Severino, gone?

Out with "loose bodies" in his elbow.

Going to see the doctor.

Another Carl Pavano?

Season on the brink...

Time seems to be running out on MLB's investigation of the Redsocks

Here's a sign that we don't need a centerfield camera and specialized software to decode:  

The longer that MLB delays unveiling its case against the Redsocks, the more likely it is that Boston will skate.

The probe surrounds ex-Redsock manager Alex Cora, "ringleader" to the ongoing Houston scandal, according to the Commissioner's first report. Ever since the volcanic accusations against the 2017 Astros became public - prompting Boston to fire Cora - MLB investigators have hemmed and hawed on the matter of Boston. They have three times delayed a public release of their findings. The longer they wait, the more likely it seems they will come up empty. 

You have to think: If they had anything, they'd have gone public by now. 

So, what's happening? Commissioner Rob Manfred said recently: 

"There have been a couple of developments in the Boston thing that slowed us down, people who had to be re-interviewed as a result of things."

Hm-mm. 

Long ago, I was an "investigative journalist," a phrase that today is pretty much a punch line. On many occasions, we were on the verge of breaking a story, but waiting for one more person, one more source, to wrestle with his/her conscience and decide to go public. Thus, we held the story for another week. My guess is that's what happening here. The investigators have smoke but no fire. They suspect something but cannot prove it. Soon - to use the wrong sports metaphor - they'll simply have to punt. 

This week, in camp after camp, MLB players are reporting to spring training and immediately sounding off about the Astros scandal. But not the Redsocks. Chris Sale spoke his peace, mentioning some bad outings in Houston, but he's a pitcher. Overall, it's as if the Redsocks suspect something might be out there, and they don't want to look bad by denying everything, only to be later proven a liar, on top of a cheat.

Yesterday, Ian Kinsler - now retired - weighed in. He's practically the first 2018 Redsock hitter to give an interview on the matter. He told MassLive.com: 

"I don’t know what [MLB] is going to find, but in my opinion, it’s not anything close to what’s going on [in Houston] .The Red Sox were just a very tight-knit group. When I was injected into that team in the middle of the season, it was a lot like the Rangers clubs I was on, where it was just a very tight-knit group and their system was flawless. They just had a very good system of relaying from second base to home plate. That was it. Honestly. We’ll see what happens with the commissioner’s report.”

Clearly, I have a grudge against Kinsler, a great player in his day, who killed the Yankees many times. But in terms of integrity, he seems a stand-up guy. My guess is that he's telling it like it is, from the standpoint of a veteran who joined the team relatively late in the season. Tight-knit group... Very good system of relaying from second base... We'll see what happens... 

The Astros scandal continues to dominate baseball. Certainly, every Redsock player, now and former, is taking notes. They see Astros being personally condemned, mocked, even threatened. No players, not even the pitchers, are emerging unscathed. Boston has had two months now to polish its stories and shut down any potential whistle-blower.  

We know that, in Houston, Cora was one of the architects of a complicated sign-stealing system, which broke down codes via algorithms. We know he was not Stump Merrill, and that Boston had a video room near the dugout. We know that after Cora came to Boston, the Redsocks enjoyed the greatest year in franchise history. They won 106 games - 13 more than in 2017. At home, they won seven out of every ten games. They were practically unstoppable. A team for the ages. 

And here's the ugliest part of this scandal's second half: 

We will probably never know if the Redsocks cheated. 

I Need To Retire

The training camps are barely getting started and the Yanks are down a key starter and, possibly, their best outfielder. 

Sure, we only have initial reports of a " tweak."

No one panics this early for an injury like that. 

But shoulders are tricky things, and undiagnosed injuries are undiagnosed, because no one can figure out what is wrong.

So Aaron will sit.

We'll wait a week.  Then we'll wait two weeks.

Reports will filter in about how and when he might " resume baseball activities." 

We may even see him swinging at a "whiffle ball" sitting on a batting tee. 

Get ready for a hard rain.

I am already burned out, and my official time on the clock has not been started. 

I am too old for this.

Not again. 

Judge's injury raises the question: Was last year the "new normal?"

As you all know, Aaron Judge has been relegated to the Peloton and extreme kegels for the first week of spring training, and he'll miss Saturday's crucial game against always-tough Toronto. (1:05 p.m., YES, and/or John & Suzyn, on the Yankee Radio Network, driven by Sleep.) Somehow, he strained his shoulder, and he'll be shut down for a few days, maybe a week, two at the most, probably not more...

Translation: There's a chance he's out until the All Star break.

OMG. WTF? HDIKEPO! ALEPCXZ? Talk about doom and gloom? Why would I speak such horrible acronyms? 

Well, because...

a) Last year, the Yankees said the exact same thing about minor boo-boos - "just a flesh wound, ma'am" - to Luis Severino and Aaron Hicks, and they missed most of the season.

b) Over the years, the Yankees have shown no compulsion or duty to disclose the truth about injuries to the general public. It's not like stealing signs. 

c) Judge has proven to be an enormously fragile giant, to the point that missed service time is threatening to define his career.

d) It hasn't been explained how he hurt himself. Henry Cotto once blew out an ear with a Q-Tip. Graig Nettles fought a lawn mower and lost. How did this happen? 

e) More importantly, when did it happen? How long has this lingered? Judge underwent an MRI a week ago. Supposedly, it showed nothing serious. But how long was this hurting before he requested the scan?

f) The Ellsbury Effect: Last year, the Yankees were able to injure players while they were rehabbing other injuries. Last month, they cleaned house on the training staff. The question: Does modern baseball demand such peak athleticism that every bone, muscle and ligament is now tweakable, and  players have become human potato chips?

