Who's on third? Nobody. Why can't the Yankees grow their own third-basemen?

As we enter Year II of the Chase Headley Era - potentially the worst 4-year term since Calvin Coolidge - hope-mongers across the Yankiverse are already kicking rocks in the farm system, hoping that someone - anyone - will rise from the mine shafts of Scranton to play 3B. But if history tells us anything, it's that we might as well be waiting for Atlantis. (Did you know that whenever a Yankee 3B prospect collapses, tens of thousands of Muslims cheer on the rooftops of Jersey?) Over the last 40 years, the Yankees have raised one - yes, one, (1) - home grown quality third-baseman. His name was Mike Lowell. We traded him for Todd Noel, Mark Johnson and Ed Yarnell.

Yep. We raised one third-baseman, and we'd have been better off if we didn't. Forty years of nothing. Oh, I guess you could say we grew Mike Pagliarulo from a seedling. Pags was an occasional slugger during the lost 1980s, whose batting average - foreshadowing Stephen Drew - generally hovered between .180 and .210. After that, good night and good luck. Move on, people, there's nothing to see. Go on, shoo!

It's not that we didn't draft third-basemen in the top rounds. Remember Dante Bichette Jr.? Brad Suttle? David Adams? Of course, you don't. We always signed somebody - Graig Nettles, Scott Brosius, A-Rod. It's been a system-wide failure. For reasons I cannot explain, we simply do not make third-basemen.  

So last year, we turned to Chase Headley. He stank. There's no better way to put this. He sailed throws into the right field bleachers - 10 more errors than usual (dare I say the name Chuck Knoblauch?) - and contributed little at the plate that Yangervis Solarte, the guy we originally traded for Headley, wouldn't have done. Headley didn't hit for power. He didn't hit for average. And it wasn't jitters from coming to NYC. He'd already been here the last half of 2014.

You know, I can actually understand why Hal "I'm Not Cheap" Steinbrenner preaches against signing long contracts. He goes on and on about how the Yankees cannot get locked into such deals... and then gets drunk and signs Ellsbury for seven, McCann for five, Headley for four, etc. It's like there's two Hals, one who pinches pennies and one who goes out clubbing with Gigi Hadid. So we end up with Headley.

Last winter, the Blue Jays pried current MVP Josh Donaldson from Oakland in a trade. The Yankees watched. We had Headley. Yesterday, the White Sox obtained all-star 3B Todd Frazier in a trade. The Yankees watched. We have Headley. If you look at our current farm system, one position stands out as particularly barren. Guess which. Go on, guess...

WTF? This shouldn't be. Two years ago, we made Eric Jagielo our top pick. They now say he's probably a first-baseman. Deep in the system, around Charleston and Pulaski, you find possibilities. But nothing has changed. They've always been there - fresh crops of the next Eric Duncan and Brandon Laird.

I keep hearing how our "suddenly productive farm system" has turned itself around. That's a drum beat we get every Christmas. The truth is, we have a middling system, which only looks good with a microscope, and when you're not comparing it to what other franchises have. Until we can develop a decent 3B, I'm not buying the crapola. All I see is three more years of Headley. And I'm sorry, it drains me of holiday hope. Merry Knoblach, everybody!

Even I - whose hatred for Pete Rose burns hotter than a million suns - think MLB should relent and let the guy into the Hall

The recent Yankee-less post-season brought two taser-shocks during pregame shows, which generally, in terms of infotainment, fall a few notches short of Jerry Springer. The first was Alex Rodriguez, who a year ago would be viewed as the last man on earth to grace a future Fox Sports studio. In one of this year's broadcast highlights, A-Rod tossed a football into an overhead Fox monitor, bringing drool from Terry Bradshaw, the renowned leader in the War on Shingles. The second surprise was a pudgy, flustered yard gnome, who stood there awkwardly, chewing on his dentures in a 30-year-old suit that fitted him like the intestinal skin of a Polish sausage - gazing from the crossroads of Out of Place and Hopelessly Stoned. I blinked my eyes into focus at the sight of ol' Pete Rose.

I used to hate the guy. The "Charlie Hustle" bit never fooled me. Rose was a thug, bordering on rat-hood, and when he got himself banned from baseball, I cheered. Those who argue that Rose only bet on his teams to win miss the point. He didn't wager on every game. When your manager is a chronic gambler - and he doesn't bet on today's game - he tells every bookie in creation that his team will likely lose. MLB was right to throw the book - no, the kitchen sink - at him.

But if you're putting members of the Hall of Fame through a morality test, good luck with that. Ty Cobb was an evil bastard. (They say he killed a man in Syracuse.) Babe Ruth was a whore and glutton. Ted Williams was priapismic. Maury Wills was a junkie. Wade Boggs was a sex addict. Mickey Mantle was a train-wreck. Willie Mays greeted at casinos, Orlando Cepeda smuggled drugs, Ferguson Jenkins toked, Tris Speaker fixed games - and let's not even think about the racists. For every saintly Roberto Clemente, there is a John McGraw, who tried to bribe his way to a championship. And there is also Charles Comiskey, owner of the Chicago Black Sox, who supposedly knew of his players plan to boot the 1919 World Series, making him just a culpable as Shoeless Joe. But MLB Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis - himself a scandalized member of the Hall - let Comiskey off, rather than punish one of the guys who was paying his salary.

So this October, there was Pete Rose, by far the ugliest mook to ever set foot in a Fox Sports studio, jabbing Harold Reynolds with his elbow and then grabbing the guy's wrist, just to let him know he was fooling. (An old Nat Lampoon cover captured exactly what he would look like.) Here was a 74 year old baseball version of Uncle Fester - (no, in a movie, his character would be named "Scrappy") - getting one last chance at a sodium light, and you know what? I didn't feel the slightest pang of hatred. It was nice to see him again.

One thing I've learned from getting old and cranky: Sometimes, a tiny dab of forgiveness will go a long, long way. But MLB hasn't figured that out. Commissioner Robert "I'm Not Bud, I Think" Manfred yesterday denied Pete Rose's appeal to be allowed back into the game. It was a heartless, spineless, hateful move. Manfred blamed the fine print of the by-laws, saying they say what they say, and what they say is what they say - humina-humnina-humina - therefore... What a crock.

One of these days, while you're trolling the latest shots of Miley Cyrus walking her dog, you'll see a pop-up news blip. Pete Rose will have had a heart attack and died. Everyone will say how sad it is, how he was a great player but "flawed." Soon after, some Gammonite will write a column championing Pete's redemption, and like Miss America contestants crying at the end of the pageant, the owners of MLB will emotionally restore Pete's cold corpse into their eternal fold. Fuck them. Baseball is run by a cheap, vindictive tribe of old money heirs and heiresses, who skim everything from the top before even thinking about fans or employees. Nothing has changed since the days of Charles Comiskey. For all his foibles, Pete Rose was hardly the problem. And among his career achievements, Rose did accomplish what I consider to be the impossible

He ended up making me feel sorry for him. Imagine that.

