FIFTY THOUSAND MOONS
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Posted by el duque at 7:46 AM
No burden is he,
We'll get there...
The Yankees are leading the American League East. If the season ended Friday - instead of the month of April - we would be bushy-tailed and playoff-bound.
A-Rod would be chasing the MLB Comeback of the Year. Michael Pineda could challenge for the Cy Young. And Brian Cashman would be the clear choice as MLB Executive of the Year -- "the genius who signed Chris Young."
Unfortunately, the Yankees' fabled "Twin Trowels" - Carlos Beltran and Stephen Drew - would still be walloping a combined .173.
Thus far, they are the 2015 versions of Alphonso Soriano and Brian Roberts - the modern Yankee tradition of waiting for old and expensive parts to wear out. Pretend it's just a slump, and go about faithfully lugging them like cannon balls up a hill.
Of course, based on their long and distinguished careers as humanitarians, both Beltran and Drew deserve a test drive through the month of May. It's too early to cut bait. Besides, there's nobody else to run out there. In Scranton, Rob Refsnyder has fallen apart; his fielding at 2B has regressed from "poor" to "Knoblachian." Concussion-recovering Jose Pierla may still be hearing dog whistles. And in the outfield, we're relying on Chris Young to keep hitting... knowing that he barely hit his weight last year as a Met.
Last night, both Beltran and Drew came through - sort of. Beltran went 1 for 4, and you'd think he hit for the cycle, the way the YES-SIR Networkers warbled glee. Drew got two hits but made a horrible error that, at the time, let Tampa tie the game. More frustratingly, Drew continues to pull the ball directly into the over-shift. It's one thing to see Mark Teixeira and Brian McCann flailing at a stacked defense. It's another when you're a modest slugging infielder who hasn't hit .200 in a year. I never thought someone could make Gregorio Petit look so good.
But hey, we're in first. For now, they ain't heavy. The road is long, with many a winding turn, that leads us to who knows where, who knows when? Well, actually, we do know when: The trading deadline ought to do it.