Aw, I should lighten up, right? The first week of spring training is filled with nonsense. Clearly, the real story is the continuing "days of rage" against the Astros, with MLB players emulating the students of Hong Kong. Still, this Judge injury is another sign that injuries don't follow random patterns, and just because the Yankees experienced too much rain last year, it doesn't mean a drought coming in 2020. 

Continuing waves of injuries may just be the new normal.

If so, there is actually cause to for hope within the Yankiverse. Shane Robinson is not coming. If anything, Judge's injury opens a lane for Clint Frazier and Miguel Andujar, and maybe even the lost prospect of yesteryear, Estevan Florial. Just like James Paxton's injury creates competition for the fifth starter and justifies the decision to keep J.A. Happ, the Yankees can actually make use of the opening... as long as it doesn't continue into April.

The Yankees may have the deepest roster in baseball. It extends beyond the 40-man into the taxi squads of Triple A, where Cooperstown Cashman is always combing the scrap heaps for recycled clutches and brake pads. 

Nobody wants to see Judge miss time. But if this is the new norm, perhaps the Yankees can find a new Gio Urshela and Mike Tauchman. That would sure be nice.

Solved! Seven reasons why Jose Altuve's unfinished tattoo, "Melanie," (rhymes with "Felony") needed to be hidden from view in the moments after his glorious playoffs-winning home run

One of the new lines from BattleWorld Houston is that after his (in)famous home run, Jose Altuve didn't want his bare chest exposed to the nation because of an incomplete tattoo, which now says "MELANIE.

This should put things to rest. There are at least seven rock-hard reasons why Jose wouldn't want an unfinished "MELANIE" be seen. 

Here they are, in order of likelihood:  

1. "LANIE." This would make him seem a fan of actress Lanie Kazan, or maybe even a stalker. Not good. He was wise to avoid that controversy. 

2. "ANI.' In his greatest moment, it would be assumed that he was honoring acclaimed singer/songwriter Ani DeFranco (from Buffalo, by the way.) If Jose has any love of music, he should be proud of a tattoo supporting "Ani." So why hide it? It doesn't make sense. Therefore, I do not think this was the reason. 


3. "EL IE." This would seem to reference Yankee great Elston Howard. From a baseball standpoint, this is fine, but a bit ticklish, since Jose's home run had just beaten the Yankees. As Jose rounded the bases, he must have realized that Yankee fans would think he was "rubbing it in," so he smartly clutched his jersey and kept himself hidden.

4. "MEL." This could only refer to legendary Yankee announcer Mel Allen and, frankly, this would be rather bizarre, because Allen has been dead for many years. It would require explaining on Jose's part, especially since Allen was a big Yankee fan, and the home run would be especially hurtful to remaining members of his family. That Jose shielded them from pain can only be considered a testament to his empathy, as he rounded third. 

5. "M." Did Jose fear that fans would see this as a reference to James Bond's boss? He'd have reason. As head of the British Secret Service, "M" was always breaking enemy codes. Pretty scary, eh? 

6. "ME." This would make Jose look like a narcissist, which he is definitely not! In fact, this dovetails into his first excuse: he's a humble fellow who didn't want his manly cleavage put on display like Easter morning with the Kardashians. This makes sense! How could a quiet, introverted man such as Jose explain to the world why, with his boobs exposed, he'd serve the brazenly self-loving message: Me. Everyone would hate him.

7. "MELA." Surely, this is it. Why do I think this? Moolah. Cabbage. Bread. Scribbage. Geohaug. Yep, money. "MELA" would be interpreted as short for Melatonin, a sleeping supplement. This would directly undermine Jose's endorsements for 24-Hour Energy Drinks. Does he want to wake you up or put you to sleep? You can't have it both ways. While he rounded the bases, he realized the implications of showing a veritable billboard for a sleep helper. He hugged himself and stayed private. Now that's quick thinking. 

Ruh-roh

Here we are, less than two weeks into the 2020 season and the Yanks already have two major injuries.  Exactly how it is that our boys go off to rest for the winter and come back with sucking chest wounds is beyond me, but there it is.

Are they all secretly trying out for the U.S. Olympic ski-jumping team?  Auditioning for that show on the (No) History Channel where people go out and fish in the Bering Strait?

At this point my main worry is that our black swan will stroke out from overwork.


 

The latest, of course, is that Aaron Judge, pictured above, needs "shoulder maintenance."  Those of us who are veterans of Yankee Kremlinology (Bronxology?) understand that this is most likely Cashman -speak for "shoulder bursitis," to be followed shortly by "shoulder tendinitis," and then, "torn rotator cuff, requiring season-ending surgery."

I hate to keep harking on this because I myself love Aaron Judge with the white-hot passion of a thousand suns.  But if we'd had a really shrewd and ruthless general manager—a Branch Rickey, say, or a Gene Michael—we'd have dealt off Judge at his peak value, probably sometime in 2018, when it became evident that the injuries would be chronic, and the big man just too fragile to stay on the field.