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It Should Be Noted

So long, Phil. It was nice having you around.

Phil Pepe, Yankees writer. RIP.

The 2016 Yankees will "rebuild on the fly," (aka "do more with less,") which is fine... as long as it works

Lately, word from the Tampa Death Star goes that the former Evil Empire - now the Evil Also-Ran - will "rebuild on the fly" in 2016 - look to the future AND chase the post-season. That's from Exalted Owner, Hal "I'm Not Cheap" Steinbrenner, whose official blather - seemingly straight out of North Korea - goes this way:

The Exalted Leader won't allow the Yankees to take a year off from their victory quest, so He's ordered his managerial underlings to win AND rebuild. Yes, we're back to that grand old chestnut from 2008: We will do more... with less!

Hey, rebuild AND win? Count me in! I'm good with that... as long as it works.

If it doesn't, well, the Boy Billionaire will bank more money. So I guess, from His standpoint, it's a winning policy either way, eh?

So Brian Cashman must make the Yankees younger, build for the future AND contend. Let's keep in mind that "the post-season" now includes teams that barely poke noses above .500. Instead of Murderers Row, the Yankees only need a Shoplifters Row. They can win the Wild Card and hopefully get hot.

Other teams - the Giants, Redsocks, Royals, Astros and virtually every division winner - must rebuild. The Yankees cannot do that because - though the YES men stress that Yankee fans are the game's most knowledgeable - the fan base is fair-weather dullards who will run from a loser. We can't wait. Ever.

Okay, I get that. So the question is simple: Are we succeeding?

Clearly, a group of young prospects is bubbling to the surface, (Rob Refsnyder not withstanding.) Luis Severino and Greg Bird looked great last year, (even if Bird looks ticketed for a demoralizing return to Scranton.) But how do we compare with our rivals? For example, Boston. Well, even if you buy the line - as many Yank fans do - that Baseball America is fixated on overvaluing Redsock prospects, it's hard to put our young players above theirs. Boston already has an all-star SS, a rising CF, two solid catchers and maybe the best IF prospect in the game, a fellow named Yoan Moncada. Are our young guns superior to the Mets? Nope. How about KC? The Rays? The Astros? Ouch.

Yes, our prospects always look good, when we're studying our own navel. But how do we compare with other teams?

Strategic plans are great. The question is, is this one working?

Hey, if it does, great! We'll march down the Canyon of Heroes! I'll take back everything I said.

And if it doesn't, well, we'll move another year through the snake, while the Exalted One becomes richer than ever.

Am I just a spoiled fan? Maybe. But if you're lucky enough to live in a city with a daily paper - Syracuse no longer has one that home delivers - open the Obituaries on any given morning, and you will find some old lug nut died, leaving a loving family and maybe a house in a declining neighborhood. In this thumbnail sketch of a human being's life, you will read about the schools he attended and the jobs he worked. And you will often find that he or she was "a lifelong Yankee fan." Yes, someone can live 90 years, and that's how they are remembered.

That's how I will be remembered. And I'm good with that.

Listen: The owner of the Yankees has a sacred obligation to all those fans in the world who will be remembered in their obits not for the billions of dollars they made, or inherited, but for being "lifelong Yankee fans." They will never see the dance floor of a private yacht. Hal Steinbrenner is not the owner of the phone company. He owns the fucking New York Yankees. If he wants to "rebuild on the fly," if he wants us all to "do less with more..." great... but it better goddam work. Because if it doesn't, the thought of the Steinbrenner family squeezing money from their cultural touchstone - well - it's not one I wish to have this Christmas.

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The All Half-Decade Team includes two Yankees, and guess what happened to them

This is stolen from Redditt, so shoot me.

Go there, write a comment, and pretend no thievery was involved.

Yankees, combing the distressed merchandise aisle for the next Stephen Drew, could beget the Second Coming of Rafael Soriano

The wildest backstory of 2015 - (after Saul Goodman's law career, Magneto's early life as a Jew in Nazi Germany, and Donald Trump being raised in a trailer park with only the Bible to sustain him) - belonged to Stephen Drew, the Yankee version of "Too Big to Fail." A serviceable infield widget for years, Drew became the first blood sacrifice to the new Players Operating agreement - (aka "The Kill the Yankees" plan) - which meant any contending team that signed Drew would forfeit its first-round pick, while the crappy teams were scared away by his age. Drew missed half of 2014, fell apart, and then returned to a game that had changed, via the defensive over-shift.

Last winter, the Retrieval Empire signed Drew on a one-year $5 million deal, thinking his 2014 collapse had been a Brian Roberts flashback dream episode. Thus, throughout 2015, we played him, and we played him, and we played him - until a concussion finally did for Drew what the front office didn't have the billiards to do - send him to the bench. From there, Drew silently drew away.

Look, I've nothing against the guy personally: Apparently, he was a good teammate: didn't pee in the shower or pinch the buttocks of ballgirls. He did nothing to harm the Yankee image, aside from batting .200. Drew poked a few HRs now and then, but they only seemed to make him swing harder into the over-shifts, rather than try the opposite field. He'd lash a liner into the RF-CF gap, where it would be caught by the 2B. Watching him flail away became old by June. So why were we still watching it in September? Maybe someday, JJ Abrams can explore his backstory.

Anyway... where were we? - oh, yeah, the Yankees. We can speculate why Brian Cashman felt so compelled to trade for Starlin Castro last week. But if you accept that the team will never give Rob Refsnyder a chance, then the only other option might have been to bring back Drew. If the Yankees had done such a thing, they'd face death threats.

So there's no Drew II. But here's some news to spike your holiday eggnog: The spirit of Drew might live on in the form of Rafael Soriano - "the Drew of the Pen" - who is now popping up on our radar Etch-a-Sketch. Last winter, around now, Soriano was the free agent closer that nobody wanted, because his price tag was too high. In June, the desperate Cubs finally caved in and took a flier on him. Soriano took the mound in July and got hit harder than Ronda Rousey. He went on the DL with a bad shoulder and was punted before the season ended. This winter, Soriano pitched in some Dominican tequila league, compiling a 2.57 ERA (which, for a closer is not so hot.) He's looking for a new home, the Yankees need someone to fill the hole left by Andrew Bailey, and one huge redeeming factor could lead Soriano our way.

He should be cheap.

Yep, cheap. And that's all we need to know. As the San Diego Chicken says, cheap, cheap, cheap. If he's cheap, we'll call. It's that simple. Cheap, cheap, cheap. Hey, did someone say cheap? Because he'll be cheap. I don't know how cheap, but cheap is cheap, right? So we'll be on this guy like cheap on a chip. Cheap, cheap, cheap. Welcome to the Yankees, home of the cheap. Hey, did someone say cheap? Cheap, cheap, cheap. As The Master would say, Howwwww cheap it is!

