Break up the Yankees

Defeat is one thing; disaster another.
—Winston Churchill

But really, the main reason I hastened back from Connecticut is to warn you:  Do not.  Seek.  The treasure.

No, wait—that was from "O, Brother Where Art Thou?"

Do not.  Waste.  The karma.

There.

Look, I would say these last three days were like men vs. boys, but boys usually look at least slightly animated when playing a game.  This was more like men. vs. zombies, or men vs. three-toed tree sloths.

I have seen a lot of sporting mismatches in my time.  The Original, 1978 Boston Massacre; the 49ers in the Super Bowl vs. Denver and then San Diego; U.S. women's soccer vs. Thailand, etc.

NONE of them have anything on this one.  I have never seen such a one-side set of games in any sport, involving any teams, as these last three games at Fenway Park.

Let me say, to be fair, that the Red Sox are a much, much better team than your 2019 New York Yankees in absolutely every aspect of the game, hitting, fielding, pitching, and especially managing.

Somebody said the Sox had 33 extra-base-hits in the first 3 games.  Hell, in the infamous, three-game, June, 1977 wipeout at Fenway, when the Sox belted 16 homers against us, they only had a total of 18 extra-base-hits.

33 extra-base hits.  11 a game.

If these Red Sox do not win the World Series again, I will be surprised.

If these Red Sox do not end up 10 games ahead of the Yankees in the standings, I will be astonished.

But all that said, this was not a professional effort by our boys.

The final totals and the box scores really did not do justice to just how one-sided and terrible this was.

Seeing it up close on the BIG screen was terrifying.  Every single Red Sox batter seemed capable of hitting the ball out.  Even the foul balls and outs were usually screaming line drives.

At the plate, our batters constantly swung at pitches out of the strike zone, and took big, fat, juicy strike-threes down the plate—all the very worst of the perverted, Chthuluan method of hitting that Coops had imposed on this team.

In the outfield, in particular, most of our players looked as if they had just been introduced to the game.

A few days after making like Willie Mays in centerfield, Aaron Hicks looked like Willie Mays Aikens.  Aaron Judge looked like a man on his first day of juggling class.  Tauchman looked like Joe Hardy after the devil has taken the spell off, and he has instantly reverted to a very feeble individual.

The Sox fans weren't booing or taunting our guys.  They were laughing at them.

The pitching was, of course, beneath contempt.  So we lost the James "Pettitte Times Five" Paxton start by 10-5?  Well, then thanks goodness Pettitte wasn't out there.  I guess it would've been 50-5.

The pitching was one thing, though.  The general malaise and inattention of the team was another—and it is on the manager.

I never thought I would see a Yankees team this uninvolved in a big series.  Of course, I also never thought I would see a Yankees pitching coach who could not be bothered to take off a sweatshirt and put on his cap when he went out to the mound.

Old George would've fired Rothschild for general schlubiness alone.  Which would've been fine.

But the big problem here is the manager.  Even crazy old Billy Martin found SOMETHING to do to fire up his team back in the 1977 debacle, if only try to start a fight with Billy Martin.  The next weekend we swept 'em right back at the Stadium.

That won't be happening with this Yankees team, or this manager.

Time to bag and junk this failed attempt at a dynasty.  Best to get rid of it all, beginning with the leeching ownership heirs who have attached themselves to the greatest franchise like an over-gorged tick.

Move on to the office lickspittle of a GM, the vacuous manager, and the single worst coaching and training staff ever assembled, and finish with most of a roster so obviously devoid of any semblance of pride or heart.

And begin again.

That's the intervention we need.