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Monday, March 18, 2024

Does Josh Still Have His Glove?



 You guys are already wearing me out.  

Here is what circling the pond three times has yielded:

1. Cole has a nasty that will require a lot of rest.

2. Judge has a nasty that no one discusses

3. DJ has a bruise on his foot that will keep him out beyond opening day.  (Did he drop a stone crab on it?)

We only have players left for third whose names begin with Oswaldo ( although " meat sauce " does play third). 

  And what just became of our back-up first baseman?   Maybe Ben Rvtvltbnktd ( Swans can't spell Dutch names ) can hang on as third catcher, and second first baseman.  Making him the number one substitute. 

And we are not into the season yet.  

Good thing Hal and Brian have made contingency plans. 

Time for a cool one. 

By now, Old George would have blown a few gaskets

Greetings from Florida! Did you know that...

The Yankees have the 4th worst spring training record in baseball!

Their pitching staff has given  up 52 runs in the last six games - an average of slightly more than 8!

Their best pitcher won't even touch a ball for at least four weeks. And their best hitter has mystery pains!

Yesterday, their two top pitching prospects gave up 9 runs! 

Their lineup featured four batters hitting .200 or less!

Even the team's cultural footprint is shrinking: No Yankees have a) dated a pop star, b) appeared with Joe Rogan, c) hosted SNL or d) been mentioned as Robert Kennedy Jr.'s VP. 

Yes, it's a pissing match shit show train wreck on a three-ring circus dumpster fire in a hot mess clown car, warts and all.

I know what you're thinking: I'm exaggerating, again. The '24 regular season is nine days off, and the prideful power of our shaven Yankee stallions has yet to be tasted in a meaningful mouthful. Let's not stress the warts. One week from today, nobody will give a hoot about the Death Barge's Grapefruit League record.

Okay, yeah, but listen... something here isn't right. Do you feel it, too? 

When you look at these Yankees, you see:

1.  A team clearly lacking in pitchers.
2. An aging lineup ripe for injuries.
3. A farm system depleted by trades.
4. A propaganda machine that overhypes everything.
5. A front office without a plan.
6. An owner in complete denial about the above. 

Are we really expecting to win the AL East by a flurry of 10-9 scores? Are we really going to let Blake Snell and/or Jordan Montgomery sign with our rivals? Is all of this pure nonsense... or are we getting a glimpse of what is to come? 

Sunday, March 17, 2024

Not Positive

At the end of the First inning;

Boston 9 Yanks 0

After a 10-9 victory, one question emerges: Where did all that Yankee pitching depth go?

The Yankees yesterday finally beat somebody - our pals from 'Ronto - in a 10-9 score more suited for lacrosse. When 19 runs are tallied, you start thinking of them as "points." Most of the carnage came in the late innings, with the arrival of no-name pitchers. 

Still, a 10-9 win is hard to process. It means an overworked bullpen and a lineup continually stressed. 

Such wins are not sustainable, and we must ask, where did all that vaunted Yankee pitching depth go?   

Out the door, that's where. 

This winter, the Yankees gave up 10 young pitchers in trades and roster moves. We won't know until July whether the losses outweigh the gains, but here's a snapshot of where things stand.

We traded four pitchers for Juan Soto:

Jhony Brito: He's thrown 13 innings, given up 2 ERs with 16 strikeouts. The Padres love him. He might be their best pitcher in camp. He's 26. Someday, the Soto trade might be remembered as "the Brito trade."

Randy Vasquez: Nine innings, six earned runs, nine strikeouts, five walks. Meh. Not so impressive. The Padres are working him, hoping he'll make the rotation. He's 25.

Drew Thorpe: Seven shutout innings, 3 hits, 6 Ks, before being part of the package dealt for Dylan Cease. Not sure what it means when a guy is traded twice in a winter, but if you figure the Padres converted Thorpe into a front line pitcher, not a bad return on the investment. 

Michael King: The main cog in the deal. He's thrown just 5 innings and given up 2 hits, 4 strikeouts. Not sure why the light load. But if King were still a Yankee, he might be our opening day starter, in lieu of Gerrit Cole's barking elbow. San Diego wants King to be their ace. If he succeeds - (a big "if," obviously) - they might have three aces to show for the Soto deal. That would sting. 

