Bellylard's Top 10 Reasons A-Rod thinks Joe didn't like him

This gem... buried in LoHud's comment section, Jan 30, 5:07 p.m... from "Bellylard."

Imagine Alex on Letterman, reading the Top 10 reasons Joe disliked him:

10. Never got in the habit saying MISTER Torre the same way as the captain.

9. I insisted on having that damned jinx of a number on my back therby causing all the bad luck the team’s had since 2004.

8. I’ve yet to get Joe a date with one of Madonna’s dancers.

7. I actually USED those sporks we have at the postgame buffets. Man, he just hates those things.

6. High socks. You figure it out…

5. Two words – hair envy.

4. I always yelled “HA!” whenever he crossed in front of me.

3. I tried too hard to please him, I mean, I even complimented him by saying his daughter looked just like him. Nothing.

2. He’s obviously predjudiced against third basemen winning the MVP and being the best paid at their job, wait a minute…

1. Sorry, I don’t care what I LOOK like, I just don’t swing THAT way.

Nice job, man.

It is High Slam Poetry: An-D Pettitte by El Du-Kay

No intro required ...

King/Torre: The Interview

Larry King: Joe, are you surprised by the negative press you've taken for your new book, "The Yankee Years"?

Joe Torre: Totally shocked, Larry. I would be less shocked if I woke up tomorrow morning with frosted tips, purple lip gloss and in bed next to Madonna.


Larry King: Uhhh, Joe... Isn't that a veiled crack at Alex Rodriguez?


Joe Torre: No, Larry, not at all. In fact, I didn't even say that. That was Tom Verducci speaking for me in the fifth person. In fact, I've never had a bad thing to say about A-Fraud.


Larry King: Well, Joe, it seems A-Rod isn't the only Yankee mad at you. Reports indicate that Gary Sheffield, Kenny Lofton and David Wells all have issues with you as well. Do you have a retort for them?


Joe Torre: Larry, the only reason that Kenny Lofton and Gary Sheffield aren't big fans of Joe Torre is because they believe I treated them differently because they are of African-American heritage. You can ask Andruw Jones and Juan Pierre on my new team, the Dodgers, that I love the black man. Love him like a brother --


Larry King: Quick interruption here, Joe. Stop me if I'm wrong, but isn't Andruw Jones from the Netherlands?


Joe Torre: Ahhhhhh, Netherlands, South Africa, Egypt. Its all the same to me, homie. Joe Torre loves everyone.


Larry King: I can't help but notice you keep referring to yourself in the third person, is their a reason behind this?




Joe Torre: Joe Torre does what he wants. Anyhow, the reason why David Wells doesn't like me is because I fined him $100 grand for that silly stunt where he wore a Babe Ruth cap during a game. He knows perfectly well that I took that hundo and dropped it on hookers, blow and a new set of rims for Derek's Ford Edge for Christmas. So that pissed Wells off because that $100,000 would have bought him a whole lot of White Castle burgers.



Larry King: Now what is this I hear that you called Bernie Williams a bad father?


Joe Torre: Oh Larry, that was taken out of context. All that I said was Bernie's kid was at a game, and when the game was over, Bernie went out on the town to smoke some grass and play some guitar down in the Latin District, which we all know is code for 'picking up three dollar hookers with Alphonso' of It Is High fame. And he forgot his son at the Stadium, so he had Paul O'Neil give him a ride home to Waleska, Bern's wife. Not a big deal in my book, Christ, its not like I called INS or DHS on him. Joe Torre wouldn't do that, no sir.

Larry King: Now, if you can, please describe your relationship with George Steinbrenner.


Joe Torre: Next question.


Larry King: Okay, how about your feelings towards Yankees GM Brian Cashman?


Joe Torre: Next question, Larry.


Larry King: Okay, how do you feel about Randy Levine?


Joe Torre: Levine? He's a no-talent ass clown. You know how when you use a public bathroom, and sometimes your shoelaces are inexplicably wet when you exit the john? That vile liquid is Randy Levine. He's a back stabbing, no-good, two bit punk, and as soon as Joe Torre sees him, Joe is going to punch him in his eye and kick him in his throat.


Larry King: I've read that you refer to Derek Jeter as a son, and for years, he always called you Mr. Torre. What are your true feelings for Derek?


Joe Torre: True feelings? Well, let me preamble this statement. I've been in California for over a year now, so my stance on love, relationships and bromances has changed...er, dramatically. So let me say that if Minka doesn't treat Derek right, Uncle Joe would have no problem slipping Derek the ol' Italian capicola, if you know what I mean.


Larry King: Okay, right then. Changing gears here. Do you think Madrod will be upset with what you've written about it in the book, such as the infamous A-Fraud comment, the Single White Female innuendo, etc.?

Joe Torre: Larry, please. Don't you know that the Kabbalah religion doesn't allow its disciples to read? I'm sure Madrod is too busy frosting tips and counting $100 bills to even know what the hell has happened over the last few weeks. Sheeesh, and I thought those Scientologists were screwed up.


Larry King: So Joe, how much of this book is you, and how much of it is that little rat, Verducci?


Joe Torre: Well, honestly, Verducci is almost entirely responsible for this rag. He --


Larry King: But Joe, your name is the top name on the cover. You got the top billing in the byline, right?


Joe Torre: Now wait a second. The only reason Joe Torre is above Tom Verducci is because the 'T' comes alphabetically before the 'V'.


Larry King: Well then, how come you made more money off of the royalties and how come its you doing the interviews? Where's Verducci?


Joe Torre: Well, it came down to having to choose between Verducci, Jon Heyman and that curly haired asshole from the Boston Globe, Dan Shaughnessy. Not much of a choice there, no? Here's the thing: everyone thinks this is a tell-all, but its not even close. If it was a tell-all, then Joe Torre would be up here talking about catching Jason Giambi shooting cattle hormones into his ass in a bathroom stall, or A-Fraud banging every stripper from here to Toronto, or the fact that Melky Cabrera and Robinson Cano are butt buddies.


Larry King: Lets take a call, shall we? I have 'Frank' on the phone, from the Bronx. Frank, are you there?

'Frank': (slurred voice, coupled with the sound of a cigarette lighter snapping shut) My question for Joe is how could you treat the Yankees the way you did? How could you do that?

Joe Torre: Well, Frank, I tried to be fair and honest in my depiction of my 12 years with the Yankees. I thought that if I could --


'Frank': Shit, I spilled Heineken on dad's rug! Awwww, hell! How could you do that to my dad, errr, George Steinbrenner? Why did you do this to us Joe? Why? Get outta here, Hal, I'm on the phone! No!, No, its not another 900 number, I swear! I --


Joe Torre: Hank, is this you?