Judge was good enough, sunny enough, and cheap enough that we probably could have flummoxed some other GM into handing over a brace of true prospects, plus a couple of decent, day-to-day players or pitchers already on a major-league roster.

Well, that's so much blood under the bridge, as Mr. Albee wrote.

Flip the glass to half-full and you see that at least this might make the Mr. Smithers we DO have running our front office reluctant to touch the trigger he's been itching to pull since last summer and trade The Red Menace.  Hell, maybe, just maybe, it will even incline him to go after Mookie Betts—be still, my heart!—in the free agent market next year.

In the meantime, though, get that swan up and waddling back to the pond.

Ken Davidoff in the Post the other day—quoting Ma Boone, who seems to have mastered the 21st-century version of Stengelese—gave us a broad hint that Judge is unlikely to be the only oversized slugger on the DL for long:

"Despite his considerably shortened season, Stanton reports to camp a “fully healthy” player, Boone said. 

"The manager elaborated: “I go through his routine with him probably as much as I do with anyone. Matter of fact, I was just talking to him about it. [He] might not play those first couple of games, but I would expect him probably that second home game [Feb. 24 against the Pirates] and then we’ll just decide if we’ll let him go [to the] outfield right away or if it’s some kind of DH role to start.

“But no, he’s good to go. I fully expect him to hit it running.” "

Or, as it were, "sitting."

So glad Cashman did that thorough investigation of the Yankees' training and rehab methods.  Without it, who knows what we'd have?  Probably plague.

Astro Vespers

With apologies to A. A. Milne  

Little boy settles in over the plate,   

Crosses himself, crouches and waits,
Hush hush, stay quiet this time!
Jose Altuve is getting his sign.

God bless my Astros, all are great mates

To tell me what to expect at the plate.
God bless Coach Cora, and Carlos Beltran,
And God bless Gatorade for supplying the can.

Tapping the bat on the side of his cleats,
Adjusting his cup, his collar, his teats,
Hush hush, don't say a word!
Jose Altuve's expecting a curve.

It's such wonderful tech that allows us to see
What the next pitch is likely to be.
God bless those geeks, whoever they be,
Of course, most of all, God bless me.

Little boy lines up the ball in his sight,
Little boy swings with all of his might!
To his reps please direct your inquiries--
Jose Altuve helped steal a World Series. 

Yankee enemies appear to be in tatters, but one can feel the echos of 2003.

Yesterday, as the Asterisks took their first 2020 open batting practice, an anonymous hero emerged from the Florida Man gene pool.

If there is a God - or if the juju gods care about public opinion - it should be a long year for Jose Altuve and the buzzer boys. In every opposing park, boos should rain down like piss on porcelain, and vengeful pitchers - the kind whose past includes an unexplained meltdown in Houston - might seek to enact their own form of vigilante justice.  

Meanwhile, the suddenly quiet Redsocks await their fate on an MLB probe that's probably been neutered by the overwhelming rage directed at Houston. The lords of baseball don't need another Astros situation, certainly not one with a marquee team in an already boiling market. General expectations - for whatever they're worth - say Boston will face a lesser penalty - (as if Houston were flogged in the town square.) A million dollar fine? A draft pick? A stern lecture. Ptttuui. Surely, by now, the Redsocks have closed ranks. Without a Mike Fiers, without a smoking gun, the Fenway Finaglers will skate.

Yesterday, Boston owner John Henry tweeted an apology to the fans for trading Mookie Betts. It was a heartfelt piece of claptrap. He loves the fans. He loved having adorable Mookie on his payroll. He loved that adorable Mookie smile. Then John Henry did what all billionaires do. He poor-mouthed. Oh, how he would have loved to keep Mookie, if only the player hadn't wanted to earn what he is worth on the open market. Why, it's so tragic! If only there was enough money in the larder, but - alas, who can afford such a player. Thus, they had to throw him overboard, shoot Old Yeller, let him go.

You might think that Houston and Boston are done in 2020. But let's get real. Nothing is ever settled in February. Both the Yankees and the AL better not sleep on either team.

The Astros were were built, brick by brick, around an orchestrated multi-year tanking. It's not easy being the worst team in baseball for consecutive seasons. They did it - and reaped the draft picks: Bregman, Correa, et al. If the Astros get off to a fast start, the national Gammonite narrative will quickly portray Houston as "the team with something to prove!" A united roster and absolute need to win - not to mention a front three named Verlander, Grienke and McCullers - could crush the otherwise weak AL West, which basically shapes up as Mike Trout. Want the ugliest outcome to this ugly scandal? What if becoming a national pariah helps the Astros? 

Meanwhile, the last time I looked, Boston still has Chris Sale, Nathan Eovaldi and Eduardo Rodriguez, a front three that easily matches ours, especially with James Paxton out until June. Yeah, they'll miss Mookie. But we haven't yet seen the young OF they received in exchange. If Benintendi rebounds and Rafael Devers continues to improve - (he would reach MVP levels) - they are hardly dead in the water. With the talent they still have, Boston could easily win 90 games. Once in the playoffs... 

The last time I recall the Yankees seeming to dominate Boston so totally over a winter came in 2003. That year, the Redsocks' celebrated trade for Alex Rodriguez was nullified by the players union, allowing the Yankees to swoop in and get him. That winter, we partied over Boston's grave. The Curse of the Bambino would go on forever. They were our patsies, for eternity! It was the last great winter of the Yankees dominance... 

