"Generational talent"

In one of his comments yesterday, Hoss mentioned that Soto is a generational talent. That seems to be the general opinion of the baseball world.

Except he isn't.

If Soto was a generational talent, the media would be breathlessly following his exploits, because they would be worth following breathlessly. But the media attention falls mainly on Ohtani, and I have to admit, as a very good power hitter and very good pitcher, he probably deserves it.

Obviously, media attention doesn't make a generational talent. Although I think it's safe to say Ohtani is a generational talent, for whatever nits we can pick about him.

To me, a generational talent is screamingly apparent by the age of 27, which is Soto's age. Here's what he's done so far.

He had a couple of incredible years back with Washington. Good power hitter. And we know his defense is pretty bad. Generational talent?

This, to me, is a generational talent.

Mantle. A generational talent, hands down. Unarguable. Which is generally true of a generational talent.

Say hey. Yeah, pretty well proved by age 27. Here's a tougher one.

Maybe not as easy a call as Mantle, but I'd say Mike Trout was a generational talent. And then the injuries started piling up, like they did with Mattingly. 

A couple of other no-brainer generational talents were Ichiro and Mariano. Ichiro was a singles hitter mostly, but I don't care. That guy could hit. And Mariano...words fail me. Just unmatched.

After this long trip around the barn, I'd like to make one simple statement: Soto is not a generational talent. He's got a flair for the dramatic sometimes, he certainly has power, but after that, what? He's good, no doubt about that, expecially if you can keep him from playing defense. But generational talent? I don't think so. Can we put that phrase to bed where he's concerned?

It just isn't so. Maybe he's a late bloomer. We'll see how the phrase fits in a few years. But I don't think it will change.

One old, expat, addle-brained man's opinion. 

P.S. In a just universe, the Bears win that game, even with all the mistakes. But so it goes.

Remember "the Evil Empire?" What a joke.

Lately, when I rise at 3 a.m. to pee, I experience one thought:

Will this be the day the Yankees crash? 

Face it: They are no longer the Yankees, the Evil Empire, the bombastic franchise that spent the most and signed the biggest stars, (even if it didn't always work.) Nope. They have become the Steinbrenner family's cash cow, and if legacy gets in the way of Hal's new boat house, well, that's capitalism, Suzyn. 

Face it: We follow a team that once symbolized American power and pride, if not greed and gluttony. Baseball, like every form of entertainment, always needed a villain, and the Yankees were that team. People loved them or loathed them. As Yankee fans, we relished both sides.  

These days, it's rare to find anyone who attacks the Yankees; they're too busy chuckling. Some tribal elder might still break a sweat, sort of as muscle memory, but the ranks are thinning. You see it in daily obits, which describe their subject as "a lifelong Yankee fan," part of his or her humanity. They're gone, and nobody is replacing them. 

At 3 a.m., I make peace with my own obit in just that manner. 

Face it: This is the year when the Yankees will become NYC's other team. No cavalry, no free agent, no acquisition, will save us. The Mets have the money, and they're willing to spend it. The Yankees have the money, but no desire to see it go.

The last great Yankee era - the 90s under Joe Torre - was financed in part by the YES Channel, which gave us an advantage over the rest of baseball. That time came and went. The Yankees' organizational goals slowly switched from winning to contending.  

So, while I stand there at 3 a.m., I wonder if today will be the day Cody Bellinger bids farewell? Frankly, I come to hope so. I'd be happy to see Jasson Dominguez and Spencer Jones, for better or worse. And when the pitching injuries come - they always do - I hope the Yankees face an angry fan base. 

But they won't. Because the fan base is starting not to care. The Yankees simply haven't been the Yankees for a long, long time. And today might be the day... 

Cody Bellinger is a pretty good player. Should he be one of the highest paid in history?

They say the deeper that physicists delve into quantum particle theory, the less sense anything makes. 

So it goes with baseball. 

According to Cot's Baseball contracts, here are the 15 richest players in history.

