no w o r d s
Traitor Tracker: .262
Last year, this date: .287
Wednesday, September 17, 2025
Who is the AL MVP?
Is it fat ass Raleigh? People are saying so.
In his freakish year, he has powered the Pilots Mariners to the postseason. While Judge has been injured, and has played while injured, the lifetime .226 Mariner (this season's .246 gave him a bump) has broken Mantle's record for home runs by a switch-hitter. An achievement of sorts. Mantle's record was 54 in 1961, injuries cutting his season short. Maris, not a switch-hitter, hit 61, his hair falling out from stress and "fan" threats.
This might lead you to think that being a switch-hitter isn't really necessary, perhaps not even desirable in the scheme of things. It's a neat skill, but Maris was not a switch-hitter, Judge is not a switch-hitter, and they have the top two HR slots for a season. So, just maybe, the whole hubbub over Raleigh setting this "record" is incredibly meaningless. If Mantle's name wasn't involved, I think hardly anyone would give a shit.
Now, does Raleigh's great outlier year mean he should get the MVP? I can see where it would be tempting to those who decide such things, especially given the freakishness, the underdogness, the connection to the Mick, and--most importantly--the fact that it would screw over a Yankee.
Widen your browser window to get a complete view of the chart below. Hell of a year for Lard Ass. Gee, Judge didn't do too badly, either.
(And in the NL, Schwarber has been pretty great. Alonso also did damn well. But the NL MVP is locked up because Ohtani also did a little pitching this year [he's nowhere near the pitcher Ruth was, by the way] while hitting 50 dingers. Maybe Schwarber should get it, but, you know...OMG HE'S ANOTHER BABE RUTH! No, he isn't. Not even close. But he'll get it anyway.)
But back to the AL. Should Big Butt win? He's ahead in home runs and RBIs, having 50 more ABs and blessed with no injuries. But average, OBP, slugging, OPS--not even a contest. Judge is clearly on a different planet.
Whaddya bet Raleigh wins, regardless?
Yankees win in an embarrassment
Been a long time since a Yankee win conjured up the kinds of symptoms worthy of a Fox News roundup: "... ear swelling, rectal bleeding, droopy face, nasal secretions, spontaneous rooster cawing and the gleeful chattering of suicidal thoughts."
It's hard - no, it's damn near impossible - to imagine this team - this snake-bitten, ill-fated 2025 Yankee bullpen - lasting deep into October.
Ahead by nine, win by one. Against a second-division meatball, playing out a lost season in a half-full stadium. Wow.
Listen: In game after game, even in victories, this Yankee team is sending coded messages to its fan base:
We are doomed. Situation hopeless. It's time for football.
Last night, as Minnesota reclaimed what should have been a laugher, YES man and former Cashman stooge Joe Girardi discussed the ways to manage a postseason bullpen. He said the key is to mix and match, to not overuse the same pitchers night after night, so the opposing team does not see them too often. If that happens, their hitters will break through.
Yep, good thinking, there, Joe. One problem, though. Joe was imagining something that does not currently exist: a Yankee bullpen with depth. Come October, if Luke Weaver throws a scoreless inning in game one, it's guaranteed that he'll be back in game two. And game three. And four, if necessary. He'll pitch until his sphincter explodes, because that's what Aaron Boone does and - to be honest - it's not his fault, because Cooperstown Cashman built for him a house full of ticking time bombs.
Listen: There is no way our bullpen will last three rounds of postseason play. Forget the final week of October. We'll be lucky to get through the final week of September.
Ahead by nine, win by one. Jeeze.
Tuesday, September 16, 2025
An Above Average Haiku Tuesday – 9 + 16 = 25, Edition
Darkness on the Rise
We know our Season is Done
R.I.P. Redford
As the Yankees slog towards the end of their season, one existential question continues to grow...
Brace yourselves.
Box the china, board up the windows, and inscribe Granny's SSI number onto her wrist, because a storm is brewing. Right now, it's out at sea, a fart of winds and barometric pressure, clunking along at the speed of Harrison Ford. And it's headed our way.
ETA: October.
By then, the Jays will have easily clinched the AL East, so far above the Dunder-Mifflin, also-ran, chumps that they'll fear having too much rest. But they'll be snug in their beds when the skies darken and the roofs begin to buckle.
If the storm gets a name, it might be "Luke," or "Devin," or simply: "The Pen." We know what to expect. Someone will enter a close game in the 7th. By the time they leave, Aaron Boone will be asking position players to pitch the ninth.
It's coming: The end of the '25 Yankees.
Last night, we saw another glimpse.
We watched the Death Barge sleepwalk for nine innings against our usual cupcakes, the Twins - first leg on a National Lampoon vacation through Minnesota, Baltimore and the White Sox. In the 7th, the Yankees unveiled their amazing, Spinal Tap self-immolating-drummer bullpen. Kaboom.
Make no mistake: No lead is safe.
Right now, the Yankees are playing for home field advantage in the three-game wild card series, the first round of October.
But will it matter? Right now, they'd play Boston. In game one, that's Garret Crochet, likely winner of the AL Cy Young. Who feels hopeful about that? Raise your hand. Anybody? Class? Anybody? In game two, it's Brayan Bello. We finally beat him last weekend. Can we do it again?
In every game, we'll face one existential question:
Who delivers the final 12 outs?
If we're lucky, our starter - Max Fried and Carlos Rodon - will go six innings and keep it close. That leaves nine outs. And then - uh-oh - he skies will blacken and the winds will roar. From there, it's the perilous pen.
Two months ago, Cooperstown Cashman hoped to build a lockdown staff. He traded for Camilo Doval. Mark Bird (of Scranton) and David Bednar. It didn't work. Aaron Boone's "circle of trust" is now a dot.
Does anyone think this bullpen will hold leads through an entire month, especially against solid lineups? Do you remember how last year ended, with a game on the line and Boone so desperate that he turned to - gulp - Nestor Cortez?
Nope. Baton down the hatches. Write your phone number on the back of your hand. This bullpen cannot hold.
The dog ate my homework
There is a simple reason--some might call it an excuse--for last night's terrible showing.
As it was stated in The Athletic:
The team didn’t arrive to its hotel until around 4 a.m. Monday with a 6:40 p.m. first pitch.
How, how, how, in the name of all that's holy, can a team be expected to beat a very weak opponent after such a gruelling physical ordeal?
Monday, September 15, 2025
Do the math. The race in the AL East is over.
But last night's loss to Boston - ruined by Will Warren's inexplicable 1st inning - effectively ended the 2025 AL East divisional race.
Forget the first-round bye and home field advantage. To reach Valhalla, the Yankees must beat one or all of their greatest modern nemeses - the Redsocks, Astros and Jays. Nobody will do it for us. We either avenge the last dismal decade or - as the Boss would say - waste a summer, praying in vain for a savior to rise from these streets.
Yes, we do have the clunker schedule, while Toronto faces Tampa, KC and Boston. But last night's loss, coupled with a Jays win, puts us four down in the loss column - five behind if you add the divisional tiebreaker. Remember those games we phoned in against Toronto? Our 5-8 record against them? They're coming back to haunt us.
If the Yankees win ALL 13 remaining games, against the Twinkies, O's and White Socks, Toronto still needs only to go 7-6. Do the math. It's over. We went 9-17 against the Jays and Redsocks. That's humiliating. We earned this failure. Now, all we can do is chase the wild card participation trophy and, if we're lucky, enjoy the home field advantage against Boston in the nasty. abbreviated opening round.
From now on, it's all about avoiding the next bullpen meltdown, scheduling our rotation, solidifying Jose Calallero as starting SS and convincing Jazz Chisholm to keep his mouth shut. We'll have to beat Boston. We'll have to stare down El Chapo. We'll have to deal with the return of Roman Anthony. Do the math. The AL East? It's over.
A humble reminder
After watching the highlights from last night, I noticed something.
You probably noticed it, too.
Boone is an idiot.
I've lost count of all the games he's fucked up by leaving pitchers in too long, fielding a less than best team, resting guys when they're hot, resting guys so they can be fresher somewhere down the road when it may not matter, choosing the worst bullpen arm for a particular situation, being a player's pal instead of holding him accountable...