News You Can Use, Coverage You Can Count On, It Is High On Your Side

Canseco: 'Drop the Bomb on Mars!' 
Idiot Pays $500K For Bubblegum Card 
Bombers' Ex-Boss Croaks 
Canned Stadium Guard Files Suit
Fan: 'I Gate-Crashed Every Yankee Game for Years!' 
Booze & Dope Guru Quits on Yanks
Bum Finds Bag of Guns Near Stadium 
Steinbrenner High Skipper Named Coach of Year 
A-Rod Pleader Sues Jeter Over Briefs 
While Yanks' NYC Xmas Stars A-Rod... 
...Tampa Kids Make Do With Mason Williams

When the music stops, the Yankees will be holding Beltran

Rumors - the oxygen of a fan's winter - whisper that Carlos Beltran will retire after the 2016 season. As rumors go, this is no shocker. To me, Beltran's other main option is bartending. The Yankees put most of their statues in Monument Park. Beltran is the first to play RF.

But enough about Beltran's mobility. He's had a great career, he's a fine teammate, and I'm tired of blaming Yankee players for the hubris of Yankee management. No player deserves to be booed because he got old. The issue with Beltran has always been the wisdom of giving a guy a three-year deal just two years after rejecting him for a two-year contract. I'm still scratching my head over that one. I guess I always will.

It happened during a two-week shopping fiasco only a few Christmases ago. Robbie Cano was jogging off to Seattle, and something snapped in Hal Steinbrenner's fanny pack of a brain. He became a buying whirlwind. He signed Ellsbury to seven years, McCann to five, and Beltran to three - poof - before the eggnog had time to kick in. Hal wanted to paint over the loss of Robbie, and apparently, he thought he could buy another world championship - poof - as he sort of did in 2009.

Ever since, the Yankees have pleaded poverty every December, as surely as the Baby Jesus pops up in the manger scene in the town square. And now, we have one more year of Beltran to endure. One more long, sad year of injuries, eroding production and catchable balls dropping in front of him.

I remember the first month of Beltran as a Yankee. Just as he was catching his stride, he somersaulted over the wall, chasing a foul pop. He was never the same. Last season, he stank through May, then recovered. He hit one of the most important home runs of the year and ended up leading the Yankees in hitting, but that's really because nobody else could beat .270. He'll probably do less this year. And he is a DH playing the outfield. There will be a desire to boo the guy. But it's not his fault.

The music stopped, and we ended up with Beltran. Let's hope Yankee Stadium this season is not rocked by the sounds of fans booing a decent fellow.

What the front office needs to hear is silence.

We watched Boston supplant the Yankees, and now will we watch the Cubs?

In America, the vast division of wealth has finally become so overwhelming that everything  we know - politics, culture, sports - revolves around the particular circle jerk of billionaires who control it. Maybe it was always this way, but the top 1 percent felt compelled to disguise their power. Now, they don't bother. Whomever we elect President in 2016 - doesn't matter which party - will be the lapdog of a billionaire (or it will be Donald Trump, an actual one, cutting out the middle man). 

And in baseball, this is time of year when the billionaires reveal who plans to win in 2016 - and who plans to take the year off. For about 35 years, winter was the season when Yankee ownership reaffirmed to fans its all-out commitment to winning. That era is over.

Yesterday, we learned that the Chicago Cubs are all in for 2016. They signed Jason Heyward, days after signing Ben Zobrist and weeks after getting Jon Lester. This makes them clear favorites next year. They signed Heyward on the same day the Yankees grabbed Domingo German, one of Cashman's Cutties, off the minor league scrap heap. German last winter was a stocking-stuffer in the Nathan Eovaldi deal, and he came highly touted as a hidden jewel. He threw one inning in spring training, walked off the field holding his arm, and then underwent season-ending surgery. We cut him loose a few months ago. Re-signing him was not only a show of organizational faith, but a way of forestalling organizational embarrassment. 

Last year, the Cubs had the 13th highest payroll in baseball. This year, they'll shoot up into the top five. The Yankees - 2nd last year - might be overtaken by Boston. 

The Cubs are owned by Tom Ricketts, an investment banker, whose family ranks 371st on the Forbes 400. (The Steinbrenners rank 75th.) When Ricketts was 8 years old, his dad founded Ameritrade. In 2009, the family bought the Cubs for $900 million. If Ricketts started tomorrow giving $10 bills to everybody he meets on the street, he would go 30 years and still be wealthier than any of us. He will never in his life know what it's like to be hungry, unless he's slumming for the experience.

Some of you will rightfully point out that it's not so easy to buy the World Series.  One of the great beauties of baseball is its remarkable, karmic ability to turn hubris upside-down. Remember how Rupert Murdoch was going to transform the Dodgers? Remember how John Henry last year in Boston burned money like a Kardashian in a dildo store? It doesn't always work. But Ricketts this year wants to win - all out. Meanwhile Hal Steinbrenner wants to prove his savvy as a bottom line businessman. 

The Steinbrenner family has always shown an intense strain of hubris. George threw money at the team, often without success. Now, Hal somehow expects his astral twin, Brian Cashman to MacGiver the Yankees into a championship. That way, Hal can show the world how smart he is. It's a different kind of hubris - one mixed with chinziness.

For four tumultuous decades, Yankee fans could always rely on one certainty: The team's owner wanted to win more than anybody else in baseball. When George failed, he tanked miserably, and we screamed about his mistakes. But nobody questioned his obsession to win. Now, we have his son, who is content to sit back, count his coins, and wait his turn. 

Never in my life has the difference between the Cubs and the Yankees been so upside down. They intend to win next year, and they'll do whatever it takes. No way can you say the same about the Yankees. The Yankees! It's almost enough to have you mulling a new pastime, one that's run by more benign billionaires. 

About Getting Younger….

I'll start off by saying;  it ain't happening for me or anyone I know.

But the Yankee's front office is gloating with new evidence that the roster is getting younger.  All well and good.  Merry gloating.

They could get much younger still by chopping the old, "so 1980's," dead-legged, over-paid and dead armed players, and stuffing the roster with Yankee prospects from AAA and AA.

In either case, what Brian Cashman and his toadies have missed is this;  Getting younger isn't worth Dick if the players who are making you younger, suck.

 Even more, can you really include the ages of recently acquired players that are not even targeted for the big club?  And how do you calculate on your, "getting younger," actuarial tables the likelihood that these guys will be 36 by the time anyone thinks they can play at the MLB level?

I was stunned to hear that the latest trade was to, "re-stock the starting arms for Scranton."  Seriously, are you shitting me?  Scranton is already suffocating from crappy arms and now we add two more.  But younger?

 Maybe I misread the Yankee claim;  maybe their goal all along was to make the minor league franchise younger, given that most people at Scranton, for example, are already career minor league players in their 30's who, at most, have had a cup of coffee with a real team somewhere.

The ratings on these new guys  from Detroit is like the rating on Lehman Bros. the day of the crash.  Falling precipitously and headed for bankruptcy.

Can you imagine GEORGE'S REACTION to the news that his GM just traded our most reliable, left-handed set-up guy for two nobodies, in order to re-stock our minor league system?  And to make the average age of a worthless group younger?

