Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?

Actually, we don't need Joe.

Scotland's favorite, Mike Ford, would do.

Now that we at least have a back-up outfielder in Hicks, we need to activate Ford—the man who can, famously, roll out of bed and get a walk or a base hit—and have him ready for when EE goes down with HIS next injury.

I would say we should activate The Red Menace, but that's no more likely than actually activating Joe D.

And I will, once again, use this space to pay homage to Alphonso, our Dauntless Leader, who saw what a gigantic, diabolical Jeter trap acquiring Giancarlo was.

Stanton will, of course, screw us up for another nine years yet to come.  But in this instance, the JuJu gods have dreamed up a way of screwing us even beyond our easy comprehension.

If good ol' GC had just stayed in the damned whirlpool bath with Ellsbury, we would have been forced to play The Red Menace or even acquire somebody.

Now...we will be stuck with El Lame-o's day-to-day shenanigans.

"How's the leg, Mike?"
"Well, a little better."
"Think you can play?"
"Well, I don't know."
"Maybe DH?"
"Hmm, I'm not sure about that.  And something else..."
"Yes?"
"I gotta say, my oblique has been hurting a little of late.  Didn't want to say anything."
"No, you're a real gamer.  Anything else?"
"Well, I notice that when I move my pinky finger back like this—"
Loud snapping sound.
"Oh, damn, I broke it!  But I can still play.  Maybe."
"Uh-huh."
"Gotta go now.  I have to drink my special health drink my cousin sent over, and then I have to put in my three hours in the weight room."
"Geeze, Mike, don't you think that's maybe a bit much?  Since you're injured and all?"
"Nah!  Gotta keep fit!  Gotta keep that six-pack sharp, get that exit velo UP!"