On Monday, Girardi made the following comments in reference to Joba Chamberlain: Do we start him or do we leave him in the bullpen? We have four days to kick it around, and we don’t really need that fifth starter until (July 21).”

If you’ve been listening to what I have to say on the subject, you probably know that I’ve been what some might call a proponent of the move. (Proponent being what those of us in polite society call a person who won’t shut up about something.)  I’ve been pretty clear about the fact that I think of Joba as a closer. Yet, call me crazy and contradictory, but at this particular moment in time, the fact that this is even a discussion makes me wonder if perhaps Joe Girardi isn’t maybe, just possibly, not totally paying attention to what’s going on.

Let’s review the current state of our starting pitching.  Chien-Ming Wang is on the DL indefinitely – we’re probably looking at a return sometime in August. Phil Hughes is in the bullpen, and it seems like that’s where he’ll stay for the remainder of the season. The Great Alfredo Aceves Experiment yielded results that were unfortunate enough to deem it unlikely to be repeated.

So, where does this leave us?

More likely than not, it leaves us with Sergio Mitre as our fifth starter, assuming he’s able to rise to the occasion. Mitre is currently 3-1 with a 2.40 in 7 Triple-A starts.  At the moment, we’re hoping that record translates into an ability to get the job done in the majors. Historically speaking, making it click in the Bigs has been something of an issue for Mitre. (Exhibit A: 10-23, 5.36)  Best case scenario: Mitre works out until Wang is healthy again.  In the aforementioned scenario, Wang is not only healthy but performing to ability.

In light of the above, who, dare I ask, was Girardi planning on using to fill Joba’s spot in the rotation if we were, in fact, to move him to the pen?

Well, of course the obvious answer to that is Roy Halladay.  I didn’t say correct. I said obvious.  With the All-Star Game over and the trade deadline approaching by the day, the Halladay as a Yankee story continues to gain a disproportionate amount of momentum.  Disproportionate, that is, to the likelihood that it will pan out. Of course, the recent story that Jay’s director of player development Dick Scott showed up at a Florida State League game between the Yanks and Cubs Single-A affiliates only helps fuel that gossip.  The speculation is that the people in the Jays camp have their eyes on Yankees prospect Jesus Montero.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my end, but I still don’t see it happening. It’s a move that seems short-sighted in a way that’s extreme — even for us. Particularly since we seem to be moving away from that kind of boneheaded blunder.

Assuming we do go on the prowl for another starter, this shouldn’t be the play. The potential cost is far too high. Until we do, with Chien-Ming Wang on the DL, I think Girardi’s got to focus less on where Joba belongs and more on how to get the most out of him as a starter in our rotation. At the moment, it’s clear we need him there.

But, then, if Girardi is in fact stuck in the aforementioned Lakehouse, we have no idea where he is on the spacetime continuum.  Maybe May? Maybe a month from now?

Given this, we should allow for the possibility that raising the debate at this otherwise completely impractical  moment actually makes sense.

He was subsequently dubbed, “Grumpy Griffey” by the New York Post. (They’re very clever over there.)

I prefer to call him “The Kid.”

It all began over twenty years ago when Griffey Sr. was a utility player for the Yanks.  A group of fourteen Bombers’ kids were playing in the corridor, and apparently Billy Martin, not a fan of Pop Griffey, decided to giver the Brothers Griffey a bit of the old Martin guff.

In a Times article from 1991, Griffey was quoted as saying, “Martin told one of his coaches to go up to my dad.  He wanted us out of there. Just me and my brother, nobody else. Not Lou Piniella’s kid. Not Graig Nettles’s kid. Not Don Baylor’s kid.”

Clearly, it was an event that had a strong impact on Griffey, and he famously vowed never to play for the Bombers.

Griffey goes on, “I hold it against them and I will always play harder against the Yankees.  It’ll never change. Every time we play these guys, I try a little extra.”

When you’re twenty-two, it’s easy to say this or that will never change.  Ultimately, only time will tell. Based on his statement from last year, his grudge remains intact.  “I never forget,” he comments.  “That’s just who I am.”

This says something about Griffey, though it’s hard to know exactly what.  His dogged refusal to let go of something that happened so many years ago might seem a bit stubborn, almost petty.   Yet, Griffey Jr. is one of the most universally liked players in baseball. He has integrity, class, and has made it consistently and abundantly clear that he values family above all other things. Moreover, he is one of the few power hitters in this era of performance enhancing drugs whose name will almost certainly never be tainted by an accusation of steroid use.

