Opening Day across MLB will bring a salute to Yankee starting pitchers... who no longer pitch for the Yankees

We've often discussed Brian "Cooperstown" Cashman's great career blind spot: (No, it's not too much starch when he does Mr. Hal's laundry.) 

The inability to find, develop and acquire ace pitchers. 

Cashman has called this his "white whale." (Insert laugh track.) The failures extend back to the era of Jeff Weaver and Javier Vasquez, a recurring theme of disappointments - a Pavano, an Igawa, a Pineada, a Joba, a Nova, et al - of future Yankee aces that Cashman brought to Gotham with the fanfare of Ed Sullivan welcoming the Beatles, only to have it turn into Howard Cosell unveiling the Bay City Rollers.

Again and again, Cashman brings his latest acquisitions to NYC, only to watch them wither and disappear.

Right now, if I were Max Fried, I'd be terrified. Does he fully realize that he's up against the Curse of Cashman?  

Either way, the latest outgrowth of this curse will appear next week, on Opening Day.

Four ex-Yankees will start for their teams. 

Sonny Gray for the Cardinals. 

Clay Holmes for the Mets.

Luis Severino for the A's. 

Michael King for the Padres. 

Each name brings to Yank fans a grand itinerary of gut-punch memories. 

Gray looked lost in his brief NY visit, was traded for Shed Long Jr., and soon was an all-star again. Holmes delivered some of the most harrowing closer meltdowns in the post-Mariano era. "Sisyphus Sevy" was always on the verge of returning, only to suffer a setback. Michael King went in the trade for Juan Soto, who will probably haunt us to our graves.

On Opening Day, the Yankees will start Carlos Rodon, unless he tweaks something. The way Yankee pitchers are dropping, we're a few barking gonads away from Carlos Carrasco. Rodon has  been serviceable as a Yankee - just not the guy we wanted. Another Cashman Maybe. Or should I say, Moby. 

Look... we kick around Cashman a lot on this blog. Frankly, it's one of the most enjoyable aspects of rooting for the Yankees. Whenever something goes wrong,  Cashman will pop up, like a balding Alfred E. Neuman, to explain how nobody could have foreseen this, how these things happen, how it's not so bad, how there are no sure things in baseblah blah blah...  

When the season starts next week, we'll be playing scoreboard on four other games. We should call it "Moby Dick Day." Call him Ishmael. Call him Cashmael. Or as old Shaughnessy at the Globe would say, call him a cab.

To adequately describe the Yankees' humiliation last October, the Athletic had to create a new verb

In its 2025 Power Rankings, I believe the Athletic has creatively added to our existing Yankee Dictionary of Debacles. 

Here's what they said, while listing the Yankees 7th (behind Boston, by the way.)

7. New York Yankees

Playoff odds: 70.4 percent

The past few months have not gone well for the franchise. They were defeated and clowned by the Dodgers in the World Series. Juan Soto bolted for the Mets. And after an effective offseason pivot involving Max Fried, Cody Bellinger and Devin Williams, the spring went sour. Gerrit Cole underwent season-ending Tommy John surgery. Luis Gil, the reigning American League Rookie of the Year, hurt his lat. The Yankees should still contend. But the path looks rockier now. — McCullough

Defeated and clowned? As in "Cassius Clay clowned Sonny Liston?"

Is this proper usage of "clowned?" Let's go to the Cambridge Dictionary. 

Way I sees it, "clowned" is sorta the act of having acted like a clown. Technically, you can clown around, but the notion that somebody can clown you - as the writer suggests the Dodgers did to the Yankees - that's not right.

Unless you believe that the Yankees were so humiliated and embarrassed that a new word has to be tweaked in order to describe what happened.

In that regard, yeah, they fucking clowned our asses.  

As in, they "defeated and clowned" us? 

An Above Average Haiku Tuesday ~ HEAL, BABY, HEAL Edition !

SO MANY YANKEES !

BROKEN, TORN, DETACHED OR BOONE

YEAR OF DOOM AND GLOOM

Judge and Volpe, Schmidt and Goldy: Our meaningless worries keep piling up

Freddie Mercury said it best: Nothing really matters... Not Scaramouche. Not Galileo. Not Cody Bellinger - even if he do the Fandango. A box score on March 18, regardless of the circumstances, carries no atomic weight or matter in the pantheon of Yankee experience. 

Any way the wind blows... right?

That said...

1. On the spring, Aaron Judge is 2-for-20 with 11 strikeouts. You could say, cruelly, that he's reached postseason form. He looks awful, trying to hit each ball into the Gulf of Mexico America Measles.  

I'm not worried. Nope. Not a whit. In fact, I'm not sure why I bothered to note it here. He'll be fine. Ha ha! O, maybe he'll dilly-dally, get off to a slow start, go hitless for a week or two. He'll be fine. FINE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? HE. WILL. BE. FINE. GODDAMMIT. He just needs plate appearances. Which is why he sat out yesterday, right? Fine. 

2. This winter, folks wondered which Anthony Volpe we'd see in 2025 - the '23 version, who swings hard (21 HRs and .209) or the '24 model, who puts bats on balls (12 HRs, .243.)  

