It is high, it is far, it is... called back by instant replay: John's first Ellsbury home run call is nullified

For the record, it was a two-tiered, alliterative pun, using both names, but in a reverse sequence, which signifies the fact that Ellsbury has reversed - he now is playing for the Yankees, against his old teammates.

Ells... BURIES one. It's a JACK by Jacoby. 

The wait is over. Now, we simply need a home run call that lasts five minutes.

Robbie, Naked

Speaking of not booing Robbie when he passes through the Bronx...I was wondering how he was only batting .270 at this point, even though it is early. But I forgot--he is completely unprotected in the Seattle lineup. (It's amazing he doesn't have more walks; they have to be pitching around him.)

He must have realized when he took the money that there wouldn't be the usual Yankee Around-Rob hitters that forced opposing hurlers to pitch to him and be serious about it. What this might do to his previously HOF-lock projected stats is anybody's guess at this point. A few years of Seattle no-names and disappointing signings--by which time the ownership will disappear into their previous penny pinching prejudices--and his career stats could take a serious hit.

If this keeps up, it might 'jog' his memory about why it was great to be a Yankee. Nyuck nyuck.

My heart is in the coffin there with Cesar, And I must pause till it come back to me.

Baseball renders unto Cesar what is Cesar

Et tu, Betances?

He suffered a death of one cut. 

Greedy Sherpas threaten future glorious personal achievements of Great Men (and Women)

Let's hope the RNC dispatches Senator Corker and the Truth Squad to Yemen in time to save the Sherpas from a union.

As Boston prepares to unleash Ell on Ellsbury, should the Yankiverse temper our anger at Robbie Cano?

For the last year, our usually unbridled Yankee fan contempt for the Redsocks has been tempered slightly because of a) the bombing, b) nobody expected them to win anything in 2013, and c) we were saving it for A-Rod. 

Tonight, we will once again remember why Fenway Park remains the world's largest roach motel for seething, trust-fund Harvard frat-boys and rich silver-haired harumphs, whose main contribution to society is the invention of new DWI legal defenses, based on the use of prescription sleep aids. They will boo Jacoby Ellsbury until they cough up Ambien. Then they will drink, re-energize, and boo him harder.

No problem. In a Zen Matrix type of way, this boo-fest needs to happen. They need to feel oppressed. They need an easy target. But listen carefully, folks, because tonight's loud and bile-filled thunder will be the noise made by frogs under a computer-generated full moon. They will be booing a straw man, conveniently created by the Redsocks-owned media and its billionaire ownership. 

Boston simply didn't want to give Ellsbury the five-year deal that players at his age need for long-term security. In fact, since 2010, the Redsock organization had been questioning his loyalty and suggesting he would always leave for the West Coast. How joyous they were when Jackie Bradely Jr. had a great 2013 spring training (though it remains his high-water mark.) And whenever Ellsbury was hurt - diving for a ball or sliding into a base - the Redsock Nation collectively inscribed a permanent black mark on his personnel card. At times, they even mongered rumors that he wasn't really hurt at all, he was just enjoying his time off. Well, now he's an evil Yankee, and now he will pay the price. "It's out of my hands," Ellsbury told the NY Times yesterday, of his anticipated reception. "I gave that organization everything I had when I stepped on that field." He did. He's giving us all he has. Tonight, he'll hear what high-minded Boston thinks about it. It would be less cold if he were riding in the wheel-well of a Boeing 707.

Which brings us to Robbie, who comes to NYC next Tuesday. And yes, if you look into the upper left-hand corner of this blog, you'll know that I have not exactly been the most level-headed fan on the subject of the jogger. Part of my anger stems from what I consider to have been a foolish decision made by Cano. I think he would have been better off as a life-long Yankee, who would have received his final over-valued contract just as Jeter did. I think Cano was manipulated into becoming a notch on Jay-Z's sports agency's belt; a night at the Grammys with Beyonce will do that to a guy. (It would work with me.) I think Cano will spend the better part of his final years wondering why he chased so much money that he will never see, with so much of it vanishing down the hole of management fees and entourage costs. Oh, well. You make your bed. 

But... should we boo Robbie?

No. No, no, no. Of course, not. 

