If Youkilis rejects us... what then?

You're standing in the corner at the fifth grade dance. All your friends are out on the floor. You're staring at the only girl left. She's looks like Joe Pesci. She outweighs you by 30 pounds. You want no part of this. Nevertheless, you feel your feet moving in her direction. Now, you're standing in front of her. She looks at you as if you're a tree stump. Neither of you want this. But still, you utter the question: "Wanna dance?" And then you wait, while she mulls your puny existence. Why, why, why did it come to this?

We've asked the ugliest girl in the gym to dance. Will Youk say yes?

Dear God, how did 2,000 years of civilization come to this?
 
Today, the Gammonites claim Cleveland's signing of Mark Reynolds Sunday removes them from the Kevin Youkilis dance floor. But I dunno. God, I dunno anything anymore. If we had danced with Reynolds, it would have taken us out of the mix. It would have crushed our Prime Directive of Yankee Austerity. I'm not sure the Indians feel the same pinch, and the idea of Reynolds in the batting order might make Youk more likely to sign there.

God, please stop the music and let us go home.

Youkilis took the weekend to mull our offer. Who knows what he's thinking? If he were a jury, the longer he deliberated, the less likely he'd say yes. But it's possible that he doesn't want to say yes while in Boston - he's Tom Brady's brother-in-law, and he's scheduled to attend tonight's Patriots game. He doesn't want his car to be keyed.


God, I hated those fifth grade dances.

So anyway, we're standing there, while she stares at the zits on our forehead. I'm thinking Youk's uncertain. He knows it won't matter that the Redsocks drove him from Boston. They'll hate him in a Yankee uniform. They'll burn his pictures. They'll send him dead animals in the mail. Plus, if he has a bad year in NY, he'll be hated in both towns.  Also, there's something else here. Maybe she doesn't like New York boys.

Once upon a time, a dance offer from the Yankees always blew away the girls. Every player wanted to experience NYC. Tommy John - the man, not the surgery - once said he'd played for Chicago and LA, but NYC was the Cadillac - nothing like it.  Nick Swisher couldn't wait to get out on the floor. Now, he can't wait to leave, the boos still ringing in his ear. In New York, you can be dancing deity or a pariah, a Paul O'Neill or an Ed Whitson.


If she says no, we have to walk back to the corner and stand there. If Youk says no, we end up dancing with a Mike Lamb or a Casey McGehee - and we trade a prospect or the Grandyman to get him.

God, how we did get here? Why did we come to this dance in the first place?

This has been one of the darkest Yankee winters I can remember. I still can't wrap my head around the notion of dancing with Youkilis. But if she says no... good grief... how can I even walk into cafeteria on Monday?