Little did we know. 

And this we do know: The juju gods, they can be bastards.

This Is Why Throwing Out Titles Is Hard

Remember this?  How can you not?




Reggie Bush, pictured above, was stripped of his 2005 Heisman Trophy, and USC of its 2004 BCS Championship—as well as every win in its near-championship season of 2005—because USC violated NCAA recruiting rules.

Now, I'm not saying this is the same as the Astros scandal.  The NCAA's rules have long been so arcane, convoluted, and hypocritical that probably every big-time college football program, in reality, violates them every year.  Which makes such punishments arbitrary, to say the least.

But the result is the same.  You can't un-see USC absolutely annihilating Oklahoma in the BCS bowl game, and you can't reset that season to determine who should then really be the national champion—not to mention who should win the Heisman instead of Mr. Bush.

Would the Yankees have won the pennant?  Would they have bested the Dodgers in the World Series?  Who knows?

Therefore, I suggest that we here at IIHIIFIIC take care of the problem.  Anyone have Strat-o-matic cards for the 2017 Yanks and Dodgers?

If so, I suggest we designate one individual to manage the Yankees, another to manage the Dodgers, and a third person of impeccable character to officially roll the dice for each at-bat.  We can play out the entire World Series What Never Was, online.

Who's with me?

Both Convicted In the Court Of Public Opinion

Two cheating, malevolent slime balls.


Brothers, of a sort.  



The commissioner of baseball is not just mis-reading the players' reactions ...he is mis-reading fan reactions.

That toady creep commissioner denigrated the value, in his " press conference," of retrieving the Championship trophy, and all related hardware,  from the Houston display cases.

Bull shit.  How much are the rich owners of Houston paying into your off-shore account?

Having Clay Bellinger and Aaron Judge walk in to break the glass of the display case, and take those symbolic trophies back should be on national TV.

And Houston players ( and Boston ) should have to wear black " I cheated " patches on their uniforms forever.

I would start minor league pitchers against this team and throw at every player, every time. If MLB bans them for 60 games, fine.  They go back to Trenton.

Fans must bring banners ( hidden under their coats at Yankee stadium ) which say " Cheaters " on them.  I will pay off the dweeb who runs the Jumbotron to flash " cheaters, cheaters, cheaters" until he is shut down.

Fans must never relent.

 Duque is right;  a $5 million fine is a fucking insult.  That's like throwing a begging man a nickel and saying, " Have a nice day!"

Piece of shit Commissioner.  He is another lame, bought and paid for, old white guy...out of touch with the very game, the very players and fans, he is hired to understand and protect.

He is allowing the game to be compromised.

 Put him in a cell with Harvey.  And make him wear a skirt.

The worst sports scandal since Sandusky and Nassar?

It's been nine years since authorities charged Penn State assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky with 52 counts of sexual abuse on boys - horrific acts over a 14-year period, beneath the cloak of Joe Paterno's once-sterling reputation. The NCAA would fine the university $60 million and ban it from four post-seasons. Its president would be convicted of child endangerment and sentenced to prison. And Paterno would die before his time, desperately seeking to defend his tarred honor. 

It's been five years since the sex scandal of U.S.A. gymnastics coach Larry Nassar, a convicted serial child molester, who abused hundreds of young women during his career. Dozens of officials at Michigan State and the U.S. Olympics team have been ousted and/or charged, the university has paid $500 million to settle lawsuits, and Nassar has been sentenced to prison for the next 175 years.  

In our sporting lives, let's face it: There's been nothing like these scandals, and let's hope there never is. (I wouldn't bet on it, though.)

Over the last decade, we've seen sports scandals about steroids, bounties, deflated footballs, concussions, college recruiting and even saluting the flag, though that was actually more of a controversy. Now comes probably the worst non-sex-related scandal in this generation, and it's expanding every day.

Anger about illegal sign-stealing by the Astros (and maybe this week, the Redsocks) continues to explode, fueled by a sense that Houston cheated and got away with it. And, really, how can we NOT feel that way?

The Astros face a $5 million fine, the loss of some draft picks, and a few managers tossed under the bus. The owner skates. The players skate. The franchise skates.

Seriously, a $5 million fine? 

Forbes values the Astros at $1.775 billion - (billion, with a "b.") Its annual revenues stand at $368 million. A $5 million fine? Wow. Why didn't they throw in a pink-belly? 

Anger at Boston has yet to emerge, but with each passing day, it looks more as if the Redsocks will skate. Commissioner Rob Manfred's toothless decision to grant immunity to players in exchange for their testimony must have seemed like a grand shortcut three months ago. Now, Manfred looks like a miner in a coal shaft holding a dead canary. 

Every day, new accusations emerge, now being fueled by fans. The latest: photos show Jose Altuve in the top of the ninth of the Yankees' final game, wearing a t-shirt beneath his jersey. Before coming to bat in the fateful bottom of the ninth, Altuve removed it. WTF? Why? I've always assumed Altuve - a great player, no question - didn't need to cheat. Now, I wonder if he'll go down in history as Houston's Shoeless Joe. But why did he take off his t-shirt?

