State of the Yankees, Part ... whatever it is we're up to

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boss, distinguished guests, Yuri, and all those other people El Duque mentioned in his intro ...

We are at a crossroads not just in our country's history, but in our franchise's history. It has been well-documented on this blog, by our fearless leader, El Duque, that as the Yankees go, so goes our nation.

And yes, as "change has come to America," so, too, has change come to the Yankees. We will move into a new home, to a new field and new stadium, where the wealthy and blue collar can both gather to watch the greatest franchise in sports history (the wealthy in the good seats and in discos and steakhouses, the great unwashed in the upper deck where the beautiful people won't have to be near them).

As we stand at this crossroads in history, a new attitude has been growing in America.

There had been a realilzation that with great economic challenges, there is a special responsibility for the successful few to make sacrifices for the good of the many; a realization that after years of conflict and war, this is a time to replace confrontation with cooperation and to reach out not with a clenched fist, but with an open hand; and a realization that the world is changing, and longtime enemies must be looked at as potential partners for the betterment of all people.

There are those who say these principals are universal, applicable to both the world at large and to our national pastime; that just as there must be a new America based on sacrifice and equality for all, there must be a new baseball world based on these same ideals.

As those voices get louder and louder, as they call resoundingly for change, we also must raise our voices to say, loudly, clearly and strongly ...

... Fuck off. Shut the fuck up. And go the fuck away.

Now is not the time for the Yankees to go bleeding-heart soft. Ladies and gentlemen, we are under attack like never before in our great franchise's history. Our enemies see a third-place finish and see weakness; they see a steroid scandal and see vulnerability; they see struggling young pitchers and see a team with long-term questions.

We must look at the 29 other teams and see snacks that we can chew up and spit out.

There are those look at the signing of CC Sabathia, A.J. Burnett and Mark Texieira and say that we have spent too much, that we have hurt baseball, and that we have forever destroyed the competitive balance of this great game. To those people we say: Fuck off. Shut the fuck up. And go the fuck away. Tell your teams to spend some of the luxury tax money you received (from the Yankees) on players instead of a new paint job for the owner's corporate jet and hookers to accompany him on his "business trips."

Then there are those like John Henry of the Redsocks. "The Pied Piper of Pomposity" himself, Henry has come out in favor of a salary cap, stating that "I think there are 29 teams that exist within a certain band, and there has been, in the last several years, one outlier that has been much higher." To John Henry and those like him we say: Fuck off. Shut the fuck up. And go the fuck away. The Marlins ($22 million payroll in 2008) and the Redsocks ($138 million payroll in 2008, not counting any of the $51 million "posting fee" they spent just to talk to Dice-K) are in the same "band?" Are you fucking nuts? That's as nonsensical and moronic as the average Curt Schilling blog post.

There are those who would tear us down, such as the al-Sockzeera network, ESPN; or Sports Illustrated, which believes in the right to confidentiality of 103 of the 104 players who tested positive for 'roids in 2003. To those we say: Fuck off. Shut the fuck up. And go the fuck away. Yes, A-Rod is a lying, paranoid, narcissistic, drug using, choking-dog prima donna (Madonna? Huh?). He's ours, though, and the bond we have for our team is strong enough to withstand A-Rod, no matter how big an ass he is.

We must be honest with ourselves and face one fact; years of success have given us a feeling of entitlement and -- yes, it must said -- have weakened our resolve. This was shown last year when the pathetic little Tampa Bay Rays delivered a brazen attack in a spring training games, taking out one of our brave young catchers, Francisco Cervelli. Our response, other than one love tap slide from Shelley Duncan, was nonexistent. It is as clear as the nose on Joe Torre's face -- our lack of a response emboldened the Rays, and put them on the path to the playoffs, and us on the path to third place.

My fellow Yankeeans, we must say "NO MORE."

NO MORE apologizing for our money. We reap the benefits of smart decision-making and our past successes. Anybody bitches, acquire their best player and make him a hot dog vendor. Blare the Dead Kennedys' "Kill the Poor" from the stadium's loudspeakers before every game.

NO MORE being pushed around by upstart punk teams. Remember what Nettles did to Bill Lee? Let that be our guide. Anybody runs into our catchers this year, we tell our pitchers to follow the wise advice of one Sarah Palin -- drill, baby, drill. (and remember -- any player that decapitates a Ray earns $20 in cold hard cash!)

And finally, NO MORE watching other teams play in the World Series. This is the year we take back our rightful place at the top of the heap. Derek, Andy, Jorge and Mariano deserve one last run before riding off into the Yankee sunset that is Monument Park.

The Yankeeverse must settle for nothing less.

My friends, God Bless you, God Bless America, and God Bless the New York Yankees.

And for those of you not Yankees fans: Fuck off. Shut the fuck up. And go the fuck away.