If it seems strange that more than twenty years after getting kicked out of the Yankees clubhouse by a manager who has long since been dead, Griffey Jr. still uses this event as a source of motivation, bear in mind that the man has over 600 career home runs. Far be it for us to judge.

True to his word, The Kid. tried “a little extra” last night in the Mariners outing against the Yankees.  He hit his 621^st career home run, putting the punctuation mark on a Hall of Fame career spent torturing the team he so resents. It was a two-out, sixth-inning, first-pitch fastball from Pettitte.  Griffey Jr. knocked it over the right field wall with a swing that’s just as graceful as it ever was.

One of my readers, The Thunderphobe, pointed out that long before any current member of the Yankees team, including coaches (leaving aside special advisor Mr. October) had set foot in the House That Ruth Built, The Kid was there, running around those hallowed halls with dear old dad.  That he was, in fact, being ejected from those hallowed halls by a surly Billy Martin before some of the younger Bombers, such as Joba and Hughes, were even born.

For better or for worse, the Yankees have loomed large in Griffey Jr.’s imagination for the greater part of his career, for the greater part of his life, it would appear.  If this does in fact turn out to be The Kid’s last season, it’s fitting, poetic almost, that his swan song should come in the form of a solo home run in The House That George Built.

(Sorry, I couldn’t resist. And this from the girl who has a running beef with writers who choose titles like, “David’s Got The Wright Stuff.”)

The point, however, is that Wang is back in our rotation.  Supposedly, so is his sinkerball. On behalf of those of us who have been pacing the floors and tearing our hair as we’ve watched Wang languish in the bullpen this past week, can I get an “Amen?”

I’d like to say that no one is happier than I am about this development, but it wouldn’t be true.  Jorge Posada, apparently Wang’s number one fan, is elated beyond all measure.  He commented, “Wanger is our number 1.  He’s still, for me, the number 1 pitcher in this league. I think he’s proved it, he’s been there…he’s our guy.” You’ve heard the same from me, but since a lot of people seem disinclined to take my opinion as gospel, hopefully Jorge has cleared up any doubt. If you’re not listening to Jorge, I don’t know who you’re listening to.

Phil Hughes would likely fall into the “not-so-elated” category, seeing as that he’s the one who’s been eliminated from the rotation in onrder to make room for Wang. But Hughes isa good sport, which we like. He claims he saw it coming and that he “took it fine.”

I’m glad to hear that, but at the risk of beating a dead horse, there are others I would have picked before Hughes to clear out of the the rotation. You know who I’m taking about. Starts with a “J,” rhymes with baba. I hate to stoke the flames of a new controversey, but if people remain committed to not going in that direction, there remains another option: Starts with a “P” and rhymes with shmettitte.

Warning: If you’re tired of talking about Joba, you’d be best to click on your merry way.  Because, yes, I’m going to do that again.

I’ve stated often and insistently that I don’t get why we would possibly be using Joba in the starting rotation.  Of course, when Wang went on the DL, it silenced that debate – and quick.  But, with Wang back, healthy and on top of his game from what we can gather, I’m going to have to insist on revisiting the question:  Why would we possibly be using Joba in the starting rotation? And Wang in the pen.

Seriously. Just shoot me in the head with a t-shirt gun.

Tired as we all may be of hearing it – we need the reliable bridge to Mo more than we need a shaky starter who’s on limited innings. And to leave our best homegrown starter – a guy who doesn’t know from relieving — languishing in the bullpen is nothing short of lunacy.

I get that no one wants to put a potential four-pitch ace in the bullpen.  It feels sort of like putting baby in the corner. But for all the talk of how Joba is still developing, we don’t seem to be seeing much development. True, he isn’t catastrophic – all the time. But he doesn’t have the same velocity as a starter, and he’s not exactly an overwhelmingly dominating presence.  Why would we learn to live with that pitcher when we’re aware of the existence of the other one?  The one who emerged on the scene a couple years back and blew our minds with the dazzling brilliance of his fastball, the stunning practical non-existence of his ERA.

True, maybe Joba gets there as a starter.  But as my crazy French Introduction to Human Right professor was fond of saying, “Zee proof is in zee pudding, and we haven’t tasted zee pudding yet.”

So, here it is: I told you so.

Since I tend to “I told you so” with almost as often as I open my mouth, you might be wanting a little clarification.  At the moment, I’m “I told you so-ing” about my undying belief in the untapped potential of Phil Hughes.  And if you watched last night, you know what I’m talking about.

It’s not just that Phil gave us six solid shutout innings against Detroit, during which he allowed only two hits and two walks.  It’s that for the first time since 2007, he looked like the pitcher he once promised to be: dominant, confident, a force to be reckoned with.