Thus far, we're seeing the free-swinger: 5-for-36, .139, with 2 HRs and 13 strikeouts. Yikes. Joey Gallo?

This is a change from past Volpean springs. In 2023, he famously rode a .309 Grapefruit average into starting SS on opening day. Last spring, he hit .314, prompting Aaron Boone to install him as leadoff hitter. Both springs led to underachieving summers. This year, the reverse? Bad spring, hot summer? Let's hope. Because now and then, when I glance at Volpe, I get a momentary feeling that I'm seeing Tommy DeVito. It rattles me. 

3. Yesterday, Clarke Schmidt was scratched from action with a sore shoulder. It was described as a "setback" from his injury woes. 

Listen: This is not a setback. Schmidt had been recovering from lower back pain. This is the shoulder, buckos. This is the enchilada. Schmidt would be the third starting pitcher lost this spring. We're already down to Carlos Carrasco, who was sorta a joke when they signed him last month. This is the shoulder. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

4. Speaking of bad backs, Paul Goldschmidt has entered the chat. He took himself out yesterday after feeling pain in the old lumbago. The 37-year-old says not to worry: Were this the regular season, he'd be playing. 

Why do they always say that? Are we supposed to be soothed? 

5. The newly hulked-up Ben Rice has 4 HRs, now tied with Trent Grisham for the team lead! At least something to be hopeful about, right? 

So, nothing really matters? Say that to Big Ben.

Aging Out at First?

The Goldschmidt boy ( photo yesterday with his granddaughter in Japanese restaurant ) was pulled today for soreness in his back, shoulder and lower lumbar region. 

He had been solidifying the first base spot for the Yanks.  Another brilliant Cashman deal. 

Not so sure what is going on. 

Is this Yankee team cursed?

Is it bad sushi?

How good could Jazz Chisholm be? It might be the most important question this spring.

Last year, at age 26, Jasarado Prince Hermis Arrington Chisholm Jr. - the loyal British subject - seemed to reach his physical and spiritual peaks. 

He hit the most HRs in his career (24), and achieved his highest BA (.256) in five seasons. He stole 40 bases, nearly double his previous best, and drove in 73 runs, 20 more than ever before. As a Yankee, he thrived, hitting .273 and improving his stolen bases success rate (18 SBs, only 2 CS.) 

Until his trade to the Yankees, "Jazz" had played his MLB career in Miami, a football-and-cocaine city that vaguely tolerates the Marlins, unless they mount a rare, once-per-decade run. At age two, growing up in the Bahamas, he'd announced his plans to play baseball. At 12, he was sent to a Jesus-is-everything prep school in Wichita. At 15, he moved to a sports academy in the Bahamas. He was training for MLB before most kids reach high school. 

In 2015, at age 16, he signed with the Diamondbacks for $200,000. Four years later, Arizona traded him to Miami. in 2020, he started at 2B in the All-Star game. Last summer, he went to the Yankees for three prospects. In his first three games, he hit four HRs, as if celebrating his mission in life.

A few weeks later, something wonderful happened. (Or maybe it was just p.r. bullshit; we must always consider that possibility.) The Yankees appeared in Williamsport, Pa., for the Little League World Series, and were treated like rock stars. Chisholm seemed to be the player most affected by the moment. 

He befriended a boy from Nevada and rode with him on the team bus. They talked all the way. He vowed to forever stay in touch. Interestingly, in Chisholm's telling of the story, he noted that several MLB players took him under their wings, early on, when he was scared and lost. One was CC Sabathia, the great Yankee. One was Dominick Smith, then of the Redsocks, now fighting for a roster spot with the Yankees. Jazz vowed to do the same for this boy.

Look, maybe it's crapola; these days, you never know. But I'm going with the heart-tugging story. I'm looking at Jazz Chisholm in the above picture, and I'm thinking he's found his reason to be alive, and somehow, it involves being a member of the New York fucking Yankees.

Considering his past - and the tedium of playing for the miserable Marlins - it's tempting to imagine Chisholm having his career peak in 2025. And here's the deal: The Yankees need him to be an all-star level 2B, a 30-HR slugger who, crazy at is sounds, might be tasked with protecting Aaron Judge.

Last year, in the world series, Chisholm nearly ran wild. He stole two bases in one inning in a game the Yankees should have won. The Dodgers couldn't stop him. Damn. I remember thinking he was going to be the MVP of the series. Then everything fell through, though not his fault. (Frankly, it hurts to relive.)  

Around here, we waste a lotta time pondering Anthony Volpe and Jasson Dominguez. Fuk dat. Yeah, they are critical to the future of this team. But Jazz Chisholm needs to have the best season of his career - because that kid in Nevada will be watching. And if Jazz comes through, praise Jesus, because a lot of our problems will disappear.

With Clarke Schmidt getting pulled today due to shoulder soreness - perhaps its time for some more Gallo . . .

