To the Yankiverse:
Push the button. Flush the toilet. Hawwk the furball.
Swing the deal.
Details? We don need no stinkin details. Details are for G.M.s. Details are for the devil.
Get Roy Halladay before the cock crows on our next series with a potential post-season team.
Because we are not a World Series contender.
(By the way, I hate myself. I should be writing this in blood, or stool, on the wall of my captors. These are the deals I've railed against. But I've lost hope on this team. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LOSE FAITH. And I have lost mine.)
Our track record on these deals? Wretched. Filthy. Horrid. We're the only team in the new millenium to have its pockets picked by the Pittsburgh Pirates, (with assistance from the enabling, brownnosed sports media, who cheers our brilliance every step of the way. Can you imagine what the sports page would look like if writers posted corrections?)
It doesn't matter. The Los Angeles Angels of JimBoeheim proved our weaknesses. (I don't get the Jim Boeheim reference either, but stay with me, I think I'm on a roll!) They popped our balloon. They stole our lunch money. They rubbed our bellies until our legs started pumping, then went drinking and left us to suffocate in the hot car. And it's a lousy way to die.
Last night, Halladay told the beauty queen he's ready to be traded. He couched his words, trying to keep the hateful Bleu Jay nabobs -- (their version of me) -- from sending black dots in the mail to his mother-in-law. It doesn't matter. He will go to the Redsocks or he will go to us.
Them or us, folks. And that's a bad deal from the gitgo.
We start with Phil Hughes. Kiss him goodbye. Then Jesus Montero. Then Cervelli, Pena, Joba, that kid in Scranton -- Ivan Nova -- the list just goes on and on.
It's going to really hurt. The left side - the eat-more-vegetables side -- of my brain hates his. I despise the Yankees for losing so wretchedly to the Angels that this trade -- this move that we told ourselves we wouldn't make -- is now written in our stool on my prison wall.
But it's there, folks. Halladay is near. So make it happen, Mr. Sulu. Hawwk the furball, Yankiverse.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The Angels changed our world on Roy Halladay
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8 comments:
There needs to be some sort of government regulatory commission for blogging. Things like this shouldnt be written.
I promise you this...
If we give up all that talent for the 32 year old Halliday, we still won't win anything.
We'll owe him for 10 years and he'll be a disappointment each day.
He is a star at or passed his prime.
Perfect reason to give up the next 10 years of hope.
Alfonso,
Is hope for the next ten years not already lost?
Even the Blue Jays couldn't be that stupid, could they? Trading him within the division? I know they did it with Clemens, but that was 10 years ago. Surely they've learned something since. They may be the Blue Jays, but they're not the Nationals. Also, Clemens was 36. They had to believe he was near the end, even if he wasn't. I don't think this can happen.
SUPERF..
Your logic is impeccable, save for one factor.
The Blue jays would acquire so much young Yankee talent, which you just know would burst forth into a package of superstars, that they could beat us even if Halladay won 25 games per year for us.
I won't slep until August 1.
Oh God I'm going to be sick.
If Halladay was half of what Clemens was this would be stupid to trade him within the division. But hes not. Moving him right now is a great idea. Hes the best pitcher in baseball and their team sucks. But there is no reason to think hes got much time left being so dominant.
It's an interesting conundrum, Captain. The Red Sox exclusively purchase their experienced pitchers from the scratch-n-dent bin, knowing that their team of re-animators can sew parts of them together, run the result through a few seasons in Pawtucket, and pretend it is a living thing; whereas the Yankees buy players who appear sound, and disintegrate as soon as the check clears Scott Boras' account. So, in *order* for the Red Sox to buy Halladay, the Yankees have to buy him first.
By the way, the Boeheim joke really only works if you know how to pronounce it. Some of your readers are actually *not from* Syracuse. At least, I think some of them aren't. Actually, I'm not sure...
--Don & Eck, got help us
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