'Frank': (dial tone)

Larry King: Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Joe Torre. The book hits stores on Tuesday, make sure you pick up a copy.


Joe Torre: Joe Torre wants to thank you Larry, for the appearance. Buy my book, or else I'll apply for the Red Sox gig whenever Terry Francona gets sick and tired of it!


Larry King: One last question Joe -- When you retire from baseball are you going to try for a media job? Maybe at the Ellsbury-Schilling-Papelbon-Network? Or maybe on YES?


Joe Torre: Nope and no way. Nah, I'm an old school guy, I'd like to dive into the blogosphere. The guys at It Is High have offered me a consulting position, and I'm weighing my options. I'm a big fan of Whitey Fraud, El Duque and of course Alphonso and I go way back to the Mexican Dirt Leagues. But I can't say I'm a fan of that new fella over there, the Ghost of Scott Brosius. I saw what he wrote about Cory Lidle, and if I see him in the street, Joe Torre is going to go Kyle Farnsworth on his ass!


Larry King: You heard it here. I'm Larry King, and we're out of time!

Exclusive Pictures of New Yankee Stadium Luxury Suites

Hey, is there a rally going? Stoke the fire! For a great view of the right field line (unfortunately, not in picture range) nothing tops the Babe Ruth Suite ($500,000, seats 4). You get electric foot massage, "magic fingers" couch, electric knife, mini-trampoline, IMAX movie screen, automatic toilet flush, battery-operated candles -- and chicken wings -- 12 per person, your choice, hot, medium or teryaki! Mm-mm. I smell a rally... HOT!

Business is pleasure, and the pleasure is in your pants at the Chili Davis Suite ($600,000, seats 2). Plush green leather cushions let you curl back and snooze through a blowout or long pitching change, or do some "talkin' baseball" with your suitemate. Extras include mood lighting, aroma therapy (YES, WE HAVE MUSK!), waterfall sound effects, remote window blinds and teakwood shower curtains. Hey, let's order out for some chili!

Thuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh view... POWERED BY JEEP!

This is it, thuuuuh view, LIVE! from the Loew's Entertainment Broadcast Booth at the NEW Yankee Stadium.

This is where the magic shall happen... where John and Suzyn shall soon conceive and consumate the birth of a new season, a tiny tadpole that will expand, grow legs and learn to run fast -- as speedy as Time-Warner RoadRunner Cable! -- stretching out into adulthood and -- hopefully -- to bring not only 100 win warbles but a ring to our favorite boothmates!

Legend has it that in the new stadium, on a clear day... you can see Benihana!

(Hat tip to Ross.)

Well...

At least it wasn't Carl Pavano who took the sign...

Read this!

Here's a quick reminder about another book out there that's worthy of our admittedly limited attention.

Written by our pal She-Fan, a goddess of the Yankee blogiverse — and beyond.

Order your own copy here.

And if you're not sure if it's any good, check out Catwoman's take.

Yankeetorial: Is the Stimulus Package Enough?

The Cashman administration has spent more than $400 million this winter to forestall a Yankee collapse that could plunge the world into a depression not seen since 1929, when the famous Murderer's Row finished second.

The administration deserves credit for aggressively attacking the problem, rather than waiting until we're 8 games out in May. Yet key components of the team cast a shadow on the recovery that Americans desperately need.

Alex Rodriguez will return from a winter in which his personal life was transformed into a Federico Fellini movie subplot. Mariano Rivera is coming off surgery and turns 40 in November. Jorge Posada may not be able to throw to second base without yelping like that lead singer in Disturbed. Derek Jeter might be a leftfielder who plays shortstop.

This is no time to halt stimulus spending. The world cannot handle a Yankee collapse.

As Yankeeologists, we have long studied the cause-and-effect relationship between the Bombers and the international financial system.

Since their first championship in 1921, the Yankees have won pennants or averaged 90 wins per season in all but five distinctly rotten periods of American history. You can look it up:

1929 to 1931. During the Great Depression, 11 million workers lost their jobs, and the Ruthian Yanks never rose above second. Only after the New Deal re-energized the economy did the Yanks restore order. In 1932, they won the AL pennant by 13 games.

1944 and 1946. As World War II raged on, the Yankees fell from grace. They placed third in 1944, fourth in 1945, the year Hiroshima and Dresden were bombed. In 1946, labor protests crippled the nation, and the Yanks finished fourth. In 1947, at peace, they won the pennant.

1965 to 1975. In the summer of 1965, Lyndon B. Johnson dispatched 50,000 troops to Vietnam and 20,000 National Guardsmen to the L.A. neighborhood of Watts. That summer, the mighty Yankees fell to sixth. Over the next 11 years, as Vietnam evolved into Watergate, the Yanks averaged just 81 victories per season.

Their prospects began to change on March 15, 1974. That day, a Federal grand jury indicted President Richard Nixon as a co-conspirator in the Watergate coverup. Three weeks later, a Federal grand jury indicted George M. Steinbrenner for making illegal contributions to Nixon’s campaign. By the time the Yankees won their next pennant, in 1976, both Nixon and Steinbrenner had received Presidential pardons.

1982 to 1984. Soon after the Yankees fell to the Los Angeles Dodgers in the 1981 World Series, prompting Steinbrenner to attack an elevator wall, jobless rates soared to their highest peaks since 1968, (Note: That year Mickey Mantle retired a few weeks before the Tet Offensive).

Spurred by President Ronald Reagan’s arms build-up, and Steinbrenner’s increased arms spending, the Yankees averaged 94 victories in 1985 and 1986 but won no pennant.

On Nov. 25, 1986, the White House announced that arms had been shipped to Iran for hostages. The very next day, the Yankees shipped future Cy Young award-winning pitcher Doug Drabek to the Pittsburgh Pirates for Rick Rhoden.

1987 to 1994. On July 30, 1990, Baseball Commissioner Fay Vincent banned Steinbrenner from the day-to-day operations of the Yankees because he tried to buy dirt about outfielder Dave Winfield. Three days later, with the Yanks in last place, Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait. The ensuing Gulf War led to an economic recession, ousting President George Bush Sr. from office.

In 1995, with the U.S. economy enjoying an Internet boom, the Yankees won their first pennant since 1981. During Clinton’s term, New York won four world championships.

2001-now. Six weeks after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attack, the reigning champion Yanks were stunned in a Game Seven loss to Arizona. They have not won a World Series since and have suffered some of the humiliating defeats in their history.

Last year, mirroring the economic collapse, the team did not even make the playoffs.

Today, our stimulus package is being harshly criticized by conservatives in Arizona, Atlanta and Texas. These Herbert Hoover owners want the Yankees to reign in spending, regardless of the cost to the world.

