Open Letter to Cody Ransom: Ever hear the tale of Bubba Trammell?

Dear Mr. Ransom, (NOTE: OK, OK, STOP PHONING, IT'S CROSBY, NOT TRAMMELL)

First, thank you for being a Yankee. Let me assure you that every multi-celled creature of the Yankiverse wants you to succeed. We're clinging to any hint of Scott Brosiusism that lets us avoid the juiced-up Alfred E. Newman we find every morning on the back page.

Secondly, I hope I'm wrong here.

You're about to get Bubba Trammpled.

In the winter of 2003, Bubba Trammell was a hustling, second-tier prospect who served as our CF lawn ornament before we signed Johnny Damon. He is remembered for a few early home runs, a post-season collision with Gary Sheffield, and sadly, his diagnosis for clinical depression that caused him to leave baseball for a while.


In the weeks before we signed Damon, Brian Cashman often told reporters he foresaw Bubba as our starting CF.

This, of course, was a steaming plate of Cashman's finest bullshit. He was trying to chistle a few dimes from Damon. Maybe it worked. Dunno. What it surely did, though, was remind Yankees never to believe the front office. I suspect management consultants doubt the wisdom of such styles, but I could be wrong.

Sir, expect the worst.

Right now, we seem to have too many relief pitchers. This is rare. If Cash loves to do anything, it is pull ragdolls off the scrap heap. That's how we got Dan Giese, Brett Tomko and Jeff Johnson. (And you.) Because those guys have no options, one might make this team, forcing the likes of Alfredo Aceves, David Robertson, Phil Hughes, et al, to Columbus-Wilkes Barre.


Expect Cash to pull a trade. He'll try to convert somebody into an infielder.

In the next two weeks, some overpaid slob 3B will lose his job. That team will look to dump him. They always need bullpen arms.


Don't let this get to you. Do your job. Stay focused. But don't get comfortable. And don't pose for any magazines.