Can someone tell me what the "F" is going on?

Time for a shot of tequila and a juicy lime.

Cashman issues terror threat to Yankiverse: "We're not done."

In times like this, just keep telling yourself, over and over: Whatever they say is crapola... Whatever they say is crapola...

They stress their distaste for long, bloated contracts. They won't sign anybody until other contract bombs come off the books. Then they trade for Starlin Castro, to whom they'll shovel $38 million over the next four years.

They stress the need for a lights-out bullpen. After all, that's how the Royals did it. They'll find power arms and lock down games in the seventh. Then they trade Adam Warren and Justin Wilson.

They stress that Rob Refsnyder is ready, and how they're comfortable with Dustin Ackley as a 2B platoon. Then they piss on both guys by acquiring Castro. (At this point, we should start wondering how uppity Refsnyder must have been last summer, when he arrived from Scranton. The Yankees stress that he didn't show any attitude, but why believe them? Ref must have sashayed into the clubhouse with a red cape and two Mel Hall pet cougars on a leash. He must have addressed A-Rod as "Cabana Boy," demanded a foot massage from Joe Girardi, and screamed that all blue M&Ms must be removed from his dressing room. How else could they hate the kid so much?)

They stress how they never take a year off to rebuild. But as Joel Sherman pointed out yesterday, that's exactly what they doing.

That's OK. I'm good with a rebuilding year. I'd much prefer that to waking up to find we signed Howie Kendrick to a lifetime deal. I just keep telling myself the good news: Whatever they say doesn't matter. They lie without restriction.They view die-hard Yankee fans not as a money source or lodestone of passion. They see us as flyspecks, to be viewed with disdain. If not for fans like us, their lives would be so much easier, and - despite whatever happens next summer - they'll still be rich beyond our fantasies. So they can lie. We don't matter. And frankly, I'm even OK with that... as long as there is a dim light in the tunnel.

So Brian Cashman says the Yankees are not done dealing deals. Who cares what he says. As far as I'm concerned, he could have said Miley Cyrus has six toes and a purple tail. It doesn't matter. The 2016 Yankees can challenge for the final Wild Card birth through August 15, and if somebody blooms unexpectedly, they can ride the miserable Wild Card race into late September. Mission accomplished.

And - let's give credit - they have kept faithful to one stated objective: The team is getting younger. (It would be hard to get older.) If we get lucky, we'll go deeper into July before the wheels fall off. Because the wheels are quite brittle. At any time, in any instant, in any swing of the bat, we can lose Gardner, Ellsbury, A-Rod, Tex, CC, Tanaka, Pineda and/or Beltran - and that's not counting tweaked gonads or collisions. We can lose these guys while they're taking a crap.

They say they are not done. Thank God we know better than to listen.

It's never a good thing when you lose two guys in the Rule 5 draft

This morning, the Yankees lost two prospects in the mysterious MLB Rule 5 draft, an event that nobody but lawyers understand.

We lost Jake Cave to the Reds, and what stings more deeply is that he was the second player picked, which means he was probably a goner from the gitgo. Cave looked like a nice, up-and-coming outfielder, and it's rare for the Yankees to have enough of them to be worth protecting.

Later, the Braves took LHP Evan Rutcky, one of the Cecil B. DeMille cast of thousands who patrolled the Yankee farm system's bullpens. I figure that's an outgrowth of Gordon Blakely, a former Yankee scout, who moved to Atlanta last year and has steadily acquired ex-Yankee bodies (Adonis Garcia, Zolio Almonte, Manny Banuelos.)

Obviously, other teams saw something in these players.

Now, you could argue that the headline up top is wrong: It's good when other teams covet our prospects. Plus, there is no guarantee the Yankees will lose either guy. Both must last the full season with their teams, and I'm not sure either is ready.

Ivan Nova was once drafted by San Diego, but they had to return him, because he couldn't throw strikes.

Trouble is, both the Reds and Braves are so bad that if they see anything, they might keep these guys just to build for the future and stick to the goddamm Yankees.

Monday... December 7, 2015... was a day that will live in infamy. We traded Adam Warren. Today, eh, not good... but maybe not so bad.

The Men Who Got Us Here, Part I

From the New York Times:

"Arthur R. Taylor, a former corporate wunderkind who became president of CBS at 37, unloaded an underperforming network-owned property, the New York Yankees, and then, as a sometimes nettlesome overachiever, was fired by William S. Paley, the imperious CBS chairman and founder, died on Dec. 3 in Salisbury Township, Pa. He was 80."

Remember when Cashman was a wunderkind? Oh, man, those were the days.

No more pretend pennant race: The Yankees are officially looking to 2017, and I'm okay with that

In the last 48 hours, two things of consequence have happened in this world - (well, three, if you count the nude photos released by Alphonso of Angela Merkel): 
1) The clown-haired Yankee president Randy Levine twice uttered the R-word - "rebuilding" - in public. This is akin to Pope Francis f-bombing the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

2) The Yankees dealt a serviceable major leaguer for no-name prospects.

The Evil Empire is supposed to be the franchise that never "rebuilds." We never take a year off to sift through piles of Rickie Ledees and Edwar Ramirezes. We always chase the World Series, and we never build the way other teams do: Notching high draft picks by finishing last. The Redsocks have twice collapsed their rancid teams at mid-season, looking to the next opening day. We snicker when their strategy fails, but one of these days - like, frickin' soon - it won't. The Yankee steamroller just moves onward. Trouble is, steamrollers don't win races, not even with tractors.

Yesterday, we traded Justin Wilson to the Tigers for two no-name starting pitchers, both of whom are destined for Scranton's 2016 summer of laughing about Wilkes Bare. One pitcher was Detroit's 6th rated prospect - (that's going into, not coming out of, 2015) - and the other was ranked number 19. Keep in mind that Detroit has one of the worst rated farm systems, according to the raters, so as far as no-names go, these no-names might be permanent nobodies. (Also, the one ranked number 6 was traded to Detroit last summer from the Mets; he's now been traded twice in six months - a really bad sign. Hello, Humberto Sanchez?) I've read that the Yankees did this to "fortify" their Scranton rotation, whatever that means. If we just landed the pitching versions of Kyle Roller - well - I can't say that's uplifting. Still... I like this deal, and I'll tell you why...

1. Return on investment. We traded Wilson at the peak of his market value. He's 30 and throws hard. He looks a lot like Shawn Kelley, whom we dealt last winter to the Padres for a no-name, who is still a no-name. But Kelley fell apart in San Diego. I'm not sure how long middle innings pitchers last, and though Wilson is a good one, you cannot depend on thirtysomethings, and you can never have too many young arms, and the Yankees now have two more.

2. The wave theory. We have a pile of young relievers, and if they all flop in 2016, we're sunk, anyway. Last year, we went through bullpen arms the way Taylor Swift does diet pills. From Nick Goody to Nick Rumbelow, from Branden Pinder to Caleb Cotham, we set the Guinness Book record for unveiling cannon fodder. Next season, one of these pants-pissers must march out of the ooze and become our 7th inning stud. It's not fantasy. It can happen. The Yankees need a Justin Wilson at age 27, not the one who will be 31.

