Another year, another set of Yankee injuries? What is causing the deluge?

Who can forget that golden moment last spring when, on his first at bat of the Grapefruit Season, Curtis Granderson took one for the team, breaking a meat hook. It was the juju gods telling the Yankiverse, "Eat this, chumps!" From then on, 2013 became a cavalcade of tweaks and groans, as the team jumped from Sick Bay to Over Bay.

We're still debating what happened. Some theories.

1. Bad luck. Maybe there was a glitch in the Matrix, and Keanu Reeves suddenly realized he can hover in the air and kick people, and the universal random sequencing that intertwines the futures of Jesus Montero and Michael Pineda simply popped a gonad. If it was just bum luck, we should do better this year, right? Well, no. If you flip a 50 heads in a row, the odds are still 50-50 on the next coin toss. But hey, you never know.

2. Bad strength training. The Yankee brass this winter fired the strength coach. All the organizational suits and sycophants remained. But that dirty rotten strength coach - I believe his name is Dr. Jesus H. Whippinpost-Martyr - got to see the under-side of the Yankee victory bus. Problem solved! No more injuries! Whooo-hooo.

3. Dark magic. Were the Yankees victims of some evil spell, perhaps placed by some Redsock conjurer or malevolent temptress? I'm betting one of Jeter's supermodel conquests was pissed about the gift-basket - he really should upgrade to Hillshire Farms - and went straight to cloud lady Lilith with a voodoo sock taken from his dresser. Maybe Cashman's stalker has connections in an alternative infundibulum. The Yankiverse must supply counteractive juju.

4. Annual rings. In the off-season, the Yankees managed to do something nobody thought possible. They got older. Amazing. Last year, they fielded one of the most ancient lineups in history. This year, we have a team straight from a 1950's Polident commercial. We added a Beltran, an Ellsbury and a McCann, plus a Brian Roberts and God knows who will play 3B (but he was born before 1990.) If the injuries came about because of age, well, folks, we are screwed. We can expect more of them this year. Imagine that. 


5. Magnets/ghosts/plant pheromones. Is Tampa located in some secret Bermuda Triangle of disease and pestilence, the result of some yet-undiscovered force that weakens bones and grit? Don't laugh. Jose Ramirez, one of our many middling prospects - we are the Walmarts of middling prospects - pulled up lame yesterday, before Day One. Is Steinbrenner Field sitting on some ancient graveyard? All I'm saying is this: If next week, some giant sinkhole forms and takes out Brett Gardner, like that guy two years ago who was sucked down in his bedroom, we need to move to Sarasota.

Any other ideas?