We also sent them Kyle Higashioka, who hasn't hit much this spring, but - hey - Higgy is Higgy, right? One year he led us in spring HRs, then went dead through May. The Higmeister does what the Higman desires.

We traded three pitchers for Alex Verdugo:

Greg Weissert: He's thrown six innings, given up a run, 8 strikeouts. Big sweeping curve. He's 28, no chicken of spring. He'd be competing for the back end of our bullpen.

Richard Fitts and Nicolas Judice: Neither has thrown for Boston this spring. Fitts is considered the most promising of the three. Sorta surprised he hasn't been showcased, at least as a sop to critics of the trade.  

We lost three pitchers in the Rule 5 draft. (Selecting teams must keep them all year, or they'll return to the Yankees:)

Mitch Spence: The first player selected in the December draft, by Oakland. He's thrown 13 innings, given up 6 ERs and struck out 14. Obviously, they want him to succeed. Not sure if he's doing it. He's 25. 

Matt Sauer: Hyped former high Yankee draft pick - grabbed by the Royals - has thrown 8 innings, given up 2 ERs, 10 strikeouts. Looks like he could stick. This would hurt.

Carson Coleman: Taken by the Rangers, hasn't thrown a pitch this spring. Assign him a parking spot. He's probably coming home. 

Saturday, March 16, 2024

Yanks solve their opening day starter problem. If only they could solve their opening three months problem

Yesterday, the Yankees announced that - due to the frazzled elbow of Gerrit Cole- their opening day pitcher will now be none other than the breakout all-star of 2022, Nasty Nestor Cortes.

So ends the first full scale crisis of 2024: finding somebody who can navigate the inaugural five innings on Thursday, March 28, in Helltown Houston. Problem solved. Hopefully, Nestor can supply a tight five, holding the Astros to less than four runs. If so, his job will be done.

Thus far this spring, Nestor - a walk-on celebrity at a winter Trump rally - has thrown 10 innings and given up 9 (nine) earned runs. Hopefully, he will improve on this. He must keep the cheaters in check until the game can be turned over to the Aaron Boone Yankee Bullpen Elite Coterie of Trust: Luke Weaver (6th inning), Ian Hamilton (7th), Jonathan Loaisiga (8th)and Clay Holmes (closer.) 

By then, it's possible that Nick Burdi or one of the Codys - Poteet or Morris - will have joined this manly, august clique. Tanner Tully, anyone?

The Yankees will play four games in Houston - Thursday through Sunday - then decamp for Arizona: Seven games in seven days, before their first day off, April 4, the eve of their home opener against Toronto.

I won't speculate on where the Yankees will be in the standings on April 5, but for shits and giggles, here are a few predictions. 

By our home opener...

The bullpen will have thrown 27 innings, the equivalent of three full games.

The names "Clayton Beeter" and "Will Warren" will regularly pop up in YES conversations. 

Anybody who pitches well in Scranton will be viewed as a major source of hope in the Yankee organization.

The shuttle bus to Scranton will be running daily, supplying fresh arms for the bullpen.

Somebody on the staff will be experiencing pain after a particularly stressful outing, though the Yankees will assure us there is no concern.

A pitching rotation is like the offensive line in football. Without a strong one,  everything else will eventually crumble. Without Gerrit Cole, the Yankees have a weak one.

Certainly, the Yankees can celebrate the news that Cole apparently will avoid Tommy John surgery. (There are no guarantees here; if his arm doesn't respond to the rest, he could be on an irretrievable path.) But by NYC opening day, unless they acquire help, the bullpen will be already starting to crack under the volume of innings. 

This barge will not float.

Friday, March 15, 2024

Is Aaron Judge Our Roger Maris?

 

Hate to add to the Niagara Falls of bad news that this spring training has poured down upon our little pointy heads. But I think the question has to be asked:

Has Aaron Judge become our new Roger Maris? When we were hoping that, just maybe, he was our new Mickey Mantle?

An awful lot to put on a fella, I know. Judge has played and behaved splendidly in his time with the Yankees. Rookie of the Year, an MVP (should be two, were it not for the giggling cheater down in Houston), three Silver Sluggers, great fielder.

