Virtual Baseball: Cole Train Runs Down the Rays. Weird Atmospheric Configurations Frighten Fans.

Virtual Gerrit Cole pitched his league-leading, third complete game of the season tonight, topping the Tampa Bay Annoyance Rays, 5-2.

After an upper-deck home run by Luke Voit, and an inside-the-park job by Aaron Hicks, the winning shot was a titanic, three-run dinger by Clint Frazier, in the bottom of the ninth.

But the real highlight for many of the fans—or rather, "fright-light"—was the dry thunder storm that filled the air above the Stadium with forks of blue lightning, and assorted apparitions.  One fan swore that he saw the bronzed face of George Steinbrenner, from his Monument Park plaque, hovering over the field, and dripping red tears of blood.

Others were certain that they could hear, above the echoing thunder, the voice of John Sterling, still in his medically induced coma at the Hebrew Home for the Aged, decrying, "There's no predicting bizarre aerial portents!"

And at the very height of the storm, Challenger, the Yankees' patriotic pander-eagle, broke loose from his cage somewhere in the depths of the Stadium and soared back and forth above the infield.

Some players on the field were certain it was crying out, "Didi!" though others thought it might just be squawking, "Feed me!"  In any case, general manager Brian Cashman covered his Eagle Protection Helmet with his black cloak, and fled in terror.

"It is the part of men to fear and tremble when the most mighty gods by tokens send such dreadful heralds to astonish us," explained Dr. Egon Spengler of Hudson University, just back in New York after his fruitless search for Giancarlo Stanton in the rubble of the "Field of Screams" in Iowa.

"But such portents as these?  They generally appear only when two worlds run close together," Dr. Spengler explained.  "When there is a confluence of this earth with other Yankees worlds unknown to us, and where we can only shudder to think of the horrors that might lie therein—such as the Rays winning."

In this world, at least, New York were tied for first again, after taking the win.

Things Brian Cashman Does Not Understand About the Game of Baseball

One pitcher does not constitute a starting staff.  It was great that the Yanks signed Gerrit Cole, price be damned, and he has generally lived up to advance billing.

But by himself, Cole is not a substitute for a five-man staff.  Or a four-man or a three-man staff.  Despite all the evidence that you have to have the big starters to get through the playoffs, Cashman keeps hoping that he can do it on a wish and a prayer.  Tanaka—much as I love him—Paxton, and Happ are simply not playoff-quality starters.

Most relief pitchers are not Mariano Rivera.  They are not effective for more than a few seasons, at most.  Which is why you need to be constantly replenishing the pen.

Going back to the days when he thought he could get by with Gordon and Quantrill as the bridge to Mo, Coops has once again always tried to substitute wishin' an' hopin' an' prayin' for live arms.  It never works.

Injury-prone players do not get less injury-prone as they age.  Nuff ced.

You will never beat the Tampa Bay Rays playing their game.  For many a year now, perhaps to prove his prowess as a general manager, Cashman has tried to show us that he is also a master of Sabremetrics, Moneyball, and all the other assorted, money-saving devices that cash-strapped teams use to play above their heads.

It's as if the U.S. military tried to win WW II through guerrilla warfare tactics, instead of simply unleashing all the firepower that the world's greatest industrial power could furnish on those dirty Axis bastards.

If you have no talent for developing players—as Mr. Cashman surely has proven he has not—then you need to go out and bury the opposition with money.  Adopting their same concept of the game will not only fail, it will advance the Rays' seeming mission to make watching baseball as boring as possible.

Mr. Cole, you're needed...

 It's finally here. For the first time since July 27, the MLB season actually feels like a pennant race. And tonight brings us the sense of a game the Yankees must win. 

Of course, it's not real. It's Memorex. .The Yankees could lose all three to Tampa this week and remain comfortably on course for the post-season. In fact, they host the Rays again in two weeks, another three-game tea party, and by then, this series will seem a COVID fever dream, a distant memory of Jimmy Carter and John Kerry. Nevertheless, here we are: Sending out our ace tonight in a game that seems more critical than anything thus far in 2020.

