A tribute, to the tune of "If I Only Had a Brain." With best wishes to Sancho on the EL, and apologies to Harold and Yip.
You may think they could play through it,
But we really can't eschew it
They're always day-to-day.
If they ain't exactly healthy
Well, they certainly are wealthy
The Yankees' men of glass.
They can while away their youth here
Sure, they ain't exactly Ruth, dear,
But what is there to say?
They can take a day and see the Met
Or feast upon a crepe Suzette
The Yankees' men of glass.
Some say they're pumpin' too much iron
And it's futzin' with their wirin'
About that I couldn't say.
But I'd like to see them play sometime
Not just read their resumes online,
The Yankees' men of glass.
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
"The Yankees' Men of Glass"
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65 comments:
My fave so far. Keep a-singing...
Nice ditty, but I have no desire seeing the eponymous Ells coming off his list.
Time to start rotating the pitching staff through for their midsummer 'rest'.
Fantastic Hoss, love it! I'm also channeling Blondie's Heart of Glass in the sub woofers,,,,
What will tonight bring, one wonders?
Some early crap from Happ.
You're a poet and you know it.
Clap your hands!
Sterling whining about working a night game on a travel day and so arriving at the hotel at 4:00 a.m. He does this all the time--far from the first time. "It just wrecks the body. I can't get to sleep right away anyway. It takes me a while. Just wrecks the body."
I can guarantee you that all the people desperately working two crappy jobs to barely feed and shelter their kids--twelve hours in an amazon warehourse or delivery route, barely making ends meet as an Uber driver, working mean streets at night as a cop, sweating for twelve hours in a hot restaurant kitchens, cleaning office-building bathrooms, killing themselves to file a legal brief on deadline, etc., etc.--none of these people wants to hear ONE SYLLABLE from this fucking millionaire making a half million dollars a year to sit and talk about a baseball game, whining about arriving at yet another five-star luxury hotel where he will awaken and tap his expense money at the nation's finest restaurants--NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR ONE SYLLABLE OF THIS WHINING FROM THIS STAGGERINGLY STUPID AND CALLOUS JERK ABOUT HIS OH-SO TORMENTED LIFE IN THE FAST LANE. If nothing else demonstrates the brutal nastiness and cluelessness of this guy, this alone surely does.
Jesus, the guy is 81. Get a grip.
4-3 in the third. Hope the Yanks make the two point conversion later.
Stat Douche,
Showing up on the 12th?
Or just whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiining, as usual.
Ever think it affect the TEAM, as well as THE MASTER?
Or do you want the Yankees to lose, Mets onesie baby?
JM -- You claim to be a big-time Yankee fan. Sterling has been whining about what a tough life he has with late-night arrivals--he and Susan just HATE the ESPN Sunday night game--for a quarter century now. This has nothing to do with his age, and everything to do with his being a colossal asshole.
So that was a hustle run that Tuchusman scored. Hustled a triple out of a misplayed ball, and scored on a fly ball. Fly Tuchusman! Fly!
Hey, Dufus--Sterling was talking about its effect in HIM. He's been whining on the air about this for twenty-five years--this arduous life which everybody else in the country would give their right arms to have--which you would know if you weren't a FUCKING MORON.
Annnnnd I think Hicks is nicely rounding into shape.
JM, the Yanks picked up the 2-point conversion.
It's gonna be a long road trip.
Still a field goal game, Winnie. 6-3. Big scoring game for the Joints.
Jints, you idiot spell check moron.
Stat Douche,
Showing up on the 12th?
If you're too afraid to show up with all the old guys, I'll meet you anywhere in NYC the day before or after. C'mon keyboard jockey. Just show up.
Unless you're just a fat pussy troll?
Rhetorical question there. Even your mother must think you're a loser.
Hoss, I blame it on you (not really), for referencing "If I Only Had a Brain".
It was a clarion call for the stat douche.
Even so, thanks for letting us play with him in his trips outside the ward.
Hey Dufus--shut the fuck up before the men in the white coats come and lock you up for good. You're a fucking MORON and crude, frustrated little cipher. Eat shit. No -- I take that back. Don't eat shit. You'd probably enjoy it.
Stat Douche,
Attending on the 12th, or cowering over you cum crusted keyboard in your mets onesie?
Now there's a picture I don't need in my brain.
7-3. Twins obviously think their pen was exhausted last night, leaving Odorizzi in to get clanked.