Earlier today after getting cut by the White Sox, Joey Gallo announced on social media that he was leaving the outfield to continue his career as a pitcher:

"While Gallo has no professional experience on the mound, he did pitch in high school (even throwing a no-hitter) and has long had among the most impressive throwing arms in the game among position players, which was key to him earning two Gold Gloves in right field."

With the start of Schmidt's 2025 season now in doubt, there's no question that the Yankees rotation is in need of some immediate assistance.

And few players know more about strikeouts than Joey G !

Start him off in the bullpen, let him build some arm strength and confidence and I'm sure he'll perform well for us.

Its a no-brainer, Brian.

GO YANKEES !

By starting Clay Holmes on opening day, the Mets are looking to humiliate the Yankees

Hunker down, kids. Get away from the windows. Hide under your desks. 

In their opening day lineup, the Mets will be sending us several terrifying messages:

1. We have more money than you. 

Obviously, this relates to the presence of Juan Soto, whose staggering wealth will factor into every plate appearance, base hit, botched fly and grinning yawn. He is the Musk of baseball, the richest player on the planet, and every move will be criticized or cheered. That's why Steven Cohen shelled out the money. He bought the expectations, the curiosity, the looming pressure - not merely to win, but to humiliate his crosstown rival.

Beginning next week, Soto will start drawing unparalleled attention. But the message will run long range. He'll be raking money for the next 15 years, until he's either a shoe-in for Cooperstown or the name assigned to a curse. 

But on opening day, fair or not, Soto will serve to remind everyone that the Yankees employ thugs, and their owner would not give up a luxury box.     

2. We're smarter than you. 

This pertains to Clay Holmes, who has been designated opening day starter. Holmes has looked good lately: A team-leading 14 innings, just two earned runs, and 15 strikeouts. His ERA is 1.29, best on the rotation. 

That's right. Rotation. The Mets made a bold decision, switching  a career bullpen lug nut into the starting five. If it works, they will look ever brainier, especially as the Yankees are countering with - gulp - Carlos Carrasco. If Holmes succeeds, he will become a symbol of what the Yankees overlooked. 

Ahem... one little thing: Holmes pitched 63 innings last year. And the year before that. And the year before that. (In 2021, when he was dealt to the Yankees, he threw 70 innings.) The guy is 31. By June 1, he'll have thrown more innings than any season in his career.  You gotta wonder...

Maybe the Mets have pulled off one of baseball's greatest extractions, rescuing Holmes from the Yankees and letting him start. Or maybe they'll chew him up. It's a grand experiment. 

Honestly, Yank fans should wish him well. The guy always answered the bell, even when his tank was empty, and he was serving up tee shots. The Yankees could have kept him. They didn't want to spend the money.

3. We still have longer beards than you. 

This year, at last, the Yankees can compete in the category of facial hair art. The shag ban has ended, and our players can now wear "well groomed beards," according to the new policy. Don't expect ZZ Top. The Yankee chins will still be playing catch-up.  

4. We're more New Yorky than you.

Actually, I'm not sure on this. If the Mets had kept Harrison Bader - now a Twin - they would certainly be NYC's hometown franchise. They have homegrown stars - Pete Alonzo, Jeff McNeil and Brandon Nimmo -plus Francisco Lindor, born in Puerto Rico, the lost borough.  

As for the Yankees, well, by losing Gerrit Cole to surgery, we have lost one of the great feel-good narratives of modern times: the boy who grew up to lead his beloved team to a championship. Right now, that fairy tale looks doomed - almost cringy, considering Cole's last image, pointing to the base he didn't cover. When Cole returns in the fall of 2026, who knows where we will be, and what he'll will have left. 

Likewise, our other hometown hero, Anthony Volpe, will either hit this season or be an endangered species. 

What we will always have is Aaron Judge, who draws a straight line to Roger Maris and Babe Ruth. If Judge stays healthy, the Yankees will continue to have NY's brightest star - better than Ohtani, by the way - and maybe, just maybe, the Mets will still be the Mets. 

For weeks now, the Yankees have touted Will Warren; now, will they exile him to Scranton?

 

Last year was supposed to be Will Warren's breakout season. 

In fact, right around now, he was in a pitched duel with Luis Gil for the final slot in the rotation. That spring, he threw 15 innings with an ERA of 3.52. Not bad. Didn't matter, though. Gil led the Yankees in Grapefruit strikeouts and posted an ERA of 2.87. They kept him, and he became their best pitcher in April/May. Warren was flipped to Scranton, his second season in the Electric City, and - well - he did not thrive. 

In fact, he flopped. When summoned to the majors on July 30, Warren was in a sad state: a Triple A ERA north of 7.00. Against the NL leading Phillies that night, he went 5.1 innings, gave up four runs, and - well - it was arguably his best start of 2024. I guess that sums it up? He finished 2024 with a minor league ERA near 6.00 and a MLB ERA above 10.00 So much for breakout years.

Well, he's back - now 25 - and once again challenging for the fifth rotational spot. This time, though, he's battling 37-year-old Carlos Carrasco - a former Met - who supposedly has a secret weapon in this generational duel: an opt-out clause. On March 22, if the Yankees don't keep him on their roster, Carrasco can declare himself a free agent. And, if you think about it, why wouldn't he? 