More than ever, we need Gerrit Cole to throw a sopping blanket over Tampa, so that our continual losses to the Rays don't become a "thing." Win tonight, and we can take the series tomorrow. Win tonight, and Tampa can leave NYC with a worse record than when they arrived. Win tonight, and we have our weapon, a pitcher who might start three times in a best-of-seven bloodbath, which this year eventually will boil down to. Win tonight, that's all. Win tonight...

Some thoughts on last night...

1. It's nice to see Luke Voit celebrated in the lead-off slot, but it represents a complete abandonment of speed as an offensive weapon. It's not that DJ LeMahieu was a base-stealing threat, but he's a smart runner - a la' Jeter - while Voit, despite his Jenny Craig weight loss, still seems to be plowing a cornfield as he moves. Voit and Gio Urshela leading-off reminds us of all the talent on the IL. Moreover, the Yanks will need everything they've got to beat Tampa, and that might include a SB here or there.  

2. The endless wait for Aaron Hicks is growing old. Last night, another 0-for-4, right in the heart of the order. He's hitting .220, which frankly is not far from his output last year - .235. We've been patient, hoping that someday, he'll return to that neo-all-star form he briefly showed in 2017. But the truth is, he gets hot, and then he gets hurt. We have two other CFs - Gardy and Tauchman. Soon, Boone will have to make a decision. 

3. Boston's tanking has begun: The Redsocks are reportedly dangling Humphrey Bogaerts in trade talks. If they deal him, they would surely seek a boatload of prospects, while ensuring that the team continues to fade, looking to finish last and draft high next June. Boston is playing a brutal, cutthroat, scorched-earth strategy with their stars - similar to what Tampa does annually. It is the modern way to build sports franchises: Show no loyalty to your stars, and don't worry about how the fans will react. 

Christian Vazquez was quoted the other day making light of the fact that Boston has more rings of late than the Yankees. Fans reacted furiously on Twitter, but the comment drew blood from me. Vazquez is right, and if the Yankees botch this season, within two years, Boston could be in the World Series, while we are paying off aging salary dump black holes. At some point, Cooperstown Cashman might have to consider trading off all that aging talent in the OF - Hicks, Stanton, Gardy, Tauchman, even Judge - not for aging pitchers, but for next year's Austin Meadows. 

4. Last night, Clint Frazier came within an eyelash of homering. His drive down the right field line kicked foul by inches. The guy can hit to the opposite field. How refreshing is that? He belongs in this lineup every day. Am I right? 

Virtual Baseball: In Again Out Again, Up Again Down Again! Yanks Fall Out of First. Rats.

In Virtual Baseball tonight, the virtually lifelike Tampa Bay Rays, the Jimmy Young of baseball teams, managed to bob, weave, and outpoint their way to a 4-3 win over the Yankees.

New York starter Clarke Schmidt showed flashes of brilliance once again, in his exciting rookie year, but was undone by a bad fourth inning. After Yoshi "The Unpronounceable" Tsutsugo hit a gift triple over the head of a stumbling Clint Frazier, Schmidt's next pitch got past catcher Gary Sanchez, allowing Tsutsugo to tscore.

The passed ball seemed to unnerve Schmidt, who walked the next two batters, and then was betrayed by his defense once again, when Gleyber Torres threw a tailor-made double-play grounder by Ji-Man Choi into right field, and Luke Voit then botched a routine grounder from Manuel Margot.

When the dust had cleared, the Yanks were in a hole they could not quite climb out of, despite a long home run by Voit and a two-run double from "Walkie" Tauchman off TB starter Blake "The Poet" Snell, that finished Snailie's night in the seventh.

The Bombers almost rallied against TB closer Nick Anderson in the ninth, loading the bases—only to be thwarted on a magnificent, diving catch in centerfield by Kevin Kiermaier, which robbed second base sub Thairo Estrada of what would have been a walk-off, extra-base hit.

Afterwards, front-running Yankees fans littered the field with their Pharaoh headdresses in disgust, and the Rays celebrated by collectively mooning the Bronx unfaithful.

