Juan for the Money.

 

One has to wonder if, sometime during the Mets' rain-soaked bloodbath at the hands of the Washington Nationals last night, even Juan Soto didn't have some feeling that just maaaayyybeee he should have taken a few gazillion less to stay with your New York Yankees.

With the Yanks playing the best ball in the American League, the Mets went down to their 16th loss in 19 games, 14-2, before a gloomy, silent crowd in Flushing.  While the Yankees are 20-11, even after being shutout by the Babadook, Eovaldi, the Mets are now 10-20. 

They have lost 16 of their last 19 games, while being outscored by 101-49—a schneid the likes of which the Yanks last endured...well, almost never.  

After the Nationals got off to an early, 2-0 lead against another of the Mets' awful starters, you could see that Juan had his game face on. He had already smashed a double in the first inning and now, with one out in the third, he launched a deep drive to left for a solo home run (a Solo Soto, if you will). 

He raced around the bases with the determination showing in his face, pumping his fist—accepting the orange construction helmet that the Mets had adopted as their particular, silly dugout celebration of the long ball.

He was pulling the Mets back, all by himself, and those still remaining in spectral, rain-drenched stand sent up a hoarse cry of defiance.

Then, in the next inning, David Peterson and Sean Manaea went out and gave up 7 more runs, putting the Mets in a 9-1 hole.

It was one more disaster, in what has been a Mets season full of them. 

Soto, to his credit, didn't mail it in the rest of the way (unlike the Yankees on a getaway day). He hit a line-drive single in his next at-bat, creating a least a feeble excuse for the saturated Mets fans to care:

Would he hit for the cycle?

He actually came fairly close, hitting a couple of deep flyballs. Not enough. The Mets lost, 14-2.

The Queens team is playing .333 ball. The injuries are piling up, the pitchers are spitting the bit, and no one save Soto seems able to hit for power. 

It's impossible to say for sure in today's game, with 40 percent of all clubs making the playoffs. But it's difficult not to conclude that the Mets are toast for 2026—before the end of April. 

One could almost see what Soto was thinking at the end: (Almost) Fourteen more years of THIS? 

Well, Juan, it's what you wanted.  

When he was still on the Yankees, the guy hitting behind Juan Soto was Aaron Judge. Last night, out in Queens, it was someone named M.J. Melendez, a lifetime .216 hitter.  

So far the entire team overhaul by the Mets' front-office genius, David Stearns, is looking like an abject failure that is likely only to get worse.

When the last, best-laid plans of the Metsies scuppered, Steve Cohen used his money to launch a complete rebuild. Now that another such investment seems required, one wonders how much Cohen will shell out—having finally got his casino, which may have been the real reason for his acquiring the team in the first place.

It has now been 40 years since the Mets last won it all, and at this rate it looks like it could be another 40.

Dismayed as he must have been, sitting in the Yanks' dugout after that embarrassing, Game Five loss in the 2024 World Series, Soto must now be wondering if he will ever get that close to the brass ring again. 

The dugout of the New York Yankees, devoid of orange hardhats, tridents, or home-run jackets—just the place where Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, and Aaron Judge came back to after they hit home runs.

The Mets' starters look abysmal, their pen is led by Devin Williams (nuf ced), $47-mill free-agent signing Bo Bichette (who has an opt out clause) is already being booed, and Pete Alonso is in Baltimore.

Sure, this could all change tomorrow. Or next year. 

Or  will Juan Soto be facing 2039, the final year of his contract, with an array of David Wright, individual honors...and nothing else to show for his big money move?

(Live game update: Mets trail the Nationals, 3-0, in the bottom of the third. Soto was robbed of another home run by the Nats' 6-7 right fielder. D'oh!) 

 

  

  

With the appearance of an old Yankee demon, the juju gods suddenly have turned

First, let's acknowledge the 900-pound Babadook in the room. Its name is Nathan Edward Eovaldi, and 10 years ago, he was ours. All ours... 

We didn't know it, but he was the incarnate fulfillment of Cooperstown Cashman's lifelong dream. He was Cashman's self-described "Great White Whale," a search that has consumed the GM's career, from Kei Igawa to Sonny Gray, from Javier Vasquez to Michael Pineda, from Jeff Weaver to - gulp - Carlos Rodon? In this millennium, the Yankees have gone through a generation of would-be Cy Youngs, searching for an Eovaldi, for a lockdown October ace, after letting Eovaldi slide through their fingers, so they could keep Ivan Nova.  

Eovaldi is the one that got away. 

He pitched for the Yankees in 2025-26, going 14-3 in his first year, leading the AL in winning percentage. He was a workhorse, throwing 154 innings. The next season, he tweaked an elbow into his 125th inning, leading to Tommy John surgery, and the Yankees cut bait.  

They have regretted it ever since.

Eovaldi has two World Series rings - with Texas and, grr, Boston - a 9-1 postseason record, two All-Star games, and 105 wins - with a big game reputation and a warhorse mentality, while treating the Yankees like a pair of reusable Depends. It led to yesterday's shutout, which was as predictable as David Wells' gout. 

All who have lived through the Great Yankee Drought - now into its 17th year without a ring - knew that Eovaldi yesterday would shut us down. But we didn't anticipate that he would plunk the Martian, maybe fracture his elbow, and sink the good vibes of Jasson Dominguez's return from Scranton, only hours after the team released OF Randal Grichuk. 

Listen: These things don't happen randomly. They slow-cook on a cosmic burner, quietly bubbling through the efforts of hateful, minimum-wage juju gods, who are cringey, obese chain smokers with bad acne and sciatica, and who are not allowed, by law, to live near elementary schools. They have mistreated the Yankees for 16 also-ran seasons. You might have thought that, at age 36, Eovaldi's cursed arm would run out of gas. But you cannot throw away the Babadook. It just keeps returning. 

Somewhere out there, in Albert Einstein's vast infundibulum of space and time, there is a wondrous Yankee paradise where the team kept Nathan Eovaldi, and has now won multiple world championships. In this place, the Dodgers are no longer the apex predator. But that's not here. This is the world of Chance Adams and Justice Sheffield. This is the era of Domingo German and J.A. Happ. This is the time of the Babadook, and - damn - apparently, he's not done.

GameThread–No longer Red–Elmer gets the Ball

 A BRIEF NOTE:  

PERHAPS NOW, WITH WINNY BACK, WE'LL FINALLY

KNOW FOR SURE THAT, IT IS IN FACT A WIN WHEN, 

THE YANKEES WIN.

The old and gray Yankees might actually be secretly harboring a youth movement.

In this decade, the AL East has become the Division of Eternal Youth, an incubation chamber for future stars. 

Toronto launched in 2022 with Alejandro Kirk, Bo Bichette, Alek Manoa and Vlad "I'll Never Be a Yankee" Jr. Then came Baltimore, with Adley Rutschman Gunnar Henderson, Jackson Holliday and Admiral Mountcastle. Last year begot Boston, led by Mookie Wilson, Rafael Devers, Chris Sale Roman Anthony. And was there ever a season when hateful Tampa wasn't a raging pimples outbreak of reckless youth? Only the Yankees - the team of skin tags and liver spots - moved with the creakiness of sciatica. 

And yet today, the Death Barge looks like the youth invasion that our rivals were supposed to bring. Consider... 

1. Ben Rice. Despite a three-game hiccup (1-for-11 in Texas) Rice has already produced numbers - 10 HRs -worthy of half a season. He has become a decent fielding 1B and the left-handed bat that complements Aaron Judge (until Cody and Jazz get their shit together.) He just turned 26.

2. Cam Schlittler. He won again last night. Six innings, three hits, no runs. He is second in the AL in ERA, with 1.51. If the All-Star Game were this week, he could start. Sky's the limit. He recently turned 25.

3. Elmer Rodriguez. A former Redsock, he will start today in Texas. He was killing it in Scranton - a 1.27 ERA and 26 percent K rate. He'll face Nathan Eovaldi, who always murders us, so... beware. Elmer - the future glue of the rotation - is 22.

