Maybe it's Tampa. Has anybody checked the water? Maybe it's the fact that we are headquartered in a city well associated with sinkholes to Hell, where the (formerly Devil) Rays go through more players than Miley Cyrus - (old formula joke there, where's Arsenio, woof-woof-woof...) - and frankly, we are The '13 Damned Yankees... Satan's team of choice.
Last night, one of the great Yankee wins of the season - and you can count them without removing your sneakers - and what happens? We lose three soldiers, including A-Rod... just moments after the YES crew hexed him, by saying Alex had finally started to hit. I am not kidding. Michael Kay mentioned that A-Rod was finally putting it all together, swinging the bat like he hadn't all season - and in that moment, one ugly though coursed through my clouded head: HE'S GONNA GET HURT. Two pitches later, A-Rod rambles in from third, running like a couch on wheels, and now he goes the rest of the season with a new, built-in excuse: On top of the drug hearing, the impending suspension and his age, he's got a tweaked gonad.
But it's Nova that hurts me the most. Two years ago, Super was rounding into the home stretch of a great season - on the verge of becoming a core member of our staff - when - poof - he pulls out of the post-season with a barking somethingorother, and until last month, he's never been the same. Ivan was the guy who could go inning for inning against Yu Darvish, if we're lucky enough to make that ridiculous one-game Selig Series, and maybe we'd have a chance. (Would Mariano be asked to pitch a three-inning save? Don't laugh.) Now... what? Sabathia? Andy? Hiroki? Hughes?
Yet somehow, SOMEHOW, the Rays have lost 7 of 10, and we are still breathing air. If we win the next two against Baltimore, the O's fold. We leapfrog Buck, we run to Boston - which is peaking wayyyy too soon for it's own good - and we play three games against Tampa in our backyard. We've lasted longer than anybody - certainly than I - expected. We're here. We're hurt. And we're not drinking any more of that Tampa water. Just keep in mind: One sinkhole - straight to Hell.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
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5 comments:
A couch on wheels that was SAFE!!
He'll be back. Our '13 team of Devils needs its chief evil-doer, the demonic No. 13 himself. I'll sacrifice a goat today to appease Satan and heal A-Rod's tweaked gonad.
I've got couches that look more comfortable moving across the room than A-Rod. He's not smart enough to do this, but after he serves his suspension -- undoubtedly shortened from 211 games -- he should negotiate his buyout. Through 2011, he has fast and nimble and reliable on the bases and in the field. Not now. Makes me ache just watching him, but give the Man his due: He's done what he could, which is a far-sight more than Jason Nix and the rotating cast of rejects that Cashman was trotting out there. Good job, A-Rod!
Just listened to a voice mail from a Yankee-hating Dodger fan friend of mine in NC who listened to the Yankee game last night on satellite radio. He said "Did I just hear your announcer call the Reynold's homer a "Renyolds rap"? Good God! How can you stand that crap! This Sterling guy is pathetic!" Then he hung up.
The Master, along with his evil team of demons and minor dieties (Mo and Jeet), are truly hated everywhere. I am so proud!
But Duque is right. The forearm tightness for Nova is just another sign that we are doomed. DOOMED!
No Ace. Just a No. 2: Kuroda, and a couple of No. 3s: Sabathia and Petitte. Huff? Hughes! Where's Aaron Small now?
Is Freddy Garcia available?
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