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.

Those of you who know me know that I’m nothing if not just.

The host, perhaps a bit misguided himself, was talking about the upside to the Giuliani Administration.  The host appreciated that Giuliani acknowledged that the law was the law and took it seriously as such, even in cases when it seemed inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.  The specific examples he cited were panhandling and guys with squeegees.

Ah, yes. It begins with the squeegees but then before you know it, in the immortal words of W.B. Yeats, “mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.”

He went on from there to say, “You see, it starts with, say, a petty robbery, a break-in and the police saying, ‘Well, you can file the report, but we’re not going to do anything about it.’  Yes, it starts with selling drugs in the street, and maybe you say, ‘Ah well that’s not such a big deal.’  Keep doing enough of that, the next thing you know, you’ve got total lawlessness. You’ve got Deadwood.”

No, this was not Rush Limbaugh or a one-off conservative guest on NPR talking about the need to invest more money in our police force.  It was Richard Neer on WFAN. And he was talking about last night’s blown call at third base.

Like I said, it starts with the squeegees, and then it’s only a matter of time before you’re turning and turning in the widening gyre.

Leaving aside the fact that Neer’s rant took a kind of weird ideological turn, he’s right about one thing: Marty Foster made the wrong call. Derek Jeter tries to steal third in the first, the ball beats him there, and Foster calls him out even though Jeter’s hand is clearly ahead of the tag.

Now, it would be one thing if Foster had just gotten it wrong, said, “Sorry, according to what I saw, which is incorrect, you did not beat the tag.”  I think I’ve already made my feelings on umps and bad calls pretty clear. Human error has always been and always will be part of the game. Until we can just get robots to play the damn thing, anyway. It’s part of the joy, getting to yell, “What are you, blind, ump?”  Sometimes, the cookie crumbles your way, sometimes, it doesn’t. (Truth be told, I don’t actually understand this expression.)

However, last night’s call did not boil down to a failure to see the action correctly.  When Jeter and later Girardi went to Foster to argue, he told them that third baseman Scott Rolen did not have to tag Jeter to make the out.

To quote Derek Jeter, “I wasn’t aware there was a rule change.”

Ultimately, last night’s issue was about either the misunderstanding of or the willful misapplication of the rules. Of baseball. By the guy who’s supposed to be enforcing the rules. Of baseball.

In either case, it’s a bit of a worry.

One of the duties of the umpire is “enforcing the rules of the game.”  By definition, if an umpire doesn’t know the rules of the game, he’s going to have trouble enforcing them.  So, if the issue was one of misunderstanding, the Foster is generally going to have trouble performing one of his primary duties.

However, if it was a question of misapplication, then we’ve got possibly a bigger problem on our hands.  A problem of the mere anarchy is loosed upon the world variety.

Some of you may recall a piece I wrote about a treasure of a girl named Jessica.  She seemed to think that because she worked at some kind of a summer camp, she was entitled to go in the express lane at the super market despite having what was clearly more than the appropriate number of items in her cart. (Well, it was clear if you could count, anyway.)  I compared her to Vicente Padilla, who had received two balk calls, perhaps not totally earned in spirit. However, this was my ultimate conclusion:

“While you could argue that the law exists for the sake of its spirit, the only real way to make reasonable assessments is to follow the law to the letter. Rules exist for a reason, and since there’s no good way to determine intent, perhaps the only way is to use the guidelines that are pre-prescribed.”

This is more or less what Neer was trying to say. Except, nothing against Neer, but my way makes a little more sense.

According to crew chief John Hirschbeck, “It used to be if the ball beats you, you’re out.”  However, even Hirschbeck owns that that’s not the way we do things anymore. I don’t care how they did things in the Days of Yore. The rules are the rules. If Foster was aware of them and didn’t adhere to them, that would fall under the umbrella of willful misapplication.

The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.

Ultimately, Jeter had no business running. With no outs in the first, getting called out at third is something of a little league mistake.  You don’t steal, and as Girardi put it, if you do, you damn sure better make it.  Jeter was quick to point out in response that, technically speaking, he did.