According to the Internet, the Yankees have offered Cody Bellinger a five-year, $150 million deal, which his agent - Scott Boras - won't even use to wipe his perfumed butt with. 

Unless some other team beats the offer, Bellinger will slot in somewhere around 77th on the all-time Decadent Wealth list. (See below.)

For most of my life, in contract disputes, I always favored players over owners. It's a low ethical bar. Players battle on every pitch, every play from scrimmage, every face-off. No owner ever got carted off with a broken jaw or revived at midfield with a defibrillator, while teammates prayed.

But lately, it's getting hard to make sense of the money in sports. The idea of millionaire quarterbacks pretending to attend college classes, bestriding campuses like Olympian gods... something's gone really wrong. And the money long ago became obscene. 

Soon, Bellinger will land in the all-time rich list. He'll rightfully fall below Hall of Famers like Miguel Cabrera ($152 million) and Derek Jeter ($189 million), but beat Mike Trout ($144 million) and Max Scherzer ($130 million.) And he'll be far behind Wander Franco ($182 million, though I suspect those payments are in limbo.)

Let's disregard quantum physics. It makes no sense, probably never will. 

As John would say, "That's baseball, Suzyn." 

Next year, around now, baseball will be approaching a huge labor lockout. There will probably be no spring training, no opening day - and maybe, no season. 

Right now, it's like a civilization-killing asteroid, visible in the night sky, which we're being told to ignore. 

Sorry. I can't. Don't mean to hang this on Bellinger. It's not his fault. But as the billionaires become trillionaires - (see Musk, Elon) - they are destroying sports in America, (which, by the way, is also to destroy America.)

Mickey Mantle is the center of attraction before undergoing a tonsillectomy at Lenox Hill Hospital on January 17, 1956. The nurses, from left to right, are: Eleanor Hoffman, Catherine Craig, Maureen Kade, Kim Crocker, Ann Koch, and Anita Edwards.

[image or embed]

— Dr Pop Culture USA (@drpopcultureusa.bsky.social) January 17, 2026 at 5:44 PM

C Ø N fidence

With no end in sight, the bleakest winter continues.

Grab the bullhorn. Climb onto the car. Say their names...

Ryan Weathers! 

Amed Rosario! 

Ryan Yarbrough! 

Paul Blackburn! 

Can ya feel it? That's felony grade, uncut, Yankee sarcasm. In six weeks, that's what we'll be spewing along One Steinbrenner Drive in Tampa - our de facto Canyon of Heroes. It's gonna be a long winter, maybe the last regular, regular season in our lifetimes. 

Next October, after the Dodgers win the World Series, Trump can accept the Commissioner's Trophy, to stand beside his Oscar, his Grammy and his Heisman Trophy, all joyfully donated by previous owners, facing DOJ probes. 

It looks rather dense, the long term future? For now, here's where the short term stands.

Let's be honest. The Dodgers have wrapped up the 2026 NL West. Denver better beat the Bills this weekend, because the Colorado Rockies this season will be toast. LA just signed Kyle Tucker for an ungodly amount, not including luxury taxes that pay the Rockies and Diamondbacks to lose. 

We cannot condemn the Dodgers for buying pennants. Owners can only buy pennants because other owners sell them. Let's just lament that it's supposed to be the Yankees doing it. We cannot pretend to be a small market team. As Yank fans, everybody still hates us. What's worse is how they chuckle. I'm seriously fearing that this could be one of those Boston years, when they swoop in and win the division - our worst case scenario.   

Once and for all, the Mets own New York City. They signed Bo Bichette, despite having no position for him (I guess he'll play 3B, even though Brett Baty had finally started to hit. They'll trade him for pitching.) The move is a sucker-punch to Toronto, still spoiling over Trump's derisive talk about Canada being the 52nd state, after Greenland. 

Don't be surprised if, out of spite, Rogers Communications makes Cody Bellinger the offer he can't refuse.