3. Keeping Andrew. I think the likelihood of trading Andrew Miller diminished yesterday with the Wilson trade. It still could happen, especially considering the packages that are being thrown around these days for closers. Houston yesterday gave up four prospects for the Phillies closer, and Boston shot its wad to get Craig Kimbrel from San Diego. Right now, though, only the Dodgers are desperate for a closer, and that's if their deal falls through for the lady-loving Aroldis Chapman. LA could offer a stack of prospects, or more likely, Miller stays. And I'm good with that.

4. What's the diff? Back when the Yankees actually challenged every year, the line was that they could carry a weak link or two, because if the big guys didn't produce, it wouldn't matter what the others did. I feel that way about Wilson. If Betances and Miller are solid, our pen will be strong. If they fall apart, hello-o-o 2017! If A-Rod and Tex are hitting - (until they get hurt, of course) - we will win our share. Wilson was a fine pitcher. He's not a make-or-break presence for the team.

5. The long term. Listen: If the Yankees really intended to make a run in 2016, they would have chased David Price or Zach Greinke. It's abundantly clear that all the talk about them suddenly jumping in to sign a big name was mere bloggers' wishful thinking. Aint gonna happen. So anything that points us toward 2017 - no matter how it stings now - it's a good thing. Until then, we just have enjoy Alphonso's photos of Angela. The ones with the whipped cream are my faves.

Beta Testing II

Beta Testing

Starlin Castro is a Yankee, Adam Warren is not; and Rob Refsnyder will die in Scranton: The Yankee Mystery Scout strikes again

Like with Bigfoot and Nessie, reports have persisted over the ages of a mythical, semi-human presence in the lost upper tiers of the Yankee front office. Some say this terrifying creature is a giant calculating machine, where the mind of Bill James was implanted into to the "Lost In Space" robot who used to yell, "Danger Will Robinson." Others say it is the electrified corpse of Billy Connor, the legendary coach who was said to rise from the grave every 5 p.m. to assess the Yankee farmhands and down enough gin to sideline six C.C. Sabathias. It is known as the Mystery Scout.

This is the presence who long ago decided Francisco Cervelli could never catch. It is the entity that twice craved Javier Vasquez the way Donald Trump does hairspray, so much that the Yankees traded for him twice, both times with disastrous consequences. This is the thing that said Eduardo Nunez could play SS and, later, that Brendan Ryan was the solution to the fact that Nunez couldn't. It correctly assessed Nick Swisher's potential, and last year it picked Nathan Eovaldi out of a pile of Miami beach glass. And this Mystery Scout has always, always, disliked Rob Refsnyder.

Yesterday, the Mystery Scout struck again. The Yankees got former three-time all-star (and Sports Illustrated cover boy) Starlin Castro - whom the Cubs have sought to deal now for six months - for Adam Warren and (as some sites are reporting) Ryan.

Well. WTF? I guess you can look at it in several ways.

Too Rich to Fail: After all the talk about cutting costs, Hal Steinbrenner is once again tethering himself to a whale of a contract. Castro has 4 years left on a $60 million deal, so all of you who hoped for an honest competition next spring at 2B: Go away. Once again, the Yankees will be paying a guy too much money to bench him for somebody else. Castro is our 2B, whether he plays well or not.

Getting Younger: Castro is 26. Warren was 28, and Ryan (if it is Ryan, hope-hope-hope!) seemed 1,000 years old. Technically, the Yankees are younger, and that's always good. Castro is heading to his peak years, output wise, so maybe he can reclaim his status as a star. Nick Swisher did. Scott Brosius did. With Aaron Hicks now in the outfield, the Yankees are becoming the Team of Second Chances. That's not the worst thing to be.

Up or Down? The Gammonites today emphasize that Castro finished strongly at 2B last year, hitting .265. But he once led the league in hits. In two of the last three seasons, his on-base percentage was below .300. That's what we got in Ichiro's final Yankee incarnation. Castro either turns his career around - some former stars treat a trade like a kick in the pants - or we're stuck with a guy the Cubs wanted desperately to get gone.

We will really miss Warren. The guy did everything the Yankees ever asked of him, but the Mystery Scout never saw him as anything more than middle innings fodder. He'll find pitching in the National League so much easier. Last year's 3.29 ERA will probably drop by 30 points, and that could make him the next Ted Lilly, the next one who got away. Unless Castro thrives, don't look for the YES team to do a lot of comparisons between what we gave up and what we got.

Refsnyder's third year in Scranton. Once again, I ask myself, why bother watching Scranton? It doesn't matter if it's Kyle Roller or Adonis Garcia, or Zolio or Igawa, once the Mystery Scout makes his (or her, or its) decision, God help the player who falls on the wrong side. The Yankees can bluster about getting younger, but the Cubs actually cleared the path for a rookie, while it's clear now that Refsnyder will never see the light of day. Banished again to Scranton, he will be demoralized and get off to a slow start, and the Mystery Scout will say, "See? I told you so." Maybe someday, Refsnyder will get a chance. But not with us. The Mystery Scout has spoken... For better or for worse.

"He's been a loyal friend. And I'm loyal to my friends."--Hank Steinbrenner, 7/7/15

Fantasy baseball: Yankees hoping Aroldis Chapman turns into Ray Rice, and Andrew Miller becomes Heathcliff Slocumb

Before wading into this dense and depressing digest of hope, let's acknowledge that rooting for this current Yankee franchise is like rooting for Time-Warner Cable: They already have your money, and though they say otherwise, they really don't care what you think. Some pock-faced accountant has calculated the Yankee payroll figure to ensure a six-games-above-.500 season, which puts them in the Wild Card chase at least through Sept. 15. Add a few jersey retirements, freebie-giveaways and home stands against our "arch rivals," and they'll sell 2.8 million tickets even if Alvaro Espinosa returns in an AARP-scooter to play SS. Why spend extra?

And yet, we sad, ridiculous fools continue to dream...

So, here goes...

Yesterday, the real Yankees - a/k/a the Los Angeles Dodgers - traded two top prospects to Cincinnati  for Aroldis Chapman, the Reds' star closer. Last night, that gold-plated stagecoach reverted back into a pumpkin, as MLB revealed it is investigating Chapman for treating his girlfriend like Holly Holm did Rhonda Rousey's supermodel cheekbones. (Actually, he didnt't hit her. He just allegedly fired bullets at her and choked her.)

The Dodgers can say, "Oh, well, boys will be boys!" or they can clip the deal and go back to market. Let's hope they choose the latter. Because one certain closer is a) better than Chapman, b) more fiscally positioned than Chapman, and c) being shopped around like pictures of Miley Cyrus' camel toe. The Yankees are taking offers for their best player, Andrew Miller, basically because they have nobody else of great consequence to trade. Yes, it's come to that. Our best hope is that Andrew Miller is the second coming of Heathcliff Slocumb.

