Dear Yankees: OK, they're all softened-up and laughing at us. It's almost time to start playing hard.

Cash, Joe, Randy, Jeet...

I know what you guys are thinking: The key to hooking Old Smokey is to not tug on the line too soon. Let him swallow that worm all way to the belly. You guys probably figure we should lose - say - four more in a row, so Vegas, Monte Carlo and that human kewpie dumpling, Showalter, will REALLY be caught off guard, when we suddenly fling off our homeless person mask, pull out Excalabur and start hacking pitchers into Cycle Four kibble. It will be fun to see the looks on their faces when we shout, "SURPRISE!" and start actually trying to win.

Yep, you've done the hard part. For six months, you subjected yourselves, your families and Hal Steinbrenner to intense and relentless ridicule, maintaining a dead-on perfect impersonation of the San Diego Padres. You even traded for one! (And he's stayed in character too!) But now - any day now - I say, "Pull out! Fire the retro rockets! Release the crackin'!" Whatever.

Start actually playing hard.

Trust me here: They're ripe for the plucking. You got 'em where you want 'em. Boy, it's gonna be great. Do you want me to shout it? Are you waiting for me to say the words? OK... here goes.

 

"WIN... ROCKY... JUST WIN!"

DA DA DA-DA, DADADA-DUH-DUH-DAH.

DA DA DA-DA, DADADAHHHH-DUH-DUH-DAH.

DUH-DA, DA-DA-DA-dada-dah-DAH DAHHHHHHHH...

FEELIN' STRONG NOW!

WON'T BE LONG NOW!

DAH-DAH-DAAAAAAAA, DA-DA...

DA-DA-DAH!