The dreaded Sleeper Hold.
When a match neared its conclusion, Gagne wrapped arms around his opponent's neck, cutting off the air and leaving the villain - Verne was a good guy - unconscious and twitching. It was a show-stopping move that changed the future, not only of pro wrestling, but of police work in Minnesota.
Last night, watching Max Fried systematically put down the Rays, I flashed upon the Great Gagne, as if he were sending Brute Bernard and Skull Murphy into their forested nights of Nod. He suffocated Tampa - a sad, homeless franchise - surrendering one hit over seven innings. By the time Luke Weaver pitched the ninth, the Rays were on the mat, twitching.
This weekend, we could conceivably put Tampa to sleep for good - or at least toward a Tankathon season, the kind of rebuilding years that franchise is famous for. (FWIW: Don't expect this. The Yanks still don't close as well as Gagne.)
Still, even though Tampa's season might be coming undone, I cannot shake the sense that the Yankees' 2025 has not yet begun - that we are treading water in a shallow pool, waiting for someone to lower the ladder. We haven't played the Mets. We haven't played the Dodgers. Most of all, we haven't played our old, reliable foe - (and I don't mean Gorilla Monsoon, who - Fun Fact - attended Ithaca College.)
We're inching towards Boston - a meaningful confrontation we've not seen since 2018, when the Redsocks -with Mookie Betts and Chris Sale - ate our lunches. In fact, the Yankee-Boston rivalry has not featured MLB's two premier teams since 2004, and Yank fans still await retribution for that colossal meltdown, which still defines our legacy in this millennium.
Rival executives can praise their buddy and benefactor, Brian Cashman, but Yank fans know a bitter truth: We have yet to avenge that historic collapse, and the so-called "rivalry" long ago became a nostalgia act, like Foreigner singing "Hot Blooded." These days, most of the YES in-game propaganda revolves around summoning memories - Mazeroski, McCovey, et al - of a long forgotten past, which only a few of us actually eyeballed.
To most of America, the Yankees are not the team of 27 world championships. They are the team that last won in 2009.
So... the Yankees and Redsocks don't meet until June 6, a weekend in the Bronx. By then, Carlos Carrasco will probably be gone, Giancarlo Stanton will probably still be hitting off his tee, and God knows where Boston's vaunted wave of prospects will be. The following week, the teams play in Fenway. By then, we'll know if a fuse has been lit on this season, and whether the rivalry will once again matter.
The Yanks v Redsocks won't be on the level of Mets v Phils, or Mets v Dodgers - but if there is to be a battle for the AL East, it will start in June.
Until then, we're lucky to be Verne Gagne, putting Tampa to sleep, and waiting for our chance at a Belt. Hans Mortier! You're next!
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18 comments:
Hmmm...
I'm on the road and may have more to say if I survive this business in the Utah backcountry.
June 6, after all, is the anniversary of D-Day (has Trump tried to change that to Donald Day yet?). So, it's D-Day once again but now for the pinstripers.
We could use Moose Skowron right about then.
These are indeed special times, Gentlemen.
I hear that coffee flows like water in Utah. Brewed by buffalo, drink it down and drink it deep.
No milk or sugar. No problem. Just poke a hole in the stem of a leaf from a Fressmin tree and squeeze a few drops into your cup of buffalo joe.
You’ll never know the difference.
Teams like TB are a sad commentary on the state of MLB. Sure, they’ll win some games (maybe even today) but the overall state of the franchise is rather pathetic. The team should’ve been moved years ago. As for the Yankees, once the proudest and greatest sports franchise in the universe, they are now reduced to peddling nostalgia to the rubes and the apathetic rich. Pomposity, Puffery, and Pinstripes.
Bitty, if you discover the hidden, underground government of Deseret—run.
And if the Yankees lose the remaining games of this series to the "pathetic" Tampons, what does that make the Yankees? I wouldn't count the Tampons out 'til the last nail has gone in the coffin and they've been duly interred. They swept San Diego just a few days ago. Last night, that game might've ended very differently but for Max Fried. And remember that game the Yankees threw away in Tampa, blowing a four run lead in the 9th? Yeah, "don't count the [Tampons] out 'til you see the box going into the ground". (Mad Max quote)
I don't know that the Boston Red Sox are the Yankees' biggest nemesis anymore. It's not even the Tampons, though I still think they're to be feared and loathed. It's not even the cheatin' ASS-stros. I think it's now the hateful Artful Dodgers.
