Moral of Hope Week: We are trapped for all of eternity with Stephen Drew

Months ago, it became tiring, me, whining about Stephen Drew. It's gotta be tiring for you, now, preparing to read yet another post of me, whining about Stephen Drew. Listen: This is like a bad Mickey Rourke movie, where we all died and went to Hell without knowing it, and we are condemned to forever watch and whine about Stephen Drew. That would explain things. It would also mean Stephen Drew is actually a demon banshee spawn-slave of Satan, and we are trapped for the next billion eons, watching him hit his monthly two home runs and reclaim second-base, sentencing us to eternity with Stephen Drew.

How's that for the climax of Hope Week! Pleasant enough? Yes, we are shackled by the wrists into an eternal, nightmare, dungeon torture chamber conundrum of Stephen Drew - at times supplemented by his twin necromancer, Brendan Ryan. Forever and ever. Drew without end. Amen.

Think I'm overstating this? Let's go to the videotape. Eighth inning, last night. We're down 4-1. We knock out their starter. The reliever gives up two singles. We get a huge break when their second baseman flubs a grounder. We score two runs, put the tying run at third, have the bases loaded, two outs. And here he comes, Satan's hunchbacked, mule-whipping, vampire boatman from the underworld, Frankenstein's nephew, Stephen Drew.

Fly ball. Inning over. Game over. And, one of these days, season over. Mark my words: It will end with Stephen Drew at the plate and Rob Refsnyder sitting at home, watching on TV, like the rest of us.

Essay question: Try to imagine the Yankees going a month with a rookie who hits below .200? They have now gone a full calendar year with Drew. This isn't a small sample size. This isn't a slump. The new reality is that Drew cannot adjust to the defensive overshift, and he is a permanent liability. This isn't someone hitting below the Mendoza Line. Drew cannot see the Mendoza Line.

Last night, we watched Drew's alter ego, Brendan Ryan, flub an easy ground ball, leading to a Cleveland run. Ryan, of course, was supposed to be the great fielder who couldn't hit. We've now watched Ryan for a year, and he's not a bad middle infielder, but he is no Omar Visquel, no gold glove, not even close. They are our Bobbsie Twins, and we are stuck with them because - here's the latest news from Hell - the team apparently thought Rob Refsnyder acted "arrogant and entitled."

Why didn't they just say "uppity?"

Apparently, Refsnyder thought he was coming to NY to play 2B. Did he cut in front of somebody at the buffet table? Because the Yankees announced that he was going to stay and then, less than a week later, threw him back to Scranton, so we could immerse ourselves into the Bobbsie Twins.

When I think of Refsnyder's "arrogant and entitled" attitude, whatever that is, I think of Ian Kennedy. Remember how the Yankees - and their courtier beat writers - were down on Kennedy? He didn't realize that rookies are supposed to bow and scrape, so his ticket was punched to Arizona, in favor of keeping the Yankees' future aces - Hughes and Chamberlain. Kennedy nearly won the Cy Young in the desert, but the apologists said it didn't count - he would never have succeeded in the AL East, because that's what apologists say, rather than apologize. (See AJ Burnett.)

Wait a minute. How long have I been here, whining about Stephen Drew? It seems like minutes, but I just looked at the calendar and - ARE YOU KIDDING ME? IT'S ACTUALLY AUGUST OF 2015? I've been writing this post for 13 months! It was July of 2014 when I started. Dear God, I'm trapped. Satan has my soul. As Kirk would say, KHANNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!