You know the list. If Boone was merely mediocre, we would have run away with the division. But he's not. He's often an obstacle the team has to overcome, in addition to the opponent.
I know I'm just rehashing what we've all been carping about for years. No great new insights.
But, in the immortal words of Joe Besser, he makes me so mad.
Sunday, September 14, 2025
†he †hread – or ra†her – †he Yarn – Ge† your hooks up and s†ar† CROCHE†ING !
My apologies but, uhm, like, you know there
were no patterns available for brooms
Secret to the Yankees' last ditch hopes? The Rays, Redsocks and Royals
They rattle me.
It's their self-congratulatory, "Oh-Did-I- win-another-Peabody?" announcers, who claimed to speak for the Heartland, even as they carried water for poor-mouthing billionaire owners. Whenever the ills of The Game were discussed, there was one bogey-man: The awful Yankees, who were buying pennants. You heard it from Cowboy Curt Gowdy, from Joe Garagiola, from the ultimate critic, Peter Gammons. Later, Aaron Boone became an ESPN talker. A-Rod. Big Pappi. Youkilis. Pedro. The unwritten rule, "If the Yankees win, they bought it." You'd think the Ilitch family (Tigers) or Rogers Communications (Jays) were funding their teams through bake sales.
Maybe, they're improved. (David Cone.) Dunno. Maybe, tonight, we'll see.
Tonight, the Yankees go into the black hole of Calcutta Fenway on ESPN, having won three straight without gaining a quark on Toronto. It's not a "must" win. Barring a meltdown, we will reach the postseason, (as Eduardo Perez will surely remind us, due to the big payroll, below only the Dodgers and Mets.)
If we lose, so ends the race in the AL East. Though we're down by three in the loss column, we're actually four behind Toronto, because the Jays handled us all season and own the tiebreaker.
If the Yankees sweep, they bury Boston and maybe cut another game from Toronto. That would leave them with one advantage: A cupcake schedule through the final two weeks, while Toronto faces a grinder.
We play 13 games against Minnesota, Baltimore and the White Sox - hateful, pennant race malcontents who disappointed their fans and would kill a puppy to beat us. Still, (and there's no nice way to put this), they suck. If we can't win 9 of 13, we don't deserve to win a division.
But even if we go 9-4, we'd still need Toronto to lose 8 out of 13.
And if you're talking about hatefulness, think: Tampa. Toronto plays seven games against the Rays. Close your eyes. You can imagine them losing four. Then it's Boston for three. (Go 1-2?) And three against KC, who remain alive in the wild card race. It's almost impossible to make up four games in two weeks. But three - by winning tonight? - that's doable.
So, tonight, it starts or ends. A Yankee sweep wouldn't be historic - no Boston Massacre II - (we'll probably play them two weeks from now.) But if we lose another game, the AL East race is almost surely over. And it'll happen on ESPN.
Saturday, September 13, 2025
Game Thread – 09/13/25 – "The Yankees Medical Analytics Department concluded that Labrum tears heal within days if the current routine at the moment of player's injury is maintained at the same level throughout the post injury healing process. Data shows that higher stress levels in the brain release increased levels of neuromodulators which act as natural pain relievers and mood modifiers that help the body recover and heal at accelerated rates"
Game one, first blood, at Fenway: Ten Taketh-Aways
Ten taketh-aways.
1. Kudos to Luis Gil. His gutsiness - pitching out of two jams - challenged the bullpen to hold the line. When Cruz gave up that HR, the first hit of the night, the gravity of shame showed on his face.
2. Aaron Judge crushed the longest HR this season at Fenway, an estimated 480 feet. It's a wonder the US Air Force didn't try to shoot it down.
3. Giancarlo with a 114-mph line drive single to right. I believe something has happened this season to the relationship between Stanton and diehard fans. In recent years, he was mocked for his fragility and taken for granted when he does play. Last year, when he couldn't run, everybody thought he was done. Now, he could be a candidate for Cooperstown. All he needs is a ring.
4. Until further notice, Jose "the Gay" Caballero needs to play SS. I don't understand the double-lined facial markings, but I love the guy. Last night, you felt the tension rise across Fenway whenever he came to bat. Everybody knows: If he gets on, he'll steal second and maybe third. And in doing so, he disrupt the pitcher, catcher and infield. The guy brings chaos.