These greedy fukkin bastards actually want the Yankees to lose... despite the tragic costs to humankind. They want the World Series for themselves.

They love only gold.

Only gold.

We must not cave in to their demands.

Spring Training Tix!

(Actual photo taken at the Frauditorium by W. Fraud)

Theft By Jeter?

Derek wants to thank the Good Lord for his sticky fingers. What 8th Commandment?

Death by Jeter?

Who dares put jelly onto that smooth exterior?

Rush Limbaugh's Stimulus Prescription

It'll pick us up long before 2010.

Torre's Book: The Full-Employment Act for Hacks Out of Rehab

Exhibit A

Sam Borden Quote of the Day

"There are still times when it seems like the Yankees' glory days are not that far away. When it seems like Charlie Hayes catching that foul pop-up or Bernie Williams settling under Mike Piazza's fly to center were just a minute ago. These sorts of time lapses are the beauty of our mind's eye."

(from his think-piece on the Torre book and Pettitte contract.)

I've Applied to Take Over Former Sausage and Beer Concession near Section 104

At the new Yankee stadium, they won't be selling Italian sausage and beer at my favorite spot ( near section 104 ) anymore.

There isn't enough " class " in sausages and beer for the new PSL holders.

I had drinks with my herboligist recently, and he told me of a new technology whereby you can infuse sheets and pillow cases with additives such as seaweed ticking and aloe vera DNA droplets, such that if you wake up in the morning, you'll have no more wrinkles, your skin will become soft and supple and you will have lost about ten pounds.

So here is my plan: I am going to the manufacturer tomorrow with three agave cactus plants, a peck of jalepenos, a tube of sea salt, a dozen limes and a gallon of Hera Dura Anejo.

If their chemists and bioligists can create microbeads from these ingredients, I can have them infused into pillows and sheets and sell them with NY Yankee logo-emblazed satin covers at the stadium.

When crushed by the human body, the ingredients in these sheets and pillowcases will not only soothe but provide a major buzz.

You go to bed sober and wake up drunk.

And for only $40 per sheet, $20 per pillowcase and $1,499 for tequilla ticking on a high-end visco memory foam matress ( queen ), I should do very well.

The Yankees want 60% of my take, but I would be authorized to listen to the game on radio ( John and Suzyn will be my first customers ).

Stop by my new concession stand if anyone out there ever gets a Yankee ticket.

Front Office Seeks Valentines

Newsday reports [via Hardball Times and Baseball Musings]:

The Yankees are considering including a "non-disparagement clause" in future player and managerial contracts in order to prevent any more tell-all books such as "The Yankee Years," co-written by Joe Torre and Tom Verducci.

Ty Kep Quote of the Day

"Team officials were startled to see [Carl Pavano] rudely rebuke his mother in April, using a mild curse word. Why? He was angry at his mother for wearing a Yankees’ NY in face paint on her cheek to the game."
(from his Cliffs Notes version of Torre's book.)



Keep up the good work, Ty-stick and you'll make the big time... like Buster Olney.

Future Torre Retractions

"Torre Says Cashman Didn’t Betray Him."
Jan. 27, NY Times

"Torre Says Cashman Didn't Kiss Him."
Jan. 30, NY Times

"Torre Says Cashman Didn't Covet Him."
Feb. 2, NY Times

"Torre Says Cashman Didn't Interest Him."
Feb. 6, NY Times

"Torre Says Cashman Didn't 'Swing'"
Feb. 7, High Times

Open Letter to Shelley Duncan: Get thee to a nunnery

Dear Mr. Duncan,

Run.

Wear a dress. Kiss a catcher. Rub peanut butter over your body and froog naked around the clubhouse, singing "Barack the Magic Negro." Do whatever it takes.

Get away from the Yankees.

We have nothing for you.

I say this out of respect and admiration for what you have brought to the Yankees, the only baseball organization you've ever known. Two years ago, you climbed out of the Scranton mines -- nobody held a slot for you in spring training -- and lifted the team. Remember that 9th inning, two-out, three-run homer to tie the game in Baltimore? And when dugouts emptied, it was you who protected Arod, back when Arod was worth protecting. (Lately, maybe he could use a punch in the nose; ahh, but that's for another day.)

And when that Tampa Bay hockey thug wannabee leveled our catcher, Franciso Cervelli, you were the lone Yank to retaliate. All frickin' year.

Run. Fake an Ebola outbreak. Steal Jeter's glove. Do whatever it takes.

Get out of this team.

You're... what? Thirty? (Nope. Just looked it up. You're 29.) If lucky, you have maybe five years. You need a shot. Now or never. On this team, it's never. It won't happen. We'll break camp with more corner outfielders than Hershey, Pa., has "highway" jokes. Each of them will be paid 10 times what you earn. They cannot be cut! Even if you hit .500 this spring, you go to Scranton.

There, you might as well re-enact miner tragedies in the Anthracite Museum. That's how buried you'll be.

Run. Flee. As that house in Amityville said, GET! OUT!

While you can.

New Yorkers rejoice! Another year without facing Florida fire ants!

Worcester rejoices

Torre brings another washed-up reliever that he completely destroyed with him to Tinseltown. Welcome to Dodger land Tanyon Sturze!

And the photo credit is to NoMaas. Though it's against IIH, IIF, IIc policy to give out photo credits, NoMaas is a good enough Yankee blog that we'll give it props for this once.

Joe takes to the talk-show circuit, selling his book

Yankeetorial: Joe Torre's Book... A Distraction? Get real.

Some dorks say Joe Torre's new book will undermine ARod's confidence, create dissention and neuter the '09 Yanks.

Joe's book... a distraction?

Hello-oo? Yoo-hoo? Anybody home?

Does Joe's book swoop in as a fishnet-stockinged version of the Incredible She-Hulk, looking to bag 20something lugnuts half her age, while recruiting LA Kaballah memberships?

Because that's what I call a distraction.

Does Joe's book install burnished marble shithouse counters at the expense of soon-to-be-jobless taxpayers, replacing a beloved landmark with a shiny symbol of excess, roiling a fan base that is destined to alienated due to the salaries certain players receive?

Because that's what I call a distraction.

Does Joe's book subpoena players to tell what they know, under oath, to formal investigations into the use of butt-injections that turn players not only into gorillas but pathological liars?

Because that's what I call... ahh, you get the idea.
Joe's book, a distraction?

Listenup... at the risk of pissing off Dick Cheney, an avid reader of this blog, let me tell you what Joe's book is.