Who is Heathcliff Slocumb? Well, he is the reason Joggie Cano sits in Seattle, assuring everybody that he loves, loves, lovvvvves the town, because he is condemned to spend eight more years in that miserable, nineties, spiritual hell hole, a place that even Courtney Love runs from. Also, Slocum is the reason why, in 2004, a cosmic switch flipped, and Boston became the Yankees of the AL East, as evidenced by its three World Championships in 11 years.

In mid-1997, the ever-cursed Mariners - chasing a world championship they will never, ever, ever see - traded Jason Varitek and Derek Lowe to Boston for Slocumb, a relief pitcher now remembered for a) the bad deal and b) his comic strip name. That deal boosted the Redsocks for the next eight years, and plunged Seattle into normalcy their downward spiral. But it was a trade deadline deal, the kind that the Yankees are usually on the wrong end of, as we chase our mirage Wild Card birth.

But... here we go! As Barney the Love Dinosaur would say, Let's use our imaginations! Could Chapman's sexytime exploits send LA into panic mode? If so, could we pry loose a Lowe and a Varitek from their well-regarded farm system? Because that's the level of Christmas miracle to which we've been reduced: We need a colossal, lopsided trade - no, we need a flat-out holiday steal. And that's Yankee hubris at its best. We think we're smarter than other teams. But the more trades you make, the more likely that one goes south and - poof - the Three-Year Cough turns into the 14-Year Barf. We are entering Year Four of the Whatever, and if anybody thinks this team - without a miracle deal - can beat Toronto and/or the new retooled Boston, you're either reading Bleacher Report on LSD, or you're waiting for Alviro Espinosa to come down the chimney. Hey, now that I think of it, reading Bleacher Report on LSD is not a bad idea. It might even make sense. (Aww, crap, why did I just waste 20 minutes writing about the Yankees when I should be hawking my book?)

Yankees willing to entertain all bad trade opportunities, as long as they don't cost money

Andrew Miller, Brett Gardner, Ivan Nova - it's a Red Dot sale in the Yankiverse... as long as it won't cost the owner any of his money. Who knows what exciting deals might be made! Let's all get excited and-

Screw this. How the hell did we get this way? How did the Yankees become the San Diego f---g Padres? (I'd say Houston f----g Astros, except most fans would trade for the Astros in a heartbeat right now.)

I know, I know, I know... people hear us Yankee fans whining and wonder how we can be so greedy. But dammit, these are the goddamm YANKEES, for Kricesake! Do fans of Ohio State football ever make peace with a losing season? Does Duke basketball cut its budget so it won't have an advantage over Wake Forest? For a Yankee owner, the bottom line should be wins and losses, not shareholder bonuses. If the owner doesn't feel compelled to do whatever it takes to win, then sell the goddamm team to somebody who does!

We are headed into Year Four of the New Yankee Dark Age, with teams geared to chase the Wild Card and pretend it's the pennant. There are free agents we could sign - or could have signed - who would have made us contenders. The money is there. The problem is our owner. He's more concerned with cutting payroll than with winning a World Series.

Somebody save us from this guy. He is becoming a reason not to root for - or to even follow - this old, boring, status quo, mediocre franchise - the second team in New York City.

My Interview with Hal "I'm Not Cheap" Steinbrenner

To my astonishment and disbelief yesterday, the famous, near-destitute Yankee owner phoned to talk baseball. After a quick introduction, I scrambled to turn on the recorder.

ME: (click)... no, this time is good... I've pulled out... What's on your mind, I'm Not Cheap?

IMNOTCHEAP: That's it! I'm not cheap!

ME: Uh-huh. Nice to meet you. And I'm el Duque.

IMNOTCHEAP: No, that's just it! I'M... NOT... CHEAP!

ME: Yes, thanks for calling, I'm Not Cheap. What's on your mind?

IMNOTCHEAP: Stop calling me I'm Not Cheap, because I'm not cheap!

ME: I don't understand?

IMNOTCHEAP: (Howls into phone.) I'M NOT CHEAP!

ME: El Duque!

IMNOTCHEAP: No, you don't get it! You say I'm Not Cheap. BUT I'M NOT CHEAP.

ME: You're absolutely right, I'm Not Cheap.

IMNOTCHEAP: No, I'm not. I'm NOT I'm Not Cheap!

BACKGROUND VOICE: Who the hell are you talking to?

ME (to background voice.): I'm Not Cheap.

IMNOTCHEAP: No! No! No! It's not I'm Not Cheap. It's me, and I'M NOT CHEAP!

ME: And I'm El Duque. What can I do for you, I'm Not Cheap?

IMNOTCHEAP: Bahhhhhhh! (To someone off phone) Cashman, I told you this wouldn't work! (Back to receiver.) You're not listening. For the last time... I'M... NOT... CHEAP!

ME: El Duque! Pleased to talk with you. So, I'm Not Cheap, who's on first? Ha. That's a joke...

Yankee beat reporters need to start asking Hal Steinbrenner where all the money is going?

Ever receive a slight tap in the billiards, just enough to wonder if it'll hurt? So you wait a few seconds and think - nope, false alarm! - and then the pain slowly engulfs your soul?

This week, the Yankees gave their fans just such a love tap.

While Boston and Arizona - two franchises that historically hate us - were signing David Price and Zach Greinke, the "Evil Empire" - (what a joke) - signed a Brendan Ryan clone named Pete Kozma.

Now, I've nothing against Kozma, or against signing spare parts, because it may be Brian Cashman's greatest skill - his relentless ability to roam the scrapyard and find a used scraper for his gas grill. But the move symbolized Hal "I'm Not Cheap" Steinbrenner's plan: While others seek to improve, he sits back with a hand in his pocket, jiggling his coins. Much of the Yankiverse has become so accepting of this strategy that it rehashes the bla-bla reasoning why the team cannot do anything - those consarn players make so much money - sounding like diaper-crapping retirees in the rec room, awaiting the next Lawrence Welk fund-raiser on PBS.

I have yet to see a sportswriter ask Hal to lay out the Yankee budget. We accept that our players have huge contracts, and that they got old - and, thus, it's their fault. Last time I looked, the Yankees were sitting on the most lucrative market in American sports. They sit on the biggest TV money machine, playing in a new stadium financed by taxpayer money and blind fan loyalty, hardwired by a generational legacy must older than Hal. In fact, the owner sits atop an unprecedented volcano of revenues. If I'm wrong about this, I'm Not Cheap should explain to everyone why the Yankees cannot afford players - that we must wait until contracts "come off the books" to do anything.

I get it that MLB owners - the most ruthless capitalists on the planet - established a communistic system to run the sport. They set up a de facto salary cap, in the form of luxury taxes. But where is all the extra money going? Will Yankee employees get bonuses? (I'd be happy to think it means parking lot attendants get a bump, but I don't see that happening.) If Hal cannot spend on players, where is the money going? To horses? To stake holders? To politicians? Where?

