Open Letter to Yankiverse: It is time for Hank to "go rogue."

Dear Madam or Sir,

It's quiet.

Too quiet.

Last year, thanks to Arod, we owned the World Series news cycle.

This year, we can't even beat Iceland.

WE'RE PHONING IT IN.

Listenup, you Tampa big Yankee office watercooler flunkies: If you phone-in the off-season, you'll phone in the regular season!

Let's get this tabloid back-page-capturing off-season underway. Thus far, we've been horrible. We watched Boston nearly stage a Brosius-Tino miracle comeback. We watched Joba get liquored up in a girlie club, go Farnsworth on a mouthy Redsock fan, and then go mailbox hunting with his car.

Then, topping it off, you jerks sign an agreement to market meats with our natural partners, the Phallus Cowboys. That really makes our mouths water: Every time we order food in the new stadium, a percentage of it will go into Tony Romo's new kitchen.

Wait. There's more: This weekend, Phil "The Franchise" Hughes gets cuffed around like a four-egg omlet in the Arizona Wannabe League's "Rising Star" game, pitching to the game's future Eric Duncans and Drew Hensons.

Message to Hank: Mrs. Peel, we're needed.

It's time to sign somebody.

It's time Hank Steinbrenner, the seedcorn Yank diva heir, to set down his cigs, get on the honker and say something, sign somebody -- just do something, anything. Throw out the first pitch in the off-season.

Think Mark Teixteira. Now. Before the water even dries in Phily.

We need a positive, Madonna-less back page. Now. Hank? Are you listening?