Shelley Duncan is Coming

The former -- and perhaps greatest -- IIH Yankee Employee of the Month has gotten the call.

Happy Hairston

We yet Jerry Jr., an older Cody Ransom, from Cincy, for Something to Be Named Later.

And the Hits Just Keep on Comin'...

http://www.bostonherald.com/sports/baseball/red_sox/view/20090731bronson_arroyo_bad_andro_may_be_cause/
For those who don't have the time to read the whole article, here's the main part:

"Bronson Arroyo, a 2003 Red Sox [team stats] teammate of David Ortiz [stats] and Manny Ramirez [stats], said yesterday he would not be shocked to discover his name on the list of 104 major league ballplayers who tested positive in the spring of 2003 for using performance-enhancing drugs . . . Back then, Arroyo said via phone from Cincinnati, he was using both androstenedione, which was not banned until the 2004 season, and amphetamines, which were not banned until 2006. The only reason Arroyo stopped using andro was because he heard through the grapevine that, because of lax production standards, some andro was laced with known steroids, such as Winstrol."

It began by losing their grasp of first place to us, then the roid allegations, now Chris Dodd even has cancer. What a shitty week for New England. As of now, they have a little over an hour to make a big impact trade for either Gonzalez or Martinez, and if they don't they could have problems next weekend in the Bronx. The wheels are coming off the Red Sox Nation bandwagon and fast.

I really hope John Henry accepted that tissue on Twitter. He probably needs it.

Could Phil Hughes be the first dual IIH YANKEE EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH on the same day he is traded?

Ain't sayin' it'll happen... but... this is sort of scary.

Mandatory reading

OK, usually, we hope Deadspin links to us, not the other way around. After all, they've got about 10 million regular readers and we have about 10. But in case you missed it, they've summed up the redsock fan thing pretty well:

"You'd think every baseball fan on Earth right now would be more or less numb to the idea of a player being outed as a roider. Ah, but once again, we find that Red Sox fans believe they and their team poop sunshine and live on some sort of magical, negro-free cloud in the heavens. Oh sure, they expect a team like the FACKIN' YANKEES to have roiders. But not the precious Red Sox! They're different! Special! They'd never violate the bond they have their legendary fans, who have been known to keep entire city grids powered simply with the strength of their hearts!

You listen to me, you fucking retards. You're just another bunch of asshole fans rooting for another asshole team. And the fact that you think you're somehow above all that is what makes you utterly insufferable. I hope it turns out the Jason Varitek took HGH in 2004 and once killed a child in a drunken lawnmowing accident."

Read the whole thing here. Now.

Boldface Lying Season Ends Tonight

With the MLB deadline for misinformation ending at midnight, general managers are working hard to state their final incredibly absurd, bold-faced, WTF?, Nixonian, outright lies.

The Yankees have had a big week, stressing that they absolutely have no interest whatsoever in Roy Halladay. Zero. Zip. Nada.

Like the Redsocks, who couldn't care less about the Toronto pitcher. Who needs him, anyway?

In fact, the Blue Jays have decided to keep Halladay, according to JP Ricciardi. He has made it clear that Halladay will stay in Toronto. Rest assured that nothing -- NOTHING -- will happen today on the Halladay front.

Because everyone says so!

The Seattle Mariners are quite pleased with their team, currently 7 games behind in that tough AL West. They won't trade anyone. Why should they?

Deadline for lies ends at midnight.

UPDATE: This post is a lie. It actually ends at 4 p.m. (Good thing I got it in under the deadline.)

The Ortiz apologists come out in full force: Gammons and ESPN talk about poor, poor Papi

Boy, it looked like it was painful for those ESPN (Everything Sox Programming Network) announcers to have to actually give the news. But listen to them, and one thing becomes clear -- David Ortiz is the victim.

-- The talking head lady interviewing Gammons pointedly noted that Papi and Ortiz appeared on "the famous list that was supposed to remain anonymous."

-- The first line out of Gammons' mouth? The news was shocking because "(David) and his wife, Tiffany, do so much for the community." (Funny, I don't remember any mention of A-Rod's charity work when he was named on the list).

-- The second sentence from Gammons: "I think this will be devastating to him, because David is very sensitive."

-- After grudgingly admitting that the redsocks' 2004 title might be tainted "to a degree," Gammons then gave a stirring everybody-was-doing-it-especially-the-Yankees defense: "I think that the fact is, from this era, we could probably take 10 world champions in a row, and if we really know the facts ... but that's part of the era." (The "10 world champions in a row" not-so-subtly makes sure to include at least one Yankees world championship team in there, no matter what 10-year-period you take.)

Golden Memories of the Mitchell Report

Remember the Mitchell Report?

Remember George Mitchell, the ex-Senator, the life-long Redsock fan listed on the team masthead as a director, who investigated steroid abuse in baseball?

Remember Bud ($18 million-per-year) Selig touting the intense work of the probe?

Remember the news conferences? The Congressional inquiries? The talk shows?

Remember how the findings targeted the Yankees and exonerated the Redsocks?

