This will almost undoubtedly be The Master's last year in the booth, no? And maybe Suzy Q's as well?
Should we plan anything for this? I think we can now safely assume their last broadcast will be Sunday, Oct. 3, against TB. What would be an appropriate send-off?
Tonight's lineup is absurd--nearl all of the usual suspects of failure, stubbornly ushered into action again: Gardner? Odor? Gallo? GARDNER LEADING OFF? The only rational explanation of that Boone taking side payments from Toronto or Boston or Tampa Bay.
Gil starting the game is the only sign of a flicker of sanity or intelligence in the Yankee Brainless Trust. If the Yankees are going to have a chance to salvage even a second wild card spot, the following steps are necessary--although they will never happen: Bench Gardner, Gallo, and Odor--currently three of the worst players in baseball--and keep them benched aside from pinch-hitting or pinch-running duties. Start the following guys in every remaining game: Wade, Velazquez, and Allen and/or Florial. GAllen and/or Florial would be as good as or better than Gardner on defense and speed and certainly no worse at the plate--probably better (most likely better in Allen's case). Give Voit most of the starts at first base--his superior bat more than compensates for Rizzo's defensive advantage; Keep Gil in the starting rotation. Never allow Heaney anywher near the pitcher's mound again.
If this were an organization governed by intelligence rather than high-school-like reverence for "names" and regressed alpha-male "leadership" idiocies--in other words, like any organization in baseball other than this disastrous asylum of mediocrities and imbeciles--that's exactly what would happen. But dream on . . . until the apocalypse, which is just around the corner.
0-3 eh? They ain't coming back from this. Should I go to bed or should I drink some more of the strong local distillate that makes you forget darn near everything
Blogger Rufus T. Firefly said... "Stat-bitch, you mysoginistic, miserable little maggot." You're giving her way too much credit.
September 8, 2021 at 9:02 PM
So duque--I guess your little sermon was all for naught in the absence of any corrective action. You and everyone else can see the source of the problem. Yet you do nothing about it. This guy is showing complete contempt for you and the blog.
I learned the truth at seventeen That love was meant for beauty queens And high school girls with clear skinned smiles Who married young and then retired The valentines I never knew The Friday night charades of youth Were spent on one more beautiful At seventeen I learned the truth
And those of us with ravaged faces Lacking in the social graces Desperately remained at home Inventing lovers on the phone Who called to say come dance with me And murmured vague obscenities It isn't all it seems At seventeen
A brown eyed girl in hand me downs Whose name I never could pronounce Said, "Pity please the ones who serve, They only get what they deserve" The rich relationed hometown queen Marries into what she needs With a guarantee of company And haven for the elderly
Remember those who win the game Lose the love they sought to gain In debentures of quality And dubious integrity Their small town eyes will gape at you In dull surprise when payment due Exceeds accounts received At seventeen
To those of us who know the pain Of valentines that never came And those whose names were never called When choosing sides for basketball It was long ago and far away The world was younger than today And dreams were all they gave for free To ugly duckling girls like me
We all play the game and when we dare To cheat ourselves at solitaire Inventing lovers on the phone Repenting other lives unknown That call and say, come dance with me And murmur vague obscenities At ugly girls like me At seventeen
We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats' feet over broken glass In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour, Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom Remember us-if at all-not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men.
II
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams In death's dream kingdom These do not appear: There, the eyes are Sunlight on a broken column There, is a tree swinging And voices are In the wind's singing More distant and more solemn Than a fading star.
Let me be no nearer In death's dream kingdom Let me also wear Such deliberate disguises Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves In a field Behaving as the wind behaves No nearer-
Not that final meeting In the twilight kingdom
III
This is the dead land This is cactus land Here the stone images Are raised, here they receive The supplication of a dead man's hand Under the twinkle of a fading star.
Is it like this In death's other kingdom Waking alone At the hour when we are Trembling with tenderness Lips that would kiss Form prayers to broken stone.
IV
The eyes are not here There are no eyes here In this valley of dying stars In this hollow valley This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places We grope together And avoid speech Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless The eyes reappear As the perpetual star Multifoliate rose Of death's twilight kingdom The hope only Of empty men.
V
Here we go round the prickly pear Prickly pear prickly pear Here we go round the prickly pear At five o'clock in the morning.
Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom
Between the conception And the creation Between the emotion And the response Falls the Shadow Life is very long
Between the desire And the spasm Between the potency And the existence Between the essence And the descent Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is Life is For Thine is the
This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper.
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Time to focus on a really big loss.
ReplyDeleteThis will almost undoubtedly be The Master's last year in the booth, no? And maybe Suzy Q's as well?
Should we plan anything for this? I think we can now safely assume their last broadcast will be Sunday, Oct. 3, against TB. What would be an appropriate send-off?
