Agony, Ecstasy as Yanks Prevail in Epic

NEW YORK -- Of course it would end this way, in such classic, expected fashion. What, you didn't have Jerry Hairston Jr. scoring the winning run for the Yankees in the bottom of the 13th inning, after the Angel infield completely lost its heads? Join the club with millions of other baseball fans who watched Saturday's American League Championship Series melt into Sunday morning, and still aren't sure how and why this astonishing Game 2 concluded as it did.

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An Alex Rodriguez bomb? Sure, we would've bought that ending considering how he's finally found the October touch. An RBI off Derek Jeter's hot bat? Absolutely, we've witnessed it thousands of times before. But if you had Hairston, a third-generation major leaguer who has spent the chunk of his career in the minors, as the Yankee who'd be the recipient of the shaving-cream-pie to the face after this long, bizarre night in the Bronx -- well, kindly call us with the next Powerball numbers.

"Hey, you never know what's going to happen with this team," said Hairston, who had spent the previous five hours on the Yankee bench, biting his knuckles along with everyone else who couldn't peel their eyes away from a field coated in drama. Hairston still had cream in his hair, courtesy of the customary post-game smash via pitcher A.J. Burnett, who couldn't possibly miss this target. It was the Yankees' second walk-off victory of the postseason -- or should we say float off, considering how their feet barely touched the ground in the giddy moments following the 4-3 win.

The Angels couldn't escape miserable New York fast enough. The visitor's clubhouse at Yankee Stadium was as quiet as a priest's confessional following the game. It was such a catastrophic, spirit-busting way to finish the night, coming on the heels of Friday's messy 4-1 Game 1 loss that saw the Angels commit three errors and look as if the winter weather had penetrated their heads as much as the Yankees had.


Now the Angels return home trailing 0-2 in the best-of-seven series, with bruised psyches and plenty of baggage to air out. Ditching the ski masks won't solve the heavy issues, such as whether Vladimir Guerrero will ever again get a hit with runners on base. And: Are there any arms left in what had already been a suspect bullpen? Has manager Mike Scioscia's head exploded yet after his infield once again betrayed everything he's stressed throughout his career -- play smart, stay focused, don't get beat by committing boneheaded plays?

"The momentum in this series can swing in a heartbeat. We're going to go out there and come out and play a good ballgame and grind it out pitch by pitch and start all over," said Scioscia, the eternal optimist, after his club stranded 16 men on base, blew a 3-2 lead in the 11th and completed the five-hour, 10-minute marathon by slip-sliding clumsily across the finish line.

One night earlier, the Angels' most glaring mistake came early, when infielders Erick Aybar and Chone Figgins stared at one another as a routine pop-up dropped at their feet. It couldn't get much more embarrassing on the big stage, with so much at stake.

Oh, but it could, and it did. Under a dramatic backdrop of sheets of rain in the 13th inning, with one out and Hairston on second base, with Robinson Cano on first and Angel pitcher Ervin Santana deep into his second inning of relief, Melky Cabrera hit a bouncer to second baseman Maicer Izturis. Any other game it would have been a relatively simple play: scoop the ball, throw to first, keep the winning run on third base.

But the baseball gods must've thought this would be a fine night to cast freakish spells (Jeter, of all people, had also made an error, while Jose Molina, of all Yankee batters, had collected a hit, proving the apocalypse is nigh.) And so there was Izturis attempting an impossible throw to second base. The ball sailed past Aybar, who was as stunned as anybody in the Stadium. As Hairston zipped around third, Figgins, who still had a chance of nailing Hairston at the plate, had trouble gripping the ball and bumbled it.

And here were the Yankees, rushing en masse for their wildest come-from-behind celebration yet in the new Stadium. Here were Aura and Mystique, choosing a fine time to make their playoff appearance in the new joint. Here was Scioscia, burying his head into his hands, a teacher forced to watch his prized students flunk the easiest of exams.

And here were the Yankees, rushing en masse for their wildest come-from-behind celebration yet in the new Stadium. Here were Aura and Mystique, choosing a fine time to make their playoff appearance in the new joint.
"I think he just reacted. ... But obviously, in that situation, the force isn't really an advantage. If it's another time of the game, it might be. But you just want to get an out there. Izzy just tried to do too much," said Scioscia, unable and unwilling to panic even as his team does exactly that.

"I thought I had a shot at him," Figgins said, "but I lost control of the ball. And just like that, it was over."

Said Izturis, "I was being aggressive, playing the way I always play. I just didn't make the play, and it's sad that the run scored and we lost the game."

The game that would not die wasn't supposed to go beyond the first pitch. The weather junkies told us we were meant to suffer through a nasty mixture of rain delays, floods, migrating midges looking to suck Joba Chamberlain's blood, kids caught in homemade UFOs and whatever else the forces of nature had planned to mess with postseason baseball on the east coast.

Instead, for the first four hours, we were treated with chilly but playable conditions and enough nail-peeling, did-you-see-that twists to satisfy even the curmudgeons who think baseball shouldn't extend beyond late September. The strong rains held off until midnight, and by then even those who were dressed for Lambeau Field in January were numb to anything this extraordinary evening in the Bronx held in store.

All told (and that's only because Joe Girardi hadn't anyone left he could summon), the teams went through 13 pitchers, including the two starters -- wild child Burnett and Joe Saunders with his nerves of steel -- who held the insanity to a reasonable dull roar, both lasting into the seventh inning and leaving with the score knotted 2-2.

In the top of the 11th, Figgins was ready to sell his soul for a hit in the playoffs. He was 0-for-18 in the postseason, but then his sharp flare to left off reliever Alfredo Aceves scored Gary Matthews and Anaheim led, 3-2. The Angels once again reminded us why they're so dangerous, gritty and tough and poised to cause the Yankees fits the way they did the Red Sox in the Division Series. Thanks to Figgins, it appeared cleanup hitter Guerrero, who would strand eight runners -- one in the first inning, two in the fifth, three in the seventh and two in the 13th -- could return to California with only the box score evidence of his wretched night and stunning decline.

But in the bottom of the 11th, A-Rod reminded us why careers and reputations can never be completely crushed. Los Angeles closer Brian Fuentes had escaped the American League Division Series without blowing a save -- somewhere, the Twins' Joe Nathan and the Red Sox's Jonathan Papelbon are still scratching their heads at that time warp -- and he had two strikes on A-Rod. But then Fuentes threw an awful pitch, the kind of pitch a closer should be arrested for throwing to a hitter like A-Rod on a stage like the playoffs.

A-Rod crushed his third late-inning homer of the postseason over the right-field wall, barely clearing the glove of a leaping Bobby Abreu, tying the score, 3-3, and sending what was left of the Yankee crowd into soggy ecstasy. "I felt like I threw the ball really well minus the one pitch. Unfortunately, it cost us the game. I take full responsibility for that," Fuentes said.

On the home bench, Hairston turned to his teammates and declared the game over. It was tied, but it was over, if that makes sense on this nonsensical night.

"We knew it was only a matter of time that we'd win after Alex's homer," insisted Hairston. "We just didn't know we'd win it quite like that."