Of course, my “I told you so” is only a partial victory.  My rallying cry on behalf of Hughes was part of a larger argument that, rather than sign Pettitte, we should use Hughes as our number five guy.  And, of course, once we had signed Pettitte, I was a huge proponent of the send Joba to the bullpen school of thought.  And, in an ideal world, I still think we should.  (If you’ve been paying any attention to our bullpen, then you’re aware that to say, “I told you so” about this would not only be unnecessary but actually just sort of obnoxious.)  The problem at the moment, of course, is Wang. And, obviously, until we’re sure that Wang is both healthy and able to deliver, that’s not a move we can consider.

Still, let’s project a positive outcome. (Because, hell, if you know me, you know that’s just the kind of girl I am.) Let’s say Wang comes off the DL totally healthy and once again in full possession of his sinker.  Let’s say last night was not fluke but a sign of things to come where Hughes is concerned.  Assuming both of these best case scenarios, I think it’s time to re-open the Joba file.  I know we’ve beaten that debate to the ground and people are sick of it, but given the strong possibility that Bruney may be gone for a while, we have got to figure out a way to get through the 7th and 8th innings.  If we’re really being optimistic, then we can hope that Melancon ends up being part of that equation.  But I remain convinced that Joba holds the key to our late inning success.

In any event, our late inning guys actually managed to hold it together yesterday. Not only did they maintain an eleven-run lead — not enough of a lead to guarantee anything for us these days — but Melancon, Veras and Ramirez each pitched a scoreless inning to get us through the game with an 11-0 victory.

Leaving aside the Hughes resurgence, the highlight of last night’s game was definitely that it was our team and not the other team that got the ten runs in the 7^th – a refreshing change of pace.  Still, Molina, who capped off the hit parade with a grand salami, points out that when it comes down to victory, size doesn’t matter.  He commented, “Whether it was 1-0 or 10-0, we just cared about winning the game.”

True.  But I think I speak for Yankee fans everywhere when I say that 10-0 makes us feel a little better.

Except we should have swept the Royals.

Despite a pretty humiliating week in the limelight, Joba pitched a great game.  Four hits, one earned run. And, just like old times, the bullpen blew the game.

(Well, the bullpen and Swisher, who allowed two unearned runs on an error.   But considering both his performance at the plate thus far and the fact that the Yanks still had the “W” going into the 8th, we’re going to let it slide.)

Brian “It Has To Be Nicer” Bruney, for his part, held it together.  As did Damaso Marte.  He retired the first two hitters of the frame and was yanked, inexplicably, for Jose Veras.  OK.  Not inexplicably.  Girardi wanted a righty to face pinch-hitter Billy Butler.  My only question is why?  I get the principle, but sometimes I think managers are too wed to the righty-righty, lefty-lefty concept.  If it ain’t broke.  Know what I’m saying?

Veras walked Butler, and it degenerated from there. In the span of that one out, the Royals scored three runs.  (In defense of Veras, it wasn’t all his fault.  Phil Coke helped.)

But there’s one person who hasn’t given up hope on the Yankees bullpen, and that’s Mariano Rivera. After last night’s debacle, Mo commented, “They have what it takes.  They have to believe it. It’s one thing to have it and another thing to believe it. They definitely have it, and they are capable to do that job. You just have to believe it.”

Seriously, bullpen.  Start believing in yourself like now or you’re in direct violation of an order issued by Mariano Rivera, who I’m pretty sure is your superior.  In every way.

However, despite the fact that Mo is the undisputed leader of the Pen, he doesn’t let it go to his head.  In fact, he can still get down with the best of the young guys.  According to  yankees.com he has even been known to join “the relievers in their season-long game of chasing poor Edwar ‘Flacco’ Ramirez around the clubhouse.”

I’m sorry.  Their season long game of what?  I mean, in what universe is that game?

I guess maybe the same universe in which Sparky Lyle sits in your birthday cake before anyone’s had a chance to eat it.

Well, in light of the recent tragic death of Angels pitcher Nick Adenhart at the hands of a drunk driver, people are probably inclined to feel even less sympathetic towards Joba than they were before.

It’s bittersweet that just prior to the accident, Nick would have pitched the best game of his short major league career — six shutout innings against Oakland.  It was, on the one hand, a reminder that in every way Adenhart was just coming into his own as both a player and a person. The outing was a promise that would remain unfulfilled.  But, on the other hand, if I had to guess, most major league pitchers would be psyched to know that the last thing that did before they died was pitch a shutout game — even if the death that followed was one that came too soon.