Lately, critics are taking aim at Manfred's investigation. For years, teams had accused Houston of cheating. Why didn't MLB launch a probe? Whistle-blower Mike Fiers, whom some Astros have the gall to blame for their problems, told MLB about the problem months before he talked with reporters. It almost looks as though MLB sat on the issue until media reports forced its hand. 

I think Manfred will lose his job over this.

The Commissioner seems to have completely misread the players' reaction to this scandal. Yesterday, Phil Hughes suggested that players should consider a work stoppage to protest the Astros' weak punishment. There's been so much talk about retaliation than Manfred has found himself in the worst position possible: Defending Houston, and warning other teams not to take action.  

The Astros have closed ranks, (as Boston surely has done), claiming it didn't cheat last fall. But here's the rub: They are known cheaters. Thus, nobody believes them. There is a consequence to squandering your integrity. Once gone, it doesn't come back. 

This is also a good time to recall how close Houston came to winning the 2019 World Series. In game seven, they led 2-0 going into the seventh. The bounce of a ball, and they could be the third World Championship team in a row to be tainted forever.

Officially, it will cost Houston's owner just $5 million?

Nope. This ain't over. Oh my God, no. It's just spring training.

Letter to the Editor: Carping in Colorado

Wheat Ridge Transcript
Jan. 29, 2020

Dear Editors,

Every bona fide player and fan knew about the Yankees having the scoreboard guy watching with binoculars. That was in Billy Martin’s days and before electronic scoreboards. 

Signals are a very large part of the game, and are taught beginning with little league. A base runner on second base watches the catcher and signals to the bench, where they are relayed to the third-base coach then to the batter, giving him some advantage. They also can be signaled directly to the batter, but that is usually too sophisticated or quick. Everyone has to figure what type of pitches the catcher is calling for, and they change them occasionally.

It works both ways. The team in the field can pick up signs for the batter to bunt or lay off the next pitch, and for the runner to steal a base.  

The problem seems to be the electronic era, which elevates that part of the game to cheating.

Tom Graham,

Arvada

Letters to the Editor: Growling in Greensboro

Greensboro News and Record
January 27, 2020
Dear Editors,

The Associated Press’ Tim Dahlberg must be a New York Yankees fan.

In his commentary (“Patriot fatigue: Super Bowl might actually be fun again”), he stated that the New England Patriots are “the New York Yankees of another era except, of course, the Yankees didn’t cheat.”

Seriously? What makes him make an unsubstantiated comment like that?

The famous (now infamous) “Shot Heard ‘Round the World” was a game-winning home run by New York Giants outfielder and third baseman Bobby Thomson off Brooklyn Dodgers pitcher Ralph Branca on Oct. 3, 1951, that won the National League pennant. It has now been well-documented that Bobby Thomson confessed on his deathbed that he hit that home run thanks to sign-stealing. Ironically, the Giants went on to lose the World Series to the New York Yankees. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that the Yankees cheated as well.

I suspect that Mr. Dahlberg is just jealous and expressing proverbial sour grapes, realizing that, in this century, the New England Patriots have won three times as many Super Bowls as the New York Giants; the Boston Red Sox have won four times as many World Series as the New York Yankees;and even the Boston Celtics and Boston Bruins have won one more NBA and NHL championship than the New York Knicks and New York Rangers, respectively.

Jim ErtnerGreensboro

More Fuel

Yesterday on TV in LA, Clay Bellinger ( Dodger hero ) said flatly,

" Altuve stole my MVP award."

I think we should design tee shirts in Houston Astro colors that say.

You cheated
You lied 

or

Give back those trophies!

Hopefully, at every away game, Houston players will hear endless chants:

Cheaters...cheaters...cheaters...

( As the fans at MSG now chant at Knick games, " Sell the team...Sell the team...).

We need to create an environment where no one will ever want to play for Houston.

-  no one will be traded to them
-  no draft pick will sign
-  no player will sign a new contract

And every Houston player should be a target for every fastball pitcher in the game.  Hitting a player an inning should be the goal.  Break bones.

So what if you lose?  You will anyway, because Houston will still be cheating.

Just hit them.

As Houston's scandal lingers, MLB may have shot itself in the foot over its investigation of Boston

Hooray! Spring training is here! How do I know this? By the blah-blah-blah. 

Deivi Garcia throws a bullpen session: "You can see why we're excited about him," gushes Aaron Boone. 

Gary Sanchez shows up: "We're excited about him working with all our new people," Boone says. 

Players piss in the showers: "It's exciting for me, watching these guys," Boone drivels. 

Somebody, shoot me. Boone could get excited about a bar of soap. In the future, when we start ragging on the Gammonites - (who are enormously endangered, by the way) - let's remember this day and cut them a bit of slack. They annually must devour, digest and excrete the official Yankee propaganda of February, some of the most fetid, mind-numbing crapola spoken outside of North Korea. 

Every February, I get an urge to re-read the Yankee quotes from the previous year. My fave is the annual Yankee who has "redefined himself," arriving in "the greatest shape of his career," whose newly carved, rock-ribbed, Brad Pitt-in-Troy body has onlookers going knock-kneed in anticipation of the coming season. And by June 1, the guy is hitting .183. But, wowie-kazowie!, on that first day of camp, he sure oogled the Tampa red carpet. 