"What sort of insane perverts would even think of doing such a thing?" wondered Yankees heir(or) Hal Steinbrenner.

Virtual Baseball: Tanaka Insists on Pitching, Beats Rays! Yanks Back in Tie for First!

By HoraceClarke66 (not 666) 

The Virtual New York Yankees today edged out the Tampa Bay Thoroughly Annoying Rays, 4-3, on a tremendous, walk-off home run in the bottom of the ninth inning by Luke Voit.

But the real story was the Iron Man, Masahiro Tanaka, "our fine fellow," who not only went the distance for the second time this season but also cold-cocked Mike Brosseau, in a bench-clearing brawl that followed the end of the Rays' ninth.  

Tanaka had finished striking out Brosseau when the chirpy Ray got on Masahiro, on his way back to the bench.  A single punch from the Japanese hurler was all it took to knock the outfielder on his keister and out of the game, bringing a full house of Yankees fans to their feet.  Hilarity ensued.

Voit then led off the bottom of the ninth against Rays reliever Aaron "Garou" Loup, pinch-hitting for Mike Ford, who had already homered earlier in the contest, as had Andujar and the Oft-Injured Hicks.  Voit slammed a hanging curve into the top deck in left, making for the perfect ending to a rousing contest.  Rays players ran for their lives, as soon as the ball was over the fence.

Afterwards, Tanaka told reporters that he may have broken his hand on Brosseau's jaw, but that he had often pitched through worse.

Aroldis Chapman returns to make us remember the wages of sweat

Last night, once again, we could relive The Terror.

You know - the anxiety, the unease, the dreaded pandemonium - as glistening armies of perspiration tumbled off the chin of Aroldis Chapman, while the tattooed titan closed out the ninth with - as always - a runner on second and the chilling sense that we were but a hanging slider away from disaster. 

I'd almost forgotten how to panic. 

That's what El Chapo does to me. He marches in, stares up into the lights, walks a couple batters, throws a few to the backstop, and sweats like Trump on the 13th fairway. Did I mention that Chappy sweats? He sweats a keg of beer. He sweats a small child. When done, you'd think he just took the Ice Bucket Challenge. He needs a new nickname, and I'm hereby taking nominations. Here are some to prime the pump:

1. The Fountainhead
2. Niagara Falls
3. Charybdis
4. Rain Man
5. The Johnstown Flood
6. Chap the Dripper

I could go on. I got a million of 'em. But that's not the point.

For the first three wonderful weeks of 2020, the exceedingly boring Zack Britton handled our ninth innings, often retiring the side one-two-three. Grounder, grounder, grounder. No drama. No excitement. Nails un-bitten. Now, the quiet Britton will pitch the eighth, as a prelude to El Chapo's theatrics - which don't always work out the way we wanted. 

Does the name Rafael Devers ring a bell? 

Don't get me wrong: I'm glad Chapman is back. He's a stoic old soul, a good teammate, and the Death Star is certainly more deadlier with him. Remember: He's not replacing Britton. He's replacing the lowest rung on our bullpen, somebody already on the Joe Biden shuttle to Scranton. El Chapo adds a powerful layer of intimidation, and hopefully this short season will add to his Hall of Fame creds. No kidding: He's got a shot at Cooperstown. He just needs another ring.

But here's the problem: Were I an opposing manager, I would give my batters firm instructions on what to do. I would tell them, "Don't swing at a single fucking pitch he throws. If he's got command of his shit, we're done. But if he doesn't - and he often doesn't - he turns into Chuck Knoblauch. Just stand there and dodge the balls aimed at your head. Don't help him. Don't swing. He'll walk you. He'll walk the bases full. And then - THEN - he'll groove one." 

I hate to say this, but for the last two years, I've been dreading the ninth with El Chapo. The reality is that no lead is ever safe. Last fall, after DJ LeMahieu's clutch homer tied the game against Houston, my first thoughts turned to Chapman, and the euphoria began to subside. We'll never know if Jose Altuve was cheating, but who will ever forget that lunatic smile on Chapman's face, as water cascaded off his chin. 

