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.