You snooze, you lose -- and miss Hughes

Those grand plans I laid out last week -- four games in four ballparks in four days -- never came to be. I made it halfway, unable to raise myself out of bed on Tuesday morning to hit the road (and figuring four hours of sleep before a late-night shift in charge of the room would not be a good career move), but bounced back on Wednesday to see Phil Hughes' rehab start for the Trenton Thunder. Thursday would be another cop-out because I stayed home to help my dad and uncle install the ceiling fans we'd asked them to take care of for us.

Hughes is still a prospect, a rookie with just two Major League starts in his career, but his appearance in Trenton was as big as the rehab appearances made previously by Bernie Williams, Hideki Matsui, Derek Jeter and others. OK, maybe not as big as Jeter's, but it was an event. It was a Wednesday afternoon, a park filled with summer camp kids, but the media turned out in force. Or something close to it.

The big right-hander looked good, recovering after a rough first inning to cruise into the fifth. By then, the heat and humidity had chased me into the press box for a break, and I happened to be standing directly over the center of home plate to get a perfect view as Hughes snapped off a majestic curveball to freeze a helpless Binghamton Mets batter for strike three. At the lower levels of the minor leagues, the good pitchers tend to make most hitters look silly at times. But as they move up the ladder, only the better pitching prospects consistently baffle the hitters to such an extent.

Hughes' rehab appearance and the opponent meant that the two most powerful general managers in baseball were sitting in adjoining rows behind the plate -- Omar Minaya and an assistant or two were seated directly in front of Brian Cashman and his crew. Minaya managed to look cool in a long-sleeved dress shirt and canvas cap; Cashman seemed to be roasting in jeans, a polo shirt and what appeared to be a pair of $7.99 sunglasses from Target. Reggie Jackson was also there, but I missed him -- probably because he stayed a bit closer to the action.

But after a late night at work and another shift that evening, I had to head home and work in a nap before departing for the city, so once Hughes' day at the ballpark was finished, so was mine. I drove home just as a few raindrops began falling on Waterfront Park, and I disengaged the cruise control on the Turnpike when the deluge began.

It didn't turn into the week I envisioned, but the two games were worth it -- and they satisfied my happy feet for the moment. I've yet to make the time to get the photos online, but again, when I do, there will be some samples here.

This week has been about big-league ball, with the Mets home again and playing well. We went out to Shea on Tuesday and I'm up bright and early tomorrow for the nooner against the Pirates. Taking mom for her birthday. More on Shea later.

ALCS Game 7: Evil Empire crumbles

Yesterday's games:

Red Sox 10, Yankees 3

Cardinals something, Astros less

Red Sox win series 4-3

Let's face it, this was the game of the year. Sure, my prediction from the start of the postseason turned out to be wrong, but as I said then -- I couldn't see myself calling it until it was proven possible. That is, I couldn't foresee a Red Sox victory, either in the division during the season or in the postseason, until they managed to pull it off once. And now they have. Is this the start of the Curse of A-Rod? It's been 86 years since the Red Sox won a World Series, and 1986 was the last time they even got to one. If they manage to win it all, we'll know one thing: to break the curse, Boston had to go through New York. Knowing that, Red Sox Nation would've been calling for the wild card in 1965. It figures it would take something as monumental and historic as becoming the first team to win a playoff series after losing the first three games. And the Yankees just looked defeated last night. Not physically, on the field, but emotionally, because they knew they had it, and they blew it. Several times.

It had to be clear that the Yankee mystique, that all those ghosts, would fail them this time. Yesterday was Mickey Mantle's birthday, after all. Maybe that's the Yankees' problem (or at least their fans') -- they did not go into yesterday's game saying, "I think they'll win tonight because Brown's due to come up big and Lowe's been horrible all year." They -- particularly New York radio host Mike Francesa -- were saying, "We're not going to lose tonight because it's Mickey Mantle's birthday." That kind of reasoning only holds up for so long.

I wonder at what point last night George Steinbrenner started firing people. You know he wanted to during the game, that's for sure, but is he the kind of guy who decides to sleep on a decision rather than making a knee-jerk move? And is Brian Cashman in trouble because Fox showed him on camera after Damon's grand slam screaming, "Fuck!" from his suite?

There are only so many hours in the day, and I have to work during many of them, but it would've been fun to sit at home all day and listen to the New York talk radio shows. But I'm not going to try to say this any better than Tyler Kepner, who ended his game story in the New York Times with this paragraph:

It was actually happening. The nerd was kissing the homecoming queen. Paper was beating scissors; scissors were beating rock. Charlie Brown was kicking the football. The Red Sox were beating the Yankees for the American League pennant.

And no one can put it better than ESPN.com's Bill Simmons. Well done.

Cardinals-Astros series tied 3-3
I think, in a way, it's good that the Astros didn't clinch yesterday, because today is all about the Red Sox. We'll deal with this outcome after tonight's game.