FIFTY THOUSAND MOONS
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Posted by el duque at 7:29 AM
1. The Rug Wrath. Bud Selig has sexy-danced long enough for the cameras. It's time for him to drop the loincloth and rid baseball of its problems... the best way he knows: Wrap them into a human form - be it Pete Rose, Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens or the Antichrist, Marvin Miller - douse it with gas and strike a match. (This is the year when Cooperstown inducted the Dead, including an ump and an owner.) The latest Evil One Likeness wears Yankee Number 13. It must be destroyed.
Soon, MLB will have no critics, no problems, no issues, no off-the-field-controversies - and nobody watching in New York City. This is the year when the owners lower the boom on long-term deals for aging stars. (Don't get comfy, Mr. Pujols.)
A-Rod plans to fight in court. Good. When elephants wrestle, we mice get a free show. For Yankee fans, it may be the only one worth watching in September. It will surely beat the "Playing Third, Jayson Nix" Show.
But A-Rod can't win in court. Not while his final grains of sand run out. Selig can ban him for life, and his lawyers can knock it down to 50 games - a victory of sorts. But time's a flyin', and no judge or jury can restore it. And the sportswriters - bless their arrested development minds - will wait breathlessly for the updates on Grandyman's pinkie. What does it say when ESPN - financially attached at the hip to MLB - is the breaker of all the latest A-Rod stories?
2. The Inertia Monster. Tonight, we learn whether the 2013 Yankees are capable of sustaining momentum. Aww, hell... we already know they are not, but - hey - we fall for this every time. They couldn't win after Chris Stewart's miracle catch. They couldn't win after Nuni's big hit. Now, it's Jeter's return. I will never underestimate the power of Jeter to lift a team. But the bottom of our batting order remain the best reason to go make a sandwich since the invention of mayonnaise. That hasn't changed. Bottom of the second, two men on, no outs? Go make a sandwich.
3. The Arrival of the Dead. (Actually, the trade deadline arrives tomorrow, but don't stop me, I'm on a roll.) The deal for Alphonso Soriano proved formally that Hal Steinbrenner was not adopted. He's doing exactly what his dad did in the 1980s, when the organization became universally derided as the worst team money can buy. He is overruling experts (Soriano), playing favorites (two years of Ichiro), carping about money ($189 million target) while wasting it on sluggers over the hill (Wells, Hafner), who clog the way for hot young players (sadly, our system is so barren, I cannot name anybody.) Old George happily traded kids that nobody heard of - Willie McGee, Fred McGriff, et al - and the writers didn't question it then, so why should they now?
Soriano homered yesterday, so the deal in Hal's mind, is already a 100 percent success. It won't matter if Cody Black makes the Hall of Fame. Thus, don't be surprised if by this time Thursday, we haven't jettisoned whatever remains in our system - Philly has had a month to scout us - for the increasingly flat-lining Michael Young - as we chase Mr. Selig's phantom one-game Wild Card slot. Can you imagine the locker room celebration across the Yankiverse if we can clinch that final Wild Card slot? Woo-hoo! Down for the next five years, but we get to play one more game!
If we were in the NBA, we'd be within a few losses of the Draft Lottery. If, say, a Bryce Harper were out there - and frankly, there are always Bryce Harpers out there - which would you prefer the Yankees chase? The one-game wild card or a future superstar?
4. The West Coast Trip. Gahhhhhhh. the words haunt me. How many solid Yankee teams have stepped off the plane from the seven-hour flight and were immediately replaced by actors, posing as the Bombers? The games won't be watched by most of the Yankiverse. We will just read about the pain and suffering, as if it's some uprising in the Middle East.
Folks, the revolution will not be Photoshopped.
It hits today. TODAY. Cover your heads. (And, by the way, loved reading the comments overseas. It occurs to me: The comments ARE this blog.)