Six years ago, one of America's oldest historical allies, France, warned us not to invade Iraq. Our response? Freedom Fries! Now I don't want to relive that debate. What's done is done. (For whatever it's worth, I went to Iraq twice as an embedded reporter, in 2005 and 2006, so I do reserve the right to have an opinion here.) When I see Joe's book, I think of the French trying to tell us honestly what they thought.

We better listen to what Joe says, not pout and moan because it's not what we wanted to hear.

Distraction? Christ... An old friend is talking to us. LISTEN, DAMMIT, LISTEN!

Adieu, Updike

The New Yorker: "Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu," 1960

Duncan and Igawa Invited to Tampa

Kei's on the road back everyone! Looks like the Yankees did not need Pettitte after all.

Farewell Haiku, Chase Wright

In memory of a young left handed pitcher who was fed to the wolves of Fenway Park on a chilly April evening in 2007:

Four famous home runs

Manny, Nancy, Lowell, Tek

We hardly knew you

(okay, okay... I know. But at least I got the syllable count right, Wright?)

For what it was worth, at least 'Clueless Joe' didn't turn you into Scott Proctor v2.0 -- at least now you still have one hundred percent usage of your throwing arm.

The world always needs carpenters, Starbucks technicians and bartenders...

In this same link, the Yankees also re-upped with the Yayo man, buying just over $400K worth of Blow for the bullpen this upcoming season.

Our Rotation, at Least Initially

C.C. Sabathia

A.J. Burnett

A.E. Pettitte

C.M. Wang

J.L. Chamberlain

P.J. Hughes

I.P. Kennedy

Pete Abe quote of the day

"Guidry is a colorful character and was a great pitcher. But his idea of coaching was sipping a cup of coffee and telling stories about Billy Martin."

Brings the snark, as needed. No need for spring training for this guy!

Guest Blogger: Bill O'Reilly... Open Letter to Andy Pettitte

Dear Andy,


I wasn't going to say a word, but when I read yesterday's guest blogger, I was embarrassed for all of baseball. That guy -- I won't say the name -- has hated the Yankees ever since Knobby's peg hit his mom in the box seats.


Andy, I'm glad you came to your senses and signed, because, frankly, you need the money and we need the pitching. I kept still last spring when the Yanks blew that Santana trade with the Twins. I figured, hell, when that bridge fell, we were all Minnesotans, so they needed a good deal, but now that they fake-elected that leftwing nutjob Al Franken -- guy thinks he’s funny, hates the United States of America -- everything's off. I feel sorry for Franken. I’d punch him out but the George Soros-funded Internet would, as the kids say today, "put a cap in me."

I'm still angry at the Mets for firing Willie Randolph. He’s a black man, you know. Not that it matters. I went into the dugout one night with Al Sharpton, and there wasn't one player, not one, who was screaming, 'M**F***, gimmie more at bats!’ I'm telling you, it was just like an Italian-run team.

I was fully behind the IT IS HIGH pinheads on your signing, but if you disagree with them about Andruw Jones, and they brand you a Redsock fan. All the sudden, you’re the racist, you’re the jerk, you’re the guy who thinks Roger Clemens belongs in the Hall!

Now, I'm with them on shooting the Japanese guy, Kei Igawhatever, though God forbid, if you speak to race in this country, they come after you with a lynch mob. The Jap just can't pitch, and it's not because people shout “Pearl Harbor!” during the wind-up. Hell, my old man would, but that’s what growing up in Hell’s Kitchen does to a guy.

I figure your signing means Hughes and Kennedy go back to Columbus, Scranton, whatever. Good riddance. Maybe they'll learn. We should trade one to the Cubs because I like Lou Piniella, even if it is Obama’s town. Why can’t Obama be like Ernie Banks? There was a player. Ernie wasn’t a black man. He was a first base man. And he didn't run for commissioner after three years.


I just thank God that Joe Torre is doing well in LA. Be thankful you didn't go to Tinsel Town. Ever hear a celebrity wish you ‘Merry Christmas?' Don't hold your breath. If they put a Nativity scene outside Dodger Stadium, you'll see Jessica Alba in the crib and George Clooney standing over her, reciting the Koran. It’s a free country, and the U.S. Constitution gives you the right to root for morons. But as far as I’m concerned, if you root for a California team, you’re way out there, you’re National Public Radio, and you make me sick. You know who’d root for California? Al Franken.


One last thing. Welcome back. Win the Cy Young, and I'll personally get you into Cooperstown. The people who run the joint watch FOX.

Yankees 2009 Rotation: The Weak Case For Sheets

Now that the Yankees have Pettitte, the 2009 rotation looks fantastic, but a bit crowded. Wait, no way in hell can a rotation be too crowded. Not all of them can stay healthy or preform to expectations, right? Right! There is always room for one more starter! And since Scott Proctor is unavailable, that man is Ben Sheets.

The Yankees will start the season with 8 potential starters:

1. CC Sabathia-Fat, but fit
   
2. AJ Burnett-Short season 4 of the last 6 years
   
3. C-MW-Like to forget 2008: remember 2006 or 2007
   
4. Andy Pettitte-Finished 2008 2W 6L 2ND: must pray harder
5. Joba the Pitcher-Solid as usual barring a natural disaster of biblical proportions
   
6. Cashman hears a Hughes-Finished 2008 0W 4L 4ND: too busy blogging?
7. Ian Kennedy-Breakout year?
   
8. Alfredo Aceves-No worries here, youth has never been a detriment to a Yankee pitcher

So if the Yankees sign Ben Sheets to a 1 or 2 year deal, they hedge the inevitable injuries and poor performances that plague great teams. Sure, Sheets is injury prone but Stubby can just put him in the new Steakhouse's meat locker until the All Star break and then let him loose on the rest of the AL. He'll be fresh, tender, marbled and ready to fill the rotation's gaps. Yes, the Yankees would have to give a draft pick for him, but it's worth it. He has a few good seasons left. And if no one gets hurt or sucks, then at least no other team has Sheets. So in conclusion, Hank needs to use the scorn lover turned killer principle when looking at Sheets, if I can't have him, no one can!

Welcome Back!

And for an incentive laden 5.5 million. (Jeez, Andy find yourself a new agent)

But now maybe El Duque can stop his whining...at least until we sign Andruw Jones.

Two hundred thousand IT IS HIGH visitors, every one unique!

It took us a year to reach 100,000.

Six months to hit 200,000.

Thanks for coming.

Face it: We're stuck with each other, rooting for the Yankees because we know no other way. We're hated, scorned, persecuted -- we have Arod, YES, Sir Sidney, Win Warbles, Pavano, Benihana ads, draft choices who need TJ surgery, the frickin' new stadium, its frickin' tax breaks, its frickin' steakhouse -- we're despised by people who think it's easy being us. And then we miss the playoffs!

