Forget congestion pricing. The problem with NYC is its sports team owners

At last, our long national nightmare is over. 

The 2024 Giants - at 3-14, somehow, worse than their record indicates - have finished their season-long pageant of incontinence. 

Actually, they've been done since early October. If an NFL season could, like a Pauly Shore movie, go straight to home video, the Giants could have spared a million fans from wasting 17 Sundays. Sadly, many of us - the weak and frail - had to watch. I hang my head. Week after week, I tuned into their death channel, often reduced to rooting against them, in the hope that they could feel my pain.

What a joke. The truth is, a sports franchise is an organization, a company, a lifeless monolith... it cannot feel anything. It just goes on and on. 

Today, without a doubt, the Giants are NY's worst sports franchise, no easy accomplishment. Yet they will suffer no financial consequences for their mediocrity. As an investment, as a money-maker, they are unbeatable - undefeated. 

By the time you read this, owner John Mara may have decided the fate of GM Joe Schoen and coach Brian Daboll, who have overseen two of the worst seasons - back-to-back, and belly-to-belly - in NFL history. Both could go. Both could stay. One could go - all sorts of permutations, none that will matter.

The problem with the Giants is the problem with the Jets, which is the problem with the Yankees, and which has been problem with every top-down rotted NY sports team in this quarter century. 

It is the generational lockjaw of nepotism, of old-money, pearl-clutching, status quo, country club owners, who view teams as family legacies - or toy ATMs - and who avoid the tough decisions that self-made oligarchs ruthlessly make. For the Giants, it's Mara - age 70 - the eldest son of Wellington. He grew up as a millionaire in a White Plains mansion, then effortlessly evolved into a billionaire labor lawyer, and who now represents the NFL's second longest running ownership family, after the Halas brood in Chicago. It's no coincidence that both teams suck. 

I suspect Mara will feel bad about today's decision, whatever it is. He's never been fired, never been laid off, never wondered about his next paycheck. Often, in the owner's box, he looks genuinely pained. That's when we catch a glimpse of him. Today's owners enter and leave without facing the cameras, the riffraff. 

For example, Hal Steinbrenner generally avoids the Yankee fan base in the way he avoids replacing his failed front office pals. 

The NY media - which prides itself on aggression and toughness - accepts ownership stagnation, (especially those writers whose calls get returned.) And nothing changes. 

What laid bare this problem is the emergence of mega-billionaire Steven Cohen, owner of the long-suffering, now all-powerful, Mets. Cohen is what George Steinbrenner used to be, and what Old George's son will never be. Cohen bought the Mets to win. Hal inherited the Yankees, more or less, as a boulder to carry. 

This week, as Mara issues his decision, the Yankees will probably be losing out to the Mets in another auction. Cohen will outbid Hal for Roki Sasaki, the Japanese pitcher and the best free agent on the market. (There is a possibility that the Dodgers will cook their books and get him.) Sasaki could be the difference between the Yankees winning the AL East and/or merely competing for it. Hal will accept "competing." 

That's because he's a New York owner, all the way. 

And as long as the Maras run the Giants, let's face it: Hal looks pretty good, by comparison. And nothing's gonna change.

Edit: Looks like they're staying.

Edit II: What it was like watching the Giants this year.

Thus far, the Yankees haven't traded their top 4 prospects; that might change

 

It's almost time for the annual midwinter pageant - (think: the Golden Globes but with less cleavage) - known as MLB's "Gloaming of the Farms." 

Soon, the baseball wing of the Internet will launch boisterous debates over the prospect rankings of 19-year-olds that have never been seen live and only exist in box scores. (Think: Schrodinger's catcher.)

One aspect of this annual beef appraisal is its unpleasantness for Yank fans. In these rankings, the rosy curtain of YES optimism is shredded, and we often must gaze into a future of Zolios and Oswaldos. It stings.  

Last August, in the most recent roundup, the Yankee farm system ranked 18th of 30 on MLB.com. In other terms, below average. This time, they'll probably rank worse, though, hey! ya never know! The well-greased Yankee hype machine works on many levels. 

For the record, last August, all our blood rivals outdid us. Tampa ranked #1, (as they always seem to do), followed by Baltimore #3, the Dodgers #5, Boston #7, and the Mets #13. It's hard to see the Yankees moving up. It's not as if anybody broke out in October. We hoped the Martian would supplant Alex Verdugo, or that Ben Rice would take over for Anthony Rizzo. Nope, on both counts. The kids went home. 

But one thing did NOT happen - or, at least, it hasn't yet: The Yankees haven't traded any of their top-tier prospects, generally the lifeblood of a system.  

As shown in the above chart, the '25 Yankees could see one key youthful infusion:  Jasson Dominguez. When signed at a ridiculous age, 16, for a ridiculous bonus - highest in history - Dominguez was ridiculously compared to Mickey Mantle and Mike Trout. Now, he'll be ridiculously compared to Juan Soto. 

For any top Yankee prospect, the ridiculous comparisons never end. I hope they don't crush this kid.

Considering the hype the Yankees have bestowed on Dominguez, it's hard to imagine them trading him. It would be like closing a Broadway show before opening night. But after The Martian, the remaining top three have constantly been whispered in trade rumors.  

Right now, Spencer Jones bounces from being the next Aaron Judge to just another tall guy who strikes out way too much. If he's still a Yankee next June, Jones could reach Scranton and be a 10-game hitting streak from the Bronx. God knows what he'll look like. The Yankees revamp his swing the way Cher used to change gowns in her Vegas act. They might kill him.   

Then there are Roderick Arias - another huge signing bonus baby, who never received the cascade of hype that came with The Martian, and George Lombard Jr., a 2023 first-round pick still sequestered deep in the low-A trenches.  

According to the Internet, Cooperstown Cashman will land a 3B or 2B, rather than hit spring training with DJ LeMahieu in the lineup. Yank fans should brace themselves for a trade that actually hurts. And get ready for sticker shock, because the next farm system rankings - even if they somehow have cleavage! - could be bleak. 

Stang!

Sinatra was the man with the golden arm, 

but Arnold Stang was the man with the Jack Russel that liked beer.

The Redsocks may toy with a six-man rotation in 2025, and other amusing tidbits

By signing 30-year-old World Series lug nut, Walker "Forest" Buehler, to a one-year, $21 million deal, the hateful, frat-boy Redsocks are said to be pondering a six-man pitching rotation in 2025. 

So are the Dodgers and - evidently - us. (Cole, Fried, Rodon, Schmidt, Gil, Stroman?) If so, the long-awaited era of Slingin' Sixes may have finally arrived. For years now, MLB front office tiddily-winkers have pondered the six-man as a potential solution to the workloads that relentlessly grind down starters, enriching the likes of Stroman and Buehler. If it lessens the shredder on elbows and shoulders - or just seems to - the front six  could become the new normal.

Here is Boston's Olympian six-man, for now: 

Garret Crochet
Walker Buehler
Lucas Giolito
Tanner Houk
Brayan Bello
Kutter Crawford

Yeap, Brayan Bello and Kutter Crawford! 

As Jimi would sing, "'S'kyooz me, while I kiss this guy." The 1966 Dodgers (Koufax, Drysdale, Osteen, Sutton) won't lose sleep over this. But but BUT... Boston is quietly bolstering its staff, and it seems to be in on the bidding for remaining free agents.

Is this real or Memorex? Dunno. But we'll get a glimpse when music stops, and Alex Bregman sits down. If Boston signs Bregman, it would solidify the Redsock infield in a way that - frankly - we should find worrisome. Bregman would anchor 3B, Rafael Devers would move to 1B, and the only thing separating us from them would be - let's say it all together - pitching, pitching, pitching. 

The upcoming season might bring an old-fashioned - (that is, circa 2000) - Redsock-Yankee divisional race. Add the wave of young talent still stockpiled in Baltimore, and this recent bogus chatter about a weakened AL East could turn out to be as real as the polls that showed Kamala winning Iowa. Toronto still has massive gobs of Canadian money, and I believe that Tampa - playing home games in a wild, sold-out Yankee bandbox - could be surprisingly reborn. 

Which brings us back to current reality: The Yankees cannot be done this winter. Boston just made a move. We need a counter-move. Hey, Siri, can you call Mr. Steinbrenner? 

Giants ready to notch big victory over Philadelphia with scaredy-cat Barkley. Is there a moral for Yankee fans?

For a moment, let's forget Paul Goldschmidt's dead-on impersonation yesterday of Lance Berkman, Andruw Jones, Ichiro Suzuki, Vernon Wells, Travis Hafner, Chase Headley, Matt Holliday, Chris Carter, Todd Frasier, Kevin Youkilis, Andrew McCutcheon, Troy Tulowitzki, Edwin Encarnacion, Kendrys Morales, Joey Gallo, Josh Donaldson, Anthony Rizzo, Chevy Chase, Mel Gibson, Caitlyn Jenner, Mitch McConnell, Joe Biden the standard, defiant, prickly, old white codger who is five years passed peak foliage, talking about his next film, record album, tv show, bowel movement season. 

Aw, who knows? Maybe Goldswinger has another big year in him. Whatever happens, though, he'll always be one furious Zolio Almonte uppercut away from the two-month gonadal tweak that defines most 37-year-old comebacks. Welcome to NY, Sir. Disregard those names carved into the shower wall. Don't look at the record books for the last 15 years. Maybe you'll buck the odds. Maybe... maybe... um... I just thought of another name... John Mayberry... 

Nope. Let's push out a moment of joy for the New York Football Giants, who hope to end 2024 as they did 2023 - beating a listless, playoff-bound Eagles team in a game that only holds meaning to the lost, desperate souls who gamble on such effluent-spiced affairs. 

With luck, the Giants can finish the season on a two-game win streak (2!) which will solidify momentum heading into 2025 effectively crush their chances to draft one of the top two QBs next year. They'll finish at 4-13, a record that achieves the impossible: It actually sugarcoats the depth of their mediocrity. 

To this, I cry, "Magnificent! Sirs, I salute you! The Yankees, the Mets, even the ghastly Jets - they cannot touch your ability to suck the hopeful oxygen from the Northeast, if not the entire Eastern Seaboard. You are the gold standard for incompetence!" And today, Yank fans should recognize that:  

1. Bad as he is, Food Stamps Hal Steinbrenner is still not as awful an owner as the DNA combination of John Mara and Steve Tisch, two nepo babies of self-entitlement who, together, turned a once-glorious franchise into Rutgers. I am serious here: Compared to these Bozos, Hal and his human clipboard, Brian Cashman, look like Vince Lombardi and John Wooden. The Giants have delivered one of NYC's great meltdowns, on a par with the Dolans, Rich Kotite, the Spiderman musical, and Abe Beam. 

2. Bad as they are, the comedy team of Cashman & Boone is still not as awful as the butcher buffoons of Buffalo, Schoen and Daboll. The Yankees, at least, regularly reach the postseason, though it's pretty well carved out for them by an expanded playoff system, which borders on Little League participation trophies. Still, the NFL has its own system of rewarding bad teams - something the Giants still manage to overcome, year after year. They are truly, in an Olympian manner, "special."

3. And this weekend, the juju gods will savor a special belly laugh: Saquon Barkley won't play against his old team. Chicken. Nope. He'll rest for the playoffs, a decision that perfectly sweetens his vengeance upon Big Blue. Not only did Saquon prove them to be idiots for letting him go - they let him walk to the Eagles, one of their bitterest rivals. And this weekend, he will sit on his splendored butt and watch the Giants happily shoot next year in the balls. 

Is there a Yankee moral here? What happens when you let an arch-enemy outbid you for a truly great player? Jeepers. I can't imagine that happening to the Yankees, right? As for that rising chorus of Gammonites and thunder-clappers, who now speak the clown car courtier message - that, considering his price tag, the Death Barge is better off without Juan Soto, well, I suggest you watch on Sunday and celebrate the money saved by the Giants for letting Barkley go. Hmm. Lemme see. Oh, yes. It allowed them to keep Daniel Jones... Magnificent!  And good luck to Mr. Goldeneye.  

Glad Keefe's back. I get it.

We like reading the guy. That's a given. He's honest, articulate, and accurate. Three traits that all of us here admire and hopefully share. 

I'm glad he's writing again and don't have any problem with him walking back his pledge. 

Sure, he issued an ultimatum," Sign Soto or I'm gone!" But, as we all know, it's hard to quit a team we've loved since early childhood. (Cough. Giants or Jets. Cough.) 

In the case of baseball it's even harder. 

Technically, even though I am a lifetime NY Giant fan I can still enjoy watching the game of football even if they are not in it. 

Yesterday's Texas v. Arizona St. game had one of the best fourth quarters I have ever seen. And that RB guy on AZ, whose name escapes me at the moment. (See the note posted earlier about insufficient coffee consumption.) turned in one of the greatest and gutsiest (and we saw his guts when he puked on the sidelines) performances in college football history. It was a fantastic watch. 

Side note -  Arizona State was totally jobbed on the non-call of helmet to helmet late in the fourth quarter. Really makes you wonder about the purity of the sport. 

But I digress... my point is that unlike football, a game I can watch other teams play, my relationship with baseball (and I suspect Keefe's as well) is 100% with the Yankees.  

Using the above example... would ANY of us here watch the Arizona Diamondbacks play the Texas Rangers?  Uh... I'm guessing, no.  

Consequently, to give up the Yankees is to give up baseball and that's something that is very hard to do. Especially if it is your favorite game to the point of writing about it.  

I can't blame Keefe for walking it back, finding some hope, and sticking with it because, that's pretty much the definition of real fandom. We're not front runners. We're Yankee fans.  He's stuck. We're stuck. 

And, given our collective ages around here, we've suffered through worse. They actually won the pennant last year. Albeit in relatively joyless fashion. 

No Soto? No worries. I heard Stanton has a new Yoga mat. 

Ten Reasons why Anthony Volpe holds the key to the 2025 Yankees

It's the economy shortstop, stupid. Always was. Always will be.

For the Yankees, beyond all the gnashing of teeth and bone over Juan Gone, this is the 2025 reality: It's all about the shortstop. 

Derek Jeter is 50, a full 10 years into retirement. Fifth-graders - the next generation of Yank fans - only know him as a TV postgame meat puppet. Since he left, we've burned through Didi Gregorius, Tyler Wade, Thairo Estrada, Gleyber Torres, Isiah Kiner-Falefa, Oswald Peraza and Oswaldo Cabrera. For now, our long and short term future rests with Anthony Volpe.

How can I say this? We have the game's greatest slugger and perhaps the league's most intriguing leadoff hitter. (Note: That's Jazz Chisolm.) We have Cody Bellinger and Paul Goldschmidt, and The Martian. How can so much balance on Volpe's 23 year old shoulders?

Well, it's easy. Ten reasons... 

1. The Yankees have nobody in the farm system remotely resembling the next star SS. The bonus baby, Roderick Arias, and the former 1st round pick, George Lombard Jr., remain mired in the distant minors, long long ago and far far away. Maybe one will break out in 2025. At best, they might reach Scranton, ready to arrive in 2026. But right now, it's Volpe or your mom. (And she can't go to her left.) 

2. Amid last year's carnival of upheavals, Volpe treaded water. Good news: His rather meh .243 batting average turned out to be 34 points above 2023 (when he hit a ghastly .209.) But his HRs fell from 20 to 12. Overall, his OPS was almost exactly the same - in 2023, a Satanic .666; last year, an Oswaldic .657. He began 2024 at the top of the lineup, finished hitting 7th. Meh. 

3. Two winters ago, Volpe was being compared with Bobby Witt Jr. NY hype? Probably. It surely won't happen again. But Witt's rocketlike ascension last season should offer hope for Volpe. Witt, now 24, is a full year older. They're on the same timeline, so to speak.  

4. Volpe is a grinder, known to put in the work, and to be coachable. (With the Yankees, that can be a problem.) Last spring, the brain trust tinkered with his swing. In the end, he sacrificed power for average. Not sure whether it worked, but there is no reason to think Volpe cannot improve. He might never equal Witt, but he could be a top-tier SS. Sadly, last year, he wasn't.  

5.  His dramatic World Series grand slam highlighted a .286 batting average through the postseason. In October, Volpe seemed to remember his speed. He stole 5 bases, never once thrown out. In the 2024 regular season, he stole 28. Damn. This guy should steal 50. He needs to run wild. Last year, he was like an NBA point guard who misses a few jumpers early on, and then stops shooting.  

