It's Memorial Day, and in memory of the 1966 team it's time to point out that after 48 games, they were 22-25-1. We are currently 23-25. I'd say we're well on the way to equaling the Great Collapse, even if our current collapse has been slower and more of a constant, debilitating, dull kind of pain as opposed to the sharp, quick, shiv-in-the-ribs kind of pain felt in 1966.
I just saw the best play of the season at third base and it was pulled off by Ronald Torreyes. He was lauded as a great find in the utility infielder role yesterday by somebody or other on the Yankees radio or TV network (Kenny and John are currently doing it again today.), but this play does make you wonder why he isn't in the lineup every day. Oh, wait, he's not signed to a long-term, gazillion-dollar contract...never mind.
Something went wrong with the type here, but it's Memorial Day weekend and I can't be bothered. Besides, we're a mediocre team, why seek perfection in blog posts? Cashman wouldn't care, neither would Hal.
There's an article in the Times today about marriage and taking a more realistic view thereof, since there is no such thing as a truly perfect match. It contains this line, which seems appropos for Yankees fans this year:
"Choosing whom to commit ourselves to is merely a case of identifying which particular variety of suffering we would most like to sacrifice ourselves for."