4. The Martian. Jasson Dominguez is back, 1-for-8 since his promotion. He'll stay as long as Giancarlo's calf stays tweaked - ha! Did someone mention Wally Pipp? But last night, after Trent Grisham gang-tackled the left-center wall, the Yankiverse received a jolting reminder of how quickly our needs can change.  He's 23.

5. George Lombard Jr. He is now an official Scrantonian - promoted last night after going 0-for-3 in a Double A game. Last year, Lombard rose quickly and flamed out, so let's just see how this goes. Still, he's now one step from the Show, they say his glove is MLB-ready, and he's the next big thing. He's 20.

6. Spencer Jones. Last night for Scranton, he homered twice, now tied for 3rd in the International League, with 7. He's hitting .242 and still strikes out too much, but in those moments when Grisham lay dazed on the warning track, Jones suddenly was our new Malcom in the Middle. He's 24.

7. Anthony Volpe - our grand old man of youth! - went 0-3 last night for Scranton. You may suffer from Volpe Derangement Syndrome, but he'll get one last shot at the Yankee infield. Who knows? He turned 25 this week.

8. Austin Wells. He gets overlooked, batting 9th and hitting .200. He's been a low palpitation prospect since drafted in the first round of 2020. He's got 3 HRs - he won't be the next Jorge - but he's a regulation MLB catcher. That's not nothing. He's 26. 

I know, I know... I'm drunk on the ambrosia of a win streak. But close your eyes, and you can almost see a high school teen melodrama staring Sydney Sweeney and Dax Kilbry. Wait? WTF's happening with Dax
?

Future events such as these will affect you in the future

So far so good. Which of course means so far so relatively good, considering.

We sit atop the AL East with only Tampa breathing down our necks. Our record is precisely 1/2 game behind Atlanta and LA for the best record in major league baseball.

And now, a word about major league baseball.

Jesus, does it suck this year. At least in the American League, our ancestral home. Look at every single team aside from us and the Rays. EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TEAM. They all vacillate between complete mediocrity and somewhat worse.

The AL Central and AL West? What year is this? Detroit is in first with a .500 record, Oakland...er, Sacramento...er, Vegas...er, Pluto is one game above. Championships await!

We look at the East and assume that Baltimore (or Bmore), Toronto, and maybe, somehow, improbably, Boston (Has anybody seen our old friend Boston? Can you tell me where they've gone?) will come around and start kicking ass to challenge for the division. But why? Yes, I believe it, too, but I have no concrete reason aside from reversion to the mean, given their rosters. But what if this is their mean this year? What if they go the way of Scherzer?

Future questions that will affect us in the future.

Meanwhile, there are questions about us. As Carl pointed out, Michael Kay seems to seriously doubt that bringing back Volpe is a good idea, at least until Cabbie hits a slump. He's right, which means Cashman will do the opposite.That's one spanner in the works.

On the other hand, Lombard just got promoted to triple-A. Hmmm.

Stanton is already down. Can Judge put in another healthy season? One has to wonder.

Bednar? Our white-knuckle "closer"? Yeah, well. And then there's Camilo DaVille. Jesus Christ on a bike, how much rope do they give this guy? We'll lose games if Cashman puts his ego above winning.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! But of course Cashman will put his ego above winning! Which is why Volpe is coming back ASAP. And Jones will languish in AAA, while a slugger like St. Judge is allowed to strike out over and over, with impunity, in between his awe-inspiring at-bats. Something Jones may well be able to do, too. Judge will also hit for average, so we won't have two guys doing what Jones does. Myself, I'm kind of torn about Jones. But hey, ya never know.

Think we can release Goldie when he runs out of gas (assuming he has gas now)? Yeah, I dunno. Cashman.

And Boone is an idiot. That will continue to lose games for us.

None of this is news to any of you, I know. I don't illuminate insightful aspects of our present or future. I just get up in the middle of your night and have time on my hands. Sorry.

