The hope of winter is melting into the despair of spring

In a way, it's weird that Yankee diehards would lament the signing of last year's NL home run king. It's why Torontoans, Clevelandites and Buffaloons call us fat cats and ding dongs. Most fan bases would happily polish the turds of a guy who can win the prestigious All Star Game Home Run Derby. Why are we so ornery? Sad.

I think we're whining less about signing Chris Carter than about the implications of signing Chris Carter. It's been a rough week, shaped by three revelations:

1. Carter's sudden appearance, which nobody - not even David Brooks - predicted. It clearly signals that the front office is hedging bets on Greg Bird. There is no other way to spin it. Bird, still recovering from shoulder surgery, didn't play 1B in the Arizona Fall League. Nor did he hit much - one HR and .215 - a mere 21 points above the Mendoza of the Minors, Father Tim Tebow. All last year, we blissfully pictured Bird returning in 2017 as a rising star. Now, we wonder what the trainers know.

2. The Baseball Prospectus this week projected the 2017 Yankees to win 81 to 84 games, which basically means, "also ran." At best, we chase a wild card. At worst, well - it's the early 1990s all over again. Do we trade for Rickie Henderson? Last August, we were spoiled by Gary Sanchez and the "Baby Bombers," lifting a team that had been left for dead at the Vince Lombardi Rest Stop. Now, we're looking at 84 wins? Last year, we won eighty four games. You can feel the silicon leaking from our boobs.

3. Joel Sherman reported yesterday that the Yankees have been shopping Starlin Castro - to no avail. We might as well be selling Ivanka handbags. Our roster is a garage sale of junk with Antique Road Show price tags. Our untradables include Castro, Brett Gardner, Chase Headley, CC Sabathia and - God help us - Jacoby Ellsbury. We can tout our farm system, but until it starts producing amber waves of grain, we're stuck with the bones of last year's team. Lumber 84. If we collapse, our only trading chips could be Dellin Betances and Masahiro Tanaka, two career Yankees. Talk about being kicked when you're down.

We need a March Miracle, some fuzzy chinned urchin who seems to step from the cast of Stranger Things II, and who takes Tampa by storm. We need Cliff or Gleyber or Justus - yes, give us Justus! We need a unicorn, a fairy godmother, a guardian angel... yes, an Irritable Bowel Syndrome lady, guiding us to a gentle, laxative-laced glory. Between the current all Trump, all the time! news cycles and eighty four wins... I'll never survive 2017.