5. As for Anthony Volpe, the more I hear about his partially torn labium, the angrier I get. Last year, the Yankees let Anthony Rizzo play two months with the lingering effects of a concussion. His game suffered, and his career went into the crapper. Did they do the same with Volpe? I get it that Volpe wants to play and he gives his all, but he should not start another game at SS until Caballero proves to be deficient. In fact, if there's an all-purpose utility man at Scranton, the Yankees should bring him up and put Volpe on the injury list. He's washed out an entire year.
6. Last night, Bednar looked solid. One two three. It's been a while since a Yankee "closer" - Bednar included - shut down the other team without subjecting us to a heart attack. Remember how Mariano used to do it?
7. Speaking of closers, the Yankees still need to address one key element of our Vendetta List: El Chapo. We haven't gotten to Aroldis all season. It's time for the Cuban Water Cannon to meltdown, and to rejoice as the gallons of sweat pour from the open beer tap of his visor. We endured him for four years. It's time for Boston to catch a glimpse of our past.
8. No nice, unminced, non-juju enflaming way to say this, but without Roman Anthony in the lineup, the Redsocks just don't look all that scary. I have dark fears about the next few seasons, as Anthony grows into a star. I don't wish injury on any player - (actually, that's a lie, but fuckit) - but I really hope Anthony is not in the lineup when we face Boston in October (because I think we're going to face Boston in October.)
9. The Apple TV announcers last night talked up Ben Rice's "breakout" season, and you know what? They're damn right. I think we've sorta overlooked how central Rice has become to the Yankees, not just as a 1B but as a backup catcher. He bats third. We can worry about Anthony in the future, but Boston fans have to fear Rice.
10. Just win today, and gthen, against Crochet Sunday, spring a surprise on dear Aroldo. Wouldn't it be nice?
Friday, September 12, 2025
Looks like we picked the wrong century to be Yankees fans.
Yesterday, I came as close to dusting the dirt from my feet and turning my back on the New York Yankees as I have since sometime in 1984, when they traded Graig Nettles and I tried to become a Mets fan. Didin't take.
It's not that the Yankees have been a model of integrity, well, ever. This was a team, as Robert Penn Warren once wrote that was conceived in sin and born in corruption. Its original owners were the nation's leading gambler and the most corrupt police chief in New York City history, which is saying something.
The very best of the team's owners was a cold, ruthless son-of-a-bitch who publicly humiliated Joe DiMaggio. Most of the rest have been, to quote Lady Caroline Lamb, mad, bad, and dangerous to know. Same goes for so many of the racist, incompetent front office people the Yankees have employed.
Old George was no exception, a greedy, whining, scheming, bullying nepo baby, who at various times professed a willingness to move the team to Denver or sell it to the Dolans. It was, never let us forget, in Yankee Stadium that a baby-shark Donald Trump cut his teeth not only on the ways of only George, but also his greatest mentor, Roy Cohn, the gift who never stops giving, and who Trump would come to ignore and humiliate like everyone else who has helped him along the way.
First came the announcement about Anthony Volpe. The fact that he has been hurt since May is something that many of us here have suspected...since May.
I agree that Volpe's problems extend well beyond this injury to his non-throwing shoulder. But still: to put him out there to face ridicule from the hometown fans and the further diminishment of his confidence is beneath contempt.
It is also, I'm sorry to say, par for the course for our thoroughly loathsome general manager, Brian Cashman, whose quest to build himself a new Jeter has made him oblivious to basic human decency.
Not much better was the reaction of Aaron Boone. I know that Boone's endless, drivelous attacks of words are his way of avoiding accountability—or perhaps evidence of some terrible brain disease, God forbid. But his answer to questions about Volpe—something along the lines of "I think they learned that the tear was an old injury..."—went beyond his usual absurdity.
You think they learned? What is wrong with you???
Either Boone really can't remember just what happened to his young starting shortstop, or his evasions are in service of his masters. For God's sake, Mr. Boone: stand up and be a man, and stop covering for people. Can this job really mean this much to you, under these circumstances?
Far worse, of course, was the team's collective decision to piss on the memory of the heroes and martyrs of 9/11 by making the commemoration of the day a stage for Donald Trump—one more stop on his endless road tour of Revenge and Destruction.
I don't expect ballplayers to stand up to a president, especially once as vindictive and thin-skinned as this one. I don't expect ballplayers have very good politics at all.
(Although, come to think of it, why should that be? These are fantastically wealthy, grown men who made their fortunes by maintaining the most successful union in world history. Time, maybe, for someone to at least ask them about the massive contradictions in how they cash in and how they tune out?)
But their playing the simpering, smiling, grade-school audience for this awful excuse of a man was unpardonable. So was the reaction of Randy Levine, of course, but then who doesn't expect that squalid collection of hair dye not to bow and scrape to anyone with power?
All in all, it was a disgrace—crowned by Trump declaring himself the team's good-luck charm. Yeah? To that I say, "Go, Mariners!" Or somebody. Not, I'm sure, that whoever wins it will be much better, in this supine excuse for a republic.
On the matter of Anthony Volpe, maybe it's time to ponder the great neurotic Larry Sanders
As the King of Late Night, Larry Sanders suffered numerous anxieties. But his worst fears surfaced each summer, when the network sought his vacation replacement. Larry lived in terror that somebody - Carrey, Seinfeld, anybody - would come on and be funnier than he. It drove him - and his staff - sorta crazy.
So, today, why am I thinking of Larry Sanders?
Obviously, it's Anthony Volpe.
So... for the last three months, he may have been playing in pain.
I can almost hear the studio audience chanting... "Larry, Larry, Larry..."
Dear God, where do we start?
Well, to begin with, nobody should question Volpe's grit. He always answers the bell. But but BUT... if he's played in pain for the last three months, maybe we should question his intelligence.
Since May, when he jammed his shoulder and felt a pop, Volpe has been MLB's worst starting shortstop. By a mile. By ten miles. The lack of offense and defense at SS is the biggest reason why the Yankees are three behind Toronto in the AL East, and barely a spring of nasal hair ahead of Boston in the wild card.
And now, we learn he's been playing hurt?
Shoot me. That's some serious Larry Sanders-level paranoia: That he refused to sit out of the fear that Oswald Peraza would take his job? WTF? We're two weeks from the clang ending the regular season, Volpe's year has turned to shit, his career is hanging by dental floss, Yank fans have been booing him - (a Jersey boy!) - at home... and now, now, NOW we hear he's been playing in pain? Who is running this operation? Brian Daboll?
Full disclosure: I'm a secret Volpe fan. For three years, I've been Volpe's Pavlov's dog. If he goes 2-for-3, I drunkenly leap into the Happy Pit of Hope, thinking he's turned the corner and will become the Second Coming of Jeet. My second greatest fear - after being outed as a Roan Chappell stalker - is that Volpe gets chased out of NY and lands in, say, Tampa, where he turns into an all-star. I don't want to live in that world.
But whadda we make of this? He's been playing hurt? Did nobody on the team notice? Did the coaching staff know? It's three effing months. NOW they tell us? Has everything about Volpe since May been a lie? I believe that's called "gaslighting?" WTF? Next time they press Larry's APPLAUSE button, maybe we - the studio audience - should just go silent. And for god sake, sit this guy down until he's pain-free.
Thursday, September 11, 2025
The IT IS HIGH A.I. BOONIE CHATBOT explains what happened last night
"So, where was I? Rody gave us a chance. Six strong innings, kept us in it. You gotta like that. And I do. But you know, we just didn’t back him up. Offensively, we’ve got to do more. I can tell you that, in this league, one run just isn't gonna cut it, especially when the other side scores eleven. Jesus H. Christ, who thumb-tacked my bunster?
So, all in all, you gotta tip your cap to Detroit. They put together some good at-bats, found holes, and took advantage of every mistake. And from our side, the mistakes are not acceptable. We’ve gotta be better. We’ve gotta execute pitches, to make plays, and keep the game in front of us, full-frontal, boob city, va va voom, Bob's-yer-uncle! That's Chinatown, Jake. And we will. But last night, we didn't. I mean, make no mistake: That was a loss. And that loss is on us. We’ve gotta own it. We've gotta hang it on the wall, gotta set it at the dinner table, and then we gotta flush it down the Jimminy spigot. Gotta learn from it, gotta get some good swings, gotta stick to the plan, and gotta come up with the plan. That’s what we gotta do, and we will, because we gotta."
Seventeen games left.
The wheels are falling off.
Wednesday, September 10, 2025
Game Thread – 9/10 – It really can't get much worse than yesterday . . . can it ?
Happy Trails Rizzo - Wish your days with
the Yankees were healthier . . .
Grace, thy name is Anthony Rizzo
Don't think. Just click this link.
https://twitter.com/i/status/1965571869207367919
It's time for Yankee fans to channel Ed Ames
High upon a lonely ledge
A figure teeters near the edge
As jeering crowds collect below
To egg him on with "Go, Man, Go,"
But who will ask what led him
To his private day of doom,
And who will answer?
Okay, I know what you're thinking: The 2025 Yankees, right?
Listen: Every now and then, the universe blows its nose with you. Last night, for example, when all of NYC realized it's time for Jason Dart. Today, we're out on that ledge.
Make no mistake: Boone is a dolt, and Anthony Volpe may suck - (last night, he added to his list of maladies, "CAN'T BUNT") - but our 2025 apocalypse is the bullpen.
Last night, on full display, came a meltdown worthy of Chernobyl, if it hosted the New York State Fair. The seventh inning became an hour of torture that, in terms of jaw-dropping awfulness, rivals a Morris Dancers street show I witnessed 20 years ago, which still pops up in nightmares. Nope. In the circles of Hell, last night falls near the 2024 World Series Game 5 Inning 5, which peaked with the Pointer Sister, Gerrit Cole, teaming up with Anthony Rizzo to egg us on with "Go, Man, Go!
Nine runs, all earned, on five hits and five walks, in one inning. Most came with no outs, as the Yankee bullpen sank without a bubble.
Last night, we saw our destiny.
In three weeks, this creaky roller coaster will slide into the postseason, probably against Boston, and it will require somebody - God knows who - to get the last nine outs of multiple games. The bullpen phone will ring - at one end will be a shrieking, murderous Aaron Boone - and we must wonder: Who will answer?
I believe it will be Mingo. Take it away, chief...
'Neath the spreading mushroom tree
The world revolves in apathy
As overhead, a row of specks
Roars on, drowned out by discotheques
And if a secret button's pressed
Because one man has been outguessed
WHO WILL ANSWER?
Donno. But it won't be Mark Leiter Jr. I can tell you that.
Tuesday, September 9, 2025
An Above Average Haiku Tuesday – Catholic-College-Cash Edition
Volpe-esque he wuz
"Inching on Incontinent"
Now he has no Hair
The Yankees made the right decision on Gleyber
For a Yankee fan, few moments are more rewarding than when you can unspool a massive, self-righteous, Stygian dark, spittle-infused rant about the latest bad decision by Cooperstown Cashman and/or "Too Late" Boone.
Joey Gallo? Get the bucket.
Nathan Eovaldi? Shoot me.
Kei Igawa? Carl Pavano. OK, that's enough.
Jordan Montgomery? I said THAT'S ENOUGH!
Well, back on July 15, we could add Gleyber Torres to our personal shit-list.
After all, Gleyber was:
a) Bearded.
b) Hitting .277.
c) Staying awake during games.
d) Leading the young Tigers to 1st in the AL Central.
e) The AL starting 2B in the All-Star game.
Basically, he was enjoying a revenge season, letting us scream that the Yankees had pulled another boner (in the non-Viagra sense of the word.) Last winter, it was no secret that that Gleyber - (inspiration for the worst John Sterling HR call in history: "... And like a good Gleyber, Torres is there!" Yeesh.) - wanted to stay a Yankee, but mean old Mr. Cashman said no.
Sadly, Cashman's plans for the infield involved DJ LeMahieu, Oswald Peraza, and the juju gods, who nearly amputated Oswaldo Cabrera's leg. For a while, it meant that Jazz Chisholm had to play 3B, a place he detested, unsettling the Yankee infield in two locations.
Well, Jazz is back at 2B. And MLB's regular season stats are - like far-flung precincts in an election - taking shape. They vindicate Cashman for his decision last December: To not offer Gleyber a contract and let him fly away with the whispering winds.
By now, you've memorized the above comparison stats. What's amazing is how much more Jazz has produced with about 70 fewer at bats. He's on a course for 30 HR and 30 stolen bases. At 27, he's a year younger than Gleyber. (And I'm not sure he can grow a beard.) Yeah, he looked foolish in the Home Run Derby, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it taught him something he had forgotten: That his greatest asset can be speed, not power.
So, over the next three days, stand back: We'll get a full-scale YES comparison between Gleyber and Jazz, the Yankees' past and present. And if Gleyber hits one - (like a good Gleyber) - we will want to unleash some prime and juicy rants. But let's cut Coop some slack. Yes, Joey Gallo will never go away. But Cashman made the right move at 2B.
Monday, September 8, 2025
The End Is Near.
MLB currently has three tight divisional races. But in the era of wild card berths, does it matter?
Don't gemme wrong: I love a race. And our boys are in one, sorta...
Basically, we're chasing bragging rights and a first-round bye, (which can lead to complacency in the ALCS.) If the season ended today, Toronto and Detroit would enjoy the week off. The Yankees would host Boston - (last time we played them in the postseason was 2021; Nathan Eovaldi beat Gerrit Cole, 6-2) - and Seattle would visit Houston.
The End Is Near.
Off Topic for an Off Day – Rugby and Boxing
As part of my continuing series on alternative sporting events I somehow find myself attending, Saturday night I went to go see rugby for the first time.
USA vs. Japan as part of the 2025 Pacific Nations Cup.
Nothing like dropping into a world for an evening.
Decent sized crowd. Very enthusiastic. Lots of Rugby Bros who are clearly, a breed apart.
The Bros appear shorter at first than they actually are because
they are all broad shouldered, mega buffed people. They look like how I
picture the dwarves in Lord of The Rings. Sans beards. Like they should have
been carrying pick axes and going into tunnels.
They were very physical with each other. Nature of the game
I guess. Golfers don’t grab and wrestle with each other in greeting.
--
I very much enjoyed talking to the fans, many of whom were
players from rugby programs throughout country and who were in to see the match. One of the best conversations I had was with
a woman who plays for Cal Berkley.
There are a few top ruby schools in America and surprisingly,
the Cal Berkley is one of them. Especially the women’s team.
“Cal Women's Rugby has a long history of
developing young women into elite athletes and global leaders. Routinely
advances to the Pacific Coast playoffs with players named to the USA Rugby Women's
Junior and Collegiate All American squads.”
She had an interesting role on the team.
For those of you who don’t know the game, and I include my
self in that group, when a ball goes out of bounds it gets thrown in from the
side line as a kind of jump ball/face off.
The inbounding team is allowed to throw/lift up a player to gain a
height advantage. It looks something like what cheerleaders do on the sideline
when they stand on each other and hold the light one up. But no one is
light.
It’s even weirder than it sounds.
The girl I was talking to is the person they toss on the Cal Berkley team.
I asked what she loved
about the game, and believe me they all LOVE the game, and she said the joy in
bringing someone down in the open field.
I knew a woman from South Africa who played rugby as well
and she described the feeling the same way except she said it’s like taking
down a wildebeest on the Veldt. Seriously, that's a direct quote.
--
Also spoke to one of the top coaches in the country. Got a
lot of insight about the challenges of getting kids interested in playing. He said concussions were a problem. There are
no pads. No helmets. No protections whatsoever. Kind of thing that gives
parents pause.
I asked if they considered helmets. I said, after all,
catchers and goalies used to play without masks. He sort of laughed. I wasn’t
sure if it was wistful or disdainful and thought it was best not to pursue it.
The other thing he said that resonated was that rugby has trouble getting kids interested because, “It’s a LOT of work.” More than
other sports.
You have to be in shape to run continuously, like soccer,
but everyone is going full out all the time. Then you are tackling and getting
tackled so it’s like being a two-way player in football but no huddles, and no
time outs.
Plus, even if you’re great, there’s no real payoff other than the self-satisfaction of it.
A breed apart.
