I’ve been learning more about fantasy baseball lately, trying to wrap my brain around how, if at all, fantasy team ownership changes a fan’s approach to the game.

Take the aforementioned outing against the Mets, which I attended.  Whether you were there like I was or watching from the comfort of your home (or gym — whatever your preference), if you’re just a regular run-of-the-mill fan, the things you’re apt to remember about that game are the agita; the feeling of dread when Frost-Tip popped up with two outs in the 9th; the overwhelming shock and delight at watching Luis Castillo bungle the play, handing the Yankees the game; and the injustice of K-Rod having earned a blown save — his first as a Met — on a little league-type error.

On the contrary, if you’re a fantasy player, you score an error for Castillo (though, it’s hard to imagine who would draft him) and a blown save for K-Rod. You grumble, but at the end of the season, these just factor into each of your respective players stats for the year.

In yesterday’s somewhat more dignified outing against the Mets, Yankees fans will recall our awe and glee at besting Santana.  Johan Santana –the Finnish Gift from God, for the love of all things holy.  They will also remember the thrill of the nine-run fourth inning, including two-run dingers from both Robbie and Upper-deki.

Fantasy players will mark down a loss for Johan, cursing the game’s effect on his ERA and WHIP.  If Cano or Matsui happen to play for your team, you get to add last night’s home runs and RBIs to their tally, adjust their batting averages, and feel a little bit cocky about your vision as an owner.   Again, at the end of the day, or the season, rather, it will all boil down to the effect of this game on each player’s statistics for the year.  The game itself won’t much have mattered.

That said, while the manner of the win or loss seems important when you’re watching as a die-hard fan for any given team, the reality in fantasy ultimately isn’t so terribly dissimilar from the reality in baseball.  While the emphasis may be different, the focus in fantasy on individual players rather than a team allegiance, the stats mattering more than the wins and losses, there is a common thread. Unreasonable though it may seem to anyone who was watching both Friday’s and Sunday’s games, each boil down to the same one letter — W.  This refers back to something I’ve said before: It doesn’t matter how you play the game, it’s if you win or lose. In a pennant race, a 15-run rout means the same thing as a W that was less earned than given to us by Luis Castillo.  For fantasy players it all comes down to the points you earn in your four, five, or sixteen categories — whatever the case may be. Period.  For baseball fans, all that really matters is your W-L ratio.  Period.

On the flip side, despite the fact that it’s all about the numbers, fantasy does not necessarily preclude players from investing in the drama.  Sure, whatever way you slice it, they’re thinking about the stats.  However, at the end of a season, if a fantasy owner was to lose his league by an incredibly slim margin, he might look back on the coulda shoulda woulda outing that turned to be the difference.  If the closer for your fantasy team is K-Rod, it would be all but impossible not to look back to Friday’s game and moan about the blown save, how it unduly effected your season.   Similarly, Mets fans are apt to look back on that game and grouse about what coulda shoulda woulda been if, as it turns out, their playoff run comes down to a single game.

One fantasy player commented astutely that being an owner was not so terribly different from being an agent.  Your focus is not so much on the performance of an individual team but more on the performances of your various players.  One thing is certain in both cases, though, when you win, if you win, all that’s going to matter to you is that you won.  Period.  There’s apt to be little reflection on the games where you got lucky on a bad call or an error or a lousy outing from the opposing team’s starting pitcher.  On the other hand, when you lose, if you lose, there tends to be a lot more of that kind of reflection.  A lot more contemplation of the bad games, the close calls, the injuries, the ways things should have gone.

In theory, it may not matter how you played the game, but it sure as hell feels like it when you don’t end up the winner.  People can say what they will about the fundamental differences between fantasy and real baseball, but this is a truth universal to both.

Last week, the Sabathia-sponsored outing came in the form of yet another trip to see the Magic.  (It was a favorite activity during spring training.)

The difference, of course is that they weren’t in Florida anymore. This time, the field trip took place in was Cleveland — the kickoff to CC’s first weekend home since he signed with the Yanks.

The unfortunate result was the reopening of my least favorite Lakehouse conversation of the year — LBJ to the NYK?  And what better time to start asking CC about his willingness to recruit King James to play for the Knicks than in the middle of the Cavs run for the Finals?

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, but the failure to acknowledge Cleveland as a real team that LeBron actually plays for — now — it’s offensive.

I love my city, but, last time I checked, New York didn’t make it to game 6 of the playoff Semifinals this year. In fact, I’m pretty sure that the Knicks were not actually in the playoffs this year.  Or last year. Or in any year that happened recently.  Fortunately, when asked if he’d be willing to help the effort to bring King James over from the great Midwest, CC did me proud and responded, “Nah.  I don’t want no part of that.”

Nah.  That’s right, CC.  You sure don’t.

CC did, however, want a big part of the annihilation of the Tribe this past Saturday.  He pitched a no-hitter into the fourth.  There were a few hiccups to follow — CC ultimately gave up three runs — but it was a solid outing all told.  And the win accounts for his fourth in five starts.  CC, it would appear, is getting into his groove.  Right alongside everyone else.

One of the more notable things about CC’s return home was his reception.  To say it was warm would be an overstatement, but he certainly wasn’t met with the kind of bitterness one would expect given the circumstances.  There was the odd boo, but they didn’t exactly kill him with cruelty.  Chalk this up to the fact of their Midwestern-ness – maybe they’re just nicer, more forgiving than we are.  Chalk it up to the fact that CC’s just a little too likable to hate.  (In the world of professional sports, is the decision to sign with the team that grossly overpays you the most really so much of a Cardinal sin?)  Or maybe the fans were just plain old distracted by the reality that, somewhere in Orlando, the Cavs were fighting for championship contention.  Whatever the case, it wasn’t nearly as ugly as one might have anticipated. And CC showed us that he can rise to the occasion, even under the most stressful of circumstances.

The Cavs, unfortunately, did not fare quite as well as CC. And presumably no one was more disappointed by this devastating elimination than Bomber Brett Tomko, who said, “Even though I’m a Lakers fan, I’m a closet Cavs fan in the back of my heart.”

If the Lakers had met the Cavs in the Finals, it would have been interesting to probe into Tomko’s meaning. From where I sit, it’s a phrase that actually cannot be translated into any discernible team loyalty.

My reference to Billy Joel is pointed.  I figure that since I am tipping my hat to Upper-deki, I might as well pay tribute to his recently discovered love of America’s favorite 80′s pop rock icon from Long Island.  (He has mysteriously changed all of his at-bat songs from Beatles to Billy this season — “Big Shot,” “Only The Good Die Young,” and “I May Be Crazy.”  If I had to, I’d bet that Girardi gave him a greatest hits box set for Christmas.)

But back to my original point, which was about honesty — such a lonely word.  Especially for a ballplayer with an injury.  Oftentimes in baseball, if you admit to being hurt you run the risk of looking like you’re not fully invested. Or, worse yet, like you’re in defiance of the Pavano Principle.  We like our ballplayers to be gritty, to want to get out there come hell or high water — bruised, battered, appendages dangling off their bodies.  Still, while it defies the nature of anyone with a truly competitive personality, I have always believed that the most responsible thing that a player can do is fess up when something’s a little amiss. To take that one or two days off — when necessary, those one or two weeks off — to prevent that little injury from turning into a season-ending injury.

Last year, I went for a run like any other day.  Except, unlike any other day, out of nowhere, I developed a crazy painful burn in my heel every time it made contact with the ground.  The sane thing to do would have been to not run until I had fully recovered from my injury. But, genius that I am, I went with another approach.  I discovered that if I continued to run, the first mile tended to be excruciatingly painful, and then I adjusted and it was fine.  (Until after the run.) Now, a year later, I walk with a limp and run a mile that’s about thirty seconds slower than it was before.  If I was a ballplayer, my approach might qualify me as a gamer, but it would also have dramatically decreased the quality of my game.

This is all to say that Hideki Matsui may just have it right.  On Tuesday, he tells the trainers for the Yankees that his right hamstring is sore.  Wednesday, he sits out the game. Last night, he hits a solo home run in the eighth to lead the Yanks to a 3-2 victory over the Jays.  (An outstanding outing from CC didn’t hurt.)  After the game, Upper-deki told reporters, “I took a day off and my leg was feeling much better.”

(There are unverified reports that he also said, “I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.”)

So, to the other guys in the clubhouse, take note.  Honesty may be a lonely word, but it’s mostly what we need from you.

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.