A lot of the discussion surrounding Adenhart’s death has been focused on his talent as a pitcher.  Being a sentimental sap, I tend to be drawn towards the more personal.  I was most touched by a comment made by his childhood friend David Warrenfeltz, “I just remember the little kid stuff we did.  One summer, we dug up my whole backyard to make a Wiffle ball field. And we cut up my mother’s boots to make a catcher’s mitt. Just little stuff, like riding our bikes to buy baseball cards. Normal kid stuff.”

I don’t know how you make a catcher’s mitt out of boots — I was not aware of that as part of the normal kid experience — but it’s nice to hear this kind of remembrance nonetheless. And speaking of the human face of this tragedy, let us not forget that there were two other people in that car with Adenhart.  Two people who weren’t famous.  As Mike Francesa said, who knows?  Maybe they were both really good at something also.

That guy’s all insight.

And then we have Joba.  While I certainly don’t think he looks any better in light of this recent tragedy, I also think it should maybe make us realize that ultimately his field sobriety video isn’t that big of a deal.  So he said New York drivers are obnoxious.  Truth bomb:  New York drivers are obnoxious.  I have heart palpitations when I drive in New York.  So, he said New Yorkers are less polite than Nebraskans.  Truth bomb:  Nebraska is in the Midwest, so this is obviously correct.  So he said Yogi Berra was short.  Truth bomb: Yogi Berra is short.  He is adorable and lovable and everything wonderful, but the guy’s pequeno.  Would I have encouraged Joba to make the Yogi comment  in a public forum?  Uh, no.  But the dude was drunk — if you will recall, that’s why he was pulled over — and having what he thought was a private conversation with a cop.  It’s called impaired judgment.  And if Yogi’s not mad, you can’t be either.

If there are people out there who want to be upset with Joba, I think it’s important to remember that the real issue remains the DUI.  Not some nonsense that he babbled on candid camera in a drunken stupor.

If that wasn’t already obvious, the death of Nick Adenhart should make it pretty clear.

For some, this is a plus. Take, for example, the Yankees.  They like having a bigger dressing room, lockers with touchscreen computers, a chef.

Sound decadent?  Well, Brian Bruney said it best when he said, “We are not a regular team. We are the New York Yankees, and it has to be nicer.”

Ah, one only wonders why we’re a team universally despised.

Joba Chamberlain commented, “There’s so many places to go that I think you’re going to play hide and seek with yourself.”

Well, I guess whatever keeps you off the roads and out of trouble.

Among the other perks, the players will no longer have to deal with the burden of outdoor parking.  And I say, it’s about time.  I mean, all those pesky fans, yelling their names begging for autographs.  For the thirty seconds it takes to get from the locker room to the car that is. Lord knows what a nightmare that must be.  If only there was a way to eliminate the fans from the picture entirely.  You know, while still making that enormous paycheck and having a stadium full of people around to cheer for them when they make the big plays.

But those in the bunch who are somewhat more sentimental-I like to call them the real Yankees-couldn’t help but compare the new stadium to the place that for years they’d called their home. Posada remarked that the dimensions looked about the same.  Jeter felt a little too guilty to revel in the splendor of his new stomping ground while his old one still stood across the street awaiting demolition, saying, “It’s a new house, and it’s going to take you a while until you feel like you’re home.”

But Mo, on the other hand, feels that home is where the heart is, commenting, “It’s like a house-if you don’t have a family, it’s not a house.”  Love that guy.

Still, while the guys in the Yankees camp seem to be more or less embracing their new stadium, not everyone has given it such a glowing review. This morning, the New York Post ran a rather distressing, yet, not totally surprising, article written by Joel Sherman about his experience at the park.

He described it as charmless, lacking in proportion, and completely out of touch with the current economic reality of most of Americans. In short, he sees it as a $1.6 billion symbol of why it is that everyone just can’t seem to stand us.  It is, according to Sherman, just another way for the Yankees to set themselves apart from the baseball community, the people, the world.   To assert their better-than-you-ness.

Though, I suppose that’s the point, according to Brian Bruney.

Well, assuming that’s the point, then they sure as hell did a great job with their ticket pricing.  Even Hal Steinbrenner himself admitted that, as I suggested a couple weeks ago, yeah, maybe given the state of the global economy, they might have possibly slightly overpriced a few of their tickets by just a little tiny bit.

Their average ticket price is $72.97.  Last year it was $41.40.   In Boston, where we hate it, the average ticket price is $50.24.  The cheapest average ticket can be found in Arizona–$14.31.  Of course, in exchange for paying so little, you have to live in Phoenix, which is arguably even more of a pit than Boston.  So it’s probably not worth it.