Uhghhh...

Listen: We do not take ourselves seriously.

But we'll never take you for granted.

Nobody is more unique than a return visitor to IT IS HIGH. Nobody. Hopeless cases, every one of you... You should be ashamed. But, hey, as Otter told Flounder, "You fucked up, you trusted us."

Onward! AND SIGN ANDRUW JONES, fer kricesake.

Exclusive Excerpts from Joe's Book

Without telling anyone, Chien-Ming and I had worked up a little routine. I asked, “Who is the Chinese foreign minister?” Immediately, he chimed in, “No, Woo is on first!” The whole place cracked up. Zim had to take a pill.

*

The ball cleared both walls and probably would still be traveling had not it hit a passing train. Mel looked at me and shook his head. “Well,” I said. “Let’s bring in Scott Proctor.”

*

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “I can write out the line-up any way I want?” George gave a wide grin. “You got it, chief,” he said. “We’ll have Johnny lead off, followed by Jeet, Bobby, Arod, Jason, Hideki, Jorge, Robbie and then it’s up to you!”

*

Throughout the colonoscopy, I stayed cool as a cucumber. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Suzyn’s question. Why not use Scott Proctor?

*

It was heartbreaking. He looked up at me with those sad, defeated eyes and rasped, “Joe, I let you down.” Well, what could I say? “No, please, don’t think that way,” I said. But privately, I was stewing. A voice inside wanted to shout, “Christ, Arod, instead of eighth, maybe I should have batted you ninth!”

*

I knew from his glassy-eyed grin that Sterling was well into his fourth tequila and valium. “Guesh what,” he said. “Somebody's pretty little thirdbaseman's goin' out with Madonna.”

*

I warned Boomer not to talk to ESPN. "Remember, David,” I said. “No matter what they claim, no matter how they act, they’re ESPN. We’re YES."¶

*

“What do you think?” Mattingly asked. I kicked at the dugout wall in disgust. “Well," I said, "Is Proctor warmed up?”

Guest Blogger Keith Olbermann: An Open Letter to John Sterling

Sir:

Heavy weighs the heart that bears this message.

But we are a nation under economic seige. Men are out of work. Women are increasingly cranky. Children go to bed at night uncertain that, when they get up in the morning, they will still be alive.

It means cutbacks in our lives.

Each of us must sacrifice something precious, as a show of solidarity with the strange, endangered species that we call "humanity."

For you, Sir, the Win Warbles must shorten.

Last year, you set a new record. On Aug. 28, your Sterl Hurl -- "Ballgame over. Yankees win. Thuuuuuuuuuh Yankees win." -- ran an incredible 7.94 seconds. It was the greatest moment in a season of torment.

It's no overstatement to say your Win Warbles are one of the defining acts of humanity thus far achieved in the new millenium. If anything, it's an understatement.

That's why this message is so difficult.

Sir! When our economy was a vibrant young buck strolling down the boardwalk in a wifebeater-T and tight jeans, your Win Warbles lit the very wicks of our souls.

But now, we are fat and craggy and mired in a toothless recession, and it is time for you -- and each of us -- to temper our joy over contests of manhood.

After a Yankee victory, you must look inside yourself to the good person that you are -- the impetuous lover of show tunes and vagaries of the game -- and not break your record.

Sir, think of that Royals fan... listening at home, chewing on his knuckles, hand cupped over the electric radio to get reception... he's jobless, hopeless, balding, slightly retarded, and without shoes, huddling with his children to stay warm and perhaps satisfy some kinky sexual thing... He does not deserve to sit through an 8-second Win Warble.

You, Sir, must change the warble. How about this:

"Ballgame over! Struggle continues! Yankees win. And all us will somedaaaaay... win!"

In these tough times, our nation must come together. Sir, you are the catalyst to launch that healing process. You, Sir, must downsize your warble.

Good night, and goooooooood luck.

Excerpt from the Book of Joe: The Song of the Rocket

As it was written in the Beginning...

And in the year 2000, the great bringer of cheese, Roger Clemens, returned to the tiny village of Boston, seeking old friends.

But across its pagan tabernacles, those who once exalted Roger now brought hurtful chants about his plumpness and etched crude remarks onto signs and loincloths...

Continued...

The Bronx Break-Up Continues

It's almost reminiscent of when a hot chickenhead dumps you for an uglier, poor fella, and then proceeds to tell everyone in your circles and her circles how you fart non-stop in your sleep...

Or were a bad cook...

Or live with your parents still...

Or turn your whitey-tighties into a Yoo Hoo factory on a daily basis...

Or were really bad in bed...

Alas, I digress.

Joe Torre has a book coming out that takes shots at the Steinbrenner family, Brian Cashman and A-Rod.

Yes, even Alex Rodriguez.

Or as Torre claims half the Bronx Bomber Organization calls him behind his back: A-Fraud.

Honest Abe has a take, as do the RAB fellas.

Here's my take. I am going to go out on a limb and say (the next four words are the sole expression and/or view of just me -- in no way am I trying to speak for the 36 writers here at It Is High):

SCREW YOU JOE TORRE!

Our time together in the 90's was great. As was the early 2000's.

But then, something changed. As Virgil Sollozzo so eloquently put it in The Godfather:

"Let's face it, Tom, and all due respect, the Don, rest in peace, was -- slippin'. Ten years ago could I have gotten to him?"

Between beating on the bullpen over the years like your alias is Ike Turner, going about two years too long with the brokedown, oxygen-tank-toting Bernie Williams in center (he's not the only one to blame for that), always favoring old grizzled veterans over young prospects regardless of output and production, and poor judgement in the 07 post season with the Midge Massacre, you were slipping.

You were offered a one-year salary with incentives which would have made you the highest paid manager in baseball and you turned your nose at it. And now, you throw mud at the team that helped you to regain some stature, because lets face it, as a player you were great, but those first few managing jobs didn't go so well, did they?

Go ahead, write a book making fun of A-Fraud. No harm in that whatsoever.

But to go after the team in the fashion you did?

Stay classy out there in the NL West, Joe. Stay classy.

An A-Bomb from A-Frau...er...Joe Torre

Well, we now know that Joe Torre's final seasons in the Bronx weren't comprised of the players, coaching staff, and front office having a group sing-a-long of Kum-Ba-Ya. Though we kinda knew that any team with the Boss at the helm and A-Rod on the 25 man roster wouldn't be doing much of that anyways. Yes, we sensed there were problems in the clubhouse, but we didn't know the extent of them. Well, today, when any Yankee fan picked up the New York Post, we found out.






But like many Yankee fans, handling this news is like trying to break up with a supermodel.