Remember the fake syringes thrown at Giambi? The doctored photos of Gary Sheffield? The Bibles waved at Andy Pettitte?

Remember the chants... "Cheaters"... "Steroids"... "A-Rhoid?"

Remember Boston's joy over the public hanging of Roger Clemens?

Remember the news leak about Cleveland's Paul Byrd, a day before he faced Boston in the playoffs?

Remember the sanctimonious judgements of Curt Schilling?

Remember the joy in Boston after Manny Ramirez -- of the Dodgers -- was linked to steroids?

Remember how Yankee championships were tainted, but Redsock teams were magical and clean?

Remember all that insufferably self-righteous indignation?

Well...

Redsock fans don't.

Big Papi on steroid users: Test positive, you should be gone for the year

Of course, he said all those things in spring training, when he thought his 2003 test wasn't going to be released.

Why do I get the feeling that Big Liar probably doesn't feel that way today?

I Heard It On Lou Dobbs

I’ve heard a killer asteroid
Is waiting out in space.
I’ve heard that global warming
Will destroy the human race.
I’ve heard the bird flu virus
Could turn cities into mobs.
But I will not believe it
‘Till I hear it from Lou Dobbs.

I’ve heard the Midwest climate
Soon could be too hot for grain.
I’ve heard use of cell phones
Can cause cancer of the brain.
I’ve heard the next depression
Will cost everyone their jobs,
But I will not believe it
‘Till I hear it from Lou Dobbs.

I’ve heard Lou Dobbs is angry
That illegals get on through,
I’ve heard Lou Dobbs has written up
A plan to stop the flu,
I’ve heard Lou Dobbs is fighting
For us losers and us slobs,
And this I do believe,
Because I heard it from Lou Dobbs.

Paging Mr. Orza...Paging Mr. Orza...

Papi says he's "blindsided" by the news...

BUT...

The Mitchell Report says all the players who tested positive in 2003's anonymous testing "were notified in early September 2004."

(Seems like that the job of telling people went to Gene Orza.)

BUT...

The man who brought peace to Ireland told us that "Orza declined my request for an interview."

SO...

If Sen. Mitchell can't get answers, will Papi be able to? Does he really want to?

All together now, Fenway: "A-RHOID... A-RHOID... A-RHOID!"

I am he

As you are he

As you are me

And we are all together.

Welcome, Jason Hirsh!

Best paragraph in today's Boston Globe

"The Sox had some chances late. A collision between Davis and Ryan Sweeney that electrified the crowd gave three bases to Jason Bay in the eighth. Mike Lowell hit a sacrifice fly to score one run, but with David Ortiz pinch hitting for Jed Lowrie as the tying run, with men on first and second, he popped to third to end the inning."

Pat Venditte's Dad nearly got Bernie Madoffed

TheWorld as Experienced Yankees Department:

The father of baseball's only switch pitcher (who threw 2 scoreless innings last night against Single A Schmuktown, BTW) received a strange check in the mail...

This is the same guy who taught his son to throw from both sides. Think he fell for a scam?

EXTRA! EXTRA! 2004 IS TAINTED AS PER THE NEW YORK TIMES!!!

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/31/sports/baseball/31doping.html?_r=1&hp

Lets se the Ellsbury Schilling Papelbon Network try to spin that...

Garza threw at Teixtiera? Time to Bring up Shelley

Garza admits throwing at Tex.

Well.... somebody needs a swift reracking of the billiards.

Bring up Shelley Duncan! NOW!

Don't Even Think About It, Brian. It will be more one-sided than the Santana Stick-up/Giveaway

Dear Mr. Cashman,

Do you remember when the trading deadline focused on 

Johan Santana?  The Twins wanted everything from the Yankees including George Steinbrenner's Shipping Company.

From the Mets, they took a good, defensive centerfielder

and a bag of slightly used balls.

Which brings us to today's catfight.

From the Yankees, the Toronto Blue Dogs ( Birds?) will demand:

1.  Joba

2.  Hughes

3.  Melky

4.  Cano

5. Cervelli

6.  Austin Jackson

7.  Montero

From the Red sox, the Toronto Blue Dick-heads will demand:

1.  Brad Penny

2.  Some 34 year-old A-ball back-up outfielder hitting .213.

So pay attention and go to Chicago.  

Do not pick up the phone.  Do not mess with this.

If you are bummed by the recent debacles of trades with the Pirates ( ours, that is ), don't think you can make up for it here.  Do the right thing for once.  Do nothing.

That should be easy.

Girardi Eagerly Awaits News on C-MW

Dr. James Andrews performed Wang’s surgery in Birmingham, Ala., and Manager Joe Girardi said the Yankees were awaiting word on the results.

Hank is reportedly held up in the hospital Chappell's anxiously waiting for a report.

Take the quiz: Redsock Nation... or Iran?

Can you tell the difference. Iran... or Redsocks?