Ah, Cody - an above-average outfielder coming off his best season since 2019 - is now demanding seven years of Aaron Judge money. 

Listen: Yank fans like Bellinger. Firm handshake. Flushes the toilet. But he's not Judge. He's not even Kyle Tucker. If he stays, we've got last year's also-ran team, reconstituted, maybe with our two best prospects leaving in trades, which - like all of Cashman's moves - inspire little hope.

In recent years, as a fan of the New York Football Giants, I've been so disgusted by the product on the field that I've actively rooted for my team to lose. After a certain point, you decide the only way to break out of the malaise is a complete meltdown, a collapse of nuclear proportions, a Cat-5.

This winter, I am starting to feel that vibe with the Yankees. 

The storm is coming. It's gonna bring pain. Let's just hope it washes us clean. 

Mets bestow $42 million a year on Bo Bichette

Sorry, man. THESE prices are insane.

 

It's time to invoke the Yankee Fans Insurrection Act

Yesterday, snow squalls near Syracuse offered us a rare photographic rendering of MLB's current free agent market. 

As seen on the right, the top tractor-trailer is Kyle Tucker, who announced he will become the newest Dodger because - of course - he wants a ring. The second truck is Cody Bellinger, surrounded by suitors - the Mets, Phillies, Jays and several mystery teams - all of whom will likely outbid the Yankees, who are off screen in a ditch.

Onto our fire of hopelessness, toss another log. 

This is the most depressing January since 2005, when Cooperstown Cashman was touting the chops of Richard "Bubba" Crosby in centerfield. While the AL East bulks up, via free agents and trades, the Yankees are struggling to maintain last year's aging, also-ran lineup - now a year older and spackled with injuries. 

Tucker's signing - and, by the way, hats off to the inscrutable Dodgers, who sat for three months like a cobra before striking - suddenly explains why Scott Boras has pursued an outlandish seven-year deal for Bellinger. The three wildest bidders - the Mets, Phillies and Jays - must now chase two remaining major free agents: Bellinger and Bo Bichette. It doesn't matter that Food Stamps Hal has lost his taste for spending. There is plenty of money out there. So, how 'bout that Bubba! 

I say it's time to invoke the Yankee Fan Insurrection Act, which means forgetting the holes at LF, SS, 3B, the rotation and bullpen, and starting to say aloud the most frightening word in the team dictionary: 

Rebuild.

Ouch. What a word. In many ways, it's time to think about 2028, or 2030, or some distant future time line, when a crazy, vulgar trillionaire has taken over the team. By then, if we're still cogent, our brains will be wired into the new singularity, running traffic lights and smart refrigerators.  

As a great yogi once said, It's getting late early. I hate to go Chicken Little on the upcoming season. But let's face it: The Dodgers will win the 2026 world championship, and the Yankees will be lucky to reach the second week of October. 

They're not the Yankees, anymore. The Dodgers are. It's time for an insurrection. It's time for fans to remind the Yankees of who they are. (Or were.)

60 fucking million a year. Judge should have got 100.

No, it is insane.

 

Your Moment of Bøøne . . . . at Noon (ish)

 THIS GUY IS GUNNA NEED A HUG - REALLY, REALLY SOON

Boo-Hoo Boone

Nicest Guy in

Da Room

He's like our own

Looney Tune

and

Ready to Groom

Players Fresh from

Da Womb

In a dark, dark winter, the Yankees are not inspiring hope

First, let's recognize that it's merely mid-January - four weeks to Super Sunday and six until pitchers and catchers - and we must not live and die on relentless trade rumors that herald the Yankees' growing insignificance. 

In this desolate outpost, in the names of Babe & Mickey, of Thurm & Yogi, and of John & Suzyn, we remember what was once the world's greatest sports dynasty - hands down. 

Now, though, halfway through the gloomiest winter in memory, the Yankees look like just another baseball team.

Somewhere within this burgeoning matrix of disappointment, there must be a plan - a strategy, a set of moves that will eventually make sense, like in the final acts of those Knives Out movies, where everything gets explained. 