But we have Fried and Schlittler. Possible glimmers from Weathers and Warren. Elmer is starting today, and he's got to be better than Gil (famous last words). Maybe we'll see him hit 105 on the radar gun. As for Cole and Rodon, will they be any good when they get back? Will it take too long for them to scrape off the rust? Is Cole getting a little old for this kind of thing? Could, as Carl and others suggest, we bring up Lagrange?

The big question: do we sink into the mediocrity that surrounds us? Does that mediocrity turn into greatness?

The future is all there in front of us. Somewhere.

GaGaGa Game Thread – April Twenty Eighth Two Thousand and Twenty Six

 Boone's gunna be here forever

LAME!

He'll never learn how to coach

LAME!

No matter how hard we try to

LAME!

We'll never forget his damn name

LAME!

The Rumfield Report!

 

"Oh, I can gather all the news I need on the Rumfield Report..."

Our known knowns, thus far:  

After a red-hot start to the season, Toby Joseph "T.J." Rumfield has settled into a comfortable .250/.327/.400/.727 with your Colorado Rockies, including 4 doubles, a triple, 3 home runs, 11 walks (against only 13 strikeouts), and 16 RBI—all figures that would make him the monster of the Yankees' bottom half of the lineup.

Recently seen in NYC during the Rockies' sweep of the Mets, the Scranton refugee went 1-9, with a single and an RBI; walked three times, and struck out twice.

On the other hand, Colorado went ahead for good in Game 1 of their Sunday doubleheader, when the Metsies threw wild on what looked like the double-play grounder he had hit. Gee, putting the ball in play—what a concept! 

And in the nightcap, when it seemed as though the Amazin's might actually score, putting two men on base with none out in the fifth, Rumfield made a nice, leaping catch of a Tyrone Taylor line drive, to turn an unassisted double-play.

That play epitomizes Rumfield's chief strengths: his relative athleticism, and his ability to field.

Thus far, T.J. has yet to miss a game, and he has had 117 chances at first without an error.

I still maintain that if he had been at first base in the 2024 World Series instead of a washed-up, immobilized Anthony Rizzo, we would have escaped the Fatal Fifth Inning of Game Five, and maybe even rallied to win the Series against a badly injured Dodgers team.

The Yankees' BIG TWO is not what we expected. It's much better.

Last night, the Yankees rolled behind their BIG TWO, a phrase that traditionally stands for Judge & Gio. 

Or, last year, you could say Judge & Cody, or Jazz "50-50." Or, if you were into longshots, the Martian, or Goldy, or even Grish the Swish.  

Nope. None of the above. The Yankees' BIG TWO now includes Ben "Original" Rice, of Cohasset, Massachusetts - who grew up as an outcast, rooting for Derek Jeter, who the Yankees selected as a catcher in the 12th round of the 2021 draft, who has a degree in Psychology from Dartmouth, and who in 2024 became the first Yankee rookie in history to hit three HRs in a game. (A feat since duplicated by Jasson Dominguez.)  

Over the last two weeks, the Yankees have accomplished something exceedingly rare: They won eight straight without being carried by Aaron Judge.

Entering last night, when he went 3-for-3 with 2 HRs, Judge had been in a flailing, floundering, 6-for-30 funk. A bunch of bases-loaded Ks. He was a hole in the lineup, yet the Yankees kept winning. 

Actually, there was no mystery to it. They had Rice, plus two sluggish opponents, the Royals and Redsocks. 

Rice - see the chart - is on a pace he almost certainly cannot sustain. Barring injuries, he will probably hit 30some HRs and bat - well -.290? If so, he would be the all-star 1B, an MVP candidate and potentially a lifelong Yankee. He's 27. If he can string together a few big seasons, it's a chip shot to Monument Park and/or the YES broadcast booth. Within the Yankiverse, he has no ceiling. 

But there are no guarantees. For example, consider last year's Rice.

