Enough

Enough with worrying about the Bud Selig Classic.

If we make it, that will only make this season into a pro-Cashman, pro-Boone narrative:  'Oh, look at all the injuries this team overcame to make it to the postseason!'

Yet as we all know, if we go on like this, two years from now these Yankees will be in fourth place with a losing record, and everyone will be wondering what happened.

Enough with this consummate office politician who has never really learned a thing about the game, but who is unrivaled at making both his bosses and the press believe that he is a genius—and who wants to surround his own self with yes men and puppets.

What they need is a new GM and a new manager, both of whom should be hungry, intense, and willing to consider a new approach to the game as it now is.

Enough with the "Dare to take a called third strike, swing for the fences every time up" approach.

Back to spoiling tough pitches with two strikes, hanging in, hitting to the opposite field—especially against the shift—and taking the double, single, or walk if you don't get the gopher pitch. Back to occasional steals, surprise bunts, starting the runner to stay out of the double-play.

There was a reason why this became the game in its highest form:  because it worked.

Enough with the trend toward "You, too, can be a middle reliever!" This idea will kill baseball deader than box lacrosse as a big-time sport.

Back to teaching minor leaguers several different pitches, and how to stretch themselves, and get through even a whole seven innings sometimes. Back to pitching around the one good hitter on other teams, instead of mindlessly challenging him as if he were a third-string defensive catcher.

Enough with players, especially young players, who don't want to bother running or learning fielding fundamentals. Trade their sorry, unengaged asses for guys who realize that playing major-league baseball for a storied franchise in New York City for a king's ransom will be the time of their lives, and who are happy to hustle all the day long.

And frankly, enough with this insatiably money-grubbing ownership clan, which has no real interest in building a dynasty or creating a great fan experience, but just adding more bars of gold to a pile that already reaches roughly to Mars.

I know, I know:  I will regret those last words when the Steinbrenners sell out to, say, Jimmy Dolan. It can always get worse, and the story of modern America is that it probably will.

But I still like to think that somewhere out there, lurks a savvy, intelligent, visionary individual with the guts of a burglar and the heart of champion.

Say, anyway we can swap franchises with Derek Jeter?