Everybody should have an opt-out clause. In careers. In relationships. In life. We should all have the freedom to simply say, "Fukkit, I'm not shoveling this shit; I'm going drinking." Sadly, we do not enjoy such contracts. But Carrasco does, and knowing how Cooperstown Cashman works - he views everyone by their contract - it's a done deal that Will Warren's happy spring will go down in flames next Saturday, losing out to Carrasco's opt-out. (The Yankees have options on Warren; he cannot walk.)

I'm not saying the Yankees should keep Warren and let Carrasco merrily skip away. I get it: Cashman wants them both. Surely, by June 1, the franchise will be down to stems and seeds, with pitchers we've never heard of - Headrick, Winans, Schliittler. It's an annual turnover, where you start with a wave of arms and winnow them down to one or two that stick. 

But it's time for the Yankees to sink or swim with Will Warren. The guy might have a future. Carrasco has only a past. 

Warren is slated to pitch today. We'll see... 

The Martian. Goldie. Munguia. Searching for meanings in a meaningless box score

No news here. If you're looking for truth, well, here's what we got: 

The Yankees won yesterday, beating the embittered Gleyber Torres - now of Detroit - and squaring their spring record at 9-9 - (three behind Toronto in the Grapefruit race.) 

Lost in the agate were HRs by the youngest and oldest Yanks - Jasson Dominguez (22) and Paul Goldschmidt (37) - and a triple by somebody named Ismael Humberto Munguia - age 26 - who could become the 16th Nicaraguan to ever reach MLB, in case you're scoring at home.  

Three Yankees, three hitters, moving in three directions, if they're moving at all. 

The Martian bumped his average up to .229, and he's now tied for second in HRs on the team with 2. 

Goldy is now hitting .300 and leads the team in HRs and RBIs. 

Ismael Humberto Munguia is now 10 for 20, a crisp .500 with two SBs. 

Close your eyes, and you can see in this trio the hopes and fears of the 2025 Yankees. If Goldschmidt hits as he used to, the Yankees have protection for Aaron Judge and a raging migraine for opposing pitchers. If he doesn't, well, 1B becomes a time share between Dom Smith and Ben Rice, and the floorboards could collapse beneath us. 

Last year, worst of his career, Goldschmid suffered a bad back in April and slumped all the way into July. On August 24, he was hitting .226 - tanking the Cardinals. In September, the month of coffee cups, he hit .275, (though, with only 2 HRs.) This  spring, he has three. 

What's there to say? If he's healthy, Goldy bats behind Judge. We rise or fall, based on his output.  

As for the Martian, who knows? The question is where he'll be in the order. Lately, Boone has been batting him high, apparently seeking to provide ABs. When the games count, he'll probably slide to the bottom, next to Anthony Volpe. If they hit, the Yankees can win the AL East. If they don't, well, there's Ismael Humberto Munguia. 

He's 5'7" and 158 pounds - the Yankees seem to have a fetish for tiny people - (is it because of how Jose Altuve has treated us?) but they don't always keep them. (Caleb Durbin, whom they touted all winter and then traded to Milwaukee, is currently hitting .161, though he has 2 HRs.) Last year, in 93 games between AA and AAA, Munguia hit .286 with 7 HRs. He's fast - stole 18 bases, caught 7 times. In 2023, his Richmond manager, Dennis Pelfrey, said of Munguia, "He's one of the favorite players I've ever had the opportunity to coach," and cited the guy's joyousness. 

Joy, eh? What a concept? I'm rooting for him. This team is going to need a spark.

The Nightmare before Easter: Five out-of-control fears - but they're real - about the 2025 Yankees

You know that line by olde Bill Shakespeare, "A coward dies a thousand times... the valiant only taste of death but once...?" 

Little known fact: He was referring to Yank fans - particularly, readers of IT IS HIGH.  

Yeah, call us cowards, clods, Killjoys - whatever. We grew up being told that the New York fucking Yankees were America's greatest sports empire - nothing else close - and we watched them become the Knickerbockers. 

Yes, we shall always feel defeats more painfully than - say - fans of the KC Royals. Deal with it. KC has Mahomes. KC has Kelsey. KC has two recent Super Bowls. KC has Bobby Witt Jr. KC has the Sunshine Band. What KC does not have is a Nepo-Baby owner who clings to a legacy that ended a quarter century ago. If the Shakes Man were here today, he'd say, "A Yankee fan dies 70 times - and that's a wild card season."  

On that note, some advice. Run, because the 2025 Yankees are doomed. 

I'm talking about a looming summer of pain like nothing we've seen since the days of Dooley Womack and Steve Whitaker. Nope, Royals fans cannot imagine such a debacle. This will be the toughest summer in Hal Steinbrenner's life. 

Why do I feel this way? The omens...

1. There are still two weeks until Opening Day. Thus far, the Yankees lose one key player every week. If they maintain this injury rate, two more critical lug nuts will go down by opening day. Who will it be? An outfielder? A catcher? Bullpen. Dunno. But just watch... 