He's back, and - look - let's be positive here. The Yankees signed Chapman to win this year. He's had COVID. He should be immune. He's got six weeks to go, and then the post-season. If he's dominant, we have an incredible weapon. If he pitches us to a World Series, there will be no asterisks on this site. All will be forgiven. Chap the Dripper? Who's got the name?

Virtual Baseball: Tanaka Insists on Pitching, Beats Rays! Yanks Back in Tie for First!

 By HoraceClarke66

The Virtual New York Yankees today edged out the Tampa Bay Thoroughly Annoying Rays, 4-3, on a tremendous, walk-off home run in the bottom of the ninth inning by Luke Voit.

But the real story was the Iron Man, Masahiro Tanaka, "our fine fellow," who not only went the distance for the second time this season but also cold-cocked Mike Brosseau, in a bench-clearing brawl that followed the end of the Rays' ninth.  

Tanaka had finished striking out Brosseau when the chirpy Ray got on Tanaka, on his way back to the bench.  A single punch from the Japanese hurler was all it took to knock the outfielder on his keister and out of the game, bringing a full house of Yankees fans to their feet.  Hilarity ensued.

Voit then led off the bottom of the ninth against Rays reliever Aaron "Garou" Loup, pinch-hitting for Mike Ford, who had already homered earlier in the contest, as had Andujar and the Oft-Injured Hicks.  Voit slammed a hanging curve into the top deck in left, making for the perfect ending to a rousing contest.  Rays players ran for their lives, as soon as the ball was over the fence.

Afterwards, Tanaka told reporters that he may have broken his hand on Brosseau's jaw, but that he had often pitched through worse.

The New Parity

by HoraceClarke666 

To take a cue from our Dauntless Leader, Alphonso: injuries are the new parity.

Looked at in a certain (all right: paranoid New York) way, the whole history of major-league baseball since 1965 can be seen as a battle to rein in your New York Yankees. 

It was no coincidence that that was the year the majors introduced their first ever, amateur draft. Out went the incredible, nationwide scouting network the Yankees had built over the previous 45 years. Their crack minor-league organization was already falling into line, to be more like every other farm system. 

Scouting combines would soon follow, along with secondary drafts, just in case all the loser organizations needed a do-over. Players who didn’t want to belong forever to the team that drafted them had a choice: they could sign for what they were offered, or they could go play in Japan, or maybe Mexico.

That plan succeeded in keeping the Yankees nicely in check for the next ten years. Then, much to the dismay of the lords of the game, baseball players won for themselves the right every other American has, to work for whoever they want.

After that, the leash was off, and it was only the arbitrary and dictatorial nature of George Steinbrenner that kept the Yankees from utterly dominating, year-in and year-out, beyond even what they had accomplished before.

The corporatized “MLB” fought back with lockouts, luxury taxes, salary caps, and added playoff rounds, until they had finally pushed the Yankees more or less back into line—this time, with the help of “the new George’s” incompetence.

But now comes the ultimate check on the Yankees and anybody else:  the way the game is played today.

Sure, the Yanks continue to get injured more than anyone else—how’s that investigation into the team’s training going, Brian?—but that will even out. In the new parity, everything evens out.

With all players over-trained and injured all the time—with nearly all the stud hoss starters replaced by an endless succession of middle relievers who take up most of a roster—it’s all but impossible for anybody to form a dynasty anymore.

This mangled, misbegotten rump of a season, fitted to a plague year, is exactly what MLB sees as its ideal—minus the cardboard cutouts in the seats, of course. 

A season in which the constant injuries ensure that all the players are more or less the same as everyone else. A season in which everyone pitches a good 1-4 innings, no more and no less, and all the games are the same length, and the playoffs are as long as the regular season, with almost everyone invited.

Welcome to the future.

Virtual Baseball: Happ Pitches Well But Gets White-Socked. Moncada Pulls It Out for ChiSox. So Much for First Place!

by HoraceClarke666 

 The virtual J.A. Happ showed signs of being his early-season self again, holding the Pale Hose to just three hits in six innings.  But they included a two-run homer from the seemingly invincible Yoan Moncada, whose ninth inning blast off Aroldis “Cool Hand” Chapman pulled out a 4-3 victory for the Second City’s second-favorite team.