1. Hardliners furious over recent unrest.

2. Supreme Leader no longer receiving confidence of general population.

3. Fear of violence growing.

4. Universal condemnation of Papelbon.

5. Allies alienated and scorn of global community becoming acute.

6. Questions looming over defense.

7. Vicious verbal attacks on enemies by leadership.

8. Generals increasingly seeking nuclear option with Halladay.

So long, Tampa

Tampa's fate sealed with a nifty 6.44 WinWarble

We are hot.

John is hot.

Joba is hot.

Everything is nice and hot.

Now...

If we can just keep from doing something stupid...

Health Care Debate Notwithstanding, Some People Are Better Off Fat

Dear Brian:

Shake off tonight's shaky performance by seeking solace in food.

That's what I would do.

IT IS TIME TO VOTE FOR YANKEE JULY EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH

HUGHES

GARDNER

MAX

IGAWA

HINSKE

RODRIGUEZ

DUNCAN

MIENTKIEWICZ

CRAWFORD

CASHMAN

MONTERO

WALDMAN

Screw Halladay: We got Hirsh

Jason Hirsh, Colorado RH minor league pitcher, for the infamous Player to Be Named Later.

He's 27, Jewish, big as a bus, and, at 6'8', looks like the second coming of Colter Bean.

Scranton has a new sequoia.

Rob Roy or Halladay on Ice: Eight Disturbing and Conflicting Facts Yank fans should know about Toronto GM JP Ricciardi

Is he on our side... or theirs? Consider:

1. He grew up in Worcester, Mass — a Redsock hotbed.

2. He was a Mets minor league infielder with a career average under .200.

3. He started his second career as a minor league coach in the Yankees system.

4. He roots avidly for the Boston Bruins and Boston Celtics.

5. He has a son named Mariano.

6. His contract in Toronto ends in 2010.

7. He once said of public statements, "They're not lies if we know the truth."

8. Upon arriving in Toronto, his first big deal was to get Eric Hinske.

Yanks First MLB Team to Achieve 1 Million Requests for Internet Spam

A million fans have registered to get email straight from Lonnie Baseball, Lonn Trost.

Note: You will need to set your spam filters to accept the following subject headers:

IMPROVE YOUR MANHOOD WITH YANKEE BAT

SHE WILL SEE YOU AND YELL, "GODZILLA!"

MAKE WOMEN HAPPY, THE MELKY WAY

DO YOU HAVE AN A-ROD?

COME FAST, ANY TIME OF NIGHT, WITH W.B. MASON!

Red Sox Fan Of The Day

Click pic to enlarge.
Jimmymac on Twitter (found by @Jade2020, via Yankee Meg.)

July 2008 Pirate Trade Update

Damaso Marte pitched 1.2 innings last night for Gitmo-Wilkes Barre. He gave up two home runs.
Xavier Nady spent the day watching Season 4 reruns of "Barney Miller."

We at IT IS HIGH devoted eight hours to mourning the loss of fodder from the trading of Jose Tabata and his 43-year-old alleged kidnapper wife.

Beware all yee who tradeth with the City of Steel!

What if the Redsocks get Halladay?

Woo woo. They might... (gulp)... go 8-0 against us.

It's over: Yanks Projected Winners of AL East

Suck on that, Dewey Evans.

After missing his personal deadline, JP Ricciardi will be cramping today

Yesterday was JP Ricciardi "personal deadline" for the trade Roy Halladay.


As all you lady readers know, nothing -- nothing -- is more irritating than missing a -- well, you know -- a personal deadline.

Today, we can expect JP to be antsy and a bit -- well -- out of spirits. He'll be worried, doubled-over at times, perhaps crazed from Midol, and wondering what dark forces are conspiring, deep within the golden chalice of his otherwise pristine loins.

Yes, he'll be wondering if he should have ever taken that call from Brian Cashman last week, when the seed was planted for -- well -- you know.

Only our Pinstriped moms out there can fully understand the physical, mental and emotional turmoil that JP is experiencing this day -- 24 hours after missing his deadline.

Until a trade is birthed, or the Halladay situation "goes away," he will not be himself.

NOTE TO YANKIVERSE: We must use this knowledge to snatch the infant known as "Roy" from the barren seedpod of his Canadian host! We must merge modern technology with the ancient ways of human congress to bring the Toronto babe into our world... without sacrificing our own precious children!

Today! No more missed personal deadlines!

Hey, gang! Do the dang Wang do?

No!
The dang Wang don't do no mo, no mo.
The dang Wang won't do no mo.
(No mo.)

Do the dang Wang bang some mo, some mo?
The dang Wang don't bang no mo!
(No mo.)
The dang Wang don't bang no mo.

Fan Of The Day: Yankee Meg

Here is Yankee Meg's Twitter feed, and here is her blog.

Well, This Is Nice, Anyway

IT IS HIGH Tampa Fan of the Month

I love this woman. Even if she's from Connecticut.

Jaime A. Buccheri, 32, was charged with trespassing when she refused to leave Tropicana Field after an eighth-inning ejection.

