I was at the gym last night watching the games. (For the record, if the gym is your thing, I highly recommend this as a game-time activity.  Most health clubs have TVs in the dozens.  Almost invariably, most, if not all, major sporting events on any given evening are on at least one of the screens.  So, you can usually view all the games you like — no channel surfing required.

As I watched the second inning A.J. meltdown, I registered the agitated groans of the exercisers around me. (Yet another bonus to watching the game at the gym: it provides you with an outlet for your frustration should you happen to require one.)  I was fairly disgruntled myself, remembering my recent blog entry.  The one where I predicted that the outing would come down to a closely-fought battle between the two starters.  (I was half right, anyway.  For Beckett’s part, it was an outstanding start.  He shut us out and completely shut us down.)

As it happened, I stopped by Radio Shack on my way home. (I needed some batteries. But that’s irrelevant.)  The guys in the store happened to be watching the game as well. Radio Shack, by the way, is another terrific place to watch multiple games on multiple screens. I’m just saying, if that’s your fancy, and you’re not in the mood for wing-eating or beer-guzzling, there are alternatives.  (This is why I mention my various locales. I thought it might duty to inform you of your options.  You need only be a little bit creative.)  I got to talking to one of the sales clerks about the travesty that was unfolding before our very eyes, and he grumbled, “A.J.  Man, I tell you.”  That guy’s the worst.”

And it was true, watching this game affirmed for me the proposition I had made in an earlier piece that it might make more sense to be shoving a pie in the face of the guy who was blowing the game for the team rather than winning it.  (Seeing as that A.J. was the brains behind the whipped cream pie operation, it’s hard to imagine he could possibly object.)

I tend to get on board with most — most, not all — of our players once the season gets rolling.  What do you want from me?  I’m an unabashed homer.  I don’t, however, forget who I did and did not think was a good idea from the start.  A.J. was never, in my mind, a good idea.  Nor was Pettitte.  As a whole, I’ve always had reservations about this year’s starting rotation. (While there’s not much to be done about it, I still think it’s a mistake to leave Hughes languishing in the bullpen.  To quote Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, “Big. Huge.”)  I try to play cheerleader most of the time.  A.J. makes it tough. Time and time again, he makes it tough.

The upside to last night, however, was the draft.  This gives us the opportunity to look ahead to our future rather than simply regret the mistakes of our past. Yesterday, an article in Pinstripe Alley, made the argument against a focus on pitching — a dramatic change in our past approach to the draft.  It is however, apparently, the approach we decided to go with.  For our first round draft pick — number 29 overall — we went with 18-year-old high outfielder Slade Heathcott.  Heathcott is a power hitting lefty from Texarkana, who is just coming off of ACL surgery.  His scouting report shows “few weaknesses” — he’s got speed and the ability to play any of the three outfield positions.  There are two red flags: a troubled upbringing and signs of academic maladjustment.  However, as previously established, there is no one more sensitive to the needs of the bad boy ballplayer than I am.  As long as he doesn’t Carl Pavano us, I can be sympathetic.  More concerning, however, is Slade’s previous love of the Chowdas.  I’m sorry, but you’re from Boston and you love the Chowdas, you’re a victim of geography.  You’re from Texarkana and you love the Chowdas, you’re a victim of poor decision-making skills. (And presumably also the victim of alienation born from insults like, “I don’t want you playing with that Heathcott boy. He’s part of the liberal elite.”

For our second round pick, we went with a catcher, John Murphy. Somewhat surprising given that we have quite a few already in our farm system. Still, Murphy seems a good prospect. Having recently made the transition from the outfield, he was recruited more for his bat than anything else — he’s a solid line-drive hitting righty with good plate discipline.

After watching Burnett and his $82.5 million arm make such an abysmal start, it’s nice to look forward to the future, to daydream about all the young talent we have growing in our farm leagues. To hope that we don’t squander it in exchange for players who are too old to do the  job anymore.

Still, it’s easy to get lost in the bitterness of a defeat — especially when it’s the sixth consecutive loss at the hands of the Chowdas.  However, last night’s game does not change the reality that the Yanks are on a tear and moving in the right direction.  I simply return to what Johnny Damon, in all his sagacious wisdom, had to say about this series against this Chowdas: “It’s time to win some games against them.”