It was Judge, after all, who became the first player ever to (legitimately) break Maris' home-run record, and to (legitimately) tie Babe Ruth's. Judge who has always played with a smile and a wink, and a Bunyanesque flair in the outfield. 

When was the last time that something resembling's Judge's court in right field ever found its way into Yankee Stadium?

(Don't say those Sheff's toques—though the Coneheads and the Freddie Sez frying pan will be acceptable responses.)

Roger Maris was, in many ways, a very comparable ballplayer. 

Sure, I'd rank Judge a little higher. A .283 BA and .982 OPS, compared to .265 and .822 for the Rajah (in the 7 years he was with the Yankees). Judge has struck out much more (1,038 to 417) and stolen more bases (43-21), but both of those stats can be put down to changing styles of play. Maris had Mickey Mantle hitting behind him, and one of the great Yankee lineups all around him. Judge, not so much, unless you count Gimpy Stanton and Dazzy Gleyber.

But when Maris came to the Yankees he, too, almost instantly blossomed into an outstanding ballplayer. A total of 100 home runs in his first two years, and two MVPs (Both of which should've gone to The Mick, but never mind!).

Even after his traumatic, 1961 chase of Ruth, Maris came back in 1962 to hit 33 dingers—despite the fact that MLB, in all its wisdom, decided that there was too much hitting in the game, and adjusted the strike zone accordingly. 

A Gold Glove outfielder, he saved the World Series that year, with a strong throw from right field that kept Matty Alou on third base, in the ninth inning of Game Seven.

Pretty impressive—and Maris had just turned 28. And then...it was all but over.

Roger hit well in 1963, but missed 72 games and most of the World Series with bad back pulls. He had what would prove to be his last truly good year in 1964, hitting 26 homers and batting .281—but that was it. In 1965, Maris broke his hand—possibly by hitting a male model at a bar, in an ugly incident in spring training—and tore a couple of ligaments in his fingers, in a freak collision at home plate, where he got his hand tangled in the spikes of an ump who was standing too close.

He missed another 116 games, and then in 1966 the hand never seemed to heal. Maris was sure he had a bone sliver loose in his hand. The Yankees' crack medical staff, with a long record of torturing ballplayers even then, couldn't find it, and the brass decided to gaslight Roger, making out to the fans that he was a head case. 

It was the final straw for Maris, whose aptitude for rage was always at a level that we've never seen in Judge. He demanded a trade, and the Bombers obliged, sending him to St. Louis for Charlie Smith, perhaps the worst single player in Yankees history. The Cardinals went on to win two pennants and a World Series with him, but Roger missed almost 100 more games in those two seasons, and hit a combined total of 14 homers.

Maris retired at 33, but he was really done at 30. Judge is about to turn 32, of course—but one wonders how many productive years he really has left. 

Much like Maris, injuries seem to seek the Judge out, and multiply upon themselves. The crash through the Dodgers' crappy wall was apparently what led to him over-training in the off-season, taking so many swings that he may have torn a rib. 

Don't be surprised if he has. Judge has already averaged more than 30 games out with injuries every year since his first, full season in the majors—and that's with the Covid season probably saving him a good deal more time on the DL. There is no reason why we should expect him to continue healthy and productive as he ages—especially with Yankeecare.

Greatness in baseball is like quicksilver. It comes awfully quickly and can vanish just like that, with a freak injury on a sunny afternoon field, or a stupid moment in a barroom. I wish Aaron Judge nothing but the best in the years ahead. But the Yankees should have made sure to get him into a World Series already.



 



Of course, this will be the year that Luis Severino goes injury-free and shines

Dear Juju Gods,

Thank you, thank you, thank you! 

You have outdone yourselves. 

Almost lost amid the impending Yankee pitching collapse (aka: Gerrit Cole's elbow) is Luis Severino's apparent resurgence as  -of course! - a Met.

Sevy has pitched in 3 games, thrown 9 innings, given up one earned run - which, using the artificial intelligent chatbot that you surely employ - equals a 1.00 ERA.

