just rewritten their precious record books and successfully crushed all plans for Yankee jubilation over the franchise's looming 10,000th win.
These "historians" have decided to remove the 1901 and 1902 Orioles from Yankee record books. That gives the Yankees 9,879 wins overall, or 9,145, if you delete the Highlanders altogether. (As they will do the next time we get close to 10,000.) Whatever. Last week, we were closing in, at 9,992. Now, why bother? Here is their official fishy explanation.
"We discussed this at length when we did the first edition of our new encyclopedia in 2004. IIRC, the deciding factor was that the Baltimore franchise went bust during the season and was turned over to the league. After the season, the league then sold a new franchise to investors in New York City. We felt that wasn't really a relocation or a transfer; it was simply filling the gap in the league that was opened when the Orioles' franchise disintegrated.
Got that? Sure you do. It's so crystal clear. Nothing arbitrary at all. In fact, it was translated from the original Jackie Gleasonese: "Humina-humina-humina."
What does this mean? Simple: Don't bother to look at old numbers. These joyless, office-visor-wearing sacks of lumbago won't let anybody in a Yankee cap celebrate an anticipated 10,000th win, which is what their website had been showing for the last - well - since anybody bothered to notice their stupid, meaningless, waste-of-time records.
Nope. As soon as we got within striking range, they deleted the Orioles. How much you wanna bet that six months from now, they reconsider - conclude that the '01 and '02 Orioles were legit - restoring the victories and giving the Yankees 10,09 wins.
As for anyone who was planning that 10,000th Yankee win party, ha-ha. Well, here's the deal: We at IIHIIFIIc were going to throw a parade along the Canyon of Heroes like nothing the city of New York has ever seen. We were going to have a giant George Steinbrenner balloon. We were going to have a mile-long march of celebrity Yankee fans, including a robot Nelson Mandela. Now? Forget it. It's off. We'll never do it. Why? Those nearsighted, hunched-over, pants-piddling, acne-chinned, 350-pound, swollen-footed, chair-breaking, inflatable-doll-girlfriend twerps have ruined everything... for everyone. I'm glad they'll never get laid.