I'm referring to Grisham, whose decision to accept a $22.5 million qualifying offer set into motion the Yankee plan to stand pat over the winter. Once Grisham chose to stay - foregoing his chance at a long-term contract - it was a done deal that Dominguez would play in Scranton until somebody - cue Giancarlo - tweaked something.  

Well, Giancarlo has tweaked, the Martian's been called-up (1-for-4 last night) and Grisham is lost. Last night, he went 1-4, boosting his average to - dear God - .165. I'm not making this up. One-sixty-five. Last April, he was the hottest bat in the AL. This year, sinking without a bubble.  

It's too early to sound the sirens or plan the parade. But the Yankees have been winning without Judge, and now -dare we dream? - maybe he'll get hot. (Jacob deGrom and Nathan Eovaldi may have something to say about that.) Win tonight, and we clinch the AL East for the month of April. One sixth of the season will be over. But we'll be riding high, thanks to the BIG TWO.

Hal is a Genius – Hal is a Genius – Hal is a . . . . . .

 game thread

We're about to find out the truth about the 2026 Yankees (and, maybe, the Martian, as well.)

 

In recent years, the pinstriped shock troopers of Brian Cashman and Aaron Boone - assembled through the House of Hal - have generally adhered to a strict Yankee Code of Conduct. And I'm not referring to facial hair. 

What they do is run hot & cold, up & down, in & out, back & forth, nip & tuck, higgety-piggety, waggity-paggity, Bob's yer uncle! sit on it, Potsy! that's China Town, Jake! 

They follow every win streak with a libido-devouring string of losses, a market correction that saps hope from Yankee fans, like Lucy trying to stay afloat on an assembly line of chocolates.  

It's simple: With the Yankees, what goes up must come down.

Last year, beginning May 14, they won 11 of 13 games and looked unbeatable.

Then, on June 7, shortly after the hot spell ended, they lost 5 of 8. 

In July, they mingled a losing streak of six with a winning streak of five.  

Hot and cold. So went the 2025 Yankees.

Now, following yesterday's loss - their first in 9 games - we shall learn the truth about 2026. 

Do we launch a new win streak? Or piss away what we gained?

This happens as we encounter another annual event: the return of Giancarlo Stanton, the Glass Giant, to his rightful perch on the Injured List. Nobody is surprised. He was always fated to end up there, sooner or later. What's different, though, is his replacement. Instead of some veteran Triple A lug nut, we're turning to the Martian, Jasson Dominguez. 

So... what will we find? Can he hit lefties? Can he play the outfield? We'll soon know. If yes, we could be entering a new phase in Yankee history. Or we could be back in the REPEAT cycle. (Though we'll always have Boston. Hats off to you, Varitek.) 

That's Entertainment!

As I commented during yesterday's game, Gil was pitching himself out of the rotation. Not that that was a brilliant prediction by any means, but here we are. Faster than I thought, really.

As many people here predicted, the Glass Giant is now on the IL. He'll be back. In the meantime, the Martian has landed. He was having a nice year in AAA. Hope it continues. Hope he actually gets to play. Smells like a DH at this point.

Boone, you idiot, do NOT platoon the kid. Like Rice, he will hit either species of pitcher if you give him a fucking chance.

Happy Monday!

My Little Game Thread – 04º26º26 (they say that fish can breath under water)

"INQUIRING MINDS WANNA KNOW"

 

WE WILL NEVER, EVER LOSE AGAIN!!

 

Just a quick reminder, before the real game thread.

Damn. This time, the Yankees really did a number on Boston

We'll always have last night.

For the rest of our lives, we'll link Satan's evil pig roast shoot-up with Boston's trashing of Alex Cora.

As everybody knows by now, a shirtless Californian attacked Washington's Dark Ball, prompting the Secret Service to swarm, the TV news foreheads to pee themselves, and Trump to demand a new ballroom. This came just hours after Cora and his coaches - (Suck on it, Jason Varitek) - were bottled up and set out with the Japanese tide - and a day after the Yankees burned Fenway to the ground, metaphorically.  

So... long haul, will either matter?

