Yankee manager Joe Girardi’s three-man rotation may prove to be his downfall, and the Phillies finally seemed to overcome his childish stall tactics last night, but he’s still out-managing Charlie Manuel in the games. Or rather, Manuel is out-managing Manuel and handing the Yankees free runs with curious decisions like pulling Shane Victorino from the game in the top of the eighth for Ben Francisco instead of having Francisco replace Raul Ibanez.

With a six-run lead, does it matter if Victorino can’t throw very well from his finger injury in the first inning? If it was that bad, what was he doing in there from innings two through seven? And if it only became an issue to start the eighth, why not move Victorino to left field where throwing doesn’t matter as much? After all, you’re trying to collect six outs the old-fashioned way if possible. Either Francisco or Victorino could have camped under that ball Ibanez dove for and missed, and it cost the Phillies two runs.

It was almost Black Friday all over again.

Fortunately, Chase Utley is absolutely on fire. His two home runs not only tied Reggie Jackson’s single World Series record, they provided the spark and the cushion the Phillies needed to stay alive on a night when Cliff Lee gutted out a tough seven-plus innings in which he did not have his best stuff.

So the Phillies live to fight another day, and they’ve more than a puncher’s chance of seeing game seven. The Yankees send Old Man Pettite to the hill on three days’ rest and the Phils counter with Old Man Martinez on normal rest. Believe it or not, I think game six could hinge on the home plate umpire. A consistently liberal strike zone could mean a pitcher’s duel; a tight strike zone could spell Pettite’s doom. But if the ump feels pressure from the Yankee Stadium crowd and gives Pettite more slack than Martinez, he’ll hang the Phillies with it.

By Dan | November 2, 2009 - 11:02 am

If Shakespeare were a beat writer following the Phillies, the lede to his story for last night’s game would have been, “Slider, o slider, where fore art thou slider?”

Matsui, two strikes, slider, popped up.

Jeter, two strikes, slider, struck out.

Damon, two strikes, fouls off several fastballs before poking one into left field for a single. Then all hell breaks loose.

Damon steals second. Brad Lidge forgets to cover third base with the shift on for Teixeira and Damon runs to the free base.

Runner on third, two outs. Lidge inexplicably plunks Teixeira to put runners on the corners. Still two outs.

The last time I checked, this is the World Series, the highest possible level of professional baseball. If the pitcher and coaches are too afraid to throw a slider for a strikeout because there’s a runner on third base who could score if the ball gets past Carlos Ruiz, then maybe it’s time to find new work. Perhaps something less stressful like calling bingo games at retirement communities.

Instead, the Yankees got a steady diet of Lidge’s lousy fastball (his trouble pitch all year long), sat on it, and clobbered it, blowing the game open.

The top of the ninth inning last night is a microcosm of why the Phillies are going to lose this series. Last year’s team finds a way to get Damon out at third, or last year’s Lidge actually gets him out at the plate with a SLIDER. This year’s team is so punch drunk on Joe Girardi’s steady dose of American League slowball, that their brains have become disconnected at the plate and in the field.

We all thought they were mentally tougher than this. Maybe they are, but not this week.

This World Series is shaping up to be 1993 all over again, except it’s the Cliff Lee show instead of the Curt Schilling show. Everything else that could go wrong has.

If the Phillies were playing their best baseball and still getting beat by the Yankees, I’d be OK with that. But they’re beating themselves, and that’s what hurts most watching this series.

The Phillies have dug themselves a huge hole, and their inimitable resolve is being tested like never before. If any team is capable of overcoming a 3-1 deficit, it’s this team. But don’t hold your breath.