The Yanks led most of the way, thanks to home runs by D.J. LeMahieu, Mike Ford, and Clint Frazier.  But with one out in the ninth and Nicky “The Head Waiter” Delmonico on first, Moncada took Chapman deep, and made a winner out of Dylan Cease “And Desist,” who threw a rare complete game for the Colorless Stockings.

“You know, there are some people who say we should have signed Yoan Moncada,” manager Ma Boone remarked after the game. 

The lost series put the Yanks back in second place again, just a game behind the Tampa “Won’t Go Away” Rays, with a big showdown series in the Stadium this week.

Redsocks unmasked and in turmoil: "The season’s going to happen, whether we want it to happen or not."

Tonight, the Death Star can win its 10th straight over Boston, a dominance not enjoyed since the dawn of Howdy Doody Time, and the o-so-sad Redsocks have already coughed up an excuse.

COVID. Masks. Distancing. Washing hands. The awfulness of everything...

It's ruined the season. It just ain't right. Jesus never wore a mask. It's wrecked our freedoms. It's wrecked our bars. The Founding Fathers wouldn't allow this. George Washington. Thomas Jefferson. Paul Revere and the Raiders. Before you find out it's too late, girl you better get straight!

Yesterday, Boston held a team meeting. Later, OF Kevin Pillar told the Herald.

“You ground out to first base or third base, you come off the field and moments after you catch your breath, you’re required to put a mask on. It’s not what we’re accustomed to doing, and if you allow that sort of stuff to frustrate you even more, you’re kind of already behind the eight ball.”

I get Pillar's frustration. I hate wearing a mask. It scratches. I have to enunciate my words carefully. It must ruin quality infield chatter. With such a weird, short season, you must feel like phoning it in. When Boston lost Eduardo Rodriguez to the heart ailment, I think it freaked everyone out. In a normal season, this slow start would be a hiccup. This year, it may already be too late. And the Redsocks look awful. 

Rafael Devers is hitting below .200; worse, his throws to first are sailing. JD Martinez looks lost; he'll soon be traded. The staff is all-Pawtucket after Nathan Eovaldi; the other night, he gave up eight. I can't remember in the last 20 years when Boston looked so poised to lose. Last night, in the ninth, they mounted a mini-threat against Zack Britton. In the old days, smelling a rally, they'd grind out a 12-pitch walk and drive us crazy. Last night, they went down swinging at balls in the dirt.

Were this a John Wayne movie, you'd listen to the crickets and say, "Things are quiet, too quiet." Tonight, expect Boston to storm the barricades. This may be their last stand. Eleven in a row would sure feel sweet. A Yankee win could effectively kill them in 2020. 

Quickies: 

1. Last night, John Sterling summoned-up a serviceable, four-second WinWarble, easing concerns about his state of mind. Saturday night, he didn't bother, leaving panicked fans to WTF? across the Yankiverse. Some suggest it's the lack of fans in the seats. Some worry that The Master is calling in pain. We are monitoring the situation. 

2. Miguel Andujar is back, at least for the time being. I still believe he and Clint Frazier are the two most important batters in the lineup. Each needs 100 plate appearances in this quickie season. Each could replace Giancarlo Stanton, whom the Yankees must trade over the winter. Hal Steinbrenner must throw a shitload of cash toward any team that will take Stanton. The worst thing we can do is let him stand in the way of Andujar or Frazier.

3. Certainly, a lot will change between now and Oct. 15. But does anybody else feel that this season is fated to boil down to the Yanks v Dodgers?

I Was Forced To Wake Up And Do The Math....

Using the 2.7 " normalization  factor" established for the Covid season, the Yankees are now out of starting position players .

Here is the calculation :

Three starters are now on the IL ( Judge, Giancarlo and The Machine ) X 2.7 ( ratio of 60 games to 162 games ) = 8.1 on IL ( number of starting positions, excluding the pitcher).