The Yankees are riding an 8-game win streak. Thus far in this rotten millennium, they generally follow Newton's Third Law of Motion: An object in motion creates an equal force in the opposite direction. Thus, they'll soon lose eight straight. 

It can happen. After today, the Yankees face the Rangers, Orioles and Brewers. Could they fall apart? Of course.  

But but BUT... Damn... We haven't seen many moments like last night. 

This time, the Yankees drew blood. Reporting the news to their radio audience, Dave Sims and Suzyn Waldman didn't try to hide their joy. Suzyn, cackling, noted that it wasn't Cora who traded Mookie Betts and Rafael Devers. Sims invoked the "S" word: Scapegoat. I haven't heard an elderly couple laugh so heartily since Arthur Treacher waved his fish stick at Merv Griffin. 

All of which leaves Boston in a youth movement that doesn't seem to be moving.  

Baltimore knows the feeling. Its former No. 1 prospect in baseball - Jackson Holliday, now 22 - is reporting pains in his hand in a rehab that has suffered several setbacks. What if it limits him? In the World Baseball Classic, Boston's Roman Anthony was hailed as MLB's next big thing. What if he's not? 

(By the way, The Martian also inhabited this rarified air. As did Anthony Volpe.)

I know, I know... I'm assigning too much meaning here. But... DAMN! We got to them! We screwed them! 

Cora will rebound. He'll get a job. And for the rest of his career, whenever his team plays Boston, his players will be leaping from the rafters.   

An 8-game lead? Pttuui. It can vanish in three weeks. But... DAMN! This was different. This time, we drew blood.

Once upon a time, there was a good man named Cora...

 

Phil Rizzuto called him "Little Joey Cora," an honorific from one small guy who could bunt to another.

Oddly, Rizzuto also married a woman named Cora, but we are not here to psychoanalyze Ceasar, we are here to bury that other Cora.

Alex Cora looks like a weasel and, at the very least in 2017, acted like one. The Asstros stole the year from the Yankees. Everyone says so and you can bet your third imaginary assassination attempt it's true.

After that heinous, trashcan-banging year, the Red Sox hired him twice. TWICE. With only a brief pause to let the worst of the press coverage die away.

This tells you everything you need to know about the Red Sox organization. About their fans. About their charming, whiny, third-tier city, which unfortunately was not buried during the Big Dig, wasting a once-in-forever golden opportunity.

Alex Cora will no doubt swim around in the wading pool for a while, but some other amoral, godless organization will probably hire him down the road a piece. Off the top of my head, that would mean LA, but they don't need a weasel, they have an inexhaustible barrel of Hollywood stage money.

FOX always needs a new weasel, so there's that possibility. ESPN has a fine track record in that regard, also.

Let's see where the perpetually unshaven shifty bastard ends up.

WE WILL NEVER LOSE AGAIN!!!

 

"And though we choose between reality and madness

It's either sadness or euphoria..."

Or, you know, we could follow the New York Knicks.

Personally, I'll take euphoria. But even knowing, as a longtime fan of the New York Yankees, how likely it is to end very soon, a win is a win is a win is a win is a win is a win is a win.

I'm not even discouraged by the injury to Stanton which, as our Peerless Leader writes, is likely to keep him out of the lineup for weeks, not days. Counting on Stanton not being injured (for the first time since 2017) is something that only a sad, naïve child would do—someone like Brian Cashman.

As to who should replace him, well, Anthony Volpe is coming, as surely as summer turns into fall, and fall into nuclear winter. If that means that Ryan McMahon gets pushed to the bench—with Rosario/Caballero taking over third—it might even be an improvement.

But apart from that, I'm all with sandman.  Yes, bring up the "wrong-handed" Triple-A bats, Spencer and The Martian. Courteously give Paul Goldschmidt his walking papers, too, along with a laurel and hardy handshake. Bring up all those hard-throwing kids for the pen.

The pillars of the earth are shaking loose, within baseball and without. Time to get one more before it's too late, baby.

True colors?

For years, I could watch Quick Pitch and immediately identify the teams being featured. Now, it can take a while. Yes, okay, I'm getting pretty old, but MLB teams aren't exactly helping.

