The last time the World Series visited The Bronx, A.J. Burnett did, too. That’s what he felt like in 2003: a visitor, an outsider, a stranger in the strange world of the World Series.
This was across the street, the day before Game 1 between the Marlins and the Yankees, and Burnett reached a milestone that day: across the vast, historic lawn of old Yankee Stadium, he long-tossed with a teammate. It was the first time he’d done that in six months. His elbow, still recovering from Tommy John surgery, felt great.
But Burnett, now 32, was equal parts brave-faced and bittersweet; even if he felt good for the kids he’d grown up with on the Marlins, for Josh Beckett and Miguel Cabrera, for Carl Pavano and Derrek Lee, he couldn’t help feel his heart echo with emptiness.
“It was a great time that year watching my friends that came up when I came up, and we were at the bottom of that division, and when you see your peers doing well, it makes it better,” Burnett said. “But that workout was my first day clear to long toss, so that kind of made it even worse because I kind of felt like maybe I could pitch.”
Six years, then, he’s searched for a feeling in his own heart that could match what he saw his friends go through back in 2003. Six years, from Miami to Toronto to New York, through two bouts of free agency and millions of dollars earned, he kept seeking a night like last night, a game like Game 2 of the World Series, 50,181 eyes laser-locked on him, 24 teammates turning their season over to him.
Six years, and what happens? He throws the game of his career, the game of his life, seven innings and four hits and one run, igniting a 3-1 victory that tied this 105th World Series at a game apiece and matched his fellow Arkansan, Cliff Lee, who’d dipped the Yankees into a quick hole in Game 1.
“That is as good as he threw the ball all year,” Alex Rodriguez would say of Burnett.
For a series whose turf wars were supposed to be the 18 exits of the Jersey Turnpike, the battle lines have been shifted and refocused. Suddenly the capital of baseball lies along the fault line that runs parallel to Interstate 30 in Arkansas, specifically the 25-mile stretch that connects Benton, where Lee grew up, and North Little Rock, where Burnett was raised.
After Game 1, Burnett was walking from the quiet center of the clubhouse toward the kitchen for a bite to eat when he saw his neighbor, Lee, on the television, talking about confidence, talking about poise, talking about being strong enough to command the moment and not letting the moment overtake him.
“That,” Burnett said to himself, “is exactly what I have to do.” There has never been a question about the talent coursing through his prized right arm, which has always known how to throw 95-mph fastballs, how to spin heartbreaking curveballs, how to look, at times, like the fiercest weapon in baseball.
The question was always about his health, and about his heart, and about his head. As often as not, one of those things would compromise his performance, which explains the 87-76 record he brought into this season — numbers far too pedestrian for his pedigree.
In many ways, what he found in New York is the same opportunity in which he’d thrived his whole career, just blown up exponentially for the team and the town. He has always been an ideal sidekick, a perfect second banana. In Miami he was Robin to Beckett’s Batman, in Toronto he was Garfunkel to Roy Halladay’s Simon.
And in New York, he would become Clarence to CC Sabathia’s Springsteen, the junior partner in a 1-2 punch suddenly thrust to the front of the stage after Sabathia was outdueled by Lee.
“After last night I just wanted to come out and set the tone early and be very aggressive,” said Burnett, who finished with nine K’s.
Just as important, he served as a one-man bridge to Mariano Rivera.
In its own way, that was just as vital as Lee’s going nine had been for the Phillies in Game 1. The Hogs have now been called on both nights of this Series. Arkansas has done its part.
Now it’s everyone else’s turn.
Love ya, Jimmy!
The worst thing that could have ever happened would have been for Jimmy Rollins to eat his words two years ago.
Mets fans don’t want to hear that, of course, because for them Rollins is the one who pulled a reverse-Namath, who declared his Phillies the team to beat in the NL East when the Phillies hadn’t won anything yet, when they were viewed as underachievers.
And Rollins is the one who dragged the Phillies up from that unwanted reputation, who was every inch an MVP in 2007, when the Phillies made their late charge at the Mets. He was the one who shouldered the burden and was rewarded with much of the credit.
Because of that, he was emboldened to loosen his tongue on Jay Leno’s show the other night. Because of that, if the Phillies win three more games and finish off the Yankees and win a second straight World Series, it may well be that other athletes might be encouraged to speak their mind once in a while.
Is that what Rollins has in mind when he clears his throat?
“No. They happen to ask the right questions at the right time, and I’ll usually do my best to tell the truth. For some reason, people like to write about it.”
You bet we do, Jimmy. Keep it coming. Tell a friend.
Oh, and …
1. If Joe Girardi looked any more tense during these games, they would hold the Olympic 3-meter diving competition off his neck.
2. A wonderful physics project was on display in the second inning: Johnny Damon’s arm versus Raul Ibanez’s legs. Yul Brynner’s wheels won.
3. The game dragged along so slowly that Steve Phillips relapsed three times by the end of the fifth inning.