Beyond the impending rapture of Jesus Montero's ascention, another miracle in the Yankee garden must bear testimony. It is Pat Venditte, the incredible switchpitcher -- the Myra Breckinridge of baseballers -- who defies the laws of physics and shaving, when called upon to pitch.
Venditte may not be an ueber-prospect in the mold of a Tucker Ashford or Drew Henson, but he remains the lone pitcher in professional baseball with a mitt that goes both ways, and - let's be honest here - we all hope to one day see it live, rather than on a postage stamp screen from that Interweb thingy.
I'm talking the Tyler Clippard effect: A player doesn't impress a few coaches - (yes, who know far more than I; I readily admit this) - and gets buried in the system. Clippard was lucky. The Yankees dealt him to Washington for a can of tomatoes named Albaladejo. He became an all star. It was a bad deal by Cashman, but a good deal for the game. If we hadn't traded Clippard, does anyone doubt he still would be pitching in Scranton? We had made up our mind. End of story.
I don't know if they've made up their mind on Venditte. And if they have, they could be right. Maybe there is a fundamental disconnect between his pitches and the majors. WhaddoIknow?
But it doesn't matter. Venditte is an original. He is not an oddity. He is arguably the greatest athlete in the game. He needs a whack at Triple A and a crack at the majors. If not as a Yankee - which would be sad - he needs a chance to pitch on the national stage. Play him or deal him. That's all I say. He's too cool to be shot to death by a radar gun.
He's not getting any younger. Neither are any of us. We have one chance in life to see the amazing Oppo-Man on the big stage. Good grief, Cash, bring him up!!!
2 comments:
Trade him to the Mets so they can make him a September call-up and give their fans a reason to go to Too Big to Fail Field next month.
a Myra Breckinridge reference. Man, that's some serious literary chops.
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