OK, think with me: Wouldn't it glorious if the Yankiverse a week from now simply decided to thank Cano for the great years he gave us, and then moved on? No booing. A pleasant cheer, maybe a standing recognition that players are human, and they instinctively chase money the way Lawrence Taylor once chased quarterbacks. Let him know we remember. Don't get me wrong. I'll still post the Robbie Goldfinger updates. (There's a difference between snark and booing. I believe snark is a higher evolved form of boarishness.) But I won't even boo the TV. 

But tonight, let's take notes. Let's see how Boston does it... and let's NOT be them.

The new "Tex Message"

10 Reasons why Vidal Nuno will replace Ivan Nova in the Yankee starting rotation

1. He's a better pitcher than Nova.

2. He's already replaced Nova, and that's how the Yankees always do everything: They go with a guy until he totally screws up, and then they make a change.

3. He's a better pitcher than Adam Warren and David Phelps, who have been getting cuffed around lately.

4. We don't have enough prospects to trade for a front line starter.

5. He's a better pitcher than Alfredo Aceves, who is still rehabbing not only his arm, but his reputation.

6. The cool name, Vidal. It has a Yankee connection! Gore Vidal wrote historical novels about the Civil War, with those "damn Yankees."

7. He wears number 57, the magical jersey that was once worn by Hensley Meulens, Ramiro Mendoza, Tucker Ashford and Scott Proctor - some of the all-time great-sounding names. Joe Borowski, too!

8. The last name "Nuno." It has exactly the same amount of letters as Nova, and it takes up exactly the same space. Weird, huh? In fact, to make the switch, the Yankees only need a "u" and a lower case "n." You could almost change it with a pen, by converting "uno" to "ova."

9. Good grief, Miley Cyrus may be dying in a Kansas City hospital. This is no time to throw a monkey wrench into her recovery by moving somebody up from Scranton that she's never heard of. For that matter, even if we wanted to sabotage Miley's recovery by bringing somebody up from Scranton that she's never heard of, we have nobody in Scranton who is worth bringing up, that she's never heard of. But wait a minute: Why would we want to sabotage Miley Cyrus? Because she's a competitor with Lady Gaga? (a Yankee fan, by the way.) Hmm. That would make sense. Still, there's nobody in Scranton except for some guy named Billings. If Miley hears the Yankees are bringing up "Billings," would that put her over the edge?

10. Because ten point lists are goddamm difficult, and if you think otherwise, you should try one sometime. The fact is, at a certain point, you just have to go with the idea that Vidal Nuno will replace Ivan Nova, and you don't need to nitpick over the reasons. Jeez. You wanted ten? OK, you got ten. GET OFF MY LAWN.

Tex's Error-Prone Return

As Duque pointed out, he has 4 errors in 5 games.

Before we get too excited about the disappearance of Tex's remaining skill (offense having deserted him already, hastened by the shift, and speed never being in the mix to start with), remember what he said this past weekend. He's "a little rusty" after not having played regularly for about a full season.

A little rusty? This is a little rusty (next to the immortal Sherry Jackson). Tex feels more like the Oxidationsphere from the World's Fair out in Flushing.

Hope someone pours a few Cokes on him and goes at him with a steel wool pad very soon.

A Day Off.

Enjoy the rest, Yankees.  Relax.  Soothe those aching muscles.  Have a cool one.

Boston tomorrow night.  They came back, late, from 5-0 Baltimore lead.

Kick back.  Get that magic back in the bullpen arms.  Get Tex a new glove.

Boston tomorrow night.  They came back, late, from 5-0 Baltimore lead.

Sleep until noon.  Have a leisurely lunch down by the harbor.  Have a lobster.

Boston tomorrow night.  Etc.

FOUND: The Juju key to the 2014 Yankees winning the World Series

It's simple, it's so obvious, how didn't I see this before Sunday? I could have spared us those two horrible losses in Tampa.

Last week, after the Yankees took three from Beard Town, and then stomped the Tampaoans in game one, I found myself so confident about this team that I actually pondered the possibility of winning six in a row. What absurdity! What hubris! I was drunk and stoned, babbling like Sally Field, incoherent from a cocktail of Ecstasy, Oxycontin, Boddington's and Yangervis. Most of all, I was sure we would win Friday.

