The Yankees have had more success against Martinez, the compelling pitcher for the Boston Red Sox, than any other team has since he came to the American League six years ago. The Yankees typically torment Martinez softly by making him throw more pitches, by making him work until he is weary and then by subduing him.

"Make him get really frustrated, actually," Jorge Posada said.

Seeing a frustrated Martinez is a wonderful vision to the Yankees because it means they have inevitably stifled the Red Sox, too. The Yankees waited and waited and finally frustrated Martinez, the Red Sox and most of New England in a 6-4 victory at Fenway Park on Friday night. [ny times]

on our way home from dinner, my mother turned the game on the car radio in time to hear the trot nixon homer. immediately i started to fidget, and a little later when steinling (i STILL can't tell them apart most of the time) pointed out olerud playing behind the runner, saying IF I WERE OLERUD, WHAT I WOULD DO IS i snapped off the radio and started railing about how no one cares what some fat fuck who never played ball a day in his life would do, signifying that i was in unpleasantly fine game watching form.

when i got home i paced around in front of the tv, watching most of the drama out of the corners of my eyes. like my impatient feet, the score went back and forth back and forth for most of the night. some things i paused to marvel at: arod's slowmotion barehand grab, the throw to first a ridiculous blur; hideki matsui playing off the monstah and showing off that quick release to get millar at second and speaking of: groundzilla smash! ; mo's cool, catlike athleticism; pedro's zombified postgame face:

I can't find a way to beat them at this point," a somber Martinez said long after the Yankees' 6-4 victory was in the books. "They beat me. They didn't beat my team. They beat me. They're that good right now. They're that hot right now -- at least against me.

"I'd wish they'd disappear and never come back," he continued, spicing his sentence with a well-chosen expletive. "What can I say?

"All I can do is tip my cap and call the Yankees my daddy." [newark star ledger]

that's so hilariously sad and befuddling i can't even respond to it.