2. It's still a small sample, but the early precincts are reporting on Jasson Dominguez. He's playing almost every day, leads the team with 32 at-bats. The Martian is hitting .219 with 1 HR and 9 strikeouts - one K in three ABs. He's looked lost in LF. We can officially start to worry. The Yankees are committed to him. If he fails, if he's just not ready for prime time, the bottom of the lineup will go dark in April and May.

3. Four weeks ago, the Yankees were shopping Marcus Stroman and pondering a six-man rotation. Now, they are talking up Will Warren. If Clarke Schmidt continues to miss time due to a bad back, they'll be going with Carlos Carrasco, who was signed off the scrap heap last month. From Cole to Carrasco... wow.

4. I cannot say which is more frightening: Losing Giancarlo Stanton for the year, or having him try to come back in - say - August, when he cannot run. Yes, he had a great October. But his decline in health has been coming for a long time. It's here. Two bad elbows? In my life as a fan, I've never heard of a player suffering from two tennis elbows at the same time. Dear God. 

5. Remember that hot in-house competition for 3B, which was supposed to energize the infield? Well, we're back to Oswald/Oswaldo - a March exercise now entering  its third year. Neither has hit. I suppose we prefer Oswaldo - the smile, the glove - but he's now 26, two years older than Oswald. Is he a switch-hitter? Is this a platoon? Does anybody know? I just feel as if we've been here before, in each of the last two years. Nothing has changed, and the floor is about to give out.  

Yes, I understand that the AL East looks rather sickly, and the Rays will have to play games on Yankee soil. (Actually, I think this will energize the franchise, as their fans get to escape that giant ping pong ball.) I think we're facing a Tankathon year. 

Listen: If so, we can still enjoy a summer of complaining, whining, ridiculing - of kicking their fat, bloated carcass around the Bronx until there's nothing left that even Pizza Rat would haul away. Keep your powder dry. But it's going to be crazy. What happens if a Yankee fan dies 90 deaths...? 

An Above Average Question for the IIH IIF IIC Denizens to consider :

Happy Hump-Day, Everyone, 

With his Tommy John procedure scheduled to take place in Los Angeles on Monday, I'm sitting here wondering what part of Gerrit Cole's body will Dr Neal ElAtttrache (known in some circles as Doctor Re'Attache') mine the tendon from to replace his damaged ulnar collateral ligament (UCL).

What do you think?  

As you consider your responses, its important to keep in mind that surgeons can also harvest the replacement tendon from outside of the patient's body.

No wagering please and THANK YOU for your participation.

A fried rotation, a fried spring, a fried set of hopes: Everything about the Yankees is Max Fried

Any decent beauty pageant always boils down to the final choice between Miss Whatever and her "First-Runner-Up," who, if anything happens to the reigning title holder - like, say,  chlamydia - must immediately assume the official duties and obligations of the position. 

Whether you're Miss Universe or Miss Utica, your team needs a "First-Runner-Up," who can emerge from the bikini bullpen and throw a solid seven.  

With reigning Mr. Yankee Ace, Gerrit Cole, out of the picture, the following "First-Runners-Up" will rise within the YES narrative command. 

Please note these personnel changes in future discourse: 

Yankee Ace. Until further notice, Max Fried will assume this coveted role, which involves "leading" the staff and appearing regularly on YES to assure fans that everything is okay.  

Thus far, Fried has pitched 2.1 innings, and surrendered 2 earned runs, for an ERA of 7.71. We wish him good luck.  

Enduring Workhorse and Staff Lug Nut. This post, also formerly held by Cole, now belongs to Carlos Rodon, as he begins his third season with the team. Who expected such longevity? His current spring ERA is 10.13.

Staff Spark Plug and Potboiler. The role of last year's plucky overachiever, played by Nestor Cortez, will now be handled by tumultuous Marcus "I'm a Starter" Stroman. 

Staff Clarke Schmidt. This remains Clarke Schmidt. 

Only in Pinstripes Lottery Tickets: The roles of last year's ridiculous hopes - Cody Poteet and Clayton Beeter - are now held by Carlos Carrasco and Allan Winans. 

Note: All current positions are subject to change, depending on health considerations.

 

An Above Average Haiku Tuesday ~ HEY CASH! Why not MONETIZE Your Injured - Edition!

URGENT CARE YANKEES

MRI BOBBLEHEAD DOLLS

MANY TO CHOOSE FROM !

A Vargas message to Vargas

 

Ten reasons to be hopeful for the Yankees in 2025 (while ignoring the 1,000 reasons for despair.)

Hey, I've found an incredible new spring pastime: Doom-scrolling. 

It's fun. It's satisfying. As a generally pessimistic Yankee fan blog, it's the perfect way to enjoy March. Just surf the web, clicking on links that are sure to bring you down. Did you know the measles outbreak will spawn a generation of zombies? Did you know NASA is lying about that 2032 asteroid missing earth? We're all gonna die. Embrace it! 

For Yank fans, it's even easier. Pour yourself a stiff glass of Drain-O, position a loaded Luger  in your mouth, and Google "Yankee injuries." You'll encounter an all-you-can-eat buffet of woe, beginning with Gerrit Cole, who will miss 2025 and most of 2026 - that is - if he doesn't get measles and die. Love the doom, everybody! It's here to stay.  

But but BUT... as strict Yankee contrarians, here are 10 reasons to be hopeful for the team in 2025.

1. Expectations have fallen through the floorboards. Right now, nobody wants to kick the Yankees. They're dead in the water, being dragged to port by people in canoes. All self-respecting sports pundits have moved on to ripping the Jets and Giants. The Yankees won't face the regularly unbearable pressures of hope. That allows them to thrive, to be themselves. Watch them surprise us.

2. The Mets, on the other hand, will generate ridiculous expectations. Let's see Juan Soto improve on last year, without Aaron Judge hitting behind him. Not gonna happen. Also, let's enjoy their grand experiments. For example, Clay Holmes. As a starter, he looks dominant: 8 strikeouts the other day. But he's still Clay Holmes. Last year, he threw 63 total innings. In his four years as a Yankee, he never threw more. What happens in his 13th start, around June 1? We'll see.

3. The international man of mystery, Alexander Vargas. He currently is tied for the team lead in HRs - with three (3) - and is batting .729 - (8 for 11.) That's no typo. If the guy can hit .729 this season, we can move Anthony Volpe to third and print the playoff tickets. (He doesn't have to hit .729; .650 would do.) But who is he? His roster thumbnail doesn't even include a mugshot. I am officially proclaiming Vargas the 2025 Yankees IT IS HIGH "IT" GUY. (Yangervis Solarte, where art thou?)

4. The Yankees surely have insurance policies on Cole and Giancarlo Stanton. If they both miss the entire 2025 season - (fingers crossed, Liberty-Bibberty) - that's extra money in the pocket of Owner Hal. That buys a ranch in Montana, or an island in the St. Lawrence - or a dozen eggs. We will spend freely next winter on free agents, such as Gleyber Torres.

5. Maybe this is an old-fashioned tank year. We haven't had one in a while. If so embrace the tankiness.  It's the summer you read novels, rewatch The Sopranos, go to punk shows and date dangerous vegans. A suggestion: Don't miss the upcoming American tour of Amyl and the Sniffers with the great Sheer Mag. It starts this month. Two great bands, and if you get a chance to see the Mag, tell 'em I said hi. 

6. Judge isn't injured... yet. That will likely happen next week. Imagine how, come March 20th, we'll look back on this day, when Judge was healthy, and think of how lucky we are. We'll say, "back in mid-March, weren't we happy?" Enjoy this snapshot of Judgean health. 

7. Austin Wells hitting leadoff? Genius! What a concept - take your slowest runner, aside from Giancarlo, and put him in the leadoff slot. Those 100 years of baseball history, when it was assumed that leadoff hitters should be fast? Tony La Russa? Billy Martin? John McGraw? What did those fools know? The algorithm says otherwise. Hooray for money ball! 

8. We went through half of 2024 without Cole, and we did just fine. As long as we have  Clarke Schmidt, we'll be okay. Schmidt is ready to breakout and challenge for the Cy Y- huh? What's that? He's got  a bad back? Um. Carlos Carrasco! What a pickup!

9. DJ LeMahieu could be back by June 1. Should we set up an IT IS HIGH countdown clock?

10. The Martian. Sink or swim, it will be interesting to watch, am I right? He could be a star. He could be a bomb. Even if you ignore the games, you'll want to check his line in the daily box score. This might be a year of box scores. But cheer up, we can doom-scroll all the way until the asteroid. With Alexander Vargas! 

Rip Van Cole (Updated: Cole needs Tommy John Surgery)

There's a lot of consternation about what the Yankees will look like by the time Gerrit Cole returns to the Yankees in Late August of 2026.  El Duque gave some fine examples but the truth is, the way we're going, by the time Rip Van Cole comes back the entire baseball landscape will have changed.  

* Yes Paul Goldschmidt will no longer be a Yankee but he will be the fifth round selection of  MLB's newest expansion team, the Nuuk Green Sox. 

(Expansion became necessary when the players from the Houston Astros and the Texas Rangers died from the measles.)

* The Dodgers will still be the World Series Champions but the unofficial real champions will be a team comprised of the best Latin players, all deported, and playing for Los Gigantes de Guantanamo as the phrase, "After the ballgame he was iced down." takes on a whole new meaning. 

*African American ball players will have to form their own league after being exposed as  DEI hires and summarily released. 

One positive, the nickname, "Whitey" will be back in vogue. 

*As a reward for the Steinbrenner family's extensive contributions to the Republican Party the "BooneCoin" will be added to the Strategic Crypto Currency Reserve instantly crashing what remains of the economy.  

* Because of this, attendance at Yankee games will drop to under five hundred thousand as families are now faced with the difficult decision, "Medicine or a ball park frank and fries?". 

and last...

* Despite all of the above, the Yankees will still have a shot at the Wild Card as the Greater Buffalo Blue Jays will again finish fourth. 

