of.
And now we know how Charlie Manuel's refusal to gamble on his regular rotation, sticking to the script strictly even in the World Series, worked for him, too. It sends the Phillies home wondering what might have been. When they're not wondering whether the first thing that greets Jimmy (The Prognosticator) Rollins in spring training should be a strap of duct tape around his big yap.
Manuel's refusal to shift the script and send Cliff Lee to the Game 4 mound wasn't the only reason the Phillies didn't push the Yankees back enough for a seventh-game shot at becoming the first National League team since the Big Red Machine to win back-to-back Series.
And the first Japanese player to win a World Series MVP — not to mention tying ancient Yankee Bobby Richardson's record for runs batted in in a single Series game (6) — wasn't the only reason the Yankees dismantled the Philadelphians. It only seemed that way Wednesday night.
The Phillies had every opportunity to dismantle an Andy Pettitte on short rest and shorter stuff and batted for the most part as though they wouldn't recognize a hittable pitch in batting practice. The Yankees had every opportunity to dismantle a Pedro Martinez on full rest and nothing but his heart to carry him on the night.
They'd been there before with him. That time they merely won a pennant, when Grady Little let Martinez's heart overrule his loss of repertoire on the night, and a fellow named Matsui smacked a two-run double before coming home himself in short enough order, tying a game the Red Sox had banked, enabling an epic extra-inning duel that ended with Tim Wakefield opening the 11th with a knuckleball whose itinerary was the left field seats on Aaron Boone Airlines.
Five years later, they merely won a World Series when Manuel let Martinez's heart overrule his fading repertoire. Game 2 already saw Martinez holding things to a one-all tie in the sixth when Matsui seven-ironed a low changeup over the left field fence. Wednesday night, bottom of the second, Martinez simply put his changeup to bed and worked Matsui with the fastball that's now as good as a changeup for its lack of velocity. And Matsui worked it off the rim of the upper deck, barely inside the foul pole.
Now, bottom of the third, Manuel had rookie left-hander J.A. Happ warm and ready in the bullpen, the Yankees had the bases loaded, and Martinez again had Matsui to face. And again Matsui didn't look like the guy who hit below .200 lifetime against Pedro in the regular season. This time, though, he laced a mere two-run single up the pipe.
Two innings later, with Martinez out of the game and the Yankees fast and loose with a four-run lead, Matsui got his shot at Happ. And Happ got to watch Matsui's drive short-hop the right center field fence for a two-run double.
The Phillies probably should have been grateful that Matsui came up a triple short of hitting for the two-run cycle. They're probably wondering just how on earth Mark Teixiera managed to sneak a one-run single into the Matsui Show. When they're not wondering how they could lose a World Series in which Chase Utley tied Reggie Jackson's record for single Series bombs.
The answers aren't that hard to find. They merely begin with Ryan Howard setting a Series record for strikeouts (13) and learning too late to hit his pitch rather than flail at offerings he has no business trying to meet. They merely continue with Cole Hamels imploding in Game 3, half their hitters unable to summon up their former patience, a bullpen that had to shake off regular-season injuries only to become Manuel's least trusted commodity in the Series, and a closer who'd gone from 2008 hero to 2009 liability despite an early round of postseason competence.
You can probably throw in questions as to why Manuel couldn't find more room for Happ in the Series than two and a third innings, all thrown in relief, after the rook went 12-9 with a 2.93 ERA on the regular season. Especially with the Yankees sporting a left-handed lineup. Should it have been Happ rather than Joe Blanton in Game 4, if Manuel — aware enough that he'd taken Happ out of his element (his words) as it was — was that bent on refusing to send Lee to work on short rest?
And how many chances did the Phillies squander otherwise Wednesday night? They had a one-out single from Victorino to start the game before Utley, who's only human, after all, ended it dialing Area Code 4-6-3.
They had Jayson Werth (a walk, a wild pitch) on second with one out and stranded him when Pedro Feliz fouled out to catcher Jorge Posada in the second. They had first and second (two walks, one of which followed a passed ball allowing Werth to take second) in the fourth and Feliz ended it with a grounder to third.
With the Yankees up by a mere 3 runs after four, they had Carlos Ruiz — who'd scored the lone Philadelphia run on Rollins's sacrifice fly in the top of the third — on with a one-out walk, before Rollins dialed Area Code 5-4-3 to end the top of the fifth.
After Howard finally unloaded in the sixth, they had a man on second (Raul Ibanez, a dunker double) and Pettitte out of the game, and again Feliz grounded out to third to end the inning.
They got first and second in the seventh on Damaso Marte and Utley, of all people, couldn't check his swing and got rung up for the side. There went the Phillies' last, best chance for a comeback. Especially with Howard swishing out for No. 13 to open the eighth. And guess who got the bullpen call, survived a two-out double (Ibanez) then, and a one-out walk in the ninth, not to mention a tenacious last-stand at-bat from Victorino before the ground out that meant game, set, and Series?
The four Yankees who've been there for every World Series triumph since the club began snapping back to greatness in the mid-1990s — Derek Jeter, Jorge Posada, Andy Pettitte, and The Mariano — could only think about diving in and whooping it up.
Except maybe Posada, at first. He couldn't resist hanging back behind the plate, after The Mariano ended it in his customary style by luring a game-ending ground out and then galloping toward first to join in the party. Just to take it all in.
Already the winner of 18 postseason games, a record, Pettitte also pitched and won the clinchers for all three postseason sets this time around. That makes six such clinching wins on his postseason resume.
Meanwhile, Alex Rodriguez — who piled up 18 postseason RBIs to set a Yankee record and treated the run like his personal coming-out party, which is precisely what it was after too many fall frustrations, crowning a season that began in scandal and surgery and finished with a flourish concurrent to his pleasing humanization — hoisted the championship trophy high for the Yankee Stadium faithful, and carried it to the clubhouse amid a swarm of celebratory teammates.
By Yankee standards — the ones that say you're in a severe drought when you're going 12 months between World Series titles — their 27th World Series triumph was a very long, sometimes surreal eight years in the making.
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