to the Internet, the Chicago White Sox plan to take Curtis Granderson off our hands this winter, slamming the ledger on Brian "Happy Landings" Cashman's biggest Yankee deal. (Not his worst, by the way: That belongs to the 1998 Mike Lowell giveaway.) The Grandy trade will still haunt us in the Shakespearean ghosts of Ian Kennedy, Austin Jackson and Phil Coke, each of whom could rattle their chains for six to eight more years. And let's not forget that the Tigers also snagged Max Scherzer from Arizona in that deal. Wow.
Nevertheless, there remain Yankee flacks and apologists who claim getting Grandy was a grand move, because of his 115 HRs in four years. Forget the batting average, which hit Lenn Sakata territory, and the near 200 whiffs.
Well, I've taped my fingers crossed that Ken Harrelson gets to cheer for Grandyman for the next three to five years. The mere fact that the most inept franchise in the AL - (sorry, Houston) - want him represents just another zit on the chin of Cashman's mega-deal. We hoped Grandy would blossom into a superstar, with his speed, grace, power, looks and winning personality. But he found that Yankee right field porch and turned into a Jack Cust in blackface. And if you're looking for lingering memories, mine is the 2012 playoffs, when against the team that traded him, Curtis went 0-11 with seven strikeouts - seven meandering marches back to the dugout with that dog-ate-my-homework expression on his face.
It's hard to speak ill of players who seem to be genuinely good people, especially when you follow a team of divas, some of whom don't even run hard to first base. We might be rid of Grandyman, but Alfonso Soriano seems ready to take his place among the strikeout leaders - with the added bonus of getting to watch Soriano admire each HR, while he stands at home plate. (Also, let's see what happens to the young pitcher, Cody Black, before we announce ourselves victors in that deal. We don't have many pitching prospects; did we just give up another Ian Kennedy?) Granderson is a good man. It sucks to want him gone.
But if we're lucky, Chicago takes Grandyman, we get a first-round sandwich pick, and nobody has to think about that deal. We'll need the pick, because we might forfeit ours by signing some has-been, as we try to churn crap into butter.
God save us from Cashman's blockbusters.