Somewhere in here, the Yankees must have a plan to lead us from this darkness.

It sure hasn't happened yet. While Boston adds pitchers, and the Mets shovel money on Kyle Tucker, the Yankees are struggling to reconstitute - gulp - last year's team.

Yesterday, they celebrated a farm-system-draining deal for a pitcher who hasn't thrown 100 innings in the last two years, while they continued to romance Cody Bellinger, a free agent outfielder who, frankly, hasn't strung together two solid seasons since 2019.

Somewhere, there must be a plan, right? Because from here, the Yankees are acting as if a) they won the 2025 World Series, b) Trent Grisham is a sure thing, and c) Gerrit Cole, Carlos Rodon and Clarke Schmidt will all return to former glories. Meanwhile, we're supposed to believe Iran will capitulate, Greenland will happily come aboard, and the city of Minneapolis will magically achieve peace with a brutal, occupying army. 

This winter is starting to give a vibe of 2013, the year of Vernon Wells, Lyle Overbay and Pronk. 

Darkest winter in memory.  

I wonder if baseball is gonna save us. Do the Yankees have a plan?

The Yankees just traded for David Weathers' kid. Ten sorta fun facts about him.

David Weathers' ERA
matched his chins 

Following the lead of Cody Bellinger, son of Clay, the Yankees yesterday traded four prospects to the MAGA State Marlins for LH starter Ryan Weathers, son of Tubby - um, I mean - David, bullpen lug nut for the 1996 world champs. 

FWIW, two of the traded prospects had been listed among the Yankees' Top 20, so let's figure the farm system is tapped out and will be hard pressed to deliver a Freddy Peralta -(though Spencer Jones remains on the table.) 

As for Ryan Weathers, here are 10 sorta fun facts.

1. He's a former 1st round pick. (WTF is it with Cooperstown Cashman and former 1st rounders?) He was selected 7th, by San Diego, in the 2018 draft. (His dad was a 3rd rounder, by Toronto, in 1988.)

2. He turned 26 last month, and he's under contract until 2029. (Another major attraction for Cashman.)

3. His portly dad, David, was listed as 6'3" and 205 (a hallucinatory number.) Ryan is 6'1" and 230. A chunk. 

4. As a high school senior, Ryan was named 2017 Gatorade National Player of the Year. He must have gotten laid all the time. He committed to Vanderbilt. 

5. After being drafted, Ryan signed for $5.2 million and went to Fort Wayne, where he pitched decently (ERA 3.84) in the Midwest dirt league.

6. In 2020, with the Padres, Ryan became the 2nd pitcher in MLB history to make his debut in the fucking postseason, pitching 1.1 innings, walking two. Seriously, he debuted in the playoffs!

7. He made the 2021 Padres roster out of spring training, looked like a future thing, and then pretty much sucked over 30 games that year. (ERA 5.32.)

8. At the 2023 trade deadline, San Diego dealt him to Miami for Garret Cooper and Sean Reynolds. Again, he pretty much sucked. (ERA 7.62.)

9. Weathers started to blossom in 2024, throwing 71 innings (ERA 3.63), but he missed several months with a strained index finger.

10. In 2025, he showed more promise, (ERA 3.99) but missed big chunks of the season with strains of his forearm and lat. 

Good stuff. Can't stay healthy. Ours for three years. Not sure what we gave up, or what this signifies - if anything - for Bellinger and the outfield. But you have to really believe in miracles, if you think the Yankees have solved their pitching issues.   

Dear Mr. Steinbrenner: How're ya doing? I'm okay. And while I have you, PLEASE DON'T TRADE THE MARTIAN!

Dear Madam or Sir, 

Having watched the Yankees for 70 seasons - no lie, 70, give or take the Wonder Years - I know what's coming... 

After all the squawking, the Yankees will re-sign Cody Bellinger. 

