Black Saturday: deja vu all over again?

It's the first time in years that the Yankees are picked to win anything. All of a sudden, we have at least two, bona fide superstars, for the first time in a long time, along with a bright, earnest manager.

Sure, the Red Sox have a young, immensely talented team, but they collapsed the year before and have what look to be serious pitching shorts. Whereas the Yanks have come within a couple games of winning last season and are suddenly stacked, deep all over the place and seemingly invincible.

I'm talking about 1975, of course.

After finishing just two behind a very good Orioles team in 1974, we picked up Catfish Hunter, the first free agent, and Bobby Bonds, and overnight, we were the bomb, as nobody said back then without fear of arrest.

Well, need I tell you, it all came apart for reasons that looked a whole lot like what went on during our own Black Saturday up in Toronto.

Freakish, devastating injuries abounded. Elliott Maddox, our fine young centerfielder, who tracked down everything in the field and was an on-base machine, hurt himself on the old, uncovered sprinkler head game, played just 55 games, and was never the same again.

Ron Blomberg, the Great Jewish Hope, tore up his knee and shoulder and played exactly 1 more game as a Yankee. Even Sweet Lou Piniella suffered an inner-ear infection, of all things, and hit just .196, with no home runs. Bonds suffered a leg injury that cost him 17 games and left him limping around the field all season.

Others just flopped.  Most of what looked like a very deep starting staff underperformed. The bullpen imploded, with Sparky Lyle having one of his worst years as a Yankee.

Sandy Alomar, who looked like he might just be the solution at second base...wasn't. Jim Mason, who had seemed to be the shortstop of the future, proved to be the shortstop of the post-apocalyptic future.  He hit .152, and was soon replaced by Chicken Stanley.

The team hung in there—as long as it could. As late as June 28th, they were in first place, and they contended for a month after that.

Bonds gamely played wherever we wanted him to, and ran up another 30-30 season. Hunter would've won 30 games with any hitting or fielding support; as it was, he won 23.

But soon, a seemingly endless parade of Rick Bladts, Rich Cogginses, Eddie Brinkmann, Bob Olivers, Terry Whitfields, Dave Bergmans, Larry Murrays, and No-Neck Williamses was moving through the clubhouse—all the washed-ups and never-quite-wases in the world.

Still, they competed for awhile. I remember them winning one game against the White Sox with Munson in left, back-up catcher Rick Dempsey in right, Kerry Dineen in center, and other-back-up catcher Ed Herrmann behind the plate.

There was only so long this could go on, though. The dagger came in a doubleheader in late July against the Red Sox, before a packed house at the Stadium—our last chance to stick in the race.

Hunter gave up just three hits in the first game, but lost, 1-0. We loaded the bases with nobody out in the fifth, but Bill Lee struck out Bonds and kept us off the board. The only Sox run scored on a Jim Mason error.  In the second game, we started rookie reliever Tippy Martinez, and lost 6-0. Not even a run, all afternoon.

IS this another 1975? And if so, what's to be learned from it?

Well, ironically, 1975 really was the beginning of a new dynasty. Most of the parts were in place, we just had to do a little refiguring.

The key here is not to panic. For instance, the 1975 Yankees had Hunter throw a ridiculous 30 complete games and 328 innings—many of them after the team was already out of the race and a certain, impatient owner had replaced manager Bill Virdon with Billy "The Arm Killer" Martin.
Hunter was never the same pitcher.

Second, clear out the dead wood. Enough with the Ellsbury nonsense already. Once Frazier and/or Hicks come back, get rid of this guy however you can. And buh-by Betances!

After 1975, the Yanks boldly dealt away both Bonds and Doc Medich, their no. 2 starter. All they got in return were Willie Randolph, Ed Figueroa, Mickey Rivers, and Dock Ellis. The next dynasty was in place.

I have to go down to Washington for a few days, though I assure you it has nothing whatsoever to do with any ongoing, federal investigations—just a little talk with my old friend, Obertray Uellermay, about a certain friend named Onaldday who I used to hang with back in the dayday. Nothing to worry about!

For now, the Yanks pick up another one, and cut Soccer's edge to 48-39, after having won March, 23-21.

If the Yankees continues to lose and break into little pieces, I'm sure the Times will be running lots and lots more articles on them.