Making a brand new start of it in old New York

Tonight's game reminded me of a little song I heard at Yankee Stadium two years ago:

Trot Nixon! Trot Nixon!
Trot Nixon is a horse's ass.
He's the meanest, he sucks the biggest penis,
Trot Nixon is a horse's ass!

But Trot Nixon's horrible fielding error is certainly not the only thing that happened in this game that made my little Yankee-loving heart fill with glee.

The Rocket lasted a measly 2 and 1/3 innings due to a hamstring injury (or maybe just being old), and they opted to go to youngster Philip Hughes. Let's just thank the kid for saving our ass, because I certainly thought the bullpen couldn't handle 6 innings. What an outing. And props to Rivera. He's back in Sandman-form.

And I was starting to forget what Yankees on base looked like! Thank God for those bats coming to life because I was starting to think Joe Torre was going to need the classified section of tomorrow's paper.

I can't be sure they're going to go all the way, but I'm keeping the faith like Billy Joel. So put away those brooms, haters. Tonight is a night of celebration.