So we are having a worse year...injury-wise..than last year....  which set records... and turned my feathers grey ( or gray).

Covid Baseball 2020: Fake Crowds, a Buck-less Fox, and no Thuuh.

(I started this post early this morning shortly before Duque alerted everyone to the same thing.  I made some other observations about last night's game so even though I'm sorry for the repetition, I'll let these thoughts stand.)

I have friends visiting for the weekend.  The friend is a lifelong Yankee fan.

We watched the game last night on Fox.  It was the national MLB feed.  We clinked glasses when we realized there was no Joe Buck behind the mike.

We marveled at what Clint Frazier was doing.  It was very fun to see.

As the innings went by, we noticed a player's batting average was NOT displayed anywhere on Fox's on-screen graphics during each at bat.  Fox was showing just the batter's name and not something useful like "Urshela, .270".  The below is a screen shot taken during Frazier's home run.

I never realized how much the real-time BA adds to the enjoyment of the game.  A newly updated BA allows you to marvel at some players ("Frazier, .636") and rightfully gnash your teeth at others ("Sánchez, .111").  Not knowing the hitter's batting average when he's standing at the plate felt like the times where you're outside and lose track of the time of day and somehow don't even have a guess.  While Fox would display the BA at the start of some at bats, at least half the time they didn't.  My friend's wife opened up her smart phone and began calling out the average when each player stepped into the box.

We also had a good time laughing at the Fox fake crowd noise track.  Fox pumped in "boos" when the away pitcher tried to pick off the runner at first and cheers when the home team pitcher did the same.  I laughed at the CGI crowd that was painted into the stands ... but only after a big hit.  At other times, the stands were shown completely empty.  When Frazier hit his home run to right, the ball went through someone's face.  Then, for reasons unknown, Fox held the camera on the painted in crowd for a fairly long time as the "fans" deliriously "celebrated".  After about 10 seconds, you could see that the crowd scene was in a loop.  The faux fans looked like the quasi-real crowd they bus in to dance the pogo in front of the stage at the concert events during Super Bowl half-time.  

In the bottom of the ninth when there were two outs and two strikes on Devers, my friend turned on his iPhone's speakerphone and brought John Sterling into my living room.  My friend said, "We need to hear him say 'Thuuuh Yankees Win!'."

Devers made the last out and John spoke the words, devoid of any passion: "Ballgame over.  The Yankees win." He said this in a completely normal voice. No exclamations, no drawn out "Thuuuuh", no nothing.  He said the words like a court stenographer reading back some fiery bit of testimony in a flat professional voice: "Yes.  He beat me.  With a hammer.  I was distraught.  And scared.  For my life."  

I looked at the iPhone on the coffee table as though seeing the device might help me to better hear what wasn't coming out it.  We were shaken.

Maybe it was all the Sangria we had.  Maybe we were tired.  Maybe John was tired.  But we couldn't figure it out.

I'll turn it over to IIHIIFc's readers: Has Thuuh-less Yankee baseball been going on for a while and I've missed it?  Or did it just appear last night?  

What are we to make of this?

Transactions...

 

WTF? NO WIN-WARBLE LAST NIGHT?

A musician friend reports...

"Just heard the end of the game in the car on the way home from a very rare gig tonight. Last out, game over and NO WIN WARBLE! WTF?! How long has this been going on???"

Did anybody else hear this? What is happening? 

 

Virtual Baseball: Johnny Lasagna! Gets Chicago Pizza-ed. Surprise Starter Beaten, as Moncada Hits for Cycle.

 (On behalf of HoraceClarke66)

The Yankees’ short-lived stay alone in first place ended on Saturday, as surprise starter Johnny Loaisiga…was hit hard and early, in a 6-3 loss.

 Leading the charge for the ChiSox was Yoan Moncada, who hit a single, double, triple, and home run.

 Grabbing the win for Chicago with a complete-game victory was Dallas Keuchel, who the Yankees decided was not worth signing this year, either.  Keuchel surrendered home runs to Gary Sanchez and the Oft-Injured Hicks, but was otherwise imperturbable, striking out 11, for his 14^th win. 

