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.”

A.J. Burnett returning to his old hometown, where he was met by both a crushing defeat and a chorus of boos.  Upper-deki leaving the game after just one at-bat with a strained hamstring. Derek Jeter sitting out last night’s game with a sore right oblique and how worried we are or aren’t supposed to be about that.  (He says we aren’t, but he’s generally disinclined to tell us the truth about this stuff. He doesn’t like us to worry, which is thoughtful.)

But, instead, I’d rather talk about the wind patterns in the Bronx.  Because isn’t that what’s really weighing heavy on our minds?  Yesterday, the New York Post ran an article about the Yanks’ efforts to determine what in the heck could possibly explain the fact that in the first 13 games at the new stadium, there have been a whopping total of 47 balls hit out of the park –32 to right field.  In order to get to the bottom of this troubling issue, the Yanks’ front office people have compiled a panel of wind experts to monitor and study — you guessed it — the wind.  And wouldn’t you know?  According to Yankees COO Lonnie Trost, “The winds we were having were the least likely winds to occur.”

The least likely winds to occur.

I’m sorry, but you can’t make this stuff up.

He went onto say, “We’ll always look and we’ll always analyze. And right now, I don’t know if I can do anything about wind.”

Wait.  What?  So, did you go into this study with the idea in mind that maybe you would come out of it with some kind of idea as to how you might actually be able to control the naturally occurring phenomenon that is the wind?  Because when you say, “I don’t know if I can do anything about the wind,” it sort of sounds like you did.  It also sort of sounds like, even though you can’t now,  you think  that one day you might be able to.

Lonnie, you seem like a guy who can take it, so I’m going to give it to you straight:  You will NEVER be able to do anything about the wind.  Conducting this study was NEVER going to be anything other than a monumental waste of money and fodder for my blog.

Seriously.  Sometimes when these guys open their mouths and say things, it makes me feel like I’m living in a Kurt Vonnegut book.

However, as a potentially less wasteful use of their time, the Yankees are also looking into their ticket plans and whether or not they’ve done enough to enable to the real fans to actually come to see ballgames.  As of now, Trost thinks it’s too soon to tell.  “Every day we look at it and analyze it,” he said. “Could you really tell what’s taken place in two homestands with 90 percent of them in rain? I can’t.”

Funny, because I was actually at some of those games, and my assessment was that no one was coming.  I mean, we’re Yankees fans.  Overpriced tickets may keep us away, but rain?  Don’t insult us.

But, theirs is a dynamic that transcends playful banter.

A.J. offers pearls of wisdom about changing pitch speeds among other things.  And with all the eagerness of youth, Wang listens up and takes it in.   A.J. is the Sensei to Wang’s grasshopper. A lover of Bruce Lee, I figured that this was an analogy that A.J. would especially appreciate.

These pitcher mentor-mentee relationships are not at all uncommon.  Mo, in particular, has been known to take younger guys under his wing.  With Mo, I think it tends to be less about tattoo jokes and more about encouragement and the word of the Lord.  I remember how much I enjoyed his special interest in Tanyon Sturtze–a pairing even stranger, if possible, than the one between Wang and Burnett.

At the end of the day, notwithstanding the implosion of Tanyon Sturtze, a great team is built on these kinds of veteran-youngster alliances.  It’s what makes a team function as a team, and any veteran worth his salt will know that well enough to take it upon himself to make a project out of at couple of the younger guys.  Help one player, help the team.

Save the cheerleader, save the world.  (If you watch Heroes, you know what I’m talking about.)

For this reason, I was glad to hear of Wang’s recent efforts to stay in A.J.’s good graces.  How?  The way anyone stays in anyone’s good graces-the giving of gifts.  In this case, it was a present related to AJ’s aforementioned interest in anything related to Bruce Lee. Oh, I’m sorry.  Did I say interest?  Because I meant super intense and kind of weird obsession.

There is, of course, the Bruce Lee tattoo on his arm.  He credits the tat with protecting him from getting injured by a comeback ball a couple weeks back.  He also keeps a library of Bruce Lee books on hands in his locker so that he can always have a quote available for any occasion.  I’m sure that doesn’t get annoying.

In another display of his admiration, Burnett also has a poster of Lee in his home weight room, which I admire.  I like a grown man who has the confidence to rock a poster of another man without worrying about how much it makes him seem like a teenage girl.

Wang’s gift came in the form of a Bruce Lee figurine–an addition to the half dozen or so that A.J. keeps in his locker.  Adorable.  Move over Sturtze and Rivera, I think you may have found your replacements.