Rays ushers received numerous complaints in the fourth inning about Buccheri and a man cursing at and pouring beer on season ticket holders in Section 104, police said.

Ushers spoke with Buccheri, a Connecticut resident who listed her local address as 545 Pinellas Bayway S, No. 206, and companion David Casamona before moving them to their proper seats. Buccheri was ejected when ushers reported that she and Casamona had moved back to Section 104 in the eighth inning.

It's time to take nominations for July Employee of the Month

I dread this.

You can't believe how much I dread this.

The Pulitzer Pack is now officially chasing The Big Story

Alex & Kate are inspiring a new generation of journalists to discover Roget's Thesaurus.

They're writing the Alex & Kate at the picnic story, but spicing it up; with different folksy phrases.

"... PDA... locking lips... cannoodling..."

How about... tongue-schtupping.... molar-muffing... playing tonsil tag... klemping maws...

Maybe USA Today will come up with a pie chart.

Are we seriously trading for a month-long CF? And could it be Vernon Wells?

That's what they're saying, if you believe their crap.

They claim Austin Jackson, who's hitting .313 and stealing bases in Scranton, is not a solid option to replace Brett Gardner for four weeks, while he recovers from a broken thumb.

They say Jackson is such a fantastic, unbelievable prospect that he must play every day.

Fine. But the other day, they sat him because... hmmm...?

Why am I cringing over the name Vernon Wells?

Toronto wants to get rid of the guy. Salary dump. I don't think anybody will take him in a package with Halladay. So...

Aww, you can't believe a frickin' word the Yankees say. Nothing. They'll claim 2004 never happened. They'll claim Pluto is still a planet. They're worse than Alphonso.

Having exhausted Pittsburgh Pirates roster, Yanks & Redsocks look to Steelers for trades

NEW YORK _ Latest rumors around MLB have Pittsburgh QB Ben Roethlisberger headed to the Yankees, who seek to bolster their bullpen before the July 31 trade deadline.

Yankee GM Brian Cashman refused to confirm or deny talks, discussions or even thoughts, though he acknowledged that Boston and New York have drained everything above Dutch National Team value from the Pirates' roster and thus, must look elsewhere in the Steel City for August fodder.

"They like Roethlisberger in the bullpen and that guy with the hair, Polamalu," a scout said, speaking on the grounds that his words not be correctly quoted. "They figure the guy can play secondbase and put licks runners as they go by. The Redsocks need to hear footsteps."

Boston is said to be in talks with free agent rightfielder Plaxico Burress, a former Steeler.

"We like him in right field," a scout said. "He's got a real gun on him."

Happy Halla Day

Today, Toronto spikes one of the 2009 pennant races by dispatching Roy Halladay for a bunch of young players it will be trading at the 2011 deadline.

Way I see it, for Phil Hughes, Austin Jackson and Jesus Montero, we could get him.

For Clay Buckholtz, Jacoby Ellsbury and Daniel Bard, Boston could get him.

For their entire team and farm system -- plus cash incentives and Wilpon's left nut, the Mets could get him.

For Alphonso, SuperFrankenstein and Whitey Fraud, this blog could get him.

Hm-mm.

Holy Warbletron! It's a flock of Sterlings, warbling as one

Three WinWarbles separately... Then merged into one.

"Now, about the seats and field and stands...": A blogger's virgin visit to the new pad

Cute kid. Information. Lines.

It's all about the money.

Yankees to Syracuse: Drop Dead

For this transgression, they must someday know the silent sting of the Emerald City's wrath!


O, yes! they shall hear from us... someday!

Mr. Scranton intends to stay put

This is heartbreaking.

On the day Sergie Mitre turns into the pumpkin, Kei Igawa -- the second coming of Hideki Irabu -- gets lit up in Toledo. Three innings, 9 runs.

Sportswriters stunned... STUNNED... that Rickey Henderson could write a speech

Why... it's the most incredible thing ever! He can talk! Who woulda thought that a dumb bag of rocks like Rickey Henderson could craft sentences into paragraphs!

Not Bill Madden.

"[W]as that really the same slap-happy, card-playing, oblivious Rickey we've come to know over the past quarter-century, standing up there at the podium for the Hall of Fame inductions, elegantly garbed in a Good Humor Man white suit and white tie, speaking slowly and concisely, deftly injecting both humor and inspiration into what will go down as one of the most remembered Hall of Fame speeches of all time?"

We know what Madden expected -- the unintelligible, selfish buffoon that sportswriters made Henderson out to be for 30 years. Madden devotes his column to how Henderson needed help from a speechwriter.

Henderson was always a piece of work. But he's not alone, as we've noted in the past. Most of baseball's greatest hittters were nutjobs. (Babe Ruth, glutton. Ty Cobb, evil. Mickey Mantle, drunk. Wade Boggs, sex addiction. Pete Rose, gambler. Ted Williams, womanizer. Barry Bonds... you get the picture.) Some got ripped. Some got winked at. It never changes.

ARod and HudRod, coming soon to a street corner near you

The Boston Herald must have been holding this until we took over first, because Arod homering off Kate Hudson is old news to everybody living outside of Somalia.

