Cashman is working the phones.
They say these words, thinking we will celebrate. My theory: They're on LSD. They're tripping their brains out. That would explain it. You'd have to be zonked out of your head, playing with your own secretions, to believe Brian Cashman will magically conjure up a starter, or a third baseman, or a second baseman, or whatever else we will need, after the next wave of injuries. (When you're as old and creaky as the Yankees, there is always a next wave.)
It's a mix of LSD and old fashioned, New York City hubris - Knicks style. It's the insane belief - spun by a Westchester County brain trust and then regurgitated by a drooling, access-driven, Manhattan media - that other baseball franchises are not only poor, but stupid. Thus, we can wave a few dollars at them and receive star players for nothing.
Again and again, the Yankees obtain Mister Stud of 2010, only to slowly learn why his former team was quite willing to let him walk. When you buy a used car cheap, odds are you'll soon find out why the owner wanted to sell. Instead of youngsters who might improve, we send out thirtysomethings in decline, and - amazingly - we wonder what happened.
Hell, I'll tell you exactly what happened.
Cashman was working the phones.
How many years have we been doing this? How much money has swirled down the drain, to buy and build a team that is now two games over .500 and - frankly - we're not even that good. Without a short-term infusion, this Yankee team probably will lose more games than it wins.
Last night, the Yankees fell behind by 4 runs, and you might as well have thought they were stranded on a roof during Hurricane Katrina. On TV, you could hear all hope leave the stadium. The Yankees were doing what nobody else in baseball could do - reviving the Redsocks, a team that had lost 6 of its last 8. And there it was, lowly Boston simply putting us over their knees and delivering a spanking. At home.
Look at the averages at the bottom of the Yankee lineup, look, look, LOOK, DAMMIT, LOOK: .221, .220, .229, .233 - and finally Ichiro, at his pencil-thin .297. (Ten RBIs on the season - TEN!) Soriano and Solarte have become platoon afterthoughts. We play McCann and Beltran because they make too much money. We play Kelly Roberts because he was Cashman's project. We play Brian Roberts and Ichiro because, well, they are nice men.
Like many of you, I now take most of my joy by checking minor league box scores, hoping that someday, a few known unknowns will lead us out of this rat hole. What a joke. I might as well be on LSD. Cashman is working the phones - looking to trade one of them or maybe three, for some pitchers' version of Carlos Beltran. The Yankees have now lost home series to the Mariners, Rays, Twins, Orioles, Red Sox, and Mets. Folks, we are at a crossroads. We either start thinking about the future - the smart way - or else we just keep doing what got us into this mess - the Knicks' model.
Cashman is working the phones.
More than $200 million spent... two games above .500? And we're supposed to feel hopeful that the phones still work?
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment