Everything but the Montas.

 

Ah, how fondly we will look back on the Jazz Chisholm Era Years Month Weeks Days!

Who could have predicted that the Sabremetricious insistence that all players slide all the time, hand- and head-first, would come back to haunt us?

(Noticed, incidentally, that Miguel Andujar was in town this week with the A's, to take on the Mets. Didn't he...never mind!)

Let me re-phrase. 

Who could have predicted that Jazz Chisholm would get hurt, and stand to miss so many games?

Well, I did, actually—and so could anyone else who maybe had access to baseballreference. Thanks to that guide—recovered after many years of searching through dark, musty, cobwebbed, rat-infested archives beneath the Vatican—I saw that Jazz had missed 165 games in his previous, three full major-league seasons.

In other words, 55 games a campaign.

Huh.

As the astute Publius has noted, this makes Brian Cashman's latest trade deadline boffo extravaganza almost an exact replica of his 2022 fiasco.  

Then, as he notes, we gave up a ton of young arms and the Full(y serviceable) Monty, and got back a banjo-hitting outfielder already on the DL, plus Lou "Not Trevino" Trevino, and Scott Efforts, and I think one other bullpen arm who soon proved useless.

Looking at you, Leiter, Jr.. And that de los Santos guy, and...

Let's face it. It's the same rotten deal, save for the fact that Cashie did not get suckered on another, already-injured-and-always-overrated Frankie Montas. Everything but the Montas, with the Oft-Injured Chisholm subbing in perfectly for the Oft-Injured Bader.

What's the definition of insanity again? Yeah, I thought so. 

Meanwhile, we can only sing:

Where have you gone, Scottie Effross?

A nation turns its lonely eyyess to you.

Woo-woo-woo...