That would have made him the leading candidate to pitch on Opening Day for the Yankees, but you knew that already, didn't you? 

At least Frankie Montas has shown the courtesy of yielding 8 earned runs in 7.2 innings this spring. And Drew Thorp got himself traded as part of the package for Dylan Cease.

But you had to have Sevy comeback, didn't you?

As they await the verdict on Gerrit Cole, the Yankees perform their own version of a solar eclipse

I keep reminding myself not to panic, not to hyperventilate, not to overreact to the Death Barge's 8-12 record - among the worst to be found in Florida, Arizona and/or Timbuktu. 

These games don't matter. Everybody knows this. Just last year, the Yanks went 13-18 in the meaningless Grapefruit League, and look how they rebounded - a whopping 82 regular season wins!

Nope, zero concern here. Move along, there's nothing to see. Have another Angel's Envy. Yesterday, our zeros heroes scrounged up three (3) hits (by Verdugo, Grisham, & Cabrera), against the famed Tigers' pitching staff of Koufax, Drysdale, Podres Mize, Chafin, Lange, et al. They scored no runs (0) en route to a  7-0 spanking, their 3rd straight loss and 7th in the last 10 games. They are in a spring slump.

So I keep repeating the gibberish: It just doesn't matter. Trouble is, the things that DO matter - injuries - are tumbling in like ballots from the outer parishes of Louisiana. What's especially troubling is how the Yankees are dealing with them - singing "LALALA" and grabbing the Calgon Bath Oil Beads.

Three days ago, there was a obvious path to dealing with the chance that Gerrit Cole will miss much, if not most, of 2024: Sign Jordan Montgomery. 

Let's recognize that they've irreparably pissed off Blake Snell - he'll hate us forever -by simultaneously badmouthing and poormouthing the guy. But Montgomery is still out there, waiting for some team to pay him what he's worth, and it's sad that Hal Steinbrenner is home, refusing to answer the phone. They have one move: Sign Montgomery - now, as they should have done in December - and save themselves from having to desperately secure another JA Happ/Frankie Montas/Andrew Heaney in July. 

But the weirdest issue is Aaron Judge. Two days after he has an MRI on his abdomen - abdomen, WTF? is he constipated? - the Yankees are poo-pooing the matter and assuring us that all his fine - that Timmy merely ate the wrong berries, that Lassie has come home, that Uncle Joe merely has gout, and that Aaron will suit up this weekend. Uh huh. Judge was supposedly feeling "beat up," so - along with some Tums for the Tummy, they sent him for an MRI? Is that how we deal with farting? A body scan? 

Listen: Somebody feared something much worse than the runs, and even though it happened at the absolute worst day possible - Gerrit Cole Injury Day - they sent Judge to get bombarded by gamma rays, or sonic beams, or whatever it is they do in those infernal machines. Apparently, the MRI didn't show anything, so they're rubbing dirt on his gut and sending him back to play his regular three innings. 

Something weird here. Something is very wrong. But take heart, everybody. It just doesn't matter. 

Thursday, March 14, 2024

"Stacked."

 

Early in spring training, 1977, your New York Yankees took a terrible hit. The promising young rookie who was all set to take over at shortstop for the defending, AL champion Yanks, suffered a horrible leg break. A favorite of manager Billy Martin, Mickey Klutts was just 22. He had been co-MVP of the International League in 1976, hitting .319 with 24 home runs and a .922 OPS.

After that break, he would never play a full season again.

Klutts' injury capped a costly off-season for the Yanks. They had lost two other top, minor-league prospects, 1B-OFs Otto Velez and Willie Upshaw to Toronto, in the AL expansion. Grant Jackson, the Yanks' leading set-up man in 1976, after going 6-0 with a 1.69 ERA for the team, was snatched from the roster by Seattle. 

The Yankees' top starter, Doyle Alexander, absconded to Texas, after the Bombers refused to pony up the outrageous sum of $450,000 over three years for Alexander (A few seasons later, the Yanks would shell out $1.5 million for Doyle's very worst two years, and exactly 1 win. But I digress.)