Says the Murdoch North:

"The duo put on a very public display of affection for the first time this past weekend, locking lips during the New York Yankees’ annual family picnic."

"Locking lips?" Who writes copy for these guys, Mickey Spillane?

"Locking lips?" WTF? If that's all they did, who cares! Be thankful they didn't spend the afternoon inside a throw-tent with interior strobelight.

The 13 most closely guarded secrets of Redsock fans... unearthed

Seasoned alchies realize that a 7-day vaca-binge occasionally requires the playing of "Drunk Possum:" You pretend to be out-of-skull, fall-down, speaking-in-tongues drunk... while wide awake and shrewdly probing your enemies for soft underbellies of weakness.

Last week, I feigned moments of acute inebriation while in the presence of several Redsock fans. I carefully slurred words and tripped over tree roots, lying prone on the ground so they could talk freely, without fear of disclosing valuable information. They suspected nothing.

Calmly and efficiently, I opened them like cans of sardines, extracting whatever information I deemed fruitful.

MY FINDINGS:
13 CLASSIFIED SECRETS OF REDSOCK FANS.

1. They'd happily trade Manny Delacarmen for a bag of lice.

2. Jacoby Ellsbury may not be a future shoe-in for Cooperstown after all.

3. Daniel Bard is absolutely, without question, a future shoe-in for Cooperstown.

.

4. They still -- this is so hilarious that, had I not been skilled at feigning drunkenness, I might have choked on my vomit -- they still think Dice K will be good.

5. Mike Lowell is dead to them.

6. In the team's contract dispute with Jason Bay, they side with the cheap bastard ownership.
.

7. They think they own Mariano. (Almost took a swing at them.)

8. Like everyone else, they have no clue how Ben Affleck and Matt Damon wrote the screenplay for "Good Will Hunting."

9. They view Steven Tyler as the ugliest rock star ever... even uglier than Elvis Costello and the guy who fronted for the Cars.

10. They never want Roger Clemens inducted into Cooperstown, because they fear that he'll wear a Redsock hat.

11. They figure John Henry gets laid once a month by his 30-year-old wife.

12. They wish Jeter was a Redsock.
.
13. They are terrified about going 8-0 against us... and still being in second.

John Sterling is on fire

6.75, baby!

I let the team down and we lost

I couldn't drink any more of the apple wine. I fell apart Saturday.

We lost.

It's on me.

It's all on me.

Going to bed with the lead Sunday.

(What happened to Gardner? Suzyn just said he's not on the team. Gardner for Halladay, straight up?)

Drink Is The Cause Of, Not The Shield Against, Failure And Loss

BY CAL THOMAS

You'd hope a man who loudly and publicly bragged that his binge-drinking kept the Yankee winning streak alive would have the nerve to show his face after "his" string snapped nearly 24 hours ago.

But even that faint longing denies the very essence of the alcohol crowd, those starving gluttons who must imbibe disgraceful amounts of foul-tasting, soul-deadening brews and distillations. For what could compel them thence but cowardice?

But be not afraid, El Duque. You did not fail, for you never had a hope to succeed. Indeed, to the drinker, success itself is a condition as foreign as the lawless interlopers who clean my houses and care for my lawns, their supple young flesh stretched taut over straining muscles. One maid in particular seemed quite interested in a dalliance with me at a time when my wife was out of state arranging care for an ailing relative. I told myself I was imagining things, that this big-busted tease could not have a sincere erotic interest in a man old enough to be her grandfather. But then I remembered that fame and money -- both of which I possess in great abundance -- can be aphrodisiacs in themselves. I thus had no choice but to arrange for the child's immediate deportation.

Back to my point. Guzzling gin like a whorehouse Irishman doesn't make you, or anyone else, a winner. Quite the opposite! Alcohol is the DNA of the craven invertebrate who foolishly wastes today's opportunities in order to shield himself from tomorrow's precious possibilities and yesterday's disturbing memories. Memories like those large dark eyes, her figure stooped over a marble coffee table, the sway of her breasts as she rhythmically swept the lemon-scented dust-cloth in widening circles over the glistening surface.

What Is John Thinking?

Today, John is thinking these things (and we know he's thinking them because he keeps saying them):

• Stars are great and prospects are garbage. If you're not smart enough to trade your prospects for stars, you are an imbecile and John can't help you.
  (Are you listening, Pittsburgh Phillies?)
• The Yankees can't get a hit off this no-name starter for OAK, which only proves one thing (say it with me): you can never predict what's going to happen in the game of baseball.
• You can take what's-his-name Oakland's 2009 numbers and throw them in the garbage because (say it with me) numbers mean nothing.

UPDATE:

• JOHN: "You gotta admit: the Yankees always battle back!"
• SUZYN (and I'm paraphrasing, slightly): "You know how they say it's not over til it's over? Well, that's really true! It really isn't over til it's over!!"

Three cases of apple wine

Bring on the Redsocks. Who do we play tonight? Bring em on. WE'LL MOIDER THE BUMS!

