The Yankees know a thing or two about hexes, right? They know what it’s like to be Lucy, always with their hands on the ball, always in control . . . and always eager to pull it away. They know what it’s like to be the Globetrotters, toying with the Washington Generals for decades at a time.
They did this parlor trick on the Red Sox for 86 years, and it never got old. Sometimes, for kicks and giggles, they would even ratchet up the degree of difficulty: Let’s see . . . how’s about a gut-punch homer from Bucky Dent! How’s about plucking Aaron Boone out of the sky!
Years ago, it was the Brooklyn Dodgers who felt this relentless sting, every October beginning with hope and ending in despair until Johnny Podres decided enough was enough. More recently, there were the Kansas City Royals, who used to fly so close to the sun and got their wings incinerated every time . . . until George Brett finally mashed a Goose Gossage fastball nearly to the Courthouse.
Presently, there are the Minnesota Twins, who lost all 10 times they played the Yankees this year, who lost three times in the ALDS despite leading all three games, who might never again beat the Yankees in The Bronx because you have to go back to July 4, 2007 since they’ve done that, and apparently George Steinbrenner is hell-bent on relentlessly seeking revenge for that birthday surprise.
Yes, the Yankees know all about distributing hexes, and vexes, and poxes, and jinxes. They aren’t quite as conversant in being on the business end of them.
Which brings us to the Angels, who always were among the most nondescript of the teams the Yankees played against every year, half the games always taking place after most of New York City went to bed, a team that only occasionally was worthy of anyone’s interest. In fact, in the first 30 seasons of the Angels’ existence, they had a winning record against the Yankees in just 10 of them.
A small crack — unnoticed to the naked eye, like the hairline fissure in a sidewalk that presages an earthquake — did show in 1998 and 1999, when the Yankees were at the peak of their dynastic powers, when the Angels won the season series both years (in ’98, in fact, they were the only Yankees opponent to have a winning record against them). But it wasn’t until Mike Scioscia arrived in 2000 that the Yankees were forced to stand up and take notice.
And with good reason: Scioscia was the only manager to have a winning record against Joe Torre during Torre’s tenure with the Yankees. He was the only man to ever beat Torre twice in the postseason, 2002 and 2005. And slowly, the Angels became something resembling kryptonite for the Yankees: just the sight of them made the Yankees seem 20 percent less intimidating, less dominant . . . and less likely to win.
And, of course, there’s that damned monkey . . .
OK, so maybe the spell isn’t as great, and maybe it isn’t as debilitating, as Dodgers fans gamely mumbling “Wait till next year!” year after fruitless year, or as Red Sox fans screeching “$%&&%$*$#!!!!!” year after fruitless year. It isn’t as if anyone wearing the interlocking “NY” has been spotted publicly wringing their hands, or devising brews or potions to try and ward off evil spirits.
Of course, if they lose this time around . . .
“They have a lot of switch hitters in their lineup. It’s not a lineup you can bring your lefty in to face a couple lefties in a row. They have speed, they have power. They are a more patient club than they have been in the past. Their rotation, they have guys that have pitched this time of year.”
That’s Joe Girardi, calmly assessing the reasons the Angels have given the Yankees fits, doing so in a very calm, very professional, very orderly fashion. He doesn’t believe in hexes and vexes and poxes and jinxes. Nor should he. But, then, neither did calm, professional, orderly Dodgers and Red Sox fans for a lot of years.
And they just had to worry about getting a monkey off their backs.
Not a Rally Monkey.
michael.vaccaro@nypost.com