---
The US team got destroyed. Turns out that the Japanese
National Team gets to play together year round while the USA team is comprised
of players from different programs and clubs and don't get the time or the financial
support to play together a lot.
It reminded me a bit of the deal with the Olympics back in
the day when the teams from the USSR were all in the “Army” and the American
teams were just really talented college kids.
--
Being there was interesting, but the game itself? Yeeesh.
No disrespect, and I mean that, rugby is a very tough game
for very tough people, but I see why someone took a look at rugby and said,
this game is kinda lame, a bit like team, "Cream the Ball Carrier"
and then came up with football.
--
The match was over by nine PM which seemed early so my friend
and I went from there to a nearby bar/amusement center to watch the Northern
California "Battle of the Badges", a night of boxing pitting fighters
from various correctional facilities against each other.
That’s right, prison guards fighting prison guards.
The Longest Yard meets Rocky.
Not a lot of subtlety or
gentlemanly fisticuffs. These were brawls. Controlled fury. I didn’t want to
think about how they trained for the fight.
This crowd was interesting too, although to be fair, I didn’t do a lot of interacting. Didn’t want to get into a conversation with the wrong woman or say the wrong thing to, basically, anyone, if you can understand that.
My favorite moment was when an inebriated woman in her 70’s
jumped into the ring in-between rounds and took the round number card from the
ring girl and began parading around the ring with it much to the delight and
hoots from the crowd.
I was sitting ringside and yelled, “Hey be nice. That’s my
Mom!” and one of the prison guards in the crowd yelled back, “And a BE-U-TI-FUL
woman she is too!” and we all cracked up.
Then I got out of Dodge.
It's time for the Yankees to try someone else at shortstop
He came up three times. He struck out three times.
He missed a gettable grounder, wasn't charged with an error, then bounced a throw to first, and was.
He was why the Yankees, in the late innings, replaced 1B Ben Rice - whose HR basically won the game - with Paul Goldschmidt, a superior glove, though hobbled with injury.
In the AL, Volpe ranks last in almost every offensive category. On defense, he leads the league in errors, with 19.
Of course, you already know this. Everybody does. When Volpe emerges from the dugout, the whispers begin, and a sense of dread diffuses throughout the stadium. This is not a glitch, or a slump, or a gutsy guy toiling through injuries. This is his third crapola season in three long years. This is normalcy. This is a reality the Yankees refuse to accept, and it may cost them the AL East, or another postseason. (Last year's ended, more or less, when Volpe botched a throw to third, extending their Doomsday 5th Inning, which - Fun Fact - is constantly on replay in Yankee Fan Hell.)
A home town boy, Volpe is getting booed at Yankee Stadium. In pivotal moments, he is being replaced by pinch hitters. More and more, he is being "rested." It does not work. In an era when star shortstops anchor batting orders - Witt, Bichette, Pena, Henderson, et al - Volpe is failing at both ends of the spectrum.
Full disclosure: I've loved Volpe since spring of 2023 - "Volpening Day," we called it - when he unexpectedly came north with the team as its starting SS, the Jersey boy! the next Jeter! the future of the Yankees! We drank the Kool-Aid: He would settle the infield, grow into a star, become a team leader.
Well, it hasn't worked. Not since Joe Pepitone has more fan emotion and spirit been painfully poured into a Yankee disappointment. (Of course, Volpe is not Pepi, who squandered his great talent. Volpe is earnest and hard-working; in many respects, that only makes it harder to deal with. It's quite possible that Volpe's best chance to save his career will require a change of address - outside of New York.)
But but BUT... the Yankees do have a lifeline: Jose Caballero, a base-stealing terror. He's not perfect. No power. It's not certain whether he can play SS over the long haul.
But this isn't a long haul. It's three weeks - then the playoffs.
It's time to learn whether Caballero can handle the position. (Actually, the Yankees should have tried Caballero two weeks ago. Trump derisively calls Jerome Powell "Too Late." He should have saved that nickname for Aaron Boone.)
But it's 17 points higher than Volpe. It's time to see what other options the Yankees have. If everything else fails, maybe it has to be Volpe. But this isn't working, and yesterday, it almost cost the Yankees their most important win of the season. Time's up.
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