This live-drunk-blogging-to-keep-the-Yankees-streak-going is not easy.

Three cases of apple wine just came our way.

We win tonight.

Nothing To Say About The First-Place Yankees Today, But I Made This Blingee About John

This tribute seeks to express:

• The physical potency of John Sterling, father of triplets.
• The symbiotic relationship between the glitter and glamour of The New York Yankees and Sterling's own as their primary radio voice.
• John Sterling's resilience in the face of relentless attacks from his critics, who are represented here as The Green Goblin.

My head hurts and I stubbed my toe, badly, but I am not going to stop drinking until we lose

It was Indira Gandhi who said never shave during a winning streak. That lady knew something. I'm 7-0 since the geezers arrived and the bloodstream turned foamy with Pabst. Seven and oh, baby.

When we started, we were in second, a ragtag assortment of lovable misfits, the Jamaican luge team, the Washington Generals, the Persians, the runners up on American Idol: We had no 8th inning bridge to Mariano, no certainty about Joba, no knowledge of the impending made-for-TV movie that is Sergie Mitre. Something happened. We are the Bad News Bears Touring Japan, we are Madonna cutting her mystical sex path through the Onondaga Community College lacrosse team -- yes, we are pleasuring ourselves, daily, as the great and muscular Madonna would, if she could stroll into the oily but clean weight room at the Downtown Syracuse YMCA and say to the burly towelmen, "I am going to bench press you 40 times." That's us. First place.

I don't know why. But it's working. The metaphysical vibrations from my rapidly corroding brain functions are pushing neurons of nourishment into some electromagnetic wormhole, causing Rizzutonian nodules in the gridstream to reverse polarity. Result: Sergio Mitre!

Yesterday, we went through four growlers from the Middle Ages Brewery like jelly beans on Easter morning. We savaged twelvers of Bud, just to soften the LSD, the mushrooms, the horse Nitol, the Viagra cheetos. Today, we're snorting Pop Rocks and biting electric cords. Whatever it takes. Seven and oh.

We're winning the pennant for this team.

Who do we play? Anybody know? Bring em on.

Question to Yankiverse: Do we play today?

Sorry to be a tad behind on details. You know, people in old, upstate New York bars at 2:20 p.m. can tell sad, sad, crazy sad tales.

I need a game. I gotta believe we have one. Soon. Today? Haven't lost since I started the binge, and with the help of old stallwarts, plan on a long, pennant-hanging march to October, or whatever they call it, but this ignores the thrust of my original post, which is to inquire, ask, openly wonder who we play tonight?

And whether we play. If we don't, there will be no score.

Am I repeating myself? Shouldn't have smoked the rug. Did I hallucinate that Kei Igawa broke the record at Scranton? It's been tough since we switched from meth to lead-based paint chips -- bumpy ride, there -- but I'm ready for GameDay animation.

Where the hell has Alphonso been?

The Warbletron is out of action until Sunday. I can't process statistical data. Verbal, si; mathematics, no. John has been unleashing some warbling Springsteentonian masterpieces: I estimate 6.00 to 6.80 seconds... I haven't heard a 7.00. He's saving them.

For the Redsocks.

Who BLINKED! That's right, the Redsocks blinked and traded with Pittsburgh. It's bad enough that we blinked and traded with Pittsburgh, which is sort of like eating cold poridge with chopsticks, but then they blinked and traded with Pittsburgh. That's worse than us originally blinking and trading with Pittsburgh. Hah!

Do we play tonight?

Am I dreaming that we're in first?

'Cause if I am... DON'T WAKE ME! mitre!

Yanks declare war on art

The Yankees have made it known this week -- If you're an artist, you're gone.

First, they dump Peter Max.

Then they DFA Brett Tomko

Who's next on the hit list?

... uh-oh.

Yanks undefeated since I started drinking

Summer vacation. College reunion. I got 'til the weekend. No Warbletron measurements 'til then. Requires too much forehead. Also, laptop too loud. Whole body hurts. Feeling chubby. Pulled the belt. Going with the elastic waistline. Ate a brick of cheese last night before crashing. Smoked Swiss on Ritz crackers. Very good. Keeps the tummy coated. Keeps the spirits high. Drink like clockwork, a finely honed machine, putting distance between us and Boston. Yes, we've finally found what works.

Not sure how the chair got broken. More kindle for the burn barrel. Last I remember, was singing along to The Felice Brothers, trying to flush the Bruney outing from collective human memory. Did it work? Did what work? Who's Bruney? I donno. I'm out here, 24-7, for Bruney and his friends, and what happens? He nearly kills me with gopher balls. I hope the boys understand what I'm doing. Every beverage keens relentlessly toward the toilet bowl of my soul. My only friends are Mariano, Jeet and the little smiling pink froggie at the bottom of each bottle, Mr. Dimplewart, who guides my path. Tell the team I won't quit. Tell CC I've got his back, though he might need a towel.

