Yankeetorial: Cut him.

The Yank war room must decide if Arod should have a hip job or play without bending over.

This is stupidist public debate since Oral Roberts questioned the hula hoop. CUT HIM. We don't need some melodramatic, "play-in-pain" excuse machine batting cleanup. We need the .320 Arod model, not the .234 version, with disturbing similarities to the .234 Jason Giambi clunker.

Moreover, this offers the most timely sabattical for a nutcase public figure since Britney shaved her head and went chubby. With Arod, our spring training was turning into an Adam Sandler movie. Without him, the tabloids will have to layoff sportswriters and return their back pages to the Hollywood women-beaters and dog-thankers who belong there. Good. We need the rest. So does Arod.

Let him gesticulate. He can join a monestary, or the GOP. He take a hard look at the legacy he may have pissed away. He can push his little girls in swingsets and maybe find his priorities in life. He can think about the oafish, self-absorbed punchline that he's become, the pinstriped Alfred E. Neuman who carries Madonna's condom bag, who bold-face lies to "60 Minutes" and retreats into a daily gaggle of blood-related syncopaths, whose primary function is to supply illegal backrubs.

Let him watch hungry players crash into the stands in a stadium he hasn't even entered. Let him watch them win the hearts of Yank fans. Let him watch us win without him. Let him watch the world casually forgetting him, as it's forgotten the Mark and Sammy whatziznames that currently hold home run records, but haven't been indicted.

Then let him come back, maybe changed, maybe cleansed, ready to hit .355.

We do want him back.

We just want this to end.

Worst case scenario: He's gone until the All-Star break.

If we can't last in the race until then, shame on us. He wouldn't have made a difference anyway.

Cut him. And don't use anesthesia.

(Just kidding about the anesthesia. Barkeep! a round of Demerol for everybody!)