"Don't give up on us, baby."

 

New York's collection of angry, Olmec heads came alive in order to berate us this week. First, there was Rangers coach Gerard Gallant, whose picture can be found in the dictionary under the word, "bristling."

Mostly, Gallant was spitting mad about the fact that reporters dared to ask him if his job were in jeopardy, after yet another massive collapse by the Broadway Blueshirts.

"I can't believe I have to answer some of these questions about me getting fired, brought up by the media," he snarled, citing his excellent regular-season records since he landed in the dump over Penn Station. "Disappointing."

Really? He's disappointed? In the media?

I can't believe that hockey coaches get paid $3.5 million a year, but I manage to remain civil about it.

The other angry, Mesoamerican talking head to be heard from, of course, was our own Brian Cashman, who urged, "Don't give up on us."

No, it wasn't a reference to the insipid, 1970s David Soul hit, but Cashie's way of pretending that the Yankees are Tinkerbell, and we need only applaud loudly enough to pump life back into the darling little fairy.

Brian, Brian, Brian. 

Things like positive thinking, or a good attitude, or wearing our pinstriped underwear on game days are superstitions that we fans engage in to entertain ourselves. We don't actually believe any of this stuff affects the greater world around us.

The fact that the general manager of the New York Yankees seems to is, well, frightening. Unless, of course, this is really a heartfelt plea that we keep shoveling out the massive bucks necessary to see our favorite team play, complete with healthy portions of RatDogs, bad beer, memorabilia, etc. 

Hmm, could a sports executive really be so cynical???

I dunno. But whether we "give up" on the Yankees or not won't make a damned bit of difference. The Tampa Bay Devil Rays seem to be doing fine, playing in the equivalent of a creepy old guy's rec room. Today's pro athlete really could not care less whether you are at the game, want his autograph, or are wearing your team socks. Mostly, they would rather you keep a healthy distance.

Angry or fake-pleading, these press conferences demonstrate nothing but just how removed from their fan bases most of the owners, GMs, managers of today's New York teams really are.

Gallant was furious because he'd put together two straight, pretty good years in the regular season. Lots of great nights thrashing the Anaheim Mighty Ducks and the Saskatoon Wallabies.

In fact, his Rangers have yet to win anything. Not a division title, not a conference championship, and certainly not a Stanley Cup. In 2022-23, they won five fewer games than they had the year before, finished third in their division, and suffered another epic collapse against a regional rival.

And he's angry that he's even questioned?

Of course, what the well-compensated Mr. Gallant—or should that be Mr. Goofus?—doesn't get is the bigger picture.  

The Rangers have won exactly one (1) league championship in the last 83 years—and that was nearly a generation ago.

The Islanders, after a run of 4 straight Cups, have not won since, meaning it will be at least 40 years since their last championship 

The Knicks have won all of 2 championships in the last 77 years—and the last one 50 years ago. 

The Nets have never won in the NBA, have never won anywhere since Dr. J, and managed to become a racial imbroglio in and of their own selves this season.

The Jets have not even been in the Super Bowl since the year of Woodstock.

The Mets? No rings since the Miracle of 1986.

And on and on.

Despite the sky-high prices they charge for everything, and the massive public subsidies and tax breaks they routinely receive, New York's sports teams have become, overwhelmingly, a supertall skyscraper of failure.

And...the people who run them get mad if they're questioned about it.  

Losing hockey coaches who make fortunes every year ought to grit their teeth, promise to do better, and walk away after turning in a season like the one Goofus and the Rangers just subjected us to. Same holds true for baseball GMs who never really have won a ring of their own despite 25 years of the biggest payroll in existence.

Olmec heads are most majestic in their silence.