Dunno the price. Don't care. I just think everyone - including the rest of the AL East - is fine with the Yankees dropping $40 million or so on a human yo-yo of up-and-down seasons. None of your owner buddies will whine if you maintain last year's runner-up roster. The world loves to watch the Yankees tread water. Thus, Bellinger will return, leaving you in desperate need of pitching, and with two commodities to trade for it.

1. Either Will Warren (age 26) or Luis Gil (27) - youngish 4th starters who could break out and anchor a rotation.  

2, Either Jasson Dominguez (22) or Spencer Jones (24), corner OFs with interesting upsides, both of whom would become expendable with the return of Bellinger.

Trade one of each and add some Single A fodder, you could acquire Freddy Peralta in his walk year, and open camp with an arguably improved roster. 

Thus, a key to 2026 - and beyond - comes down to one massive choice: Who goes? The Martian or Mr. Jones?

I humbly suggest it be Jones. 

I get it that The Martian is a horrible fielder, an atrocity of the warning tracks. Meanwhile, the Yanks have hyped Jones as a potential CF. (Let's believe that when we see it.) Both are fast as hell. Jones, last year in the minors, stole 29 bases (caught 6 times.) Dominguez, with the Mother Ship, stole 23 (5 times caught). 

But it's all about the Three True Outcomes - the Holy Trinity of stats: BBs, Ks and HRs. 

Last year, in 544 minor league at bats, Jones walked 58 times, hit 39 HRs and fanned 179 times. Altogether, 51 percent of the time, he failed to put a ball into play. He either jogged the bases or marched back to the dugout. Fifty one percent of the time.

Dominguez, with 429 MLB at bats, rendered 41 walks, 115 Ks, and 10 HRs - a 39 percent wake-me-when-he's-done rate. 

In another city, in another reality, Jones could become a huge star. He looks like a young Joey Gallo, and though I can hear your catcalls, that's something Yank fans never got to see in pinstripes. Gallo had some all-star years in Texas; they were smart enough to trade him when Cashman called. Meanwhile, if The Martian doesn't learn to play LF, he will become the Plutonian. 

Still, I like it that Dominguez last year never hit a couple HRs and got slugger-drunk. The Yankees entered October with the most HRs in baseball, and they exited it like all HR-dependent teams do: Walking dejectedly back to the dugout. 

We don't need another Three True Outcomes swinger. We need batted balls in play. 

Sir, if and when it comes to a trade, hold the line. 

Think: Mars.

Will the return of Trent Grisham be the last defining Yankee event of 2026 - and beyond?

According to my A.I. "co-pilot" - who is brilliant, sexy, and never wrong - the Yankees are backing away from Cody Bellinger, as if he just tested positive for scurvy. How do we know this? 

Ironclad circumstantial evidence, which flows through the Internet like grease through a goose. I hereby submit that...

1. They've now made two (2) offers to Bellinger. In other words, they made their pitch. Twice. It didn't fly. 

2. If they were gonna re-sign Bellinger, they'd have done it by now.

3. Others are signing. See BOSTON: ALEX DOESN'T LIVE HERE ANY MORE. 

Keep in mind, this is content crapola, the sorriest slop of winter. Aside from Bellinger, super-demon Scott Boras and Cooperstown Cashman, nobody knows WTF is really happening. It's possible that they don't, either.

Still, who among you can dispel that infectious - and rising - suspicion that the Yankees - 2009 world champions! - will wind up with nothing to show this winter but Trent Grisham, whose breakout 2025 - he hit .235! - was a mirage? 

Whatever happens with Bellinger, the Death Barge has yet to address the 899-pound gorilla in the sandwich board that says, "WHO'S GONNA PITCH?"  

Every news story, every speculative trade rumor, it just reminds us that the Yankees are no longer the apex predators of winter, the AL East, or even their home town. There's a new reality in baseball. It goes this way: 

The owners are all multi-billionaires, unable to even fathom how much money they have. To keep from overspending, they need payroll caps. The war over financing will explode baseball in 2027, and we can already see the asteroid approaching in the distant night sky. 

