Did our attempted Juju Intervention doom Yangervis?

Two weeks ago, after the Evils botched their third straight series, we - the collective psychotic insurgency of the Yankiverse - called for an International Juju Intervention, seeking to rescue this kitten-like team from the dangerous tree branch onto which it had shinnied. The game against KC was rained out, seemingly throttling our plans, in the way a Vidal Nuno start does a party weekend.

Nevertheless, somehow, the washout roused the Yankees. They swept Seattle and won seven of ten. As our hopes rose, we privately wondered: WTF? With whom did we make this Mephistophlian deal? What did we toss overboard?

Well, obviously, we jettisoned the carcass of Yangervis Solarte, who on the night of the aborted juju jolt was hitting .299. Now, Solarte is plummeting to the void of.250, dropping like a 14-year-old's testicle after watching Blue Lagoon II. Yangervis is not fielding. Yangervis is not hitting. Yangervis is not breathing. Unless he vaults from his personal episode of The Walking Dead, Yangervis soon will be shambling along the streets of Scranton. And there is a chance that he will never return.

Dear God, what have we done? Did we slaughter an innocent calf? How can we live with ourselves, knowing that Never Nervous Yangervis became Solyndra Solarte, and that The Master may never again sing the Volare home run anthem? Yesterday, the Yankee bottom three - Kelly Johnson, Soriano/Ichiro, and Yangervis - was like watching pitchers bat. (To those who point to Ichiro's .307 average, all I say is: 10 RBIs... ten.... 10?... TEN!) Add McCann and Beltran - our long-term acquisitions, stars of the .220s - and that's a two-inning smoke break for any opposition pitcher. We are a team that sets the table and never sits to eat. And if we try another juju intervention, what will we do, destroy Chase Whitley?

So... what now? Another intervention? Clearly, the juju gods must realize that they gain no adulation by picking on a fellow like Yangervis. Good grief, they look like fourth grade bullies.

I believe it's time for the Yankees to play their last dramatic card - a 2B named Robert Refsnyder, currently in Scranton. He jumped from Trenton a week ago, looked over-matched at first, but in the last few games - (small sample alert) - he has knocked down fences. Yesterday brought his first Triple A HR.

There are solid reasons not to promote Refsnyder. For starters, it might not be fair to him. But life is not fair. Not long ago, the Yankees turned around their season by elevating Chien-Ming Wang and a kid named Cano. The pair immediately breathed excitement into the Yankees - the kind that, until recently, was furnished by Yangervis Solarte. The Yanks need to always have someone playing over his head, over-achieving and seeing the game from the eyes of a child. It's infectious. It's critical. In a way, it's juju. 

Between April and June, Solarte brought hope to the Yankees lineup. Now, he brings baggage. He plays like a battery without a charge. For three months, every time he came to bat, I knew something good was going to happen. Now, it's time to take a leak. We don't need another old guy. We need another Solarte. We need a reason to believe. And that, my friends, is juju.