Yankeetorial: Let Manny be Yogi?

While Yank writers comb every A-Rod fart for perjury, making spring interviews look like chess games between Tim Russert and Death, the laptop lapdogs of New England can’t get enough of loveable, twinkle-in-the-eye, Redsock mirth machine Manny Ramirez.

In a glorious five-minute oration yesterday, Manny regaled the sun-burnt Gammonites with rhinestones of stupidity that could make Boston forget Larry Bird, or at least Mitt Romney.

“I might be late two years in a row, but I'm always on time."

“I want to be like Julio Franco. Play until I can.”

“I want to stay here, but it's up to them if they want to bring me.”

To which the scribes conclude:

Isn’t. He. Something!

(By. The. Way. It’s. Forceful. Writing. Like. This.)

For 20some years, Redsock fans slapped their knees while marveling at Spaceman Lee's bong-watered garden of wisdom, so why not anoint Manny as the new Bard of ‘[REDACTED}? Remember: New England fans are God’s Chosen Suffering Frat Boys. The closest oracle to Yogi they’ve got is the Bloody Sock Blogger, Ketsup Schilling, who is as wise and mirthful as an outbreak of salmonella at the Jimmy Fund banquet.

One. Thing. Though.

If Roger Clemens took juice through the caboose, Man the Man must be getting his HGH memory supplements via the forehead. From the sound of things, he’s advancing directly into Jessica Simpson territory. Soon, he’ll be asking why they call tuna “Chicken of the Sea,” or saying it’s a good thing they print credit card numbers on each card, because he otherwise wouldn’t remember his.

Sew foam pads onto your thighs, Redsock fans. You'll be slapping them the rest of your lives.

Manny wants to stay with New England until he retires.

So do we.