Dufus -- You're as crassly callous a piece of shit as Sterling. You think it's just HILARIOUS to endlessly ridicule the plight of desperately poor food-service workers. That to you is the height of wit. You don't have a shred of decency or a sliver of real intelligence. You're a crude, writhing, snarling little beast, trying to salvage a sliver of your damaged ego on the Internet. Amoebas are an advanced life form compared to you.
Didi is hot hot hot. 8-3, now we have the two point conversion.
JM -- Nazi Nuremberg Rally fanboy of all things Yankees, including Sterling's bloated, rotted ego.
Sorry, make that 9-3. Hard to keep up.
Stay guy remind me of the Rethugs going after Mueller today. Their strategy was keep shouting wildly. Great theater.
Sorry, JM -- you're the jerk making excuses for Sterling's monumentally tasteless and callous whining about a life 99 percent of people would give their right arms to have. That puts you and Trump in the same category of value-system. Fuck off, you nauseating hypocrite.
Rocco Baldelli may be taking lessons from Boone on pitching staff management. Odorizzi has thrown more than 100 pitches and allowed 9 runs. What is he doing?
Stat douche,
Still unable to grow a testicle? Such a shame, you'd be so much fun on the 12th.
Here's how to attend:
1) Ask mommy to give you a hall pass for the day (we promise you won't be out after dark)
2) Get a day off from the pizza joint. (Ask the boss, he'd probably be glad to not have you for the day).
3) Show up. All expenses paid. We'd all like to meet you. Seriously. It would be tons of fun.
JM,
Sorry about the visual. Hope you weren't eating.
Just drinking. No problem.
Happ might need all 9 at this rate.
9-5. Bother.
I'd prefer less interesting games.
Especially for a night game on getaway day.
You know, it just means MLB hates the Yankees.
And you can't predict baseball.
Okay, Booney. Call the bullpen now. Don't wait unit we're down by 3.
Can we please get Happ the fuck out of there?
Can't predict baseball. So true.
Did Larry get a boob job?
Winnie,
Larry needs one of these:
https://seinfeld.fandom.com/wiki/Bro
No: You CAN predict baseball. I was just coming here to scream that Ma Boone needs to get hapless Happ outta there NOW, and, lo and behold, by the time I logged on the call to the bullpen was made.
I also heard somewhere that Boone regretted not making the same move last night. D'ya think he's learning baseball?
Naaahhhh
What has Lawrence F'n Rothschild done lately? Did he fix Loretta Lynn? Did he fix Pickles? Is he fixing J? Is he fixing Paxton? Has he fixed anyone? Why is he still the pitching coach?
Nine fucking seven. Great job Larry....FYL.
What has Larry ever done!?
Gee, I wonder if the ball is juiced?
Glad you liked the song, guys. I think I will need a whole symphony for this one. Unbelievable. And we'll have so much left for the Soxies.
He managed some very bad DEVIL Ray teams. John Flaherty played for him.
https://www.baseball-reference.com/managers/rothsla01.shtml
Hoss, Think Quadrophenia!
Or maybe Tommy. Captain Walker would approve.
Come to think of it, Tommy was umpiring last night.
I cannot wait to see total League runs scored at the end of this season.
I'm so curious as to whether they tweaked the ball a bit, made it a bit livelier, kind of like a silent software upgrade.
speaking of colossal assholes, there is only one on this blog and his first name is Stat. His last name is Baby. And he's a cowardly little moron who thinks he can say stuff to people online that he would never be able to say in person. this may change.
Walking the parrot.
Up by a field goal.
Billy, your lips to God's ear.
Meanwhile, fucking Chapman.
He wasn't bad. A win.
Fuck you, BillyMartin'sAsshole. Get a life, ya' frustrated little sock-puppeting worm.
When David Cone mentions FIP, or Ryan Ruocco talks about Defensive Runs Saved, does Dufus T. Duncecap throw his pablum at the screen and shout, "STATBOYS! I HATE YOU!"? A life of impotent rage--with the emphasis on impotent.
JM -- "your lips to God's ear"; "rethugs"; etc., etc., etc. This guy's brain is a file cabinet of cliches and lowest-common-denominator herd thinking about EVERYTHING. He's the most pathetic specimen of stupid--a stupid guy who thinks he's smart.
"We'll be singin'
When we're winning
We'll be singin'
When we're winning..."
HIX CLIX STIX NIX HIX.
Or, something like that.
Stat Douche: The James Comey of IIHIIFIIc. Pisses *EVERYONE* off.
Teheheee!!
Statbaby, your filthy mother raised a class act. What Greyhound station did she find the sperm donor in?
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