I guess we’ll know more when Marty Foster makes his statement.

Surely some revelation is at hand.

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.

Damon asks Jeter, "Now what's this thing called again?" Jeter laughs and silently tells the cameraman to "get a load of this fool."

Things are getting all kinds of experimental down in Tampa; Girardi has been toying with the idea of swapping Jeter and Damon’s spots in the lineup.

And it’s a move that I fully support.

It started as a happy accident.  Damon got moved back to two to give Posada more at-bats while he was getting his groove back.  Girardi liked what he saw.

Of course, between Jeter and Damon, Damon’s the one with the speed and also the one better known for working a count-both advantages when it comes to batting leadoff.  But, then, Jeter has a higher career OBP. The stats geeks suggest that Jeter has a slight edge for the leadoff spot. (So slight as to be practically inconsequential.)  But, whatever.  I think you could reasonably argue either side and have a valid point.

Some speculate that part of Girardi’s thinking is that he wants to separate two lefty hitters seeing as that lefty Brett Gardner will likely be filling the nine spot.  Bear in mind, however, that it was Damon himself who first hinted at that idea.  And that might just be what Damon tells himself to feel better.

If I had to guess, I would say that Damon probably has a pretty intricate system of rationalization that allows him to basically never feel bad about anything ever.

But leaving aside the numbers and the lefty v. right argument, Anthony Rieber from Newsday makes an interesting point:  Maybe part of the goal here is good old-fashioned motivation.  Jeter has seen a decline in his numbers over the past couple of seasons.  As I’ve previously discussed, while he may be the team’s leader, he doesn’t lead by oration.  He leads by example.  He sets the tone on the field by giving it his all.  And what better way to lead his team than to literally lead his team in the batting order?  To be the guy who gets the party started.

And by party I, of course, mean the loud club music and fireworks graphics on the jumbotron that accompany every run.

That actually has less to do with his commitment to environmental friendliness than it sounds.  It’s just a cutesy putesy (stupid) way to refer to his decision to take a middle-of-the-road course of action–arthroscopic surgery.  It’s less aggressive than his other surgical option but obviously more aggressive than rehab without surgery.

This statement comes on the heels of the statement that A-Roid was going to try to avoid surgery if at all possible.  That statement, of course, came on the heels of another statement that he was most likely going to have surgery. And all these statements happened within the span of a week.

So many statements.

This begs the question:  Why not just make the statement that you’re going to reserve all statements until you have a good enough grasp on the situation to just make one statement–one final statement?  And when you are prepared to make such a statement, why not just avoid having anyone related to you communicate that statement to the world?  Even if that person is your brother and not your cousin.  At this point, the world is just plain old wary of anyone related or supposedly related to you.

When asked about how his main pain in the asset was handling the decision, Cashman seemed to think The Roid was taking it all in stride.  He commented, “When it first happened, he (Alex) said he was ‘bummed.’ That was the exact word.  Alex texted me and he was really positive. He is excited. This is what he wanted to do.”

First of all, if bummed is all A-Roid could muster or even pretend to muster about this, then that guy’s worse than I thought.  Seriously.  “Bummed” is how I’d feel if my coffee shop stopped using soy milk.  Bummed is this week’s episode of House is a rerun.

Second of all, what’s the deal with all these pro athletes having all their important conversations via text message?   I definitely get not wanting to talk on the phone.  Probably more than the next person.  But I’m also not communicating with ESPN about my impending decision to unretire.  Nor am I communicating with the GM of the Yankees about a surgery that’s going to put me out of commission for several weeks.

According to Girardi, Cody Ransom is likely to fill in until A-Roid gets his groove back.  And, honestly, I say to Alex, “Don’t let the door hit you on asset on the way out.”  I don’t care what kind of numbers that guy posts.  I’m sick of hearing about Frost Tip. And I can’t imagine he’s not a distraction in the clubhouse.  So, maybe this is all for the best.  He disappears for a while, the boys get their rhythm, and by the time he comes back all of the scandal surrounding him has died down-including the impending, inevitable scandal that will certainly come with the release of the Selena Roberts book.