To cap it all off, on Opening Day, Catfish Hunter was hit in the toe by a line drive, while breezing to a shutout over the Brewers. Catfish hurt his arm trying to adjust his pitching style, and would never be the same pitcher again. Gil Patterson, another highly touted rookie, rushed into the rotation...blew out his arm and was finished. Permanently.

Jim Wynn, a free-agent pick-up intended to become the DH, belted a tape-measure home run in that same Opening Day contest...then hit .143 in 30 games, and was released.

Pretty awful, right? I guess the Yankees were done for 1977.

Instead, despite all these injuries and, shall we say, some clubhouse rancor, they won 100 games, took the pennant again, and smoked the Dodgers in the World Series.

The very next year, the injury bug struck again! 

In 1978, the shortstop who had taken over for Klutts, a guy named Bucky Dent, missed 39 games with his own injuries. Willie Randolph, the team's all-star second baseman, missed 28 games and the playoffs. Centerfielder Mickey Rivers missed 21 games, and saw his batting average drop from .326 to .265. 

Thurman Munson played 154 games with a bad shoulder, but his home runs dropped from 18 to 6, his OPS from .813 to .705. Cliff Johnson, the back-up catcher and DH, went from 12 homers, .296, 1.010, to 6 homers, .184, .658. 

Mike Torrez, the World Series pitching star in 1977, had taken off for Boston. Another key piece of the rotation, Don Gullett, tore up his arm on July 9th, and never pitched again. Ever. New acquisitions Andy Messersmith and Rawley Eastwick faltered, and were quickly discarded. 

And there was, still, some lingering, um, ill-will in the clubhouse.

Well, that's that, right? What team could come back from that?

As we all know, the 1978 Yankees won 100 games again (in an incredibly tough division), took the pennant again, smoked the Dodgers again in the World Series. 

How could this possibly be? 

Well, the Yankees then had a general manager named Gabe Paul, a.k.a., the Man in the Checkered Sports Coat. If he wasn't a fashion maven, he was very good at keeping the Yankees' farm system and roster so crowded with talent that the team could take a lickin' and keep on tickin'.

Modern baseball is full of devastating injuries, even to young players in good shape. In fact, that's how the game always was. 

The legendary, 1939 Yankees had a starting infield that—no doubt keeping an eye on the Great Depression still raging outside the Stadium walls—missed a total of 8 games all year. But that excluded Lou Gehrig, The Iron Horse himself, the most durable player in sports history to that point, who went down with a wasting disease nobody had ever heard of.

It's always something, as The Bard wrote. Even for the Greatest Team Ever, imho, the 1998 Yankees. 

After a tough loss in the 1997 playoffs, the Yanks lost both guys playing third base—including Hall-of-Famer to be, Wade Boggs—and three of their four second basemen. Power-hitting DH Cecil Fielder left the team, as did starter Dwight Gooden, while big Japanese acquisition Hideki Irabu was already disappointing. A revivified Daryl Strawberry went down with a nearly fatal cancer, and hit none of his 24 home runs after August. (And a shout-out to Daryl today, after his heart attack. Get better, big guy.)

The Yankees barely blinked an eye. One-hundred-twenty-five wins and a World Series sweep later, they were the best team what ever was. Still are.

Why?

A certain individual I like to call, Stick Michael, made sure that that team could withstand anything, and still prosper. 

This spring, even before the Yanks' two best players went down, a couple different friends told me how "stacked" the Yankees were this year. I wanted to ask them what they were buying at our ubiquitous new buzzshops. 

Halle Berry is stacked (All right, I know: a long way to go for that reference. Still, it's Hall Berry, am I right?).

The 2024 New York Yankees were never stacked, even before Judge and Cole went to the MRI. They were short on depth, short on bullpen, short on starters. Now they are even shorter, and I will be stunned if they continue their 31-year, winning-season streak.

Why? 


Because their current GM-for-Life, Brian "What, me worry?" Cashman is incapable of stacking so much as a couple of dinner plates, and his boss, Nepo Baby Hal, doesn't care. And the question remains: If he doesn't, why should we?









 

As they await the diagnosis on Gerrit Cole, Yankee fans foresee the darkness

Across global online message boards - the telephone party line of modern civilizations - Yank fans yesterday were pondering the unponderable: 

What could Juan Soto bring at the August 1 trade deadline?

