It's Clint Frazier's time to shine brightly or Slade away

Last night, in the masturbatory aftermath of Clint Frazier's three-run ding - the most important hit of the season! - it occurred to me that the moment was an almost identical re-enactment of Slade Heathcott's 2015 incredible blast against Tampa, which I happened to flag yesterday. 

Hmmm. Juju? Obviously. I'm officially claiming credit.

But back to the comparison. Both shots won seemingly big games (though neither was a walk-off.) Both came from a heavily hyped former first round pick, who cut against the grain of humble, toilet-flushing Yankee prospects. The difference - we hope - is what happens next. Will Frazier become Slade II?

Who was Slade I? In 2015, Heathcott came with an almost mythic Yankee backstory. He was the troubled youth who'd battled alcoholism, homelessness and suicidal tendencies - even before escaping high school. At one point, the narrative had him pointing a 12-gauge shotgun at his dad. The bards went crazy. The Yankee hype machine made him into a thinly veiled version of Josh Hamilton, who had overcome drug addiction to become baseball's biggest slugger. (And who had crushed the Yankees in the playoffs.) In his early years, I recall Heathcott's dark past spotlighted in a lengthy, breathless Charleston Observer article, and then, the following night, he launched a huge brawl, apparently triggered by something the catcher said. 



My guess: The evil catcher said, "Yer mudder wears combat boots!" That would have set me off. Whatever the case, I was hooked on Heathcott's story, and checked him in the daily box scores for five years. It was painful. Whenever he started to hit, the poor kid ran into a wall or threw himself at a sinking liner, tearing something that wasn't supposed to be torn. In 2016, with a glut of LH hitting outfielders (Ben Gamel, Mason Williams, Jake Cave, Dustin Fowler), the Yankees released him. He bumped around the White Sox and A's systems and retired last year. He is supposedly studying to fly planes. I wish him the best - with this advice: Avoid the walls. In another Yankiverse, not that far away, he played LF for us last night. Life is strange, no?

Which brings us to Frazier, aka "Red Thunder." (BTW, what a horrible name to hang on a kid; the hype machine did him no favors.)

Since coming to us in the Andrew Miller trade, and jokingly requesting Number 7, Frazier has given Yankee diehards hope for a farm-raised slugger. I'm not talking about .236 and 25 HRs, (which today gets you a $40 million contract.) I'm talking about .300 and 30 HRs, and the "legendary bat speed" that Cooperstown Cashman mentioned after making the deal, which also involved Justus Sheffield.

Like Heathcott, Frazier has splattered into walls like a sick starling, nearly bashing himself out of baseball. At this point, he's one concussion away from being sent home with a doctor's note. But last night, he saved the Yankee season... just as Heathcott's once appeared to do.

So now, let's dispense with this Mike Tauchman experiment. Let the Tauchster give Brett Gardner breathers in CF, and let's see what Frazier can do in LF. Back in the days of old Joe Girardi, the constant fan lament was that after a big day, players always seemed to get benched. Let's hope Aaron Boone plays the hot hand, and that Frazier actually has a hot hand. This is his chance. Slade Heathcott couldn't pull that trigger. Maybe this is different.

And for the sake of juju, here's Greg Bird's great HR against - of course - Andrew Miller. Let's see if it triggers something with Bird today. If so, I'm claiming credit.