Forget the Jersey Turnpike; so far, this 105th World Series belongs to the great state of Arkansas. Put on one of your red plastic Razorback hats and get prepared to call the Hogs; Cliff Lee and A.J. Burnett are the breakout stars so far, and they grew up exactly 26 ½ miles away from each other in what is either The Natural State or the Lans of Opportunity, depending on which license plate you have.
Lee, out of Benton, throttled the Yankees in Game 1. So in a lot of ways, the mood of Yankees fans and the map of this Series fell onto the shoulders of Burnett, 20 months older than Lee, raised in North Little Rock.
And Burnett delivered his first truly memorable performance as a Yankee, a one-hit, four-run gem that bettered even a gutty performance by Pedro Martinez and helped the Yankees to a series-tying 3-1 win in front of 50,181 at Yankee Stadium.
Yankees fans have spent a lot of time wondering about Burnett, same as Blue Jays fans used to, same as Marlins fans used to. There has never been a question about the talent coursing through his veins, specifically the veins inside Burnett’s prized right arm. That has always known how to throw 95-mph fastballs, how to spin heartbreaking curveballs, how to look, at times, like the fiercest right arm in baseball.
The question was always about his health, and about his heart, and about his head. As often as not, one of those things would conspire to compromise the other three. In many ways, he found a perfect situation with the Yankees this year, an opportunity be a sidekick, Robin to CC Sabathia’s Batman, Garfunkel to Sabthia’s Simon.
It was a fine partnership, one that allowed Burnett to suffer through his subpar stretches mostly in silence, and not have to much worry about his playoff performances; through two rounds, Sabathia won all three of his starts, and so it didn’t much matter what Burnett did, none of his starts would be make-or-break, do-or-die.
It was different this time. The Yankees were down a game to the Phillies, had handed over the home-field advantage, and as you made your way around town yesterday it was easy to be confused because it sure sounded like the Yankees were down 3-0. It had stopped raining yet the sky was falling anyway.
For the first time this fall, the Yankees faced a test.
And taking that exam, No. 2 pencil in hand, would be their No. 2 starter.
Burnett had seemed terribly calm about all of this on Wednesday, as he talked about fulfilling his lifelong dream of pitching in a World Series. Six years ago, as a part of the Cinderella Florida Marlins, Burnett had watched from the periphery as Josh Beckett, Carl Pavano and company had stunned the Yankees in the Series, confined to street clothes thanks to a bad elbow.
Someone had asked Burnett if he had to try and trick himself into minimizing the importance of the game, the setting, the stakes, and Burnett had laughed about that.
“No,” he’d said. “I want it to be my first World Series start. I’m looking forward to it. I’m excited. I mean, I’m going to prepare, yeah, maybe, as another game, but deep down I know what it’s about. I know how real it is, and I don’t want to change it. I want to go out there knowing it’s my first World Series start.”
Armed with that knowledge, Burnett was brilliant, throwing seven sublime innings, allowing only one run (which should have been unearned) on four hits (which should have been three, thanks to Alex Rodriguez’ second inning error-that-was-ruled-a-single) and striking out 10.
Just as important, he served as a one-man bridge to Mariano Rivera, Joe Girardi eschewing any of his hit-or-miss set-up men and going right to his closer in the eighth, a move that was only possible because Burnett had gone the full seven, throwing first-pitch strikes to nearly every hitter and overcoming some early pitch-count woes to keep it to 108 pitches overall.
In its own way, Burnett’s effort was every bit as dominant – and every bit as important – as Lee’s had been 24 hours before.
“I know Cliff well,” Burnett said. “He does a lot of stuff in Little Rock with me in the off-season, and we’re represented by the same agent. We work the American League Foundation in Little Rock with the handicapped children, so I’ve gotten to know Cliff really well.”
Last night, he resembled him in more ways that geography and drawl, and as a result the Yankees make it to the weekend with their season still very much intact, and maybe even inspired their fans to do a little callin’.
Woo! Pig! Sooie!