The sad sad story of Brien Taylor and Alphonso

Long long ago in a universe far far away, Alphonso called to rhapsodize about our next great savior - a high school pitcher named Brien Taylor, who would lead our tortured tribe from the nightmare that had been the 1980s. The dawn of a new Yankee era was at hand. At last, we had, perchance, a reason to dream.

The slide-rules at Baseball America put him atop their prospects list. His Oprah-like mom charmed Morley Safer on "60 Minutes," and he hitting 102 on the radar gun. In his second pro year, Taylor threw a string of scoreless innings that had Alphonso chattering like Gidget at a Lettermen concert. We fantacized a pitching staff of immortals: Taylor, Sam Militello, Sterling itchcock, Wicky Wickman, Mark Hutton, Bobby Munoz and the incredible Domingo Jean. We didn't even ponder Andy Petttitte and Mariano Rivera. They were low-impact fodder, compared to the enchanted Eilands of our imaginations. And Brien Taylor led the charge.

"Hall of Fame, first ballot," Alphonso assured me. "Greatest Yankee lefty ever."

Yep. Better than Whitey. And this is how crazed we were: I agreed.

Then one night, Alphonso called in a state of distress: Brien Taylor threw out his shoulder in a bar fight. A nuclear bomb had exploded in our plans. Taylor claimed he was fine. His agent, Scott Boras, said he was fine. The Yankees said he was fine.

"He's an idiot," Alphonso said. "They should put him in jail."

I said no. He miss a year, then come back better than ever. Surgery strengthens the arm. He'll be hungrier. He'll be meaner. Taylor vowed to return. Scott Boras said he would returnn. The Yankees said he would return.

"Forget him," Alphonso said. "He'll be bagging groceries."

A year later, Taylor returned. He threw like Al Orter. It hurt to watch. Worse, he claimed nothing had changed. He challenged hitters. They crushed him. Taylor said he was back. Scott Boras said he was coming back. The Yankees said nothing.

"Forget him," Alphonso said. "He belongs in jail."

By now, you know the Brien Taylor story. He is the first player in baseball history to punch his way into becoming a punch line. He never made the Yankees, toiling in minor league cities, mediocre to the end.
"Put him in jail," Alphonso would say.

Last week, police put him in jail. They busted Brien Taylor for selling coke to a narc. (I gotta believe the narc was a Yankee fan.) Today, Taylor needs $275,000 to post bond. Scott Boras won't be returning calls. Neither will the Yankees.

Words to the wise: Beware the status of Yankee savior. And beware the Curse of Alphonso.