Hal Steinbrenner did make an effort to show that he understood the struggles of the common man by making the following statement.  The bold parenthetical comments are courtesy of occasional guest blogger Chris Yamaoka:

“We understand that a lot of our fans are struggling. I mean, this is the worst recession in a most of our lifetimes,” he said. “But at the same time I think baseball has always been an escape for people, you know? [An escape that, regrettably, they will no longer be able to afford.] And I think what we’re going to provide here is an unbelievable experience for thousands and thousands of our [wealthier] fans that, despite the troubles they’re [reading that other people are] going through right now, maybe they’ll be able to get away for two or three hours, get [away from the commoners and] their minds off things. And we’re going to make that experience, you know, tremendous.”

The good news for poor Yankees fans is that they will still be able to buy partial-view bleacher seats for five dollars.  And before you get all up in arms about your obstructed vision, poor people, just remember this isn’t Hal’s fault.  After all, he wasn’t the one who made you poor.  Plus, to quote Chris, “Poor people don’t need to see the third base side of the diamond.”

When Joba Chamberlain finally had his day in court for drunk driving charges, he was forced to suffer all the same consequences as any other old Joe Schmoe Nebraskan.  He lost his license for sixty days, and we all know how hard it can be to get by without a drivers license in New York.  He had to pay a $400 fine, and don’t assume that doesn’t mean anything to him just because it looks like he spent more than that on hair product for the occasion. Additionally, he has to complete an alcohol education class and nine months worth of probation. He did not have to do the seven day minimum mandatory jail time. However, in lieu of that, he did get a very stern talking to from the judge who said, “You probably worked long and hard to get where you are today.  It takes about 10 seconds to wipe all that out.”

Oh, snap.  Midwestern smackdown.

Despite being dressed like he thought he was going to be shooting the sequel to Goodfellas that day, Joba response was the perfect blend of Midwestern politeness and gravity, a simple “Yes, ma’am.”

I love Midwestern court.

Generally, I am pretty forgiving with athletes who have been unduly persecuted for their actions on account of their fame.  But I don’t care who you are; drunk driving is just patently idiotic.  I’ve always liked Joba.  I also know that he’s just sort of young and dumb, but I sincerely hope he learns his lesson from this one.

Joba, if you’re reading, now would be the appropriate time to just nod and say, “Yes, ma’am.”

Frustrated over all the confusion about his new role for the '09 season, Joba takes his anger out on this random child. OK. I confess. It's possible this child is related to him.

According to an article in today’s New York Post, in the event of an injury to Mariano Rivera, Joba will step in and take his place. Innovative as ever, Yankees beat writer Bryan Hoch is referring to the Yanks new backup plan as the “Yankees ‘Break in case of emergency’ plan.’

Damn.  I seriously can’t get enough of that guy.

In a way, meeting Brian Cashman would be like meeting my maker–just in the sense that Cashman’s a guy for whom I have SO many questions.  Too many to even know where to begin, perhaps.  But what the hell?  Let’s just go ahead and add the following one to the list.

If Joba is your Plan B, “break in case of emergency” guy, what in the name of Thurman Munson are you doing using him as a starter? Seriously. Unless Mo is either, as I have posited before, an alien from a planet of mutant, perfect, adorable people or part of a government experiment in mutant, adorable perfection, he’s not going to last forever.

But guess what?  We’ve been given a rare gift.  A kid with the potential to be just about as good as Mo.  A kid who actually has the potential to fill those ridiculously large shoes.  A kid who, when he isn’t throwing strange children in the air, is pretty gosh darn adorable himself.

Of course, the adorability factor is just icing.

No, I don’t think that Joba can’t start.  No, I don’t think it was a bad idea to use him in that capacity last year–when we were desperate.  But this year, we’ve got aces in our top three spots, Andy Pettitte for four and more kids than we can count to fight for the five-spot. For the love of Gossage, can we stop screwing around here and just work out a seamless transition so that we’re ready when the day finally does come when Mo’s body gives out on him for good?

In the meantime, what’s the downside?  Beer sales fall because you’ve turned all your outings into six-inning ballgames?  Well, then, think Hoch.  Get innovative.  Push ad sales.  Sure, I know times are tough.  But talk to the people at partnersexecutive.com. They always seems fairly willing to spring for the prime spot in the stadium.

(For the record, if you know why I love this company enough to randomly allude to it for no good reason, you have either been to Yankee Stadium with me or been reading long enough to know that, yes, I’m just that juvenile.)