So, cherish your A.I. companion, your manic, pixie dream girl. Isn't she sweet?Isn't she hot? We're about to invade Greenland. She'll keep us warm, eh?

Boone is a nice guy, still an idiot. Or is that nice idiot, still a guy?

 On KTZZ, channel 22 in Seattle, you'll find a collection of truly vintage vintage TV. The Kate Smith Show just wrapped up, sponsored by Norge. Now another tale from The Whistler is just beginning.

True, there are 2025 commercials between the shows, all of them low-rent and crappy, for products available through an 800 number (though the URL does appear, it's always in smaller type).

Yeseterday, I was in a great mood, heightened by four consecutive episodes of Superman on the Heroes & Icons channel. All black and white, and the first even featured the original TV Lois Lane, Phyllis Coates. Flintier and not as cuddly as her successor, but pretty darned good. Those oldest black and white shows are actually serious, as opposed to the more kiddie-friendly fare later on. I still love the cruelty Supie showed when confronting the Mole Men. That trait got taken out pretty damn fast in subsequent scripts.

When these shows were popular on network TV, the Yankees were indisputably the greatest team in baseball. Yogi, the Scooter, Whitey, Mickey, Moose...rarely did they miss a shot at a ring, and when they got one, they rarely missed bringing a ring home.

Casey was a comedian, a sage, a purveyor of some truly strange platoon and defensive lineup moves, a tough competitor who had Rizzuto pushed off the team to make room for Enos Slaughter when the Yanks had a raft of outfielders on the injured list. (Stengel famously told the Scooter to get a shoeshine box and change careers when Phil tried out for Casey's Dodgers in the 1930s.)

I'm an old guy who should lose 30 pounds, find a good hair growth supplement and stop thinking I can carry multiple heavy bags of groceries a mile and a half to our apartment. Yesterday, I smoked too many cigarettes and liked it, but today woke up with a slight smoker's cough and that wheezy chest feeling when I was hacking. I haven't had a drink since last Sunday because my iron is kind of high and booze suppresses the liver enzyme that keeps it under control. I've been getting a lot of headaches, mostly in and around the eyes, thanks to the constantly damp, gloomy weather in this corner of the current Reich (the Third having resurrected in the USA).

But even if I wasn't born yet and then not old enough to appreciate the 1950s Yanks, I wish some of their ashes would drift down onto today's sadly mediocre team, from the front office to the dugout to the broadcast booth.

Obviously, that ain't happening. However, the $64,000 Question just started, sponsored by Revlon, in a Christmassy-decorated episode. Sure, that show became the most prominent of crooked quiz shows, eventually. Scooter also got pushed out of short into the broadcast booth. But before those events, we had some team.

The contestent is in the Isolation Booth and can win a 1956 Caddy. I gotta go.

The Redsocks whiff on Bregman. Is the logjam about to break?

Yesterday, the Conniving Cubs abruptly signed Alex Bregman to a five-year deal, bombing the current MLB chess board, and infuriating Boston fans, who now must turn to the legendary Marcelo Mayer. 

The signing leaves three major positional free agents - Kyle Tucker, Bo Bichette and Cody Bellinger - still sashaying on the catwalk before 10 potential suitors. The salivating teams are: 

1. The Dodgers, always hot for another star. Maybe sign all three?

2. The Mets, still seated on their blue balls, cramped by unspent money.

3. The Blue Jays, ready to stick it to Trump, if some honky USA team poaches Bichette.

4. The Phillies, always one star away from the brass ring.

5. The Angels. Wait. Are they still a team? (Which is why they must do something.)

6. The Redsocks, who - in theory, anyway - still have that Bregman money.

7. The Mariners, who are way too quiet, considering how close they came.

8. The Padres, San Diego's last pro sports hope, (unless you follow the Wave, Seals, Strike Force and Legion. Ten quatlooms to anyone who can identify what sports those teams represent.)

