It's been a while since I watched a game in Atlanta, but I can't wait! What a joy it will be to see Ted Turner and Jane Fonda, sitting behind the dugout, leading the "Tomahawk Chop!" Do the Braves still have that big guy with the facial mole? Dale Somethingorother? That thing was huge. Didn't he have it surgically removed, and then never hit again? Scary, eh? Oh well, Atlanta! Pride of Dixie! Zolio Almonte! Manny Banuelos! Wait... don't they have Nick Swisher? With our luck, he'll be wearing a fake mole.
Nope. We should have no problems with Atlanta. Three game sweep, baby, three game sweep. Everybody knows this. Bring the brooms. It's inconceivable that we would lose to Atlanta, right? They don't have Chipper Jones anymore. Bad team. Right?
Yeah, sure... let's just keep telling ourselves that, any month now, the Bronx Blow-Ups will snap out of this incredible free-fall. Because right now, the Yankees could lose to that 1970s radio station team that had John Sterling batting third. If the GOP presidential contenders fielded a team, the Yankees could lose - and I'd bat Carly Fiorina third. We scored four runs - 4 - against the Astros - one was from a pitcher who walked the bases loaded, one came in the 9th inning of a 15-0 blowout, and the others were a close-your-eyes-and-swing 2-run blast by Didi Gregorius. Four runs. We had a worse week than Curtis Montague Hitler-Schilling. We could lose to a team of lice.
Oh... but then, come next week, the Fates have a special place for us to visit- our own little dung heap in hell. Boston. Yes, we play the most disappointing team in baseball, a club with nothing to play for - and nothing to lose - other than the pleasure of killing the Yankees' shot at the Bud Selig one-game wild card playoff.
Insert fart here.
Ever since Toronto came to town - seems like a hundred years ago, eh? - it's as if the mighty Yankees jersey was yanked off to reveal two dwarfs, standing piggyback. We spent four months adoring what could turn out to be the biggest collapsing Yankee team since 2004. This with - AND I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP - a Sports Illustrated puff piece this week that actually wonders aloud
whether Brian Cashman could someday be enshrined in Cooperstown. Hey, anything can happen, I guess. All he needs is a fake mole.
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6 comments:
All season I've been wondering which Yankees are the real Yankees. The hot team or the bumbling, every 5.00 ERA opposing pitcher is Cy Young team.
It turns out they're a floor wax AND a dessert topping. One team shuffles in suddenly after the other one flames out. Two teams, two completely different personalities, the mean and the 3 standard deviations away version.
The mean is tough to watch.
As was noted by El Duque in another post (see Nova, Ivan). The inconsistency has been solved. They are now a model of consistently bad play.
I did not know Sterling was a lefty. And that uniform! Was Dick Frederick the first baseman?
Riffing on John M's hilarious comment, we do have two nutty teams, Professor Sherman Klump and Buddy Love!
There's been waaaaaaay to much Klump this month and not enough Love, and, I'm afraid Buddy has been permanently exorcised from the collective soul of this anemic line up!
URRGGG, we've been Body Snatched by the Mets,,,,,,
Remember the old show "Branded"? Well here's what I suggest. At the beginning of the next home game the entire Yankee team lines up in two rows in the infield, and Drew and Capuano are made to run the gauntlet while the drums bang away. They rip the NY from their uniforms and break their bats in two (or in Capuano's case take a box cutter to his mitt). Then they are banished from New York -- never to return.
Hey, I know the whole team sucks, but we really need this.
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