(Edit: That's better)

So the Yankees have turned Hollywood and we have ourselves a remake of the Bronx Zoo. One Steinbrenner's gone, but just like the Hydra in Greek Mythology, we just grew back two heads: Hal (who takes after the power-hungry side of George) and Hank (who takes after the press-hungry side of George). Our front office no longer houses Gabe Paul, but Brian Cashman. The scorned Yankee legends/former Yankee managers who have it out for the front office (Billy Martin, Yogi, Torre, and even Mattingly too because you know he's gonna have Torre's back) are still in the picture. And the captian who is jealous of the superstar has a role reversal: the superstar's jealous of the captain. Yep, just like the late 70s and early 80s, we have ourselves one big Charlie Foxtrot (military slang for clusterf...) again.

But whose side should we take? The all-knowing Mike Francesa has already spoken and claimed that Yankee fans are gonna gravitate away from the whole "Saint Joe" persona that has been built up in Yankee lore. And Mike has a point. We're fans; we root for laundry, so we'll probably side with the laundry again.

But I'm just not completely sold on siding with the Yankees point of view on this one. Not from a front office who has disregarded America's version of the Roman Colosseum so they can build a glorified shopping mall/ball-field that I can't afford. Not from a GM who took the reins of a dynasty and ran them into third place team that consisted of overhyped prospects (Hughes/Kennedy/Melky/Ross Ohlendorf), aging superstars with injury problems and/or declining numbers (Matsui/Posada/Damon/Giambi/hell, even Pettitte shit the bed last year), superstars that don't field (Cano and Abreu), pitiful free-agent signings (Pavano/Igawa/Farnsworth/Hawkins), and last resort scrap heap pickups that didn't belong in the majors (Ponson and Rasner). Not from a prima-donna superstar who has done nothing for the Yankees during his tenure in the Bronx.

In my opinion, Joe Torre should have been fired. He was no god, and he never really handled the bullpen well. Sure, everything's easy when you have Wetteland and Mariano to give the ball to and Stanton and Nelson to set them up. And sure, Cashman did fill the bullpen with a shitload of hacks (going all the way back to the days of Juan Acevedo). But Joe found one guy, stuck with him, and used him until they were rendered useless. It started with Steve Karsay, continued with Paul Quantrill, Tanyon Sturze, and Tom Gordon, and ended with Scott Procter, Mike Myers, and Ron Villone. You can even argue Torre overworked the Great Mariano. He used them in 4-5 run leads against basement teams, in September, when we had callups that can survive by not letting up 5 runs in an inning. And then, in October, when we need guys like Tom Gordon to get us through the eigth inning to Mariano in 2004, he puts the first couple of runners on, and we're screwed. Our bullpen faltered in October because Joe overused the pen too many times in meaningless regular-season games agianst bs teams, and that's why Torre's last years in Yankiverse ended in disappointment.

But am I really ready to take sides against a four-time World Champion for this organization in what will be a pretty gruesome mud-slinging war? And side with ... A-Rod?

The next A-Rod comes on like a dream, peaches and cream, lips like strawberry wine, he's 18, he's beautifiul and he's ours

Pinstripes Plus (pay-per-view) rates Dominican Arodys Vizcaino our 14th best prospect. He threw 44 innings last year in the Gulf Coast Fisher-Price league, struck out 48. We signed him July 2, 2007 (aka: Age 16 MLB Latin Pedophilia Day) for a bonus comparable to the salary of the KC Royals infield. Says PP:

"Known for his big league arm, he made tremendous strides smoothing out his mechanics and quickly turning his curveball into a big-time pitch, so much so he now has one of the higher ceilings in the farm system."

Yeahright. Let's can the boolsheet. Judging Dominican prospects is like choosing beer: All you have are fancy labels and price tags... and the ad campaign: Our Yankiganda networks promote them outlandishly. It's not that the writers make shit up. But their Christmas bonuses depend on clicks, and fans love to work their wrists clicking on sites that fantacize about young boys turning into superheros.

(Sorry about that. But every prospect hype needs a disclaimer. See Rickie Aramboles, Jackson Melian, Wily Mo Pena, Elvis Corporan, Teuris Olivaris, et al.)

That said,
THIS GUY IS FUKINAY GOLDEN!

WRITE THIS DOWN:

WE HAVE A NEW AROD.
"A-ROD-IS" VIZCAINO!

Does Madonna know? Does Sterling know? When Arodys throws strike three, "A-rod-is defuses an A-bomb!" We'll have a team of two Arods. (Note: We could have two Melkys, but do we care?)

I hereby call for the Yankiverse to engulf this fledgling Arod embryo within our most potent shield of protection and nurture.

He needs support. He needs understanding. He needs a woman. He needs a good drug deal- uhm, personal trainer. He needs food and nourishment. He needs a mother figure (Madonna?) He needs a father figure. (Uhm, Madonna?) HE IS OUR BACKUP AROD, our AROD first-runner up. And if for any reason the reigning ARod cannot complete his term, the first-runner up must take over duties!)

OK, let's think. What can we do? Find him a girl? Get on it, She-Fan. Get him a Yoda? River Ave. Blues, call Moose. What the hell does Nardi Contreras actually do for a living anyway? Zell? LoHud? Anyone? He should mentoring this kid morsel, taking him to movies and showing him how to whittle so you cut away from yourself, not toward yourself.

Finally, do we have another Jeet? A Mariano? We've got a bucket of Jorges. Where the hell is our next Jeet? Tradition, folks! Tradition.

Shoot Me If this Happens

Every unique visitor to this blog, upon the viewing of this video, is hereby authorized to put a bullet in my head, if I am ever found in this state.

Yankeetorial: Our Stimulus Package Is Not Enough

Over the holidays, we tried to lead America out of the downturn.

It didn't work.

Despite the money we shelled out, our infrastructure remains old and decaying, with glaring bridges to nowhere. The world hates us, the media is fuming, and we are still inching toward collapse.

Think we're too big to fall apart? You're a fool. Here's how it happens.

1. What if Georgie cannot throw? He's coming off major shoulder surgery. If he can't hold runners, we'll burn a month trying to salvage the situation, before resorting to Molina full-time -- and we've seen that movie. From there, what... re-acquire I-Rod?

2. Mariano can't last forever. We want Melancon to be the next Huston Street, but what if he's Hughes/Kennedy '09? We'll lose six weeks anguishing over Mariano. Who steps in? When stars fall, they crash hard on their teams.

3. Jeter is thick in the thighs. We love him. But each year some new wonkie analysis shows the horror of his range. He hits into DPs he used to leg out. Will he need a defensive sub in late innings? Fans won't like it. Jeet won't like it. If his defense goes off the rails, how many games do we lose before Girardi has the stones to address it? If it comes down to an argument between the captain and the manager... who wins?

