In a series that has been marked by contrasts in style, juxtaposition is thrown into the spotlight tonight at Citi Field. On one side loom the sluggers from the Bronx, who belt, bash and batter the ball to a pulp, and whose 110 homeruns lead the major leagues. On the other side wag the kids from the Queens, who score runs through guile and clutch hitting, and whose 30 sacrifice plays rank 5th in the majors. And on the mound tonight, C.C. Sabathia opposes R.A. Dickey in a matchup that serves as a microcosm of Yankees versus Mets. It’s a fitting ending to this year’s version of the Subway Series.
Entering tonight’s game, the Yankees sit atop the A.L East with a 42-28 record. They are fueled by high-powered hitting and – despite injuries to David Robertson and Mariano Rivera – a stingy bullpen. They are where we thought they would be 70 games into the season, and brassily proud of the still-smoking trail behind them.
The Mets are 39-33, ahead of the Braves, Phillies and Marlins in the N.L. East, and just 3.5 games out of first place. They are spurred by timely hitting, crafty play, and talent maximization. And David Wright. They are nowhere near where we thought they would be 72 games into the season, exceeding expectations and reveling in the silence of the cynics.
Sabathia is 9-3 on the season, averaging over 7 innings per start, and ranks 5th in the majors with his 102 strikeouts. Just like his team, CC is doing exactly what we thought he would do in just the manner he is doing it, suppressing hitters with stifling fastballs and baffling sliders. His craft is consummate.
Dickey is 11-1, surrendering just 6 hits per 9 innings, and leads the majors with an ERA of 2.00. His 103 strikeouts are one the better than Sabathia’s total. He is doing unimaginably more than what we thought he would in a way as bewildering to us as the opposition, flummoxing hitters with dipping and darting and diving knuckleballs. His style is understated.
Sabathia is 6 foot 7, 290 pounds, and hurls the ball from his massive left arm. He wears his cap slightly to the side, lets his voluminous pants drape around his ankles, and has a teddy-bear personality almost as big as himself. He is fiery and imposing on the mound, and celebrates big outs with the kind of vigorous fist pumps that could knock out a small minor-leaguer. The Yankees, themselves a brawny and brash bunch, endorse everything about their ace.
Dickey is a slender 6 foot 2, 222 pounds, and sails the ball from his rubbery right arm. He wears his socks high, his hair long, and pulls his brim low over his pensive eyes. He is quiet on the hill, but deeply driven, and his simple windup and subdued character seem to be reflective of his honest humility. He has visions of grandeur and glory in his mind, but he’s careful to anchor himself in the moment. The Mets, themselves a confident but conservative club, see themselves in their savior.
Tonight, it’s power versus ploy, flair versus fortitude. It’s the Kings Court versus the commoners, pedigree versus peasantry.
It’s the Yankees versus the Mets and its C.C. Sabathia versus R.A. Dickey.
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