Idiot. That's what I was. A pro-Yankee clod.

Sunday, after being flogged for 48 hours, and watching Ivan Nova board the Chien-Ming Wang train to Nowhere, I was sure the Yankees would lose to Tampa in some excruciating, permanently traumatizing way. I watched the late innings with remote in hand, prepared to snap-off the TV before the Tampa home run even landed. I paced the house, formulating acid-laced blog posts, planning to boil the entire Steinbrenner family in oil, condemning the Yankees in boldface italics! On this Easter Sunday, a day reserved for families, the Yankees were going to know that each of them was a disappointment to his parents.

And we won.

So... I go this.

If we think this team will win, it will lose. 
If we expect it to lose, it will win. 

That doesn't mean we have to constantly spit negativity. After Yankee victories, I can't always do that. But we must prime the pump. Once the juju is flowing, it moves on its own. That's how Boston won last year. You didn't find Redsock fans in April breast-beating over their team. Nobody claimed Johnny Gomes as lord and savior. They expected fourth place. That's what we must do.

If we don't believe we can win this thing, we can win this thing! 

We don't have to scream about how bad the Yankees are. We can celebrate victory. But personally, privately, I am going to steel myself - discipline myself, like a great martial arts warrior - to not believe in anything hopeful that I write, even in the aftermath of a great Yankee victory. (Note: Every Yankee victory is a great Yankee victory.) For example, Dean Anna yesterday inscribed himself into Yankee lore. If he never does anything else, come 2030, there will still be lines of Yankee fans in front of his table in the Ramada, where he is signing 8x10 glossies. And Foghorn Claiborne might be sitting next to him, while a video loop shows Ichiro catching the final out. I have no doubt that these two career role players saved the entire Yankee 2014 season. Until tomorrow.

So, you are asking: Why does el Duque sound so happy and buoyant about the Yankees? That is a ruse, of course. From now on, even in the big bang euphoria of a Yankee triumph, such as yesterday, when we write and say good things about this Yankee team, we shall be secretly without hope. If we quietly expect defeat, we will win! Dammit, we can do thing! But we won't. But we could! But we won't. BUT WE COULD! (But surely we won't.)

WTF? Teixeira now has four errors in five games

In other words, we were getting better defense from guys who had never played first base before.

Best headline in the Yankiverse

From It's All About the Money

ALIVE!

Dean Anna is the Easter Bunny.

Old rule: Tie goes to the runner...

New rule: Tie goes to the on-field call.

If Nuno Pitches Today…..

Will he understand that it is a baseball game, and throw some pitches that don't bounce before they reach the batter?

Will he totally suck as he did in his last relief gig?

Will he be given 90 or so pitches by Girardi, even if they are all in the first inning?

Will he be in Scanton by tomorrow, learning how to play first base?

Will any of us have any hope for the rest of the year?

Will he lay a basket of eggs or just one large one?

If not for that triple play the other day...

Luck is luck. But the other day, seemed to me CC was about to crack apart. Then came that triple play. Yeesh. We could be looking at a sweep right now.

The horror, Mr. Girardi. The horror. Nine ponderings about last night's Apocalypse Nova

No, Virginia, there is no Easter Bunny. Your little friends who claim otherwise have smoking banned animal laxatives again. They have been affected by the Disneyism of a Hakuna Mutata age. Alas, how weird would be the world if there was an Easter Bunny. There would probably be entire festivals devoted to the Insane Clown Posse. Wait....

Sorry about the rambling. But Yankee baseball was supposed to be an escape. What do you do when you need an escape from your escape?

About last night...

1. Something tells me Ivan Nova's grand experiment with the New York Baseball Yankees has ended. The final verdict: He is the latest in a long line of Doc Medich, Bill Burbach, John Cumberland, Domingo Jean, Sam Militello... etc. Last night, he went for an MRI. The imaging is going to look like Syracuse radar during a spring thunderstorm. He will go on the DL. He will soon be pitching in Scranton again. I think this car has run its course.

2. Talk about Easter? It took two - not three - days for us to resurrect the  Devil Rays. Last week, they were a team in free fall. With a sweep, we could have dug them a hole, the kind that might have made management start punting contracts into the bay. We healed them. The Yankees are frickin' Christlike.