The real tragedy here is that when you look at a guy like Alex Rodriguez, you should just see a winner.   Somehow, though, he has managed to whittle away at all that talent and potential until all that remains is a guy who’s kind of a loser.  Sure, you can laugh if you want.  I’m just the blogger who’s making no money and talking smack from the safe enclave of my room and he’s the guy with the $272 million contract.  But tell me; is the big contract all one really needs in order to be considered a winner?

When I look at A-Roid, all I see is a guy who came to the Yankees to get a ring and has since never been able to even see the Bombers to the World Series. A guy whose talent will always be questioned because of his using of performance enhancing drugs. A guy who left his wife and kids to be with an aging pop star who was only with him to increase her tour’s sagging tickets sales. A guy who is so obsessed with public opinion that it inhibits his ability to perform under pressure.  A guy with a freakishly large hip cyst, the drainage of which the whole world got to hear about.  A guy who waits until halfway through spring training to address this hip cyst and, as a result, fails to see the underlying problem.  A guy who frosts his tips. A guy with all the natural ability in the world who still manages to look like a loser to me. That’s a feat.

I don’t like Manny Ramirez, but Manny Ramirez is not a loser.  Manny Ramirez is a winner.  He wins at life. Dustin Pedroia is the definitive ass clown.  Yet, he wins at life.

Well, it’s like he said. A-Roid laid his bed.  Now he has to sit on it. Lucky for him he can afford to buy sheets with a high thread count.

No, not the Steroid Era.  This is an inarguably better era marked by integrity, a big bat and a rarely discussed love of karaoke.

Having just come off of his second knee surgery in as many winters, Upper-deki will not be taking the field in the Grapefruit League.  Yesterday, Joe Girardi announced that Matsui will go to camp exclusively as the Bombers’ DH.  As far as the regular season is concerned, Girardi only anticipates using Matsui as an emergency left fielder when Johnny Damon is unable to play.

When questioned about this decision, Upper-deki responded through an interpreter, “That decision was made considering the situation with my knees, just being protective. I totally agree with his decision…I’m going to continue to make sure I prepare for the game. I’ll make sure I prepare to play defense as well. But as far as the decisions are concerned, that’s beyond my control.”

Man.  That guy can be such a prima donna.

But there’s another, quieter, though arguably more important, question to consider:  What’s to become of Jorge Posada?

I was listening to ESPN Radio today, and Colin Cowherd made the argument that of all of the factors contributing to the Yankees’ collapse last season, Posada’s absence was the most damaging.  Of course, he also made the argument that the economic situation isn’t nearly as bad as the state of affairs in the world of offensive catching.  So maybe we shouldn’t listen to everything Colin Cowherd has to say.

 But, still, the man has a point.

Here’s the thing about Jorge Posada.  He’s not A-Rod.  (Small miracles.) He’s not Jeter.  He doesn’t make Page Six off the field, and he doesn’t necessarily produce fireworks on the field.  But he produces.  He gets on base.  He gets the job done. We just don’t-for whatever reason-like to talk about him about quite as much as other people. 

Prior to last year, Posada has been nothing if not dependable. He caught 130+ games for eight consecutive years, delivering a minimum of 19 home runs per season-70 RBI’s in all but one of them.  And here’s the kicker-2007 was one of Posada’s best offensive seasons yet.  With a .338 batting average, 20 home runs, 90 RBIs and .426 OBP, he became the first Yankee catcher since Munson to make the list of top ten 10 AL batting leaders. As Cowherd pointed out, it’s no coincidence that the first time the Yanks failed to make the playoffs in over a decade happened to correspond with Posada’s protracted stint on the DL.

Jorge is determined to come back and be badder than ever, pshawing at the suggestion that he might only play a mere 110 games this season.  But I’d settle for that as long as he’s playing them healthy. The good news is that Girardi seems confident that Jorge’s recovery from shoulder surgery is going well.  He said he could tell by the “noise of the baseball in the air” during Posada’s throwing session. 

And that might totally instill confidence in me if I knew what it meant.