A night for Posada and me to forget

Jorge Posada has been a great Yankee ... has had a great career ... has enormous pride.

But he's 39 and hitting .165.

No doubt there are other factors affecting this story that came to a head Saturday night -- Posada's less-than-perfect relationship with manager Joe Girardi, GM Brian Cashman dealing with an aging star.

But the bottom line is this: Posada needs to accept his role, whatever the team determines it is, or walk away.

Clearly, May 14, 2011, was a low point in Posada's career.

While Posada was begging out of the Yankees lineup, I was heading to South Beach for a date. A friend up North wanted me to meet his tenant. He said she was a nice girl, a lot of fun.

A night earlier, she sent texted me the Pretty Woman line about her being "a sure thing." She also told me to make sure I saved my energy for the date.

I was so offended by her forwardness, I knew I needed to discuss things with her face to face. (Wink.)

I met her at 6 p.m. She was a fairly attractive (ahem) blonde for a 49-year-old. Of course, nobody would assume she was 48.

She told me she didn't drink, but she had bought a bottle of wine so I could have a drink or two before we went to dinner.

I had a drink, and she proceeded to tell me about how her first marriage ended when the husband ran off with his secretary, her second husband died of cancer, her father currently is sick with cancer, and her daughter got pregnant at 17.

I had a second drink.

She mentioned that a psychiatrist told her she was bipolar, which immediately meant the therapist didn't know what he was talking about. After all, who would prescribe all that medication?

If not for my friend setting up this date, I would have pulled a Posada right there. Instead, I stayed in the game. We went to dinner.

We walked across the street to a steak house. I let her order for both of us. My mistake.

Oh, the salad, steak, salmon, mashed potatoes, mushrooms and my two glasses of wine were very good.

Not sure they were $235 good, but they were good.

As I was paying the bill, I asked what she wanted to do. She asked me the same, and I mentioned that I could drive home. (In fact, I would have walked back to Fort Lauderdale if necessary -- good thing she had warned me to save my energy.)

I walked her back to her building -- she went upstairs, and I went home.

We were together for about three hours, 45 minutes -- she spoke for 3:35. And she had an annoying habit of jabbing me to emphasize something she said -- I guess she was planning to win on points.

She probably sensed I wasn't too interested in her, or she wasn't too interested in me ... or both.

Oh, did I mention she asked me if I ever did Ecstasy? I think that was during dinner, but at that point, nothing she said or asked could have fazed me.

Yes, May 14, 2011, was a night to remember ... or forget.

Be a man, Bubba

Woke up this morning to hear Bubba Watson saying he had reached out to Tiger Woods' people to explain comments made about Woods' game.

Then I heard a smug Woods say, "We'll talk," when asked about Watson's remarks.

Give me a break.

Bubba, YOU HAVE NOTHING TO EXPLAIN! Everyone is entitled to an opinion, dammit. Even when it concerns his Hole-iness.

As for Tiger, let's see him string together four quality rounds or perhaps win a tournament before worrying about what others are saying about his game.

Even when the guy was at his peak, it was a joke how other players and Tour officials were on pins and needles around the guy.

Seve Ballesteros seemed to be around forever. He hit the international golf scene in the mid-1970s, and had been years removed from his best golf when he died over the weekend at 54 -- 54?

That, more than anything, is the saddest part of the Ballesteros story. After achieving so much between the ropes and influencing meaningful changes to the game -- Ryder Cup including all of Europe, more Europeans playing on the PGA Tour -- Seve would be a great ambassador for golf, as well as for his beloved Spain.

What Arnold Palmer was for U.S. golf, Ballesteros was for Europe.

I loved the charisma and flair that others have been talking about while reflecting about Seve. I also loved that he thrived at the Open Championship, where golf is played the way it had been intended -- on the links, battling the course and the elements.

During my previous life while covering the Westchester Classic for the New York Post, I followed Seve during a round. It's still one of my favorite memories.

On one approach shot, he put the ball within 3-5 feet of the hole. As he walked to the green, a fan yelled, "Pick it up Seve. That's good."

Ballesteros, striding confidently, turned toward the fan and smiled widely. Later, he was in the interview room sitting relaxed and answering all questions, including one of mine. (I'm sure I forced one, just to say I interacted with the great Ballesteros. :) )

The guy simply had "it."

And to paraphrase a popular line, God blessed Nicklaus and Woods with talents second to none. But the people loved Palmer and Ballesteros more.

Shame on the Lakers. Losing comes with the territory, and even great teams get blown out occasionally. But to lose to the Mavericks in such a classless way, inexcusable.

At the ballpark Monday night, I heard that Roy Halladay not only does not speak to the media on the day of a start --an approach many pitches take -- he also doesn't talk the day BEFORE a start.

What's next? The second coming of Steve Carlton?

I'm not one who makes a habit of defending athletes, but what exactly did Reggie Bush do wrong on Twitter?

Bush Tweeted: “Everybody complaining about the lockout! Shoot I'm making the most of it! Vacation, rest, relaxing, appearances here and there! I'm good!” and “Right about now we would be slaving in 100 degree heat, practicing twice a day, while putting our bodies at risk for nothing.’

The guy was being honest (despite backtracking later).

Guess he would have been better off had he lied and Tweeted something like, "Lockout becoming stressful. Sad because it hurts fans. Hope we get back to work ASAP."