By Jason Keidel
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45 saves have an odd echo in a hollow dome in a football state. Not the same theater or theatrics of any 8^th inning in New York. The cap can be a little tight when you don the “NY” on your dome.

Rafael Soriano is learning this. And the early signs don’t speak well of his vital signs. From Carl Pavano to Bobby Bonilla, we could list at least 50 otherwise fine players who grappled with the Big Apple.

Unless a doctor diagnoses otherwise, the problem with Soriano isn’t his body but rather his brain. On top of his bombs on the bump he’s already bailed on the media (and his team) by ducking out the back door after he blew a game a few weeks ago. Brian Cashman, who didn’t want Soriano, allegedly corrected the problem. But he should not have to.

Beyond the pressure of saving games, a task too tall for many talented pitchers, Soriano is saddled with each inning being italicized in the Bronx, as opposed to that lemon of a park named after orange juice, freckled with about 15,000 fans every night. With all due respect to the Rays – who have won over 90 games with a microscopic payroll – there’s only a fraction of the friction when playing in Tampa.

Soriano is learning that we burn the back of baseball cards when entering New York, as deeds west of the Hudson are hardly precursors to pitching in pinstripes. Few players – like Derek Jeter and Rivera – are able to bask in Broadway’s glow without burning in its glare.

He can make this moot by getting hot in May and beyond. But when a club asks the aristocracy to drop two grand on courtside seats they expect a return on the investment. Three outs are not too much to ask for a man making too much money for his role. He can embrace his role or roll over. He’s chosen the latter so far, and a 7.84 ERA and 1.94 WHIP makes him a whipping boy, particularly at his wage.

Soriano is not making $10 million for saves as much as serendipity. Had the Yankees not whiffed on Cliff Lee and Andy Pettitte not gone out to pasture, they wouldn’t have looked twice at Soriano because they wouldn’t need him. Yet he’s pitching as though the burden of all the team’s offseason misfires are on him.

The Yankees hope to party like it’s 1996, truncating games to six innings from their starters while their nuclear bullpen slams the door. Sounds great when it works. Since baseball has gelded the starting pitcher, essentially saying six innings is all a young man can throw despite a century of evidence to the contrary, there’s an inordinate premium on premium relievers. Soriano was supposed to be a luxury, a toy for the Steinbrenner war chest already overflowing with overpaid players. But he’s making us miss Kerry Wood (2.17 ERA and 1.08 WHIP this year), whom the Yanks could have signed for less than half the price ($1.5 million pitching for Cubs).

Soriano has a simple job: get three outs in one inning. Not even the ninth inning. The consensus was that he took the job because no one can take the immortal Mariano Rivera’s place in the pen. That’s true. And he’s also making closer’s cash. But it may also say something about his mettle, that you can count on him when the games don’t count.

Yes, it’s April, a mutinous month of rain and cold. But it gets cold in October, too, and even colder for the setup man if he doesn’t settle down.

Feel free to email me: Jakster1@mac.com

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Can Soriano handle the NYC heat? Let us know in the comments below…