Like most citizens of the Yankiverse, today, I am still in no mood for write-ups about prospects, or the battle for the fifth rotation slot. A month from now, we can marvel about or debate such matters. Right now, I'm still angry about the cheating scandal, and I'm wondering why the Putin of baseball, Commissioner Rob Manfred, keeps rolling back the timeline on his "investigation" into the Boston Redsocks' championship 2018 season.

It was supposed to come out by Feb. 1. Then, it was supposed to come out by the opening day of camp. Now, it's supposed to come out by March 1. Something is screwy, and my guess is that the obvious has come to pass: 

As they've watched Houston players be publicly ridiculed - (while escaping actual punishment) - the Redsocks have closed ranks and built a big Green Monster Wall of Silence when talking to investigators.

Yep, MLB has completely fumbled the case.

Listen: The news last week in America is that witness tampering is now "in." (See PEOPLE V. ROGER STONE.) It's now okay to tell a potential whistle-blower that he should fear getting shot, or losing his dog, because - haha! - boys will be boys, and goofy disembowelment threats are one of the joys of locker room talk. 

On that note, imagine the recent conversations between Redsock players, as they watch Jose Altuve being grilled on why he didn't want to be seen shirtless.  

Obviously, I have no inside track on whether the Redsocks are guilty or innocent. But this I do know: Cheaters lie. Especially the good ones. That's why they're cheaters. And if they successfully cheat, odds are that they will later claim they didn't. It's their shtick. It's their routine. So, yesterday, Andrew Benintendi - who I'm sure is a truth-teller, probably in the greatest shape of his life, etc., - crossed his heart and told reporters, "I just think we know what's going on, and we know we didn't do anything." 

Okay, maybe they did, maybe they didn't. I dunno. But good luck to that poor MLB investigator who is still trying to untangle the Houston scandal from what happened in Boston. Because Manfred shot that poor slob in the butt, when he announced the sanctions against Houston, leaving the Redsocks on the back-burner. What a gift to Boston, whose owner responded by trading its greatest star, thus holding the line on MLB salaries. Quid pro quo? Who knows? But the longer this case drags on, the more that Redsock players and personnel will close ranks. And the more likely Boston will wriggle off the hook. But, hey, how about that Deivi Garcia! I hear Boone is excited.

The Astros seem to think the cheating scandal will go away: They are delusional

Yesterday, I offered the Official IT IS HIGH Speech-of-Contrition Template, in case the Houston Astros wanted to see what righteousness looks like. Turns out, they didn't. They had all gathered the previous day to synchronize their alibis, and yesterday, they waddled out, one by one, to cop pleas to minor infractions - each player singing a different song, like a Utica dinner theater rendition of Rent. As far as I could see, the most heartfelt words came from Carlos Correa:

"What we did in 2017 was terrible. We all know it and we feel really bad about it.”

Okay. Not bad. A start. But then Josh Reddick unveiled the grand old chestnut, "It is what it is," en route to claiming Houston's 2017 championship will not carry a permanent stench. Lance McCullers Jr. argued that the championship "was earned, 100 percent." Former future Hall of Famer Jose Altuve blathered about taking responsibility as a team. Co-future Cooperstown black-lister Alex Bregman said they made "bad choices." Justin Verlander raised the human shields. "We have families. I have a little girl. Jose has kids." (Kate, if you're reading this behind the couch, give me a call...)

On and on they went... a well orchestrated news conference that was described by one Gammonite as "Contrition Performance Art." (Wish I'd said that.)  

Look, maybe we as Yankee fans should not saddle up on too high a horse here. In yesterday's avalanche of Astros news - (not in Boston, though, where the big story was the signing of... drum roll... outfielder Kevin Pillar!) - more than a few hot heads noted that Yankee fans are newly minted defenders of rules. They have a point. We haven't exactly tossed our 2009 World Series memorabilia into the Hudson, because A-Rod's blood tests showed up Hulkian green. But ten years later, we still cringe over what became a dark and ugly period in Yankee history - a lost decade that remains a prime reason why Yank fans feel so desperate. Nobody wants 2009 to become their final parade in the Canyon. (And the decade also produced Alex's incredible, Ulysses-like journey, going from Yankee pariah to America's sweetheart suitor. And of course, he'll eventually be dumped. The guy is a newsprint machine.) 

Well, here's a bit of grimy truth about Astros Apology Day: It is also Groundhog Day. In 2020, it shall be relived every single time they visit a new city. It will pop up every single time the Astros win a game in the ninth, or knock out a pitcher in the second. It will be raised every single time an aging former Astro sits at a card table and signs glossies in an airport Ramada. It will be a permanent stain on every single one of their records. They are the cheating Houston Asterisks, and yesterday, as they tap-danced through their little cub scout skits, I wonder if they realized how long and soul-crushing their journeys will turn out to be. 

Well, maybe today, they get a glimpse. Today, across baseball, the stories include: 

1. A body language expert who claims Altuve is lying.

2. Aroldis Chapman calling Altuve's season-ending HR "suspicious."

3. Aaron Boone calling claims that no games were affected, "quite a stretch."

4. This wonderful image.

5. And a sense that the Astros' show was a complete bomb. (Our old friend Pete Abe even suggested that that Astros had done the impossible: Made it worse.) 

It's going to be a long year in Houston. The Astros story is just beginning.

A sorry day in America: Some words the Astros ought to summon

Testing, one, two, three... Um... Thank you for coming today. My remarks will be brief, and I will not take questions, though I promise to be available in the future.

