Sunday, May 5, 2013
Posted by el duque at 10:55 AM
Listen: I have no problem with Yankees having big contract years, and then sticking it to the team, considering the organizational policy of refusing to negotiate in the middle of a pact. The Yankees can't have it both ways.
But if Phil Phranchise finally puts together the career year, the season that vaults him into the top tier - where he was originally projected - he won't fit into the $187 million budget set by the boy owners.
That leaves the Dodgers and Angels to fight over their native son, while the Yankees trying to use fan and media pressure on him to stay. You can bet at least one writer will sing the Dick Young Greedy Player songbook from start to finish. (I guarantee you: We will attack that writer as viciously as the Internet and the English language allow.)
Of course, we're jumping the gun, imagining Cy Hughes. He's pitched well in the past, then reverted to form. But guess how old he is: Just 26. Hughes is still two years away from his prime. It's no stretch to think this year and next will be his best. If he wins, say, 20 for us, he'll demand a seven-year deal and maybe settle for five. Would the Yankees go $110 million on him? Or would they cry "Wah wah wah" and unleash the dogs?
Next spring, our rotation would consist of CC Sabathia - age 33. After that, it's David Phelps, the best of Scranton and gems from the scrap heap. (Hello, Bartolo!) One of the traditional joys of being a Yankee fan is the sense that - at least in one domain of this cruel capitalism system - even if it's just fantasy, you don't have to worry about money. Every other team in every other sport puts a dollar sign on victory. The Yankees are supposed to transcend that philosophy.
So... can we celebrate Hughes ascendancy? Or are we watching one of our own, pitching his way out New York?