Gerrit Cole might not pitch again until mid-2026. Imagine what the Yankees will look like.

He'll emerge to a thunderous ovation - full house, on its feet, shaking Yankee Stadium - (they won't start him on the road) - relentlessly promoted for weeks on YES. Every rehab start at Scranton will have been televised. Commemorative T-shirts and caps. Trump and Vice President Hannity in the stands. A bobblehead in the works. 

Everyone will be desperate to end that lasting cruel image - him, pointing to first base, as the Yankees crumble in Game 5. After nearly two years, he will finally have a chance to move on.

Where will the Yankees be, next time Gerrit Cole pitches?

If he has Tommy John surgery, they'll cut him next week. Add 18 months, and it's August-September, 2026. 

Odds are, the Yankees will still be seeking their first world championship since 2009. 

By then:

1. Giancarlo Stanton will be retired, his elbows being the final straw in a physical battle he could not win. Fans will no longer blame him, instead, remembering  his last great postseason, 2024. The franchise will no longer hold him up, in whispers, as the reason it cannot spend. The Yankees will still have one year left on his historically disastrous contract, and some insurance company will cover the remaining $25 million tab. There will be lawsuits, of course. But privately, everyone will be happy that he's gone.   

2. Aaron Judge will remain captain, star slugger and the remaining Pride of the Yankees. He will be 34, having recently hit career HR number 400. A lock in the Hall of Fame someday. He'll have at least another kid. (Maybe Musk can deliver some fatherhood pointers.) He'll remain the face of the Yankees, ever smiling, their last tryst with greatness. He might play 1B or be a fulltime DH. 

3. For better or worse, the verdicts will be in on Jasson Dominguez, Anthony Volpe, Ben Rice and Oswaldo Cabrera. They'll either hit or disappear - via trade, or injury list, or late night buses to Scranton. Spencer Jones and George Lombard Jr. will still be in their prospect primes, still generating hope. Roderick Arias will either be the team's future, or he will have vanished into a Somerset sunset. The Yankees will offer a roster of young pitchers, having invested their 2024 draft with college-level arms. Maybe, they'll be rich in pitching. Wouldn't it be nice?

4. The Mets-Dodgers will be baseball's premier rivalry, following their epic 2025 NLCS postseason. The winner went on to win the world series - (maybe sweep Boston? ha ha!) -  and the loser will have fortified its lineup over the winter by signing Vlad Jr. (The Yankees finished 2nd in that bidding.) 

5. The Yankees will have added at least one new, aging star - near or past his sell-by date. The Padres might be done with Manny Machado, the Phillies with Kyle Schwarber. The Yankees will add someone akin to Ian Happ or Kyle Tucker (but only if they have a lousy 2025.) Bellinger and Goldschmidt will be gone, replaced by the Bellinger and Goldschmidt of 2026, whomever that is.

Feel free to fill in the blanks, based on gut instincts or insider information. Do you like Ben Hess? Go ahead, fulminate! Nobody knows the shape of the mid-2026 Yankees - or, for that matter, the country. It's scary, imagining the Babadooks that lurk out there, far more horrific than Gerrit Cole's elbow. Let's hope we're around to see it. There are no guarantees.

But today, that's what we have to ponder: Eighteen months before we likely next see our ace - that grownup lifetime Yankee fan, a kid, now and forever - on the mound. 

The crowd roar will be incredible. I hope we're there to hear it. And I hope he doesn't point to first base. 

Loser City.

 

"Never have so many owed so much to so few."

    —Winston Churchill

"Never have so many been so injured playing so little."

    —HoraceClarke66

Yeah, I know, I know.  

I was tempted to launch into yet another jeremiad about how is it that Brian "Wishin' & Hopin' & Prayin' " Cashman never builds up enough in the way of a bench, or provides us with a decent farm system.

How—somehow—that deep-dive inquiry into why, every year, the Yankees have ungodly numbers of severe injuries...never does take place.

How Yachtzee Hal Steinbrenner won't spring for those extra dollars, no matter how dire the situation, and won't let even the most blatantly crippled old Yankee nags just hobble off to the glue factory if so much as a dollar remains on their contracts.

Yeah, I was gonna say all that stuff again. 

But that's when I realized, no, the fault lies not in our sports stars, but in our city. 

Loser City. Nepo City.

Think back, back, back through the hazy, quavering TV screen to the spring of 2024. A time of hope. A time, it seemed, of renaissance. A time when New York was on the verge of a sporting jubilee of a sort that had not been seen in at least a generation.

A time when the suddenly resurgent Knicks actually look capable of challenging for their first NBA crown in over half-a-century. When the Rangers seemed like a real contender for their second Stanley Cup in 84 years. When the Mets were back, and when a young man named Juan Soto taught all us Yankees fans to hope again. When who knew what awaited in the fall, when the Jets' Super Bowl-caliber defense would finally be united with Aaron Rodgers. 

"Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive/ But to be old was very heaven!"  

Or something like that.

Well, I don't have to tell you how it all worked out. The Knicks put on a gallant run, but fell a little short, due mostly to injuries. They made some moves, tweaked the roster...and came up with a team that was maybe the third best in the conference. Until their star got injured again.