I realize that I'm spoiled by 50 years or so of fandom when team uniforms came in two varieties: home and road. But that's gone way by the boards.

Last night, the White Sox--"white" being the key there--were decked out in deep red and black. Nice contrast. I'd think the Black Sox reference might come into play in making this choice, but guess not. It's been over 100 years, nobody under 40 knows.

The KC Royals, famous for their powder blue uniforms (as to whether or not that was origninally a good choice is not up to me)? White. 

I see a jersey and I want to paint it black...

I think the Mets have taken to black or very dark blue jerseys for a while now. It still throws me for a nanosecond or two.

The Miami Marlins, they of tropicala and joyous sunshine color bombs? Black. Yuck.

Cincinnatti, being the Reds, wore black.

The Orioles, it turns out, are in Bmore, not Baltimore, proudly displayed against a white background on a jersey with green sleeves. They did sneak in some traditional orange here and there.

The Blue Jays may be blue because of the way they're losing, but the jerseys are black. Death metal? Suicidal?

The Twins were twins with a lot of other teams last night, wearing black.

The Braves wore red, but not a pure red. More of an orangey, "warm red." A bit like the Agfa logo.

Washington? Blue. If only.

And black for Pittsburgh, possibly due to the heavy soot from all those steel factories (that don't exist anymore).

I don't think any of these involved City Connect but I'm not sure about Bmore. Once those get cranked up, I'll have to deal with really stupid and really ugly along with unfamiliar.

My golden years aren't gold, either. Guess that's the way things are going.

Everything was fine... so Giancarlo tweaked something.

Everybody knew this would happen. 

Giancarlo Stanton was taking extra bases. He was sliding, dancing off first, chugging around the paths, even stealing a base. (He had one this year - his 43rd over 17 seasons.) A fuse was gonna blow, a hatchway was gonna burst. The Edmund Fitzgerald of Designated Hitters was going to sink. And everybody knew.

They're listing him as "day to day." This is bullshit, of course. He'll be out four weeks. Maybe six. He's Giancarlo Stanton. There's no such thing as day-to-day. There's week-to-week, maybe month-to-month.

Damn. Right in a 7-game winning streak. Third best record in baseball...

Because Stanton bats RH, it won't free up The Martian or Spencer Jones, or much of anybody down in Scranton. For now, the best RH remedy might be Paul DeJong, a 32-year-old utility IF, who is hitting .193 with 5 HRs. Yeesh. Is Pronk Hafner still playing?

Wait. There is another name. I hesitate to say it. Anthony Volpe. He's four games into a minor league rehab assignment. Too small a sample size to matter, but he did hit a homer the other day. If Volpe takes over, maybe we get a month to see - once and for all - whether he can hit MLB pitching. Does the prodigal son of New Jersey have a month in him? 

Game Thread – Coming up a little short in Houston – 04•24•26

 SEE WHAT I DID THERE . . .  (you may need your glasses)

Suzyn Waldman: "Can I just say, this pitching and defense thing for the Red Sox is not working out."

— Richard M. Nixon (@dicknixon.bsky.social) April 23, 2026 at 8:14 PM

Cam F---n Schlittler could become the first Redsock Killer of the post -Bambino Curse era

6th best ERA in baseball

 As you know, this site - this oasis of unadulterated truth porn - is THE LAST PLACE ON THE INTERNET to find hyperbole. 

Nope. We simply do not allow it. In daily discourses, our trained baseball technicians sift through continents of data, moving at the measured pace of Melania trying on shoes. 

Thus, we shall not over-sell the current situation regarding Cam Schlittler and his former home, the vacated city of Boston. 

Last night, despite a leaky defense, Schlittler shut down the Redsocks in Fenway, before a hateful crowd that yelled its greatest taunts and gravest threats, doing everything to disrupt him but eat raw pigeons. He pitched eight great innings, handling Boston, as he did last October. Already, the mere sound of his name sends shivers down the spines of Redsock fans who are still debating the Verdugo trade.