T.S. Eliot:
ReplyDeletenot with bang, but with a wimper.
A sad end to a Yankee decade and
A sad end to remarkable careers.
At least the Tampon games are home games and John and Suzyn will actually be watching the game live and not on a video feed from the opposing team.
how much did we discover a skywriter would cost a few years ago?
ReplyDeleteTonight's lineup is absurd--nearl all of the usual suspects of failure, stubbornly ushered into action again: Gardner? Odor? Gallo? GARDNER LEADING OFF? The only rational explanation of that Boone taking side payments from Toronto or Boston or Tampa Bay.
ReplyDeleteGil starting the game is the only sign of a flicker of sanity or intelligence in the Yankee Brainless Trust. If the Yankees are going to have a chance to salvage even a second wild card spot, the following steps are necessary--although they will never happen: Bench Gardner, Gallo, and Odor--currently three of the worst players in baseball--and keep them benched aside from pinch-hitting or pinch-running duties. Start the following guys in every remaining game: Wade, Velazquez, and Allen and/or Florial. GAllen and/or Florial would be as good as or better than Gardner on defense and speed and certainly no worse at the plate--probably better (most likely better in Allen's case). Give Voit most of the starts at first base--his superior bat more than compensates for Rizzo's defensive advantage; Keep Gil in the starting rotation. Never allow Heaney anywher near the pitcher's mound again.
If this were an organization governed by intelligence rather than high-school-like reverence for "names" and regressed alpha-male "leadership" idiocies--in other words, like any organization in baseball other than this disastrous asylum of mediocrities and imbeciles--that's exactly what would happen. But dream on . . . until the apocalypse, which is just around the corner.
Regarding the apocalypse, as the great Sun Ra and his Arkestra used to chant: "It's after the end of the world. Don't you know that yet?"
ReplyDeleteGil is about to give up his first major league runs. We won'y score for him The losing streak is well on it's way to 13.
ReplyDelete7 walks in 3.1 innings. I'm so mad for him (not AT him. I like Gil)
ReplyDelete6 Ks but 7 walks. He didn't have good location. Now the lefty LL gives up a wild pitch. This is how the rest of the evening will go. Dreadfully.
ReplyDeleteNow I'm madder for Gil. Lucas, Wtf, man?
ReplyDeleteLootgy blows. Wild pitch with an assist from ICS, pop up and then 2 run single. Down by three for a team that cannot score is a deep hole.
ReplyDelete0-3 eh? They ain't coming back from this. Should I go to bed or should I drink some more of the strong local distillate that makes you forget darn near everything
ReplyDelete2 and 8 over the last ten and working on another big losing streak.
ReplyDeletePlatoni, you could do both?
ReplyDeleteYeah. If I go for option two, the first will follow undoubtedly.
ReplyDeleteTeoscar Hernandez having an 11 pitch at bat. Do we have anyone who can do that?
ReplyDelete13 pitches and he works a walk. I remember when the Yankees controlled the strike zone.
ReplyDeleteYankees used to pride themselves in working the opposing pitchers to the bone. But this unit is a far cry from what we're used to
ReplyDeleteThe Yankees DO control the strike zone.
ReplyDeleteDARE to take strike three!
Blogger Rufus T. Firefly said...
ReplyDelete"Stat-bitch, you mysoginistic, miserable little maggot." You're giving her way too much credit.
September 8, 2021 at 9:02 PM
So duque--I guess your little sermon was all for naught in the absence of any corrective action. You and everyone else can see the source of the problem. Yet you do nothing about it. This guy is showing complete contempt for you and the blog.
I learned the truth at seventeen
ReplyDeleteThat love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth
And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say come dance with me
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn't all it seems
At seventeen
A brown eyed girl in hand me downs
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said, "Pity please the ones who serve,
They only get what they deserve"
The rich relationed hometown queen
Marries into what she needs
With a guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly
Remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
In debentures of quality
And dubious integrity
Their small town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received
At seventeen
To those of us who know the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
And dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me
We all play the game and when we dare
To cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
That call and say, come dance with me
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me
At seventeen
Y’all wild in here sometimes
ReplyDeleteMore to the point:
ReplyDeleteThe Hollow Men
Mistah Kurtz-he dead
A penny for the Old Guy
I
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us-if at all-not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.
II
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.
Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer-
Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom
III
This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.
Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.
IV
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.
V
Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.
Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long
Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
Great poem. Getting into T.S. Elliot. You could do a lot worse.
ReplyDeleteWell, lookit that. Gallo on base three times.
ReplyDeleteAnd after slotting him second in the lineup for days, Boone is looking around waiting to be called a genius for fixing him.
"Worst player in baseball" Gardner ties the game with a three-run shot.
ReplyDeleteVelazquez needs to learn when to eat it
ReplyDeleteNew thread available no abuse
ReplyDelete