The Rangers finished with the best regular-season record in the NHL, made a nice playoff run...and one year later are struggling just to get into the playoffs. Of the Jets, Giants, Nets, and assorted other hockey teams, I shall not even speak. 

And then there are our New York Yankees. Unmanned before spring training even started by the Mets, and now mysteriously crippled, thanks apparently to the onerous, off-season task of holding up martini glasses at poolside.

Same as it ever was—with stunning, decades-long periods between championships extending into the foreseeable future for pretty much every big-league team in the city.

How could this be? Simple.

There is absolutely no incentive for any New York owner to win.  

Decades of throwing new stadiums and arenas, and enormous subsidies and tax breaks, at all of these idiots—most of whom never earned a dollar in their lives—has resulted in...decades of our Nepo Noodniks looking only to maximize profits, while occasionally throwing out risibly empty threats to move away from the nation's number-one honey pot.

Oh, please, oh, please! You'd be doing us all a favor!

Here in Loser City, the gravy train for our First Son Flops has reached a point where it is actively deleterious to life in New York.

—We are paying higher bus and subway fares because the Nets, a team that has never won anything beyond an ABA championship, got a sweetheart deal for a remarkably ugly arena in the heart of Brooklyn.

—We had to forego plans to build a splendid new Penn Station—maybe even rebuild the original Penn Station—because James Dolan capped half-a-century of tax-free living by refusing the move his ugly, brown drum of an arena without a major bribe.

—And then there's Yankee Stadium III, built on a beloved public park, with fewer seats and higher prices for all. But hey, millionaires got three new in-house bars and the Wall of Candy!

I'm sure that, somewhere right now, Brian Cashman is dancing a jig. "Look at all those injuries! The perfect excuse for yet another year of disappointment and under-performance!" 

I'm sure that, somewhere right now, Hal Steinbrenner...could not care less.

It's not a coincidence that the only team left standing, with any hope of winning anything, is the Mets—owned as they are now by a Wall Street grifter who actually wants to see his new toy win things. 

Yeah, don't get too cocky, Mets fans. There will come a day when Stevie II or Stevie III will be shaking his head over the luxury tax, and wondering why it is this baseball thing should cost him even a penny of his hard-inherited lucre.

And how was this possible? We the people let it happen, that's how—just as we let so much happen in this country. We let our elected politicians cut whatever deals they wanted, in return for whatever, pathetic payoffs they got. And now we can sit back and watch our favorite, beloved-from-childhood teams...lose.

It's what we're all about. After all, we're in Loser City.

Pass the word: If Judge goes down, we riot.

 

Comrades... 

The Yankee Doomsday Clock has clicked onto midnight - midnight blue, that is. That constitutional crisis we've long dreaded... it's nearly here.

It's time to remember who we are: The New York fucking Yankees. The most iconic sports team on the planet. We still own the most world championships in all of baseball. We still wear the most revered ballcap in all of American culture, and - yes - it's midnight blue, not blood-in-your-urine red. 

We still own the power of the Judiciary - in this case, Aaron Judge, the game's greatest slugger since - well - the first Aaron... Hank. 

Today, we are under attack from a group of low-level, one-note, cheap-suited juju gods, who have been systematically targeting and deleting Yankee assets (including some who have been past targets of our bile.) 

Last week, they abruptly took down Luis Gil. This weekend, they appear to have done the same with Giancarlo Stanton. Now, they've taken their boldest move yet - elbow pain for Gerrit Cole. The 2025 season is teetering on the brink, and here's the most frightening part: They're barely a month into this year. 

They're just getting started. 

It's time to draw lines in the parking lot. It's time for barricades in the street. 

If they take down Aaron Judge, everything must stop. 

If Judge goes down - I don't care if it's a barking gonad or an oozing tick-bite; if Judge feels any pain, whatsoever - I say we form a human fan ring around George M. Steinbrenner Field and refuse to let anyone come and go, especially vermin criminals from the Tampa Rays, who plan to soon claim our stadium as their personal rat's nest. 

If Judge goes down, I say we hack into the YES Network and steal Michael Kay's digital head, as big as a weather balloon, and reconfigure it, using Artificial Intelligence, to rail against cheap and inefficient Yankee management. 

Game 5 is over. Yeah, it happened. The Dodgers won. But these juju punks can't push us around, anymore. 

If Judge does down, we riot. 

Look, I get it... every team suffers injuries. But somewhere along the line, those juju gods who fix sports scores came to decide that the Yankees should be their personal punching bags. It doesn't matter that they now can grow beards. (By the way, are the scruffy things I see sprouting on chins supposed to qualify as "well groomed?" We look like a team of Steve Bannons.) It doesn't matter that the AL East looks weak - though, rather than big high on Alex Bregman, our owner seemed more than willing to let Boston have its way. 

Enough is enough. I say this because we all know what's coming. It might be a sprain. It might be a cramp. But we know it's coming. They will try to take down our Judge. 

We're not going back to Dom Smith.