But but BUT... Schlittler is not atop the TOP TEN YANKEE LIST OF REDSOCK KILLERS. Here is the current ranking.

1. Babe Ruth. (Duh.)

2. Mariano Rivera. (58 career saves, 0.92 postseason ERA v Boston, despite - um - one game...)

3. Andy Pettitte (career 21-10 v Boston.)

4. Jack Chesboro (Between 1903-1906)

5. Ron Guidry. (career 14-7, pitched the Bucky Dent game)

6. Mike Mussina (Came within one out, Carl Everett, of perfect game v Boston. Also threw three huge innings of relief - first of his career - in the Aaron Boone game.) 

7. Allie Reynolds. (No-hit them)

8. Goose Gossage (saved the Dent game)

9. Thad Tillotson (In 1967, after two straight brushbacks, he beaned a Redsock, creating havoc.)

10 Schlittler. (In progress.)

Schlittler has already bypassed Roger Clemens, Luis Tiant and David Cone, who played for both. There can be debate on Whitey Ford, Dave Righetti and - personal fave - Ramiro Mendoza. 

Cam Schlittler could soon become "Cam Fucking Schlittler" the most dreaded name in the Boston lexicon. It's too early to enshrine him, but damn... you can't be heaping too much pressure when the guy to beat is Thad Tillotson, right?

04º23º26 – Back from the Packie in time for a Pissah of some Wicked Schlitt !

 

Cam Schlittler is learning the ugly truth about Boston. He must not let it consume him.

Tonight, the Yankees can - for now anyway - put to rest...

1. Critics who questioned returning the 2025 team.

2. Fears about 3B, the bullpen and the rotation.

3. Concerns about the Martian. (Last night, in Scranton, he went 1-for-4 with two Ks.) 

4. Those who proclaimed the Mets to be NY's team. 

5. The month of April. 

That's the problem. April. Tonight, no matter what gives, the Yankees cannot touch May. Nor can they bury Boston. 

Sorry. It's just April. Even a win tonight - a sweep in Fenway that would build a 7-game bulge - it's a Melania fart on the East Lawn. When the Yankees and Redsocks play again - June - Taylor and Travis will be nearing their wedding, gas will cost $20 per gallon, the Knicks will be done, the midterms will be upon us, the aliens will have revealed themselves to humanity, and we'll know the truth about Cam Schlitter: 

Tonight, the Yankees will learn a lot. Schlittler's return to the Boston area, where he grew up, has brought out the worst of the Redsock Nation - a veritable zombie apocalypse of knuckle-dragging wildings. Not since Roger Clemens returned to Fenway, fostering a hysteria that terrified his wife and family, has Boston's frat boy fan base been so defined by its nutjobs. 

Yank fans like to think we are the craziest - the Chambliss HR, the nails on Ed Whitson's driveway, the drunken singing of "New York, New York" - but let's give credit: Boston has always had a special sauce. The security guard who fought Jeff Nelson. The guy who took punched Gary Sheffield. Just last night, down 4-0 in the 9th, the Fenway crowd several times chanted "YANKEES SUCK." God bless 'em. 

And now, death threats against Schlittler. Death threats.

Congratulations, you obese, odorific, developmentally challenged, lost-cause sickos. Bravo! Somehow, you managed to lower expectations of basic humanity, which were already so deep into the sewers of crazy, that nobody cared what you think or do. So, you made death threats. Great. Get comfy on the rat couch. Eat another bag of chips.

Tonight, Schlittler can make Boston pay. Or not. We should not add any stress to what already is a pressurized situation. Whenever pundits predict a Yankee-Redsock pitchers' duel, the bats go wild. Boston has scored one run in 18 innings. They won't stay quiet forever. 

It would be wonderful if Schlittler can make them eat their own crapola. But it's a long season, it's still just April, and whomever rules in September - that will be the outcome that matters. April is too early to sweat - or heap any more pressure on Schlittler. 

A shutout will do. A no-hitter would be nice. That's all.