FIFTY THOUSAND MOONS
Friday, March 11, 2016
Posted by el duque at 7:12 AM
In a 10-minute f-word rant to ESPN, Gossage went full spittle on Jose Batista and Yoenis Cespedes for their bat-flipping, post-HR curtsies. He targeted them on the same day Bryce Harper - (the voice of his generation?) - praised HR dances as a sign of the times. It was MLB's version of a Twitter dust-up between Carly Fiorina and Lena Dunham.
Goose - (or maybe his meds were talking) - said this:
"The game is becoming a freaking joke because of the nerds who are running it. I'll tell you what has happened, these guys played Rotisserie baseball at Harvard or wherever the f--- they went and they thought they figured the f---ing game out. They don't know s---."
Listen: Gossage is a great ex-Yankee and a true gentleman. As a fellow geezer, I sort of agree when he whines about pimp dances and front office Waylan Smithers. But the sad truth is that Gossage just another old fart, hearkening back to a time that never existed. He might as well be visiting a Falwell theme park where people ride on dinosaurs. As long as baseball has been played, there have been young upstarts pissing off the elders. It might be Junior Griffey, wearing his cap backwards. It might be Bobby Murcer, unbuttoning the top of his jersey too soon. It might be Deion Sanders, not running out pop-ups. It doesn't matter. Old guys complaining about young guys is a baseball tradition as concrete as the clubhouse floor. Goose can yell about whatever gets his blood pressure back to 100/40 - but he's just another bag of wrinkles in a cowboy hat, looking for a scapegoat to the reasons why his erections aren't what they used to be.
Which is Donald Trump's America today, eh?
Lately, I'm wondering what the Yankees stand for, and if it's something I can stomach. Yes, I know... self-reflection combined with arrested development it's a dangerous mix. The Yankees are supposed to be a baseball team and nothing more. I absolutely refuse to think less of Paul O'Neill because his political beliefs are not mine. I absolutely refuse to dislike Goose Gossage, for whom I'd drive 100 miles just to shake his hand. But the slippery financial side of the Yankees - the tax breaks, the astronomical ticket prices, their broadcast fees for YES, and most of all, those sickening words last month by Lonn Trost about not wanting poor fans to ruin the elite experience - are piling up. Look, it's beyond my capabilities to root against the Yankees. They're like an eye-twitch. For every upper management asshole - (Goose got that part right) - there is a nervous 6'7" kid named Aaron Judge, who may or may not make it, but on whom our hopes rest.
One of the worst aspects of a U.S. Presidential election year is the way it polarizes every issue - from a Marvel superhero movie, to the Oscars, to a bat-flip by Jose Batista. But I can't help but notice that Gossage picked on Latinos, while the corn-fed poster child for pimping HRs got a pass. Maybe I'm just too zoned in on Trump crapola, which gets scarier every day. But if summer brings us pictures of Trump and Bill O'Riley preening behind the Yankee dugout like Katniss Everdeen after eating a Big Mac - I might find myself switching to the Mets game.
Oh, and Slade Heathcott got a hit yesterday. He's 1-13, but - hey - it's a start.