4. AJ Burnett, Chien-Ming Wang, Phil Hughes and Ian Kennedy have the ligaments of Kleenex. Any could go down. All could go down. We think we've got enough to cover ourselves. We don't.

5. What if Robbie Cano is comfortable with mediocrity? That seems clear to everyone in the world except Yank fans. Hope I'm wrong. But I have a mental picture of a guy watching a grounder roll into right field with the season on the line. Nobody else in my memory has that on their resume.

Get the picture? We're drunk on our spending. But Teixiera is not a pennant. The Redsocks gambled on high ceiling guys -- Smoltz, Baldelli -- we need to do the same.

Yes, you all hate Andruw Jones. So do I. Hate his frickin' guts. Hate him for squandering his talent. But we'd be fools not to go after him. We pay the MLB minium. If he shows up out of shape or sporting attitude, so long, sailor. He's a Gold Glove, perhaps the best fielding CF of his generation.

We must sign Andy soon, not let this thing draw out. The longer it lasts, the more possibility that something is said or done that shoots it down. Sign him today. This isn't charity. We need him. He carried us a month last year, our best pitcher. We'll need that month in '09.

We need an eighth inning set-up man. We need somebody who locks down the slot so Girardi doesn't go the season with writers arguing that Joba should return to the pen. We could wreck Joba's career.

This we know: Tampa will be better this year.

There is no guarantee that we will be.

Bud Selig Tears the Yanks a New One

Fightin' words from the bore who made Milwaukee famous... as told to Jayson Stark...

Stark: The Yankees have spent nearly half a billion dollars on three free agents. So the kind of talk you hear these days from owners is: "The Yankees are bad for baseball … we need a salary cap." It sounds a lot like the talk you heard 10 years ago. Do you think the Yankees' actions this winter represent a serious problem for the sport?

Selig: I'm not going to comment on individual clubs. I haven't in the past, and I won't now. Every club has to do what they have to do, and I'm very comfortable saying that. I'm proud of the system we have. I think we've had more competitive balance than we've ever had. And we have labor peace now through 2011. So I'll continue to watch what happens in the system and make my judgments at the appropriate time.

Yeesh. That guy is electric. He should have a nightly TV show where he tells about his pet turtles while clipping his toenails.

And no, Stark didn't ask Selig how MLB can continue to allow the signing of 16-year-old Latinos. It's too hot a topic to raise in front of such a volatile personality.

Moron added to ESPN booth

Rather than fire Joe Morgan, they added another nitwit to the Sunday night broadcast.

Brilliant!

Poetry Corner: Let's Sign Old Jason Varitek!

We’ll pass on Mr. Pedro,
No bids for Derek Lowe.
They claim that Schilling’s healthy.
We just say let him go.

There’s only one guy out there
That we’d like to posses.
Let’s sign old Jason Varitek,
And make him wear a dress.

We do not need Big Papi,
His feet are full of lead.
And if we pick up Youkilis,
Who’ll fling balls at his head?

There’s only one free agent
Who’d bring us shock and awe,
Let’s sign old Jason Varitek,
Then fit him for his bra.

We’ll make him take his clothes off,
Then climb a tall oak tree.
We’ll make him cry on Oprah.
We'll make him drink his pee.

We’ll make him scream foul insults
At saintly, Catholic nuns.
We’ll pay him to embezzle cash
From all the Jimmy Funds.

We’ll give him extra money
Just to ruin Theo’s life,
We’ll send him on a three-month cruise
With Johnny Pesky’s wife.

We’ll make him swim the Hudson,
Until he starts to faint,
We’ll pay him to reveal the truth:
Curt Schilling used red paint.

We do not need Pedroia,
He’s won his last award.
Let’s sign old Jason Varitek,
Then use the waterboard!

Bobby Abreu Is Getting Desperate

In an effort to up his 'signability', Bobby Abreu had his agent construct snowmen like this all over American cities seeking Corner-OF-DHs that are scared of outfield fences and walls.

The snow sculpture featuring the smiling RFer was based on a photo submitted by El Comedulce after he signed his five year, $64 million contract with the Phillies in 2003.

So far, the Abreu Snowman has appeared in Rockport Maine, near the home of the Double-A Sea Dogs, in downtown Syracuse, the home of the Triple-A Chiefs and on the outshirts of Toledo, home to the famous Triple-A Mud Hens.

His price tag of $35-$45 million over three seasons has apparently dropped, according to his agent. This is thought to be true based not only on the effects of the economy and the recent lowball signing of former teammate Pat Burrell by the Tampa Bay Devil Dogs, but also the sign El Snowdulce is holding is fairly indicative of the trying times.

Would a one-year, $30,000 offer from the Portland Sea Dogs do the trick? Or maybe a one-year bench role from the Yankees for $10,000, plus some Jeter equipment Abreu could sell on Ebay and he could drink on Alphonso's tab at the Cantina? Would that seal the deal?

Boston Redsocks Caught Buying Fans (With Dirt!)

In a not-so-stunning piece of breaking news, that Glorified Triple-A club from 206.37 miles to the North decided to sign a free agent fan.

Pictured with the budding mullet on the right is Tim, a former San Diego Padres fan who was reportedly disgruntled with his team's projected future and sent a letter to the 30 MLB teams looking for a buyer for his fandom.

His 'loyalty'...

Guess which team was the only one to respond?

Yup... The Boston Redsocks. The Hanging Sox. The Classiest, Fan-Friendly Organization in Sports!

Here is the link to Tim's letter in which he offered to whore himself out. Directly below it is the letter that he got in return from Count Henry and Co.

The Socks also sent him a 7 and 5/8 New Era Redsock hat, some Fenway dirt, and some photos and stickers of various classic Redsock moments in time.

However, the Investigative Reporting Division at It Is High has learned exclusively that Socks' GM Theo Epstein also sent along a plane ticket to Ft. Redneck, Fla. so he can tryout for the 1B position in March during Spring Training.

The Socks' front office decided that seeing as they missed out on Mark Teixeira by just $1.5 million a year to the Yankees, and the fact Newbury Street sucks, in addition to the fact David Ortiz is about as mobile at first as Jabba the Hut, and Kevin 'The Greek God of Head Beanings' Youkilis will be shifting over to 3B as Mike Lowell will be spending the first few months of 2009 rehabbing his hip surgery, filling out AARP forms and eating more 'cup of soup and half a sandwich' specials, they need a first baseman.