I can scream this question, but I'm Not Cheap will play deaf. It's time for sportswriters - I'm talking to you - NY Times, NY Post, NY Daily News - and bloggers - I'm talking to you, Lohud, River Ave, all of you - to ask a simple question. And it's not, who will play 2B.

This winter, one question roils the Yankiverse:

Where the hell is all that money going?

It looks like another Yankee Christmas with empty stockings

Meanwhile, Hal Steinbrenner's kinky boots are filled with goodies.

We Got Kozma !!

Once again,  Brian Cashman has hit the jackpot.

The Yankees today announced the signing of Pete Kozma to a minor league contract.  As part
of Brian's new strategy of accumulating failed, former high draft picks, Kosma, once the 18th selection in some draft, comes with a .213 lifetime average in both the minors and the majors.

He is a quality back-up to the sharp defense of back-up, Brendan Ryan.

Red Sox beware.

Rejoice! The Yankees saved more money today by dodging Greinke! Lift your voices and sing with The Master

News You Can Use, Coverage You Can Count On, It Is High On Your Side

Teix bit by Rubio bug...A-Rod gets cozy with mystery blonde... Steroid snitch won't leave A-Rod alone... Ex-Yank pinched for clobbering cop...Jeter to reporters: drop dead... Hebrew Home Glee Club like glee club on college campus

Master of the Obvious

I think I've got the answer to the Yankee's malaise.
 
"The Bard of the Deal" ( El Duque's newest literary product ) is not only belly-splitting in its humor, but there are deep thoughts evident throughout its poetry.  Some are stated and obvious, while others are provoked by the iterations of the future leader of America.

I was awakened from deep REM sleep by the obvious.

So here is what we need, from the Bard who does everything successfully;

 BUY THE FUCKING YANKEES."

With Donald in charge, the ownership moves back to NYC where it belongs.  If a rookie, specifically groomed for base-stealing, gets picked off the first time we see him in pinstripes, do you think his life in baseball continues under the Bard?

 All of a sudden, A-Rod's dumb contract means nothing. If Jacoby gets injured, break some more bones. Send Gardy away if he doesn't hit.  Buy CC free booze if he can't pitch.  Fire that bum Cashman and put your daughter in charge.

In a word: Shake things up.  Make the Yankees great again!  It is a campaign promise you can fulfill easily.

BUY THE TEAM, MR. T!

BUY THE TEAM!

By saving the Yankees, you are saving America.

John Sterling's Super Bowl halftime show - "The Kitten Bowl" - gets a huge boost

I'M NOT REALLY HERE: Let us celebrate the Poetry of Brian Cashman.

I have a book coming out Dec. 15, which I plan to promote with the fervor of a bear atop Leonardo DiCaprio. It's called "BARD OF THE DEAL: THE POETRY OF DONALD TRUMP," and as far as I'm concerned, The Donald is no longer campaigning for President: He's on a book tour. This book is the ultimate bathroom read: "Take your dump... with Trump!"

It comes fast on the heels (12 years earlier) of "PIECES OF INTELLIGENCE: THE EXISTENTIAL POETRY OF DONALD RUMSFELD," which followed quickly (12 years earlier) after "O HOLY COW, THE SELECTED VERSE OF PHIL RIZZUTO," which I did with Mustang.

For the next few months, look for a Donald Trump Poem of the Day, gleaned from his recent appearances, because the man is an exploding human volcano of verse. But fear not, Yankiverse: This will never undermine my relentless truth-seeking, truth-telling and truth-varnishing exposes, as we celebrate the Yankees' drive toward the ultimate 2016 goal: the $189 million payroll.

Today, however, something different. Today, thrill-seeker Brian Cashman will put his life on the line to rope down a tall building somewhere in white bread Connecticut, from where most evils of the world - golf, patent leather shoes, Internet slide shows - emanate. Thus, we will ponder I'M NOT REALLY HERE: The Poetry of Brian Cashman. These poems were spoken yesterday to reporters, as the verse-meister did what he does best: Say nothing about nothing. He's nowhere near the level of Trump, but he does manage to always say nothing - or next to it.


IT DOESN'T HURT
It doesn't hurt to listen.
It doesn't hurt to talk.

It doesn't hurt to have
Aggressive conversations.

The only thing that would hurt

      Would be...
       If we...

Made a bad move.



GARDY, MON AMOUR

He's not going to raise his hand
And say he needs a time out.
He's going to continue to run
   
     Through the wall...
     And over the wall.

He is wired in a way that
He's going to go down fighting,
And there's never any excuse
   
     Of an injury...
     He's like Derek.


NOTHING, WHICH IS SOMETHING

I.

I think, over years gone by,
We've grown as a franchise
to not be reactive.

II.

We're continuing to execute
A game plan that
We've been very open
And honest about.

No signings, no trades, no hope? Bah! Here are 10 exciting hot stove topics for Yankee fans

1. Which of our opponents will sign the big free agents?

2. Can Hal Steinbrenner guide us to The Promised Land... that magical, vaunted $189 million Yankee payroll?

3. Nick Rumbelow or Nick Goody? Have at it, Yankiverse!

4. Can Tex bear the full load of a season, which reminds me: Did Leonardo DiCaprio really get raped by a bear?

5. What will John Sterling's home run call be - Wait a minute: Do bears rape people? I thought they just ate you. Now, they rape you? That's it, I'm done with the woods. This whole topic is far too disturbing.

6. Will the Yankees trade Brett Gar- WAIT: Wouldn't a Hollywood studio use a stand-in for Leonardo during a bear rape scene? Isn't that what stunt men do? Of course, this would be asking a lot of a stunt man.

7. Why didn't the President give Yogi his medal - wait a minute: Does this stain the - until now, pristine - image of Yogi Bear? I mean, come on: The way he always grinned at the Park Ranger? Something was going on. Yogi was grabbing more than picnic baskets.

8. Screw the Yankees. This bear thing is sick. Should the Chicago Bears change their name? I consider the Washington Redskins to be a racist title - I've hated that team since Joe Theisman, anyway - but does this put the Bears over the top?

9. Once you've had bear, do you ever go back? Does a bear - uh - do it in the woods?

10. Seven years from now, Boston will really regret signing David Pri- wait: Did the bear have a name? Because I bet Leonardo had a pet name for him. I bet he called the bear "Oscar." He better get more than a measly Golden Globe. And who gives a damn about David Price. He'll have three great years, opt out, and then we'll sign him to a seven-year. Isn't that how the Yankees normally do business? (Why do I feel like Leonardo?)

Yankiverse Fantasy Island: We're somehow going to trade our way to the World Series?

Lately, having nothing else to blog, Yankee blogs are blogging possible trades that will save the team. In some cases, they are clearly tripping. In these Syd Thrift ibogaine deliriums, they somehow imagine Jacoby Ellsbury moving to Milwaukee, or Theo Epstein coveting Ivan Nova. We are super geniuses, and they are the cloned spawns of Isaiah Thomas and Rich Kotitte. We always get a future star that the other team fails to see. And we always get him for the next Jesus Montero.

Dream on.