6. Volpe compares to Jeter in one metric: Durability. Over the last two years, Volpe has missed five games. (Three in 2023, two last year.) It's hard to imagine the Yankee lineup without Volpe at SS. 

7. Also, Volpe brought decent glovework. In 2023, he won a headscratcher Gold Glove. Last year, he botched some high-profile plays. Remember that out-of-body loss to Baltimore last July, before the All-Star break? Hint: Verdugo's face plant? It happened because Volpe muffed an easy play. Also, he shall be remembered forever for the Knoblachian throw to 3B in game five, which helped unleash the hounds of hell. It barely went 20 feet. I hate to think of that play haunting Volpe all winter. Could it foster the yips? He must put it far behind him. Like, I shouldn't even mention it here. Right? 

8. The hometown hero aspect of Volpe's career - he's from Morristown, NJ, where fun fact: I once worked in the local library - is winding down. Local Boy Makes Good can only go so far. In 2025, Volpe will live or die based on output. If he doesn't hit, the Gammonites will start whispering that he "needs a change of scenery." From there, he's gone. 

9. Age-wise, he's entering his prime, as the undisputed anchor of the infield. Depending on where Jazz Chisolm plays, the Yanks will have a new 1B, 2B and/or 3B.  Goldschmidt should save a bunch of errors, though he carries a whiff of Youkilis, Tulowitski, et al. But heading into 2025, this is Volpe's infield.

10. Did I mention that it's the shortstop, stupid? Because it is. The Yankees will live or die with Volpe. Imagine their lineup if his bat justifies him hitting leadoff? And what it signifies if he's eighth? It's night and day. It's Volpe or nothing.

Three more wishes, seriously.

El Duque's list was very comprehensive. If half of them work out the team will be in good shape. Here are three more...  

1) A Tighter Ship 

With the removal of Gleyber and however they decide who plays second or third and, with the addition of a Gold Glove level first baseman who can still bend at the waist, the defense starts to take pride in... playing defense. 

No more slapping the glove at balls, No more just missing the DP by 1/2 a step. No more missing the cutoff. That kind of stuff. 

2) Play Angry

The Yankees were exposed as a team that is "not very good at baseball". That should piss them off. They should use that insult as fuel and play with more focus and intensity. They need to become "Warriors in the box." again.  

3)  Hire Someone to Re-imagine the Stadium Experience.

Change the music. Change the vibe. Make it a fun place to be. Citi Field is worlds better than YS3.  

YS3 is a soulless, themed Vegas casino. At times the game seems as important as the aerialists at the old Circus Circus. Something you look at while deciding where to lose your money next. 

---

And, Happy New Year to all of you and yours and eat as many eggs as you can 

while there are still eggs to eat. 

Yankee top 10 wish list for 2025

1. The Martian must arrive. He doesn't need to be great (though, come to think of it, that would be nice.) Most importantly: He must not crash and burn. No Ruben Rivera.   

2. Volpe's gotta improve - not dramatically, just a bit. Thinking: .270, 20 HRs and 35 SBs. (Up from .243, 12, 28.)  

3. Fried must be an effective No. 2 starter. Yanks can't afford another Rodon.

4. Mega-negative juju towards Soto and Mets. Tabs turn acidic. Yank fans relentlessly boo. He butchers a few pop flies, tweaks something, assumes a "Woe is me" posture. Think: Bobby Bonilla.

5. Giancarlo needs a full year. What he did in the '24 postseason, he must do over five months. Outside world thinks he's unstoppable, but Yank fans see an always-injured spare part.

6. Yanks must still add pitching. Remember the Iron Law of Boone: He'll use up and squander whatever he's got. 

7. For Chisolm, big year in Big Apple, hitting in front of Judge. Career year? He must channel world series game one, when he singlehandedly stole what should have been the winning run. 

8. Somebody must take 2B or 3B, depending on where Jazz plays.

9. Hope RH Sasaki ends up in NL, not AL East. (Because, let's face it: Yanks won't sign him.)

10. To all of you - health, prosperity, unrelenting sex, crypto windfalls and comfortable shoes. It's gonna be a great year, 2025. We're gonna laugh. We're gonna cry. We're gonna ride down the Canyon of Heroes, (congestion pricing applies.) We're gonna become one with the Yankiverse. And it will be okay... I think...