The Yankees have fallen and they can't get up.
Judge can't hit a lick.
Sanchez is returned to the DL for the nth time.
Stanton is a laugh line.
Our MVP ( Le Mahieu ) is hurting more than we know.
Luke just re-injured that mysterious internal organ.
Bird got eaten by a stray cat.
Gardy and CC both have had shots to help them feel their knees again.
Frazier will be discarded soon.
We have a position group now that includes:
1. A third string cacher from Scranton
2. A fourth or fifth string infielder from Scranton
3. Hopefully, a McBroom from Scranton
4. Mike Tauchman
5. Cameron Maybin
And a pitching staff that was laughable when the season began.
Mark your dance cards folks; the drain is swirling and this team is in the eddy.
We get behind in the first inning, by anywhere from 1-8 runs. It doesn't really matter, because that deficit grows. We add a meaningless run or two late, but it has no impact on the game. We are never in it.
And that magic of the early season; where we could come back from any deficit at any time....has gone with the wind.
The team is lethargic and uninteresting to watch. If we are behind, the game is...simply...over.
Where we are in the standings ( still in first according to the accountants ) will soon not matter.
There is no point watching.
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4 comments:
The Yankee season has been all smoke and mirrors so far. No comes the reckoning. Mark my words: the Yankees will not make the playoffs.
FUCK YOU HAL!!!
Hilarious, Alphonso. And hey, there is always a point in watching car wrecks: for the sick, sadistic pleasure of it.
And while every contender did something to improve their club at the deadline, what did the Yankees do? Absolutely nothing because they are cheap motherfuckers. Okay, I get it that Greinke blocked a possible trade to the Yankees but I can't see how anyone beats the Astros in the post season with Verlander, Greinke and Cole as their 3 starters. Unless the remote chance of the Black Plague hitting their clubhouse materializes.
Worst of all, Hal, Levine,Trost, Cashman,et al are laughing their balls off (at us) that their lucky run at the craps table, errr, I mean scrap heap, allowed the Yankees to get this far keeping the vibes feeling good, YES ratings high and the fans sated on overpriced piss warm beer and raw, rubber-textured, rat feces-infected hot dogs. I hope Hal's yacht hits an iceberg and the Bloated Front Office's company jet crashes into the Rock Mountains.
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