By then, the Death Barge could be a stagnant, malfunctioning floater - its front office debating whether to reflexively chase the final wild card berth, or to mercifully put down this cancerous beagle.

By then, Soto could be a fuming, three-month rental - maybe even a headcase -  frustrated by the lack of support by an organization that vowed to contend. 

By then, the Yankees could be contemplating a July 31 extinction event - the selloff of not only Soto, but Gleyber Torres, Alex Verdugo, Tommy Kahnle and Insert-Name-Here, who will become free agents next winter. If they love NY and hate the Yankees, they could simply skip across town and join the Mets, who could become New York's premier team. 

By then, we could be facing a disastrous quarter century, an ongoing diminishment of what was once America's greatest sports icon, strangled by hubris, infinite amounts of money, and a sad, nepo baby owner who probably never wanted the job in the first place.

By then, the Yankees could be starting over. 

What rouses such pessimism, exceptional even from a website known for invoking gloom and doom as a means to shame gods that - frankly - may not exist? (Yeah, juju gods, I'm talking to you... if you exist. If this pessimism doesn't rouse you, you're just a dickless figment of our imaginations, a nothingness POS, and the hell with you. Go rule over Division III women's cornhole.) 

Wanna know why I'm so desperate? Check out the stat box to the right. The difference between Gerrit Cole and the rest of the last year's Yankee rotation is the difference between champagne and bong water. 

Today, Cole will learn what's causing the pain in his elbow. The Yankees claim it's relatively minor: He'll maybe miss two months. Generally, the rule about Yankee public statements is to take whatever time they expect to be missed - and double it. Moreover, if Cole needs surgery, he's gone for the season, and that little chart is all you need to know about our state of being, come midnight on July 31. 

So, the barge lost again yesterday. It's still too early to assign meaning to any of these games, but the Yankees are not looking good. DJ LeMahieu is still sinking slowly into oblivion, and Alex Vertigo continues to spin helplessly. A few days ago, Anthony Volpe was hitting .400. That's March for you. But we all must ponder: It's barely half done, and what else does this wretched month have in store?  




Wednesday, March 13, 2024

Unlacerated

 But out until June, and on his  way to see Dr. Tommy John.


One Dilemma Solved


At least there is not going to be a concern, or conflict, about who Gerrit Cole's personal catcher is this year. 

Have a lovely day. 

March Madness has arrived. 

Pre-Season Comics

 








Mid-Spring Beat Up

Can our boy Judge come out to play?
At noon our foursome tees up.
Sorry, fellas, not today,
He's sorta mid-spring beat up.

That man Aaron is one hunk of thirst,
The girls at the club wanna meet up.
No no, ladies, training comes first,
He's a bit mid-spring beat up.

At the hotel, the maids are asking,
Can Judge ever put the seat up?
Bending over? That's multitasking
For someone mid-spring beat up.

Should I renew my season seats,
Watch my savings get eat up?
Baseball gives your pains surcease
'Til you get mid-spring beat up.

On MRI Day, the Yankiverse seethes over and bewails the ghastly schemes of Destiny

Sunday, as everyone knows, the Death Barge dispatched Gerrit Cole and Aaron Judge to get MRIs on various barking body parts - signaling the chance that 2024 will be the biggest bed-crapping year in modern history.

Seriously, look around. We're heading for a Presidential race that is, in essence, a matchup between Dorian Gray and Mr. Hyde. Half the country is parched in drought, and half is underwater. Upstate NY just experienced a North Carolina winter. Taylor Swift has a cough. Al Pacino couldn't even read the Oscar nominees list. Who the fuck is this Finneas guy? Who moved the remote? Where is my TV Guide? Is the cafeteria serving creamed corn again?    

Seriously, why wouldn't we expect the '24 Yankees to fall apart like a Boeing 747 over Anchorage? Somehow, they assembled a roster of broken glass, concocted by a GM who hasn't made a winning trade since Covid arrived, from an owner who simply wants to breed horses and sip Scotch at the club, with a Venus de Milo pitching staff and a batting order with more bats in twilight than the entire Twilight movie trifecta. And you expect the Yankees to win? Dear God, why?

