Joba

Three things happened last night that make me think Joba's about ready to take over. First, the 12 Ks. Granted, he probably only earned an honest--but still impressive--nine, but, after the disastrous first inning, Joba simply dominated the highly touted Red Sox lineup (sans Youklis) including eight consecutive strike outs to finish his night. 

Filthy. 

Second, he hit Jason Bay. Since arriving in Boston from Pittsburgh last summer, Bay has simply punished the Yankees, hitting an amazing .556 with three home runs and 10 RBI in just five games this year against the Bombers. Bay, who took Mariano Rivera deep in the first Yankees-Red Sox game this season, homered off Joba in the ill-fated first inning, giving the Sox an ultimately insurmountable 4-0 lead. The next time up, though, Joba got Bay looking on a questionable called third strike. The next time up, Joba put his first pitch in Bay's ribs, as if to say, "No more, Dudley Do-Right. 

Third, Joba attacked. I've had a nagging suspicion that Joba's been a bit too preoccupied about pacing himself through each game. Last night-- again, after the first inning-- he seemed to spit out that strategy like a stale wad of gum. For four straight innings, he flashed the same untouchable brilliance that he used to show setting up for Mo. "Screw it," he seemed to say. "Here it is, fellas, try and hit it." For better of for worse, that is Joba's modus operandi,  Take it or leave it.  

What captivated Yankees fans--and most of baseball-- when Joba first burst on the scene, was his aggressiveness. His fearlessness. His disregard for radar guns and pitch counts and, at times, the natural laws of physics. He threw hard, and threw strikes. Somewhere along the way, in the interest of becoming a reliable, front-line starter, he seemed to forgot this. All of the sudden, it was more important to be a complete 7-inning pitcher: efficient, even-keeled, emotionless. 

Last night, though, after the first inning, when his fastball was an un-Jobalike 89 mph,and the Yankees were already down four, Joba unleashed his talents and let loose his fist-pumping intensity, remembering, at long last, what got him here. "Here it is fellas, try and hit it." They couldn't.