I want to apologize to the game of baseball. 

I'm not going to discuss the details of this scandal. I won't say whether some of us cheated, and some of us didn't. Every coach, player and team official who knew what was happening is responsible. It's that simple. The Houston Astros have undermined the game of baseball, and in our careers, and in our lives, this will never be forgotten. We may never regain the respect that we have squandered. That's on us. That's on me.

I want to apologize to all opposing players.

Specifically, I want to address all the pitchers who suffered at our hands without even knowing why. You didn't deserve to be humbled or humiliated, at times on national TV. You didn't deserve the hook, or the boos, or in some cases, to be sent back to the minors because our batters knew what pitch was coming. In the fog of our ambition, we stole from you and your families. If I could turn back the clock, I would. 

I want to apologize to the fans.

Especially, I want to address all those around Houston who believed in us, who rallied behind us, and who now must try to explain to their sons and daughters how we failed you. We wanted so desperately to bring you a championship, a celebration, a time of joy and accomplishment. We wanted it so badly that we became blinded to what is right and wrong. If I could turn back the clock, I would.

I want to apologize to America. 

Today, I see a country that is losing faith in its own democracy. We are heading toward a presidential election whose outcome neither side may accept. This is because of people who put wealth over honor, and put power over truth. It has been said that baseball is a metaphor for life. Well, what we did was taint the results of entire seasons - and the World Series, itself. It will take many years for restore trust in such institutions. If I could turn back the clock, I would.

But, as we all know, we can't go back. All I can say... to the game, to the players, to the fans and to America... is this: 

Please do not give up. As painful as these revelations have been, the truth is always preferable than a history propped up by lies. We always need to know what is happening. Never imagine that a covered-up a scandal is better than an exposed one. Never blame those brave souls who come forward to tell the truth. Some players blame Mike Fiers for speaking out. He is a hero, like all whistleblowers.

Thus, today, I am donating my entire 2017 World Series share to the IT IS HIGH, IT IS FAR, IT IS caught Yankee fan blog, the lone voice of truth and dignity in the baseball universe. I urge all my current and former teammates to do the same. Only through righteous voices, such as this beacon of truth, can the national pastime be restored to its sacred, honorable status.

I thank you for your attention. I will now go out to the parking lot and sign autographs until every single fan is gone. It's what I will do tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. It's my new normal. I can't wait. 

The Lovely Trees

I tend to read too much about our society as a whole into relatively little things, such as baseball.  It's a problem of mine.  But I think one can often discern large-scale dysfunction in little horrors—in this case, the great new baseball plan for the postseason.

It seems to me, living where I do, that almost no one in America anymore can take over an institution and then simply continue to run it well.  Mending a crack here, replacing a rusted beam here.  Looking to the problems the future will bring, sure, and responding well to emergencies.

But essentially...caretaking.  When that's all that's called for.

Building up the endowment incrementally.  Making sure everyone is still having fun.  Making the necessary, small navigational corrections to keep everything on course.

Americans don't do that anymore, if we ever really did it well.  Now we do "creative destruction."  Now we "reinvent" everything.

You see it all the time in New York City.  Enormous, important public institutions constantly go on rampages just to suit the ego of the latest CEO or president—just to provide them with "a legacy."

Leaving a great, nearly perfect thing intact for another generation to enjoy?  NAH!  What kind of legacy is THAT?

So hence we get a huge, ugly building of condos built almost right in the choir loft of St. John the Divine's Cathedral.  NYU tears down the beloved old West Village block by block, more every year.  Cooper Union completely distorted the historic landscape of the East Village—and nearly bankrupted itself—building enormous, awful condos and office towers there.

And now, not far from where I live, we're getting this:  the American Museum of Natural History's latest addition.

https://ny.curbed.com/2019/6/12/18663003/american-museum-of-natural-history-richard-gilder-center-upper-west-side

The museum is one of the treasures of New York.  I've loved it ever since I first went there, sometime in 1963.  It seemed a little old and a little tired then, but none the less captivating, even awe-inspiring.

Some years back, some ambitious executive there decided to secure his or her legacy by chopping up part of the shady little public park next to the museum and building an oversized, completely incongruous new planetarium.  The new building did not even make a stab at fitting in with the old one, but hey, who needs any sort of symmetry or beauty in our public cityscapes?

Now, the next ambitious little fool running the place—I believe it's Ellen Futter, who as president of Barnard vandalized that once sweet little campus—is slapping on a huge, new section which, thanks to the wonders of modern starchitects, will look kind of like a melting marshmallow.  All so the museum can have a money-making, permanent live butterfly exhibit.

And the only thing to be lost?  Why, just another big chunk of that public park, and its tall, lovely trees that have been there for many decades.  Just another chunk of our collective urban soul.

But what's that matter compared to the legacy of Ellen Futter?  Hey, what did Ebbets Field and Brooklyn matter compared to Walter O'Malley's need to establish his legacy—and exponentially increase his bank account?

What did we matter to the brilliant Yankees owners who insisted on gutting the great cathedral we had, and putting up a succession of cheap plastic replicas?

Every year, every week, everyday in America now, the big new idea is to tear down something truly wonderful that people cherish, and replace it with a passing whim that will—not so coincidentally—fill some jerk's pockets with loot.