Oh, and here's the kicker: We're supposed to believe what the Yankees say? As if they ever tell the truth about anything? When they assure us that all is well, that Cole's scan is merely "a precaution" and Judge will be ready, though he might miss opening day? Oh, of course, lah-tee-dah...

You know what else might be missing opening day? 

Hope. 

By now, the notion that the Yankees could have signed Blake Snell or Jordan Montgomery - boosting their rotation - is a Vaudeville punch line. Either pitcher looked like the missing link between a pennant contender and 4th place gristle. The Yankees never opened their wallet, never budged. It wasn't the money. It was the principle of it all, old chum, t'wouldn't be sporting to look so, well, desperate.  

So, now, we're supposed to think the Yankees can trade more prospects, more seed corn for - um - Dylan Cease? Dear God, his name itself has become a Yankee fan mantra: "DYLAN...? CEASE!"

People, get underground. We're riding directly into the storm. Can somebody check  Al Pacino's First Alert batteries? It's getting dark. And - gulp - it's mid-March.

Tuesday, March 12, 2024

It is Spring Training for me, as well.........


 Let's just begin with the good news.

Trevino is working his way back to good health.

No one has plantar fasciitis.

Now for the alarming news:

- MRI for Judge.  No structural damage observed.  But they will sit him down for a week( or two) and then re-evaluate

- MRI for Cole.  He won't start opening day.  We already heard that. 

I have been asked to pass along a question for you fans;  how do you think the Yankee season will be impacted if neither judge nor Cole can play?

At least, the games don't count yet ( see 8-1 loss today ). 

A Menagerie of Mythical Beasts.

 Bigfoot:


The yeti:


The unicorn:


Enoughpitching:


Some day, somewhere, Brian Cashman will admit that this last one just doesn't exist...






The Dynasty What Never Was: New York Yankees, 2017-2024

 


And...the window is now officially shut.

Yet another year full of major injuries before spring training is even halfway over.

Yet another year in which we were already short on bullpen, short on bench, short on starting pitching, to begin with.

Yet another year in which we needed to get through a whole season without injuries to aging players...who were constantly injured even when they weren't so old.

Yet another year in which every perfectly predictable thing is going wrong.  

Yet another year in which the everlasting constant—Brian Cashman as general manager—is still in place.

RIP, New York Yankees, 2017-2024, the dynasty what never was.  

Will there be another Yankees' dynasty? Impossible to say. It certainly won't happen in our lifetimes—or in Hal's. Cashman may finally go as the decline continues, but chances are that he will be replaced by someone just like him, an office politician who has no clue about baseball.  And even when Hal goes, who's to say he won't be replaced by a Steinbrenner just as clueless.

It's all right. Nothing lasts forever, and we got to see the best of it—or at least some of the best.

Slam that window shut and bolt it. The opening is gone, and we surely don't want to see what's going on inside now.












The Yankees say Gerrit Cole's MRI is just "precautionary." Nothing to worry about. Yeah, right.

Yesterday, the Gulf Coast breezes halted, Tampa bridge traffic ceased to flow, and the pasty snowbirds of spring break momentarily stopped slathering, as time suspended itself across the Yankiverse.

Tonight, by sunset, the 2024 Yankee season could be effectively neutered, though the promotional home fires of YES will surely continue to flare with hope. 

By tomorrow, all the happy "maybes" that the Yankees collected this winter - maybe Rodon would come back, maybe Giancarlo would hit - will be replaced by a tall, dark Stygian shadow.  

Gerrit Cole is having his elbow scanned. If the high resolution imagery shows a tear, an inflammation, a strain - anything - Cole will miss weeks, maybe months - maybe even a year, and maybe, at 33 - well, fukkit, maybe he's never the same. The Yankees say they're just being cautious. They regularly lie about such things. On the matter of injuries, they exhale pure drivel. There is no way to downplay a trip to NYC by their ace in the middle of March. This is bad. This is really bad.

Without Cole, the Yankees would instantly tumble from divisional contender to wild card hopeful - and maybe even to a trade deadline selloff in advance of the 2025 Tankathon. (Was it coincidence that yesterday, they unveiled SS Roderick Arias, who is two years away?)

Without Cole, the team must find a way to fill 200 starter innings, and their main lug nut, for now, would be 30-year-old journeyman Luke Weaver. 

Damn. This is a potentially catastrophic loss, the kind that could kill multiple seasons. 

Yesterday, as if Fate were providing a tease, three semi-young RH pitchers emerged in split-squad outings. For now, this may be what constitutes hope.

Will Warren, 24, streaked through Double A Somerset last year - a 2.45 ERA over 6 starts - then got banged up in Scranton (19 starts, ERA of 3.61.) He's been on the radar for two years, after soaring through Single A in 2022. Yesterday, Warren went three innings, gave up a run, walked three.  

Clayton Beeter, 25, came over in the 2022 Joey Gallo trade dump, signifying an end to the worst trade of Brian Cashman's storied career. Last year, Beeter threw well at Somerset (2.25 ERA), then got spanked in Triple A (4.94.) Yesterday, he went 4 scoreless innings, probably moving to the front of the conga line.

Luis Gil, 25, obtained in a trade for Jake Cage (who is still around), streaked through the system in 2018-19, looked like a keeper, then cemented his status as the Second Coming of Luis Severino by having Tommy John surgery in 2022. Last year was basically his rehab. Yesterday, he went three and two thirds, no runs, and struck out eight. Not bad. 

Three nice outings. Together, they might replace Jhony Brito and Randy Velasquez. Nobody will replace Cole. Hold your breath, everybody. This could hurt. 

Monday, March 11, 2024

Gerrit Cole to have an MRI?

 


Kevin Baker's great book on New York baseball is getting rave reviews!

We know him as the great HoraceClarke66. 

The world knows him as Harper's contributing editor, keeper of history and writer of books, the great Kevin Baker.

His new book is THE NEW YORK GAME: BASEBALL AND THE RISE OF A NEW CITY, published by Knopf. 
 It's just out. It's great. Order it HERE.

Wait a minute. I'm just a lackey, right? Why would you take my word for anything? Remember: I was wrong about Jesus Montero; (I thought he'd be the next big thing.) 

So, dismissing whatever I think, check out just a few reviews...

"... [a] massively impressive book by a talented author who is clearly in love with his subject..." Kirkus Reviews.

"... A baseball dream come true..." The Beacon.

"... Shows how much New York and baseball need each other..." Bloomberg.

 Here's the excerpt in New York Magazine. 

Here's the excerpt in InsideHook. 

I could run more reviews, but I'm insanely jealous. In the meantime, for God's sake, buy this book! 

Do the Yankees dare mention their greatest victory this spring?

 

Yesterday, the Yankees showcased their prototype victory strategy for 2024. It goes this way:

Play all your best hitters (in this case, except for Anthony Volpe).

Have Juan Soto hit another HR.

Score nine runs.

Bang out 17 hits.

Use six pitchers.

Hold on for dear life.

On the hitting side, almost everything worked, even Oswaldo Cabrera, who went 3-3, lifting his spring average to .154.  (Not to mention Jose Trevino, who homered in his first at-bats of the spring, and even Giancarlo, with two hits.)

Opening Day is two and a half weeks away. Right now, the main unresolved issues involve the final bullpen mop-up arms and the roster's 26th man, the utility lug nut. Overall, the Yankees are sitting cozy and warm. 

And, gulp, do we dare mention why?

Editors Note: Before continuing, consider this disclaimer. The following contains implied  reverse juju that some readers may consider objectionable, if not completely asinine. Nor does it necessarily project the views and opinions of this website. It should not be read aloud in the presence of children. Nor should it be printed out from its normal ether form.

Okay, I assume you're reading, disregarding your better instincts? 

I'm serious: Maybe you should turn back. You won't like what's coming. 

Okay, here goes... 

The Yankees have not suffered any major injuries this spring.

Aside from Oswald Peraza - a tough loss, especially for Peraza - everybody appears to be healthy. The worst, apparently Tommy Kahnle, might not even keep him from missing opening day. 

Basically, we can dismiss the losing record. Not one our starting players is hurt.

There. I've said it. God help us.