We have lost three of four.
Some of you anguished souls have gone to the basement to test the clothesline and floor beam. You've gone slightly Heidi Montag over the loss of Granderson, Johnson, Andy, Jorge, the bullpen, A-Rod's power and John's WinWarbles. You are birther batshit wrong.
A cherished tradition of Second Millenium Yankees is to suck throughout May. As poetess/singer Jewel once put it, "May birds go tweet, May sunsets show red, May daffodils bloom, May Yankees shit bed."
Yes, May is the month of our discontent. Remember Jeter's longest slump? Remember Abreu? Sabathia?
Jose Veras? Month of May.
Cody Ransom? Month of May.
We always take off the month. Hell, it's vacation time. The carp are running. It's in our contract, along with no blue M&Ms.
We're about to lose -- oh -- figure 9 of the next 12. Who cares! Embrace the suck! Become the slump! It's May, which is -- no kidding-- also National Masturbation Month. (Is there a link to Nick Johnson hurting his wrist on May 3?)
Somehow, we can play through.
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