9. The Rangers, classic lurkers with Texas oil money, soon to be bolstered by free Venezuela tankers. Never turn your back. 

10. And, well, us... the Bombers, the Death Barge, the 2009 World Champions! - who have spent this winter recreating last year's second-place team.

In past winters, the Yankee 40-man roster always looked tight. The franchise usually lost a player or two in the Rule 5 draft, due to the overflow of young arms. 

Today, the roster holds Kervin Castro, Chase Hampton, Brent Headrick, Kaleb Ort, Jayvien Sandridge and Cade Winquest - their first Rule 5 pick in 14 years. Of this group, only Hampton was born in this millennium; he's coming off surgery. 

Without a significant injection of pitching, 2026 looks like a suicide run. Considering Hal Steinbrenner's increased frugality, it's rational to think signing Bellinger would be the Yankees' only splurge. From then on, they'll be trading young players.  

That sure doesn't inspire hope, eh? 

Words of terror: "The New York Yankees are one spring training injury away from Paul Blackburn being in the Opening Day rotation."

Sez today's Athletic (Paraphrasing): Abandon hope. Unsecure the life boats. Open the beer taps. Light one up. Yankee doomsday is here.

(Direct quote): "Every year since the shortened 2020 season, the Yankees have suffered at least one spring training injury to their rotation... now, the Yankees’ starting depth is in worse shape than it was a year ago."

It's true. Dear God, it's so horribly, sickeningly true... 

Last year, after Gerrit Cole, Luis Gil, and Clarke Schmidt went poof in spring training, the Yankees reassured us of their depth. To fill the void, they would let the Olympian foursome of JT Brubaker, Carlos Carrasco, Marcus Stroman and Will Warren compete for the final rotation spot. No problem, they said. Just jiggle the handle, and all would be okay.

By opening day, Carrasco, Stroman and Warren were all in the rotation. 

Somehow, incredibly, the current Yankees have entered 2026 with less pitching depth than last year, around now. Every possible trade for a starter will require an avalanche of young talent - The Martian would almost surely go - and, frankly, the Yankees don't have enough butter in their larder to put together a competitive package. Nor are there any relevant free agent arms the market.

These days, here's how the Yankees define hope: Max Fried, Cam Schlittler, Ryan Yarbrough, Gil, and the population of Wilkes-Barre.

Carlos Rodon might return in May. 

Cole might return in June. 

Schmidt might return. 

Yesterday, the Yankees signed Kaleb Ort. 

Have a nice day.

The music is about to stop, and nine MLB teams are about to start scrambling for four chairs. It's time to ask: How badly do the Yankees want this?

Unless a bomb goes off this weekend, the tremors will happen Monday. 

That day, the Phillies have set up a Zoom call with Bo Bichette, the first B in MLB's current ice jam. This teleconference could answer an ancient Internet question: Can a blowjob be successfully delivered through Zoom? The Phillies will try. And the notion of them sweet-talking Bichette - the Jays infield linchpin - should rouse the fruited circuitry of Edwin S. Rogers III, the nepo head of Rogers Communications and Canadian Chamber of Commerce 2025 Business Leader of the Year - (I'm not making this up) - who owns 98 percent of the zillion dollar media goliath that runs not just the Blue Jays, but a large chunk of Canada, Trump's would-be 51st state, which seems a bit ornery lately over how it's been treated by its southern neighbor.  

However Philly courts Bichette, and whatever they offer, their presence will drop a grenade into the bidding war for one Cody Bellinger - the second B in our gridlock. This will tweak the wires of "Food Stamps" Hal Steinbrenner and Mets owner Stevie Cohen - Juan Soto's skybox lover - who has done nothing this winter but let popular "Amazins" walk out the door. One of these days, Mt. Cohen will erupt, blowing plumes of money across the landscape. It's hard to imagine him sitting this out.

