And all through the house that Ruth built,
Not a scapegoat was willing
To have his reputation as a coach kill't.
The job application forms were hung
Outside Cashman's office with care,
But considering Tex, McCann, Beltran and the rest,
Nobody, not even Marcus Thames, would soon be there.
The Yankees' pursuit of a batting coach is the most underwhelming quest since Monty Python chased the Holy Grail. Does anybody care? Does anybody even want the job?
Applicants must enjoy sharp public criticism and the daily humiliation of being blamed for the poor performance of aging, super-rich stars, who have no incentive whatsoever - unless you give really good foot massages - to hear a word you say. Good luck, Yankees. I'm sure they're lined up outside the door, waiting for job interviews.
My suggestion: Anthony Wiener, that ex-congressman who was forced out of office for texting the selfies of his package to women, and who then ran for NYC mayor, because he hadn't endured enough mockery. He would take the job.
Oh, well. Merry Christmas.
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