It's time to ponder a question.
What? The? Fuck?
We used to stand for something. Winning. We did whatever it took. We'd Paul O'Neill a water cooler or twist off Spaceman Lee's shoulder. We'd sign the biggest free agent in December, then not even flinch when Roger Clemens waddled out of retirement with his secret butt injections and horror show country singer.
Yes, we validated our existence by standing for something important: Money.
That's right. Moohlah. Cabbage. Bread. Moomoo. Sheckels. Greenery. Dorf. Skamoot. Cobbery. Glingga. Patoosh. King Falaroon. Grease Bunnies.
That's why we were loathed. It wasn't New York. It wasn't our clothes. It was our money. We pissed it. We puked it. We shat it. We symbolized money, even when it was the Mets and Redsocks who were lavishing glingga on the likes of Billy Wagner and Dice-K.So... seriously... What? The? Fuck?
When did we become cheapo, penny-pinching skinflint miser bums who make a flimsy offer to CC Sabathia - then prance around like Newt Gingrich after he just copped a feel of Courtney Love in a mosh pit.
Take out your fucking wallets for Kricesake. Flash some leather.
The Redsocks know how to win: Disregard the rules in Japan and sign the 22-year-old.
The Angels know how to win: Put your free agents to arbitration, and force other teams to give you a draft pick.
Us? We cross our legs and play cheapo chicken with Andy Pettitte. This in a year when we're about to cash in on the biggest sports boondoggle stadium in history, courtesy of the taxpayers.
Nick Fucking Swisher? That's our version of playing to win? That's using our salary leverage? Gimmie a break. He is Wilson Betemit with a beard. This is an excuse not to go after Teixiera? For Kricesakes, I FUCKING LEARNED HOW TO SPELL TEIXEIRA FOR THIS! Now, he's out of our price range? Has anybody told the Angels? He doesn't seem out of their price range, and they'll have picks in the first round!
We deny arbitration to our players because -- Oh, dear! They might take it! That would cost us some grease bunnies!
GET SOME SPINE, YOU FUCKING BASTARD CHEAPSKATE OWNERSHIP NUMBNUTS. Get a job and work like the rest of us. Sell drugs. Clean bathrooms. Here's how we used to do it:
You put down arbitration on the player, and if he takes it, you eat the salary, smile, and trade him the fuck to Kansas City for a middle reliever. He's got a no-trade clause? Fine. Introduce him to Stephen Marbury.
We spent half the season reading Hank Steinbrenner's columns in the Sporting News -- apparently, they couldn't entice Plaxico to take up the quill -- and he jabbered on about how the Yanks will do whatever it takes. Yeah, right. Now he's out, Fallow Hal is the boss, and we're sitting on... Nick Fucking Swisher. No, wait... Burnett's going to Atlanta and we might be in the running for... OMG... DEREK FUCKING LOWE.
LISTENUP YOU TURDBREATH NICKELPICKERS:
DON'T YOU DARE OPEN THE NEW YANKEE STADIUM WITH DEREK FUCKING LOWE AND NICK SWISHER AS THE BANNER YANKEE AQUISTIONS OF THE OFF-SEASON!! DON'T DO IT!! DON'T EVEN THINK OF IT!! GET OUT YOUR WALLET!! GET OUT YOUR PIGGY BANK!!
IT'S CHRISTMAS, GODDAMMOT!! WE DON'T HAVE JOBS!! WE DON'T HAVE SECURITY!! THE ICE CAPS ARE MELTING!! RYAN SEACREST'S MOTHER IS COMING FOR US!! AND UNLESS YOU GET OFF YOUR FAT, BUNNY-GREASED ASSES, WE WON'T HAVE ONE FUCKING CHANCE OF WINNING THE PENNANT, NOT ONE!!!!