Any movement on Bellinger will instantly rouse the Cubs, Redsocks and the mythical "mystery team" - (San Diego? Texas? Seattle?) - that always haunts free agent bidding wars. The Dodgers might also join the chat. Boston would seem most locked on Alex Bregman - the third B - while the Cubs hone in on Kyle Tucker, (the honorary 4th B.) 

Close your eyes, and nine teams could be chasing four free agents, which is why Scott Boras feels no urgency to make a deal. Considering the looming 2027 labor crisis, which could shut down baseball for much of the season, this could be the last blowout contract negotiations of this decade. 

Tick, tick, tick... 

IT IS THURSDAY - SO HERE'S YOUR MOMENT OF BØØNE

ALTHOUGH WE LAUGH AND ACT LIKE WE'RE CLOWNS

BENEATH OUR MASKS WE'RE ALL WEARING FROWNS

OUR TEARS ARE FALLING LIKE RAIN FROM THE SKY

IS IT FOR HIM OR OURSELVES THAT WE CRY

HE'S A LOSER

AND HE'S LOST SO MUCH FOR YOU AND ME

HE'S A LOSER

AND HE'S NOT WHAT HE PRETENDS TO BE

The Yankees should pass on any long-term deal for Cody Bellinger. Prove me wrong.

Before starting, please allow me to reiterate one central tenet of this blog: 

Hal Steinbrenner has more money than each of us will spend in 20 lifetimes, and when it comes to payrolls and salaries, his incessant poor-mouthing deserves a midnight visit from Trump's Delta Force commandos. If there is such a thing as karma, Hal will spend eternity pushing a shopping cart full of bottle deposits through some upstate backwater that registers 200 inches of snow per winter. Around here, we've no soft spots for whiny, dime-pinching, nepo billionaires. The Yankees can sign any player, at any time. The problem is Hal. He doesn't want to spend his money.

That said, the notion of bestowing a seven-year contract upon Cody Bellinger is lunacy, a surefire way to continue the Great Yankee Malaise: 18 years without a ring... and counting.  

If Bellinger was ever going to warrant a seven-year deal, it should have happened in 2019, in Los Angeles. He was coming off an MVP year - 47 HRs and a .306 BA. But the Dodgers wisely blinked, and by 2022, he was barely topping the Mendoza Line. He bounced to the Cubs on a three-season deal that let him restore his name and win Comeback Player of the Year. Still, Chicago wound up dumping him to the Yankees in exchange for the great pitcher, Cody Poteet. And now he wants a seven-year deal? Sorry, but... nope.  

Listen: Everybody likes Bellinger. Guy plays hard and smart. Chokes up with two strikes, a lost art for undisciplined Yankee sluggers. Still... seven years? Gimme a break. In seven years, he'll be a china doll DH, back in the .210s, far beyond his sell-by date. And his would be replacements could be shining in other cities. 

I'm talking about Jasson Dominguez and Spencer Jones. Can't say if either will ever become a star: The Martian can't field, and Jones strikes out too often. But in baseball, at some point, you have to go with your farm system. There comes a time when the Yankees must call the question on their vaunted prospects, and that time is here. 

If the Yankees sign Bellinger, they might as well start shopping The Martian tomorrow. On that note, I'd like to point out that - for age 22 - he didn't do that badly last year: 10 HR, 23 SB, .257. He's fast as hell. In fact, Dominguez hit rather well (.274) from the left side. If, say, the Yanks signed Austin Hayes, (.319 last year from the right side) and platooned the pair, how much more from Bellinger could they realistically expect? 

Listen: I get it that Bellinger is a fine human being: flushes the toilet, remembers birthdays, etc. Apparently, he loves NYC, which is important, because many players do not. New York is full of lifetime opportunities. But if a seven-year deal is the hill on which Bellinger wants to die, I say, let him go. 

Sorry, folks. Hal has too much money for his own good. But players ought to show at least some allegiance to the fan bases that embrace them. (That's why there will always be a special dung heap in hell for Juan Soto.) Demanding a seven-year deal is to drop a future bomb on your team. If that's what Bellinger wants, fuck'm.