Six and oh, baby. Six wins, no losses. Joe and the boys must be talking about me. They're counting on me. What does gout look like? Does your foot turn green? Might be grass stain. Hell, I'm not afraid of gout; it's like playing with a dirty uniform. You think Paul O'Neill would take himself out of the lineup to have his stomach pumped during a six and oh winning streak? Hell. Nobody's prouder about walking around in puddles of vomit, just knowing we're in first. College reunion my ass. This is sacrifice, baby. This is the pennant race. We're going to Disneyworld, by way of rehab.

How is Jesus doing at Trenton?

Our third streak of the year is in full bloom

We had the Cervelli streak in May, the dead celebrities streak in June and now the Pope-broken-wrist streak in July.

Since the Pope broke his wrist -- thus, he cannot pray against us, in case that's what he was doing (say, can we check records against Popes? It just seems as though we did a lot better with the old Pope, the real Pope, as far as I'm concerned. This guy hasn't done a thing for us. The best deal we've gotten from him is the broken wrist streak.)

We have a minor league pitcher named Pope. If this streak ends, maybe we should break his wrist?

Not sure about this. Posted while drinking.

Nation Stays In Bed

The usually early-to-post and always quick-to-gloat Boston Dirt Dogs, waking today to find their heroes in second place, hid from the world until 12:16 PM.

Former Yankees Who We're Pretty Sure Never Signed Boobs

Signing Off?

Oakland A's writer Mychael Urban says our old friend The Giambino, "one of the worst hitters in the Majors," is being "nudged out to pasture."

Hasn't Binghamton Suffered Enough This Year?

Just months after the terrible shooting rampage there, Binghamton finds itself in the national spotlight again.

You've all seen it by now. According to Y! Sports by way of the Daily News, Mets VP of player development Tony Bernazard pulled an Alphonso and challenged the members of the Double-A Binghamton Mets to a fight. He even ripped his shirt off for effect.

The trigger for his rage? No, not the Hinske trade or the musings of el duque. Reports say underage drinking by some of the team set him off. I couldn't believe it either. Kids 18-21 drinking? In Binghamton?

I'm glad he wasn't my R.A. at good old Oneida Hall...

The Truth About El Duque's 5 Day Drinking Binge

El Duque wants to come across as a tough guy.  A real drinker.  Jack on the rocks.  Beer chasers.  Slim Jims and pickled eggs in hot pepper brine for his only food of the day.

The truth is; he is sitting by a pool while some guy in a red jacket brings him rum swizzles with vacation names like:  fire fox fizz, or lemon lift off.

He wants me to apologize for ripping the Hinske trade.  We are 1-4 with Hinske in the line-up.  He so badly mis-read a lollipop to right field the other day, he almost didn't get to it.

And our real talent, Ramiro Pena, now languishes in foot-long meatball hero hell, learning how to play a position that Nick Swisher plays. 

 He will be traded with AJ, Cervelli, and Jesus for a 42nd round draft pick of the Twins.  And then become an all star.

Hinske will next season  become a greeter at some Italian restaurant upstate named "Vesuvius."

Have a drink for me, El Duque.  Have a "blue tickler moon slobber" with your crab salad.

So drink up, Duque, and don't forget to take two aspirin before your first umbrella drink of the day.

Open letter to Brian Cashman: Free the Phantom of Scranton

Dear Madam or Sir,

As you know, Kei Igawa won last night. He's now officially the greatest, all-time winningest starting pitcher ever to don the famed Scranton-Wilkes Barre ballcap and wade the mystical marshes of Moosic into mortal combat for the Yank youth corps of Coal City.

Kei went seven, gave up four hits, no runs. He did this on the same night that Sergio Mitre officially displaced him as the scrapheap 20something hobo/hero who will get the call for the rest of the season, if and when any of our starters go down. (Actually, Mitre might be one of our starters, but don't get in my way, Cash: I'm on a roll here, and this is no time for detail nerds.)

I've told you this before, and apparently, I'll be saying it two more years, but if Kei Igawa were a pet dog, we'd put him to sleep. It's time to trade him -- somehow. We can't blame the guy for being overpaid. (Hell, wanna know somebody's who's overpaid? Alphonso... for completely being wrong about Hinskey!) Somebody's gotta be willing to take a flier on Igawa. How about the Minnesota Twins! The Brewers? The Royals? The midwest is pretty much Triple A anyway.

It's now clear that the Redsocks squandered more money on Dice-K than we did on Price-Kei. Don't matter. It's time to move Igawa somewhere, anywhere -- it'll take creative financing, because nobody wants to eat the contract -- but MLB needs to know if he can really pitch.

And really... the guy has proven to be a trooper at Scranton.

By the way, MLB also needs to know if Shelley Duncan can hit 30.

We'll never give either a chance.

Cash, we're in first. I can't complain about much. But the trade deadline is coming fast. During breaks in the Halladay marathon, do the right thing... free these guys. Save them from the coal mine.

We will never get our comeuppance. You hear me? NO COMEUPPANCE!