The fans on the inaugural Socks' blog Tim has chosen to frequent seem quite excited over his decision to join (albeit for a fee) Red Sox County. The poster who seemed the most excited was someone who had a "Thank You President Bush" as their avatar. They wrote:

"Great story Rafe. Glad Tim is on board. He is in for a wild ride. Sawx are pissa Tim!"

Pissa? Call me old, but is 'Pissa' a good thing?


UPDATE: I was reading through some of those comments from Redsock fans welcoming Tim to the 'County' and I noticed something:

They seem to like giving away dirt!


Exhibit A is a poster named P.J. Sox, who eloquently writes:


"I once wrote a letter to the Red Sox complaining of poor "customer service", for lack of a better term, and I to was sent a bag of dirt, as well as some magnets, a rookie picture of Tek, and a pocket schedule. The Red Sox have always been my favorite team, and obviously that fan isn't truly a fan, just a person who watches the game."

However, my favorite line was from SawxfaninMD, who writes:


"Ive been a red sox fan for over 20 years and Ive never gotten anything except gouged.. wheres my free fenway dirt lol?"

He'd rather be in the Men's Hair Club, we think

Over at RotoAuthority, they've got the time to examine the fine details of baseball, and the list they've compiled should chill Hank's Heineken.

It's the 3,400 Club. It consists of pitchers who have thrown more than 3,400 pitches in one season. "Anywhere from 15 to 61 percent of those in this 'club' deal with significant injury the following year."

C.C. Sabathia threw 3,912 pitches last year, topped only by Cole Hamels at 3,914.

Good News: The Needledoinks Don't Like Our Farm System

To the Yankiverse:

Dear Madams and/or Sirs,

ESPN and Baseball America, watching each other in the mirror, are ranking our 2009 farm system 15th.

Mediocre. Middle of the pack. Rutgers. Temple. No crown jewels. No can't-misser. Brooke Hogan. Hofstra. Peanut butter and jelly.

Once, not long ago in a distant galaxy, they jointly slobbered over us. They coveted Phil Hughes, Melky Cabrera, Ian Kennedy, Jose Tabata, et al. And look what it got us: Phil Hughes, Melky Cabrera, Ian Kennedy, Damasco Marte, et al.

This year, we're SUNY Brockport, Restless Leg Syndrome, Drew Carey, the sniffles...

Why? Because the stool-samplers are concerned about our top stallions: Jesus Montero, Buddha Betances, Mohammed Brackman and Allah Jackson. (By the way, a shout-out to Rev. Rick Warren, who mentioned Montero in his inaugural comedy monologue Tuesday.) What is the concern? It's that Montero, Brackman and Betances are too big to be good. Seriously. I'm not making this up. They're too big. That's the problem. Too big.

Thus, we're Utica, February, bean salad... anyway... where were we...? Oh, yeah. WE ARE IN LUCK!

Here's why: Because of the pathological synchopathia of you, the Yankiverse, any publication that fails to gush baby juice over about our prospects is considered rabid anti-Yankee. It's the way Rush Limbaugh listerners view the New York Times, and the TV networks, and the Internet, and conversation, and...

Thus, anything that's positive about a Yank prospect must be magnfied by a factor of 1,000 Ruben Rivera units.

For example, right now, somewhere on the web, Phil Hughes can read that he's won the 2009 Cy Young Award, based on some blogger's statistical formula.

But this year, we're fifteenth. Maybe this year, instead of watching prospects bat .185, we can track nobodies who hit .330. Frankly, I'm sick of the Tim Battles and C.J. Henrys chasing Dave Kingman's all-time strikeout totals. I'm sick of reading bloggers say, "If he can cut down on the strikeouts..." Yeah, right. I'm sick of hearing, "If he can just get command of his curveball..." Yeah, right.

Now... I'm not knocking you bloggers. Hell, we're all nutcases. I'm no better. If you thought about it, nobody should care about anything we say.

But 19-year-old prospects do.

Therefore... Listen up you pimply, Cruex-jocked farttwats. Nine out of 10 of you will be bagging groceries in five years, and that exotic dancer who tattooed your name to her inner thigh not only will weigh 250, but she'll own your car. Stick to the basics, kiddies. It's a long hard drive to Yankee Stadium.

As for you, Phil: You didn't win a frickin' game last year. Don't come to this site expecting us to fawn over you. DAMMITALL, I'VE HALF A MIND TO LEAP OUT OF THIS COMPUTER AND SLAP YA UPSIDE THE FACE. EXCEPT YOU'D MISS SIX MONTHS FROM THE INJURY. GET OUT! GET OUT, NOW!

Goddamm kids of today. Fifteeth. Pttuuii.

Jeter's in...LOVE?

Reports say Minka Kelly has done what Mariah, Jessica (Alba & Biel) and Johansson could not...tie down the world's, no, the universe's most desirable bachelor.

Report says Jeter and Kelly have been spending "time" in Puerto Rico. Could they be wooing Bernie to come back for another season? Or, most likely, they were just auditioning Bernie's guitar skills for the wedding...

My home town

You can change your name.

You can change your face.

You can change your spouse.

Ya cain't change where yer from.

Trubble in Paradise

Ruh-roh.

Yankeetorial: Andruw Jones is a no-brainer

The Los Angeles Dodgers not of Anaheim scrapped Andruw Jones last week because he showed Robbie Cano hustle, Lenn Sakata power and a John Wayne Bobbit bat.


But he's still a Paul Blair glove.


Sign him. What can we lose?

He's on the Dodgers' tab. We pay the MLB minimum, which is less than Paris Hilton spends on contraceptives. Basically, we only have to provide the uniform. If he loafs, spits on fans or gives Mike Lupica a pinkbelly, we make him greeter at the coal mine museum in Scranton. LA would happily blow the mine with him in it.

Sign him. We cannot lose.


Keep in mind: This blog has a soft spot for Brett Gardner; he'll surprise the doubters like Alphonso. But this is found money. We get a potential comeback player of the year, a Gold Glover who could hit 40 homers -- or else... pttuii. We spit him out like a bad watermelon seed. We gamble nothing. We give up nothing. We could win big.


What's that? He's a head case? Good grief, we signed Sidney Ponson last year. If he steals Jeter's glove, he's out.


If Jones works, we can stash Garder, Melky and Austin Jackson in the July 4th Roy Halladay Trade Fund.


By Independence Day, Toronto will be five games behind the Miami Dolphins, and trading Halladay will be their only chance at attention. We better have chips ready.


Sign Andruw Jones. We cannot lose.


No-brainer. Come on, Cash.


DO NOT LET SOME SMALL MARKET GM OUT-HUSTLE YOU. GET ON IT. GO TO HIS HOUSE. GIVE HIS WIFE A BACKRUB. SIGN ANDRUW JONES.