Turn a beautiful, treasured old sport into a reality TV show?  Sure, why not?  Gotta keep up with the times.

The central Yankee question of spring 2020: What to do with Andu?

Last time we saw Miguel Andujar, he was valiantly trying to play 3B with a string cheese shoulder, with the 2019 season seemingly destined for the paper-shredder. Miggy played in 12 games - just 49 plate appearances - then disappeared into the Ellsburian abyss. We never even learned if he had mastered the art of 3B. We just don't know...

For the record, in his blink-and-you-miss-it, 2019 cameo, Andujar played four games at 3B, botching three balls in 10 chances. Putrid. Then again, he was playing in pain. Who can say if the bum shoulder caused his renegade throws? We just don't know... 

But we do know this: Andujar - the 2018 AL Rookie of the Year runner-up - became a 2019 afterthought when Gio Urshela blossomed into a All Star-level 3B. And that leaves Andujar - at the ripe age of 24, yes, twenty-four - coming to Tampa this week with no place to play - that is, unless the Yankee spin machine is telling the truth, and he's finally figured out 3B.

If so, the Yankees have a wonderful problem of excess, but a problem, nonetheless. 

If Andular can play 3B: Well, then Yankees need to put him there. History shows many greats - such as Wade Boggs, Mike Schmidt and Adrian Beltre - who broke in with suspect gloves. Third-basemen grow into the position, and Andujar needs a chance - the one he didn't get last year - to show if he can do it. (He deserves the chance because, as a great-hitting 3B, he'd earn millions more over his career than by playing OF or DH.) If Andu can play 3B, he could hold the position for the next decade, a candidate for Monument Park, if not Cooperstown. Simply stated - no, cruelly stated - his ceiling is far higher than Urshela's. 

But this is no year for long-term astral charts. The Yankees must win a championship now, and Urshela's spectacular defense will surely beat whatever improvements Andujar shows. The question whether Urshela's  breakout year- 21 HRs, .314 average - was a flash cube. (He did - sigh - hit .207 in September.)

Even if Urshela flops offensively, the Death Star should have enough firepower to justify a glove-only 3B. Still, it sends dominoes toppling across the lineup behind the fundamental question: What to do with Andu?

If he can't play third and moves to LF: Clint Frazier almost certainly must go. Does he share it with Mike Tauchman? Andujar is too important a hitter to platoon. Then there is the crazy notion of Giancarlo Stanton playing LF. It might just be that Stanton needs to roam the outfield, as he did in his last great season in Miami. Could spending all that time in the dugout, as a DH, be a cause for his constant tweaks?

If he moves to 1B: It means Loyal Luke Voit almost certainly must go, and does he platoon with Mike Ford? Or could the Yankees move DJ LeMahieu to first, choosing to go with the best defensive lineup. (On that note, could Urshela play 2B?) 

We have 40 days and nights to figure this out. But keep this in mind:

Last year at this time, we viewed Miguel Andujar as a potential future great Yankee, a rare generational talent. Okay, so he lost a year. Nothing has changed. At 24, he's way too young to be overlooked, far too talented to be traded - (unless for a ridiculous return, which we'll never get while he remains unproven.) To Andu, or not to Andu, that is the question. (Until, of course, the juju gods answer it with a tweaked gonad or two. Hey, am I right?)

New Rules

Here is my proposed cure for the baseball ills which have now been so aptly described.

1.  Each batter gets one pitch.

2.  If it is a ball, he walks.  If it is a strike, and he makes no contact, he is out.

3.  Three foul balls are the maximum.  Then, you are out.

4.  The only sounds permitted in the stadium are "baseball sounds," and the noise of fan chatter/cheers/boos.

5.  There will be no interviews of any player, manager or owner.  Ever.

6.  Only beer and hotdogs will be served.  Mustard will be spicy brown deli mustard.  No ketchup and no yellow mustard. For that, go to soccer matches.

7.  Cracker Jacks will be given out free, and each box must have 20% peanuts.

8.  Balls and strikes will be called electronically.

9.  If cheating is detected by any team, that franchise loses its affiliation with MLB, and all players on that team are banned from the game for life.

10.  Chewing tobacco is welcomed, but no player may eat or spit any form of seed.  Violations are $10,000 fines, per seed husk.  CCTV cameras will assure compliance.

11.  Defensive "shifting" will not be permitted.  Everyone...every position...plays " straight away."  Deviations result in forfeits.

12.  Mercy rules will apply.  Any team leading a game by more than 10 runs (at any point) goes home a winner.  Fans get free Uber rides home if the home team is the winner.

13.  Extra inning games will not be permitted.  A tie will be recorded as a loss for each team.

14.  Rain gear and pink rubber balls will be used in rainstorms.  Rubber boots will reach just above the player's calf.

15.  Bases will be extended to 110 feet from 90 feet, to encourage the "speed and conditioning " factor.

16.  Pitchers may alter the ball any way they wish, but may carry no tools to the mound.

17.  No player will be allowed a translator.

18.  Coaches will not be permitted mound visits unless the pitcher is injured, or is to be removed.

19.   If players meet at the mound, they are limited to 60 seconds, and their conversations must be broadcast over the stadium speakers.

20. If a batter is hit with a pitch, the batter gets to hit the pitcher with his bat.

I'll have four dogs, heavy on the mustard, and six beers!  Play ball !!