I hope to see this relationship continue to develop throughout the season.  Burnett seems to have a solid wok ethic and he certainly has a ton of fire on the mound, and I think it can only mean good things for Wang.  Plus, it’s like someone once said, “Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable.”

I’m pretty sure that same person also said, “You just wait. I’m going to be the biggest Chinese Star in the world.”

The spring got off to a shaky start, for reasons primarily related to A-Roid, and I confess that I was feeling more than a little bit disappointed.  It seemed like the majority of the team fell into one of three categories-coming off a surgery and only questionably healthy, too new to be considered part of the family, or A-Roid.

Yes, A-Roid is a category unto himself.

But over the past few weeks, things have started coming together to allay my anxieties.  First of all, there was the A-Roid injury-perhaps the best of all things that could have happened.  With the three-ring circus that is A-Roid out of the clubhouse, it’s been easier to pay attention to the more substantive issues.  Like, you know, baseball-related issues.  Given the fact that all our communication with A-Roid has happened via Cashman via text, it’s not totally impossible that Cashman’s seen to it that A-Roid be locked in some sort of Yankee holding facility somewhere until things settle down.  But, whatever.  It’s getting the job done.  And I’m sure it’s fine with A-Weird-as long as there’s a mirror.

The injuries?  Two days ago, Jorge threw out 3 of 4 guys attempting to steal.  My feeling about that guy is that, when the time comes, we’re going to be dragging him into retirement with him cursing at us in Spanish all the way.  Jorge’s tough.  He refuses to quit.  And he loves to curse at people in Spanish.

Matsui is also on the mend-looking solid in his new role as DH.  If anything, the problem is that Matsui is feeling a little too recovered for his own good.  Girardi recently scolded him for shagging fly balls in the outfield and putting his knee at risk.  Matsui can’t not work harder than he’s supposed to though.  It goes against his entire system of values.  Love him.  And his system of values.

Mo hit the ground running.  He had a perfect frame on his first day back last week, including two strikes out.  But I was never worried about Mo.  He comes from that weird planet of perfect, adorable pitchers who preach the gospel.

As for the news guys, the longer they hang around, the more I like them.  Sure, I was familiar with all of the big name players before they came on board but I didn’t really know them-I certainly didn’t know what to expect from them in the clubhouse.

Teixeira’s was an immediately grounding presence.  Maybe I’m a chump, but I like the “Gee whiz, aw shucks” manner in which he discusses the unlikelihood that he would ever take a PED.  Given the state of baseball at the moment-of professional sports in general-I don’t take issue with a guy like Teixeira for being a family man and a little bit of a Pollyanna.

Then we have AJ, who I liked from moment go because he had the decency to go on the Mike Francesa Show and tell us he had signed with the Yanks because they offered him the most money.  I knew that, you knew that, and yet so many other players would have tried to convince us that money was a secondary concern.  I like when people don’t insult me. Burnett also has a Bruce Lee tattoo on his arm that he credits with protecting him from a line drive a few days ago.  Not quite sure how that works, but whatever is keeping him healthy, I’m not asking any questions. Seriously, if that guy stays healthy and keeps up the good work, hell, I’ll get a tattoo to match his.

Then, of course, there’s CC, rapidly emerging as the newest leader of the pack.  He plans cute group excursions to basketball games, gets the boys together for epic X-box game tournaments.  If there’s one thing that’s been sorely lacking in the Yankees clubhouse in recent years it’s any kind of cohesion.  Jeter is a great leader, but he leads by example-he inspires.  He doesn’t give speeches, bring people together.  So I’m hoping CC could be that guy for us.

So, that’s the synopsis, and I’m feeling good. (I’m sure it doesn’t hurt my mood that we beat the crapelbon out of the Chowdas yesterday. 7-1. In your Chowda faces.) That being said, notwithstanding the fact that he posts insane numbers, I would be just as happy if A-Roid were to just stay gone forever. It’s harder to feel good about the team when he’s around.  I want to feel good about my team.  And from I gather, it’s also harder for the team to come together and do their thing when he’s around. The way I see it, we’re not the Reds.  We have a lineup that can more than hold its own without him.  And sometimes the sacrifice on the field is worth the benefit to the clubhouse.

If I was A-Roid, I would fake an injury until the day I died to avoid walking into that clubhouse and facing everyone after the humiliation of the mirror porn.  True, to do so would defy the Principle of Try Your Hardest. However, I believe there is another principle that overrides this one in importance.  That would be the Principle of Don’t Ever Be Seen In Public Again Once You’ve Been Photographed Making Out With a Mirror.  For those of you who have read To Kill A Mockingbird, think about it: what do you think really happened to Boo Radley?

You never really know a man until you look in his mirror and make out with it.