All too true, 999. But I think the bigger question is how the hell MLB cannot make either Florida franchise flourish in a state full of Hispanics. The answer—like the answer to so many of baseball's problem teams—is undercapitalized management groups.
There's no excuse for this. People who know somebody in MLB's hierarchy are obviously able to buy in, counting on surviving thanks to revenue-sharing and the usual public rip-offs, uh, subsidies.
If the Yankees make the playoffs this year (and I certainly think they will, having predicted a 96 win regular season), there are any number of teams that I cannot see the Yankees beating in a short series, for the life of me. The Legal Guardians, the Detroit Tigers, and if they somehow make it to the World Series again this year, they're not beating the Dodgers, the Diamondbacks, even the Mets. Any team with good pitching will shut down the Yankee bats, and that'll be all she wrote.
What is it about Max Fried on the mound that makes the infield defense handle the ball like a live grenade? Is it the increased ground balls? Is it funny spin on the ball? Can Volpe make it through one Fried start, just one game, without making an error? Doesn't bode well for the playoffs.
Schmidt scratched from his regular turn today?
Ah, Hans Mortier. I remember him well. And his "brother," Max. Managed by Wild Redberry in his checkered sports coat. They once stated that they were in America to avenge the German loss in WW2. Their routine was always the same: start by savagely beating their opponent(s) and then show off their abdominals by allowing themselves to be hit in the stomach, which they rippled with fists on their sides. Their opponent would look at their hurt fist in awe over how hard the abdominals were. Twice in a row, this would happen, but the third time, they would fake another open solar plexus shot but instead punch the unsuspecting Mortier in the head, making him stagger around in a daze. Eventually, Mortier would regain his senses and stun the opponent with a dirty move, setting the stage for their submission hold, which was a full nelson so tight that Wild Redberry could only extricate the victim through the use of the hook part of a shortened cane, prying one of the Mortier brothers' fingers apart. I'm not sure why, 60 years later, I still remember this.
Very cool! Likely that you remember all this because it was so ... entertaining! 60 years ago was before my time, but I remember pro wrestling in the 70's, 1980's and 1990's. It was still super entertaining at that time. Bob Backlund, Hulk Hogan, Jimmy Superfly Snuka, Ricky the Dragon Steamboat, Sgt. Slaughter, The Iron Sheik, Demolition. That was just in the WWF. There were plenty other pro wrestling organizations.
BTW, Carl, did you ever see Gorgeous George? I heard about him when reading about how Cassius Clay styled his media image after the gorgeous one, pumping up interest in matches with enough hot air to open the gates of hell.
Schmidt has “ left flank soreness “ , which coupled with Jizz is total flank soreness. Is this shit contagious? Schmidt is always hurt, trade him for anything we can get and add pitching, pitching, pitching…
The Sleeper Hold was frequently featured in pro wrestling, but I think putting opponents to sleep was faked. The move itself is for real; cutting off the blood supply to one or both sides of the brain by pressing on the sides of the neck will put your opponent to sleep or even kill him. It's featured in the eastern martial arts in grappling. If they actually did it for real in those wrestling matches, there would have been an awful lot of hearses carrying away dead bodies. Cutting off blood to the brain can kill in only 10-15 seconds. Every once in a while, you hear about kids fooling around with tragic results. One time, some decades ago, there was a big news story in NYC about "the Karate Killer", a guy who killed someone in a street fight by kicking someone in the side of the neck. (It turned out the blow was a lucky kick, or unlucky kick, depending on your point of view. The killer was not much of a martials arts expert at all.) The karate chop to the side of the neck works in the same way. It cuts off blood to one side of the brain and is a potentially deadly move, if you can strike with sufficient power and focus.
I'm on the record as saying Schmidt should've been traded during this winter. And I think even before last year's trade deadline. He has reached his maximum Yankee potential. He might be even better somewhere else, like for the Arizona Dickbacks. But he ain't getting any better here under Matt Blake. I hope they move him at this year's trade deadline, but I wouldn't hold my breath. Dumbass Cashman doesn't do these kinds of trades. They'll hang on to Schmidt to milk all of his value, and when he does turn free agent, he'll walk away and the Yankees will get nothing.
Hammer... the sleeper is definitely fake. As you mentioned, the vast majority of wrestling victims would die if it were applied properly. Remember what happened to that unlucky guy in NYC, killed by that asshole cop who used the sleeper chokehold on Eric Garner because he was selling individual cigarettes on the street without a license. He died after only a short time in the hold, perhaps within 30 seconds.
Gorgeous George was before my time. He retired before I started watching the WWF on Channel 9 on Saturday mornings.
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