FIFTY THOUSAND MOONS
Saturday, June 18, 2016
Posted by el duque at 7:18 AM
From what planet, you might ask, were they broadcasting?
Well, the answer is simple: Planet Four-Run Lead. Give the Yankees a four-run first inning and a Triple A opponent - and the happiest couple in the universe will be bubbling like Trump at a gun show. In his review of the first inning, The Master actually said, "Four scored... and seven years ago, heh, heh, heh... " Yes, when the Yankees lead, reality is suspended. Nothing else matters in the universe driven by Jeep.
Let's face it: After a victory, the Yankees won't dismantle their team any more than they would trade a player after he homers. Any sign of hope - even a distant glimmer against the league's worst team - offers an excuse to send the Light Brigade into the Valley of Darkness. For the Yankees to rebuild would require the front office to explain what happened over the last seven years, and why the farm system has grown one legitimate Yankee star (Betances... I'd put Gardy on the cusp) with its other core players (Melancon, Cervelli, Robertson, Kennedy, Cano and - yeeks - now Eduardo Nunez?) playing elsewhere. For the Yankees to alter their mediocre course, someone at the top must first admit that the grand strategy - whatever it is - didn't work.
So we beat the Twinkies. We're back to one game below .500. If we win today... meh. How many times do we flirt with .500, and pretend it means something more than the achievement of mediocrity?
I really hate to say this, but I'm almost rooting for the Yankees to lose. I don't want to get suckered into thinking this team will win anything because, frankly, it's just too painful. The worst thing that can happen is that a year from now, I will be writing these same exact words. Look at this team. Who do we think it going to lead us out of this darkness, which has become our old friend?