For starters, Brian Cashman NEVER conforms to projections. Did anybody predict John Ryan Murphy leaving for Aaron Hicks? If so, they blogged it in their sleep. I missed it.

So, are we supposed to continue playing this little happy-talk parlor game, bubbling about Yankee trades so the team can sell Christmas swag? Gee, willikers,  who will the Yankees get? How well can Cashman swindle people? Can he trade the next Jesus with a straight face?

Insert sigh here.

Listen: Nobody is going to give the Yankees a bag of balls, without making us overpay. Even GMs who are personal drinking buddies of Cashman work in cities whose fan bases loathe the Yankees. If they give away a good young player, without getting two in return, they'll lose their jobs.

The Yankees' farm system is improving. But it's not among the top tier. We are three years away from a wave of young players than might make a difference. (By the way, you could say the same about every other team in baseball.) Hate to say it, but without an owner willing to spend money on free agents, we are stuck in the big muddy. We are going to trade our way out? Good luck.

Yankee fans exhibit the Stockholm Syndrome: They now identify with the penny-pinching ownershiip

Hooray! The Yankees saved money! They didn't shell out for an overpriced David Price! Yahoo! I can't wait until seven years from now, when Price is 37. Boy, will Boston regret it,then! Ha-ha-ha! 

We will pay less luxury tax! We'll slim down our payroll! (Shed that extra weight, and she'll be looking mighty fine. Grrrrrow, kitty...) Hal Steinbrenner will have extra movie money! Maybe he'll install a waterfall in his office! Or buy a flying car! He can date a Kardashian! And in seven years, Price won't be worth all that money. Boy, will we have fun! 

Yes, comrades, it has come to this. The battered fans of the Yankiverse now identify with their owner. Shrinks call it the Stockholm Syndrome: The hostage takes on the views of its captor. We are all Patty Hearst. Yesterday, segments of the Yankee fan base identified with Hal "I'm Not Cheap" Steinbrenner, a prince who sprang naked from his mother's loins and had to inherit every cent that will ever come his way. He is a billionaire - capital B. The Yankees are the richest sports franchise in baseball, if not America, and yet their fans actually let the owner poor-mouth. Here's a tidbit from the web site Bleeding Yankee Blue:

Will David Price help turn it around for the Red Sox? Sure, he's a good pitcher, I like him a lot, but I don't like him at the tune of $217 million and 7 years. That's utterly insane.  

Utterly insane. Consarn it all, them damn players, they aint worth all that there money. It's ruining the game. We don't need them, and we're better off without them. This is from Pinstripe Alley yesterday, bemoaning the inability to trade Yankee stars.

 You come up with a brilliant trade idea to post on this site or one like it. You have the Yankees getting better by shedding one of their pricey veterans...  Then the first comment in response goes something like this: "You can't trade him...he's got a no-trade clause." If you find that frustrating, imagine how Brian Cashman feels.  

Damn. If not for them damn pesky players...

Listen: These are fine Yankee web sites. I don't mean to pick a fight. I read them every day. I hate firing on my own troops. But yesterday, we saw yet another example of how the world has changed... while the Yankees sit around.

Right now, the Yankees are mired for their third straight year in the worst place possible - a few games above .500. It's the middle of the pack, the middle of nowhere. They don't draft high, they can't sign solid free agents because they'll lose their top draft pick, and they won't sign expensive ones because the owner pulls out his pockets and pretends to be poor. Middle of nowhere.

Yesterday, several fans stressed that Boston is panicking, having finished last twice in a row. But last place is a springboard. Look at Kansas City. Look at Houston. Look at the reality of pro sports today. You either outspend other teams - as old George did - or you finish low for a few years and rebuild. The Yankees are doing neither. Year after year, they're just chasing Wild Card births. And that's what they'll do in 2016.

Last September, the Redsocks undressed us with an exciting young lineup that's bound to improve. They won't come in last this year. We - on the other hand - will chase that final remaining one-game slot. And if David Price wins Boston a ring, who will be snickering seven years from now?

Whether you love or hate Boston's signing, the Yankees refusal to spend money this winter should be drawing gale force condemnation, verbal grenades. We should not be breathing sighs of relief and wailing about how much they spent, or how sad it is that we can't trade old guys. If the owner is going to be buying flying cars, the least we can do is shoot lasers at him.

Whoosh. That was the sound of Boston passing us on its way to getting David Price

They'll pay him $217 million over seven years. He'll be pitching at age 37. (CC will go for us until 36.)

That leaves Boston with this starting rotation:

Price
Rick Porcello
Clay Buchholz
Eduardo Rodriguez
Wade Miley

Henry Owens and Joe Kelly to back-up.

Keep in mind, their bullpen now has Craig Kimbrel. There is talk that they'll package Jackie Bradley Jr. with Hanley Ramirez to fill another need. Their farm system is stocked, most notably because they signed Yoan Moncada. YO-AN MON-CADA? SLOWWWWWLY, I TURNED... STEP BY STEP, I MARCHED UP TO HIM...

Tigers Sign Zimmermann To Five-Year Contract

Veteran utility man says, "It's better than being stuck inside of Mobile with the BayBears blues again."

So long, Chris Young, it wasn't your fault...

Last winter, the Yankees signed three retreads to cheap, one-year deals, marking our emerging status as coupon-clippers in the MLB marketplace. The Retrieval Empire signed Chris Young, Stephen Drew and Chris Capuano for about $13 million, overall.

You know by now that Capuano was a complete disaster - the baseball equivalent of a Rob Schneider/movie - Drew was a season-long disappointment, and that Young was money well spent: He became an effective RH platoon, though the guy couldn't hit righties for a lick, and now and then, his bat went soggy for a month.

Yesterday, Boston reportedly signed Young to a two-year deal, and I can't summon any spit to hurl in his direction. I don't blame him. He'll play squash with their left field wall and surely win a game against us, because all ex-Yankees do. Supposedly, this frees up GM Dave Dombrowski to make one of his signature blockbuster trades, and all I can say is: Let's hope.

Last year, Young batted .327 against lefties, but bring in a righty - hello, Dellin? - and the guy looks more like the ex-Met from two years ago. Last year, Young hit .182 against righties, and he cannot hit when behind in the count - (he batted .166.) Young falls into slumps - (in May .132, and in August .122.) He murdered Redsocks pitching last year - .366 against them - so they're ahead of the game, just by getting him off the streets. But I think he'll be staring at that Green Monster like its Sharon Stone uncrossing her legs - and by July, he'll be a hopelessly homer-happy version of the last incarnation of Andruw Jones. Let's hope.

Of course, Young was gone once we traded for Aaron Hicks, who is now the official Great Yankee Hope for 2016. If Hicks becomes a breakout star, we could be in the chase. If Hicks stumbles - well - we're just a year-older version of the 2015 Yankees in a league that revolves around youth.

Sad to see Young go. I harbor no ill will toward the guy. Next year, he'll beat us in one game, but if Joe has a righty in the pen and his famous binder nearby, Young should never beat us twice.