3. Suddenly, the rotation - our great hope - has blown a tire. Vidal Nuno and/or David Phelps (neither of whom has pitched well) is now our fifth starter. Once again, the Yankees are looking at Scranton, and once again, there is nobody there but left-overs from the past. We can try to look hopeful about Alfredo Aceves, but it doesn't negate the fact that everybody else in baseball recently passed on him.

4. Tomorrow, for the first time, Yangervis Solarte faces a team for the second time. The league will be watching to see how Boston pitches him, and what he does. It's been fun seeing him in the lineup. But the Matrix is about to change.

5. Let's face it: Our big hitters simply cannot adjust to overshifts. They will not temper their swings. They will not bunt. That ship has sailed, my friends. So in all future projections, we need to knock 20 points off the BA's and live with it. That means Brian McCann, Mark Teixeira and Alfonso Soriano could hit a collective .220. They might smack 90 HRs, and they'll walk a lot. But how far can three .220 hitters in the middle of your lineup take you?

6. Unlike last year, a couple of our top prospects have gotten off to nice starts. Mason Williams and Junior Bichette have hit well. That big guy, Aaron Judge, looks promising. So does Jagiello, last year's top pick. But nobody is going to help us this year. And the most pertinent question is probably whether we will trade some of them in June for yet another pensioner. But at least we will have chips to deal. Last year, we didn't.

7. If anybody cares, we are still tied for first. Something tells me this isn't Boston's year. (Though we could resurrect them, beginning tomorrow.) But Tampa is alive and well, the O's have a powerful lineup - soon to improve with Manny Machado - and Toronto just returned Jose Reyes. We could be a fourth place team.

8. Nova's continued elbow soreness reminds us of Pineda's sensitivity. How far dare we expect him to go? A hundred innings? A hundred fifty? Will the Yankees shut him down, if he continues to pitch well? This could be a huge issue in June.

9. Last night, John Sterling sounded demoralized. Not since Mel Allen puked on himself during the 1963 World Series has a Voice of the Yankees sounded so grim, so dismayed. The Master knows two secrets of this world. There is no Easter Bunny. And you CAN predict baseball.

Tomorrow Is Easter. Can We Rise From The Dead?

These last two days are beginning to resemble the season many of us expected, due to an aging franchise with no young talent anywhere.  And we saw some signs of failure even when taking two from the Cubs, as we left too many " ducks on the pond."

I thought the emergence of Solarte might have dispelled that concern about no, high ceiling young prospects, but we are seeing a total collapse right now.

As they say in the Bible; " the wheels are coming off the fucking bus!"

Is this because we traded Jesus?

We'll learn tomorrow if Tanaka is as good as we hope.

Pray.

Just shoot me

Fourteen to one?

And they were all in slumps before we came to town.

Jeez, I thought Clowney was a football player. 

The impossible: A fan manages to satire Vin Scully

A friend plucked this from the comment section of Oneflapdown77.com, our sister blog for fans of the San Francisco Giants, (who have never hurt us, by the way.)

This came from a commentator named zumiee and was posted on Feb. 28. I think it's brilliant. In the spirit of all those who would mock The Master - you know who you are - here's a send-up on the man generally regarded as the greatest baseball announcer ever. 

If you can’t poke fun at Vin Scully once in a while, what that heck. After watching two Vinny-called games in a row, here’s my Vinny impersonation:

“Bill Jones steps into the batter’s box. Jones went to high school in Mountain Home, Idaho. His wife just gave birth to twins. Jones likes to watch action movies and play the guitar. He thinks french toast is over-rated.
And that’s a called third strike. I remember the time when Gil Hodges told me that the secret to avoiding the called third strike is to watch the pitcher’s eyes, and see which side of the plate he’s staring at.
The plate is 18 inches wide. But sometimes it seems like it’s 16 inches wide, or maybe 20, depending who the umpire is that day. I remember the time when Sandy Koufax told me that homeplate umpires are like birds of a different feather. Koufax pitched for the Dodgers for several years. He’s in the Hall of Fame now. And speaking of the Hall of Fame, Bill Russell won’t be in the Hall of Fame, but he was an outstanding shortstop. He used to be an outfielder, but they converted him to shortstop. That happens sometimes in baseball, heh, heh.”