PRIDE OF THE YANKEES

Box score

You Guys, El Duque Is Drunk And He's Drunk-Posting Comments

So far, he's doing it in this thread, but he sounds pretty close to not knowing which thread he's posting in.



UPDATE: is it an accident that Duque is vowing a five-day drunk during HOPE Week?

Alphonso needs to admit he was wrong about Hinske

To the Universe:

It is time for the Most Pessimistic Fan in the Yankiverse to be held accountable for his troubled words and implicated actions.

Aphonso -- who, it is true, as he has never stopped reminding us, that he predicted that Phil Hughes and Ian Kennedy would not win a game last year, as he has never stopped reminding us -- has called the Hinske trade the worst thing that ever happened.

For the record, Hinskey-Pinksey has already hit 35 home runs, most in key situations, in amazing moments where the guy who just made the great defensive play comes to bat, and been instrumental in big Yankee wins. (Remember: Every Yankee win is a big Yankee win.)

But Alphonso -- whom I must say is dear to me, considering the 20 years of Yankee rants that we both endured -- has claimed The Incredible Hink's home runs have not mattered.

Is he wrong.

NOTE: This is posted while drunk and on vacation.

Tomko Era Ends

Brett Tomko, aspiring crazy outsider artist, was DFA'd to make room for Sergio Mitre.

Like alchies staring at a whiskey bottle, we are telling everybody that we won't touch Halladay

Again, pathetically, ludicrously, we claim no pursuit of Roy Halladay. "Zero" chance, we say.

Again -- pathetically, ludicrously -- a sportswriter trowels it.

This is pathetic. (Ludicrous, too.) It's like quoting a heroin addict between fixes, vowing never again.

Instead of claiming we're done chasing big salaries, Hal Steinbrenner should say:

"My name is Yankee and I am an addict. I pray that God grants me the serenity to ignore those I can't sign, the strength to respect the team I have, and the wisdom to know the difference. I will take each day as it comes. I will seek strength from within. My name is Yankee, and I am an addict."

It's scary when the Yanks -- through hip pocket enablers -- tell us how strong they are about resisting temptation. Nobody believes them. The sportswriters don't. The team doesn't. Certainly, the Toronto Blue Jays don't. It's just a superficial way for Hal Steinbrenner to tell his players to keep battling while the dickering goes on behind closed doors... "Don't worry about the man behind the flashing lights..." -- before our steely resolve collapses, before we tumble into the gutter, covered with our own vomit, where we find the half-empty bottle that is Roy Halladay, hoist it to our open maw and swallow each gulp as if it's piss directly from God.

Should we get Halladay? Depends on the deal. If the Redsocks get him for, say, Jacoby Ellsbury, Hal's tough vows won't look so strong.

They'll just look pathetic. And, of course, ludicrous.

Where Has Our Offense Gone ?

I interviewed Governor Sanford, recently, on a topic he was willing to discuss.

"  I don't want to be questioned anymore about subjects I have to regularly lie about," he said. " That eliminates any discussion of: sexuality, corruption, narrow-mindedness, concern for the people of the country, health care, honoring the US Constitution, deceit, payoffs from lobbyists, and women's rights to do anything.

Me: Fine.  Let's talk about the Yankees, then.  And I don't mean the guys in the blue uniforms who had to come down here and trash your town in 1865.

" Great," said the Governor, " I was listening to the games on my portable while hiking on the Appalachian Trail.  It was a great comfort, in the darkest nights, listening to John and Suzyn.   Almost a spiritual experience, similar to when I saw Jesus hit a home run on a piece of toast.

Me:  So what do you think of this offensive drought at the stadium, where the Yankees can only put up 2 runs and 4-5 hits a game?

Governor:  "  I think you have to have faith.  When the people you count on don't come through when you need them, you have to pray for great pitching and defense."

Me:  Do you believe home runs are a matter of faith?

Governor:  On "C" Street in Washington, we have a family of radical evangelical Senators and Co-Conspirators who sit around in a circle and look for Biblical explanations for that.

Me:  No offense, governor, but that little hidden family of religious ( how should I say this ?) NUTS , sitting around in a circle doing God only knows what, seems contrary to a core provision of this country

 called, " separation of Church and State." 

 Any comment?

Governor;  You'll have to ask Jesus about that.  

Me:  Just to be clear;  you mean I have to go to Trenton and ask for an interview?

Silver Sterling: John's Walkoff WinWarble hits 6.93 seconds

He is pushing 7.00. With Sterling back on his game, and the Pope out with a broken wrist, how can we possibly lose?

First Place

A toast to the Tigers! May they play us in October!

OK, here's how it needs to shake out.

We finish one-two with Boston in the AL East. California wins the West. Tigers take Division III.

Because we can't play within our Division, we need California to play Boston in the first round, while we play Detroit.

California beats Boston in five games with two brawls and a beanball war. We take Detroit in four. Jared Weaver and Jon Lackey get swine flu. We take the Angels in five and play the Dodgers for posterity.

From there, a crapshoot.

Make it happen, Pope. Or we break the other wrist.