The first glimpses of spring - the Oscars! Fashion Week! the boobs of Kate Upton! - should inspire hope in even the most dour of sports fans. Yet lately, all I have noticed are giant death melons suspended from stressed bikini strings, set to obliterate earth.
What happened to me? Once, I celebrated each singular joy of late February - scraping the windshield, jumper cables for the battery, feeling slush fill my boots, while each hip hauls that extra 10-pounds of winter cheddar. Now, I sit and stew about Chris Carter's impending 200 strikeouts, as if the season ahead will be a 24/7 performance art exhibit by Shia LeBeouf. It's like having Irritable Bowel Syndrome without the impishly sexy Irritable Bowel Syndrome lady constantly at my side, whispering into my good ear. What the hell happened?
Well, dammit... NO MORE! If my bowel movements must be irritable, I shall see them as a red-haired lady in skin-tight leotards! And if the giant death melons must crash to earth, I shall join the dinosaurs in happy extinction.
Friends, comrades, fellow Yank fans... it is time to press the 2017 YANKEE/IT IS HIGH RESET BUTTON.
From now on - at least until something awful happens, like we re-sign Swisher - I challenge each of you to look at the cheerful, hopeful side of 2017, and to not dwell upon the things that - in a lesser fan's gloomy, shallow eyes of doom - could be viewed as roster deficiencies.
From now on, I do NOT view the Yankees as a team with only three starting pitchers. We have eight starters - (counting Dietrich Emms, who will win 15) - and we simply haven't yet boiled them down to the top five.
From now on, I REJECT the notion that Jacoby Ellsbury and Brett Gardner are the same player, two years past his sell date. They are legitimate stars who, having rededicated themselves to excellence, are approaching their career year
From now on, I am CERTAIN that Aaron Judge and Aaron Hicks will become the Jackie Bradely Jrs. of New York City. Each will have a breakout season, providing the batting order with top-to-bottom protection.
From now on, I believe without question that the 2017 Yankees WILL WIN the 2017 World Series.
From now on... at least until I have reason to believe otherwise.
And I hereby challenge each of you to feel the same way.
O, joy! O, liberation! O, bowel movement! And this is not a joke or slight of hand illusion. Baltimore, Toronto and Tampa each suffered a tough winter, and dammot, it's too early to bow before Zod, otherwise known as the Redsock '17 Hall of Fame Superteam of Destiny (TM). As we speak, Chasen Shreve is developing an unhittable pitch. Luis Severino just perfected his changeup. Come on, folks, spring is coming. It's time to believe, goddammot! Befuckinglieve.