 Elsewhere in the majors, the streaking Mets, who have been on fire ever since losing their last series to the Yankees, moved into second place, just five games behind the world champion Nationals.

 The Mets, spurred on by the sensational play of former Yankee Brett Gardner—plus the desire not to have to wear Amazon penises on their uniform next year, if they somehow win the World Series—celebrated by sacrificing the 7-Line Army to the gods.

When the Yanks visit Boston in late-September, they should bring a back-up roster

Obviously, it's still too soon to pronounce Boston as "done" for 2020. And I'm not just saying this, you know, to sound like a "good sport."

At 6-15, the Redsocks could still get hot. They could roar back, take the next two from us, then go on a murderous streak, winning 20 in a row. They could take the division, plow over the league and sweep the playoffs. Why... this could be their ultimate, super-miracle, really impossible dream season, the greatest comeback! Ever! They could do it, I tell you, they could! 

But they won't. 

Nope. You look at this pork chop lineup and see three studs - Raul Devers, JD Martinez and Humphrey Bogaerts - and a knee-high mound of quivering gristle. They're the Bad News Bears without Tatum O'Neal. Soon, they will trade Martinez and Nathan Eovaldi for a stack of Mallo Cup coupons, summon some warm bodies from their Pawtucket detention center, and go about surgically tanking the season. Their battle will not be with the AL East but the Pittsburgh Pirates (4-14), for baseball's worst record. They will strive to be utterly rancid, and by gum, they will succeed.

Note: I hereby wish to amend a previous statement, made Friday, before this weekend series began. I hoped we would win three out of four, leaving the wretched Redsocks with a fishing line-thick thread of hope for 2020. Thus, they would finish in the lower tier - not dead last - and miss out on drafting first next June. 

After watching the first two games, there is little doubt that Boston is marching toward the flaming dumpster. Thus, we must win all four. We need whatever byes and home field advantages we can get.  

We need to be so far ahead in this cheapo, mini-race that we can skip the three-game series in Boston starting Sept. 19, the second-to-last weekend of the season. It will be, by far, the most dangerous series on our calendar. 

By then, Boston will be deader than Mussolini, out of even Wild Card contention, and the city will have moved on to the NFL... (maybe, anyway.) Most Redsock fans will have moved on to their usual pastimes of hating God and nature. But we cannot trust them. Never. 

All it will take is one die-hard Redsock lackey, a doorknob-licker, to penetrate the Yankee traveling bubble and infect the team... thus forcing a quarantine lock-down that would undermine or altogether kill our playoff hopes. Every one of their players will be a walking cough. By Sept. 19, we will need a back-up team of expendables to play Boston, keeping our starters inside a giant protective condom, lubricated - of course - for their comfort. 

After Boston, we will have only a series against Toronto - in Buffalo, a city with a secret Yankee fan base - and a home series against the Mattingly Marlins. We know Donnie Baseball would never let a player cough on us, right? It's the Boston trip that should terrify us.

In late September, everything will hinge on avoiding COVID. If we can't field a line on Oct. 1, it's over.

We need to win tonight. We need to win tomorrow. It's that simple. We these next two games, so we can forfeit in September.

Virtual Off-Day: Slugger Vanishes From First-Place Yankees (Again). Dazed Judge to DL. Yanks Scoot Back East.

Rescue crews looking over the tornado-strewn ruins of the cornfield and All-Star Ballpark Heaven found no trace of Virtual Yankees' slugger and man of knowledge, Giancarlo Stanton.  The loss of Stanton was considered a major blow to the Yanks, as New York's man of knowledge was hitting .348 on the season, with 16 home runs, in limited action. 

Stanton had revamped his game, and changed the team's entire philosophical approach to the game, after a life- and mind-altering experience in the desert earlier this year.  The Bombers' front office had no idea what might have become of him, but the team has already filed for payment of the $300-million accidental death policy it kept on Stanton with Lloyd's of London.

"Why, he could've been lifted up by the twister to a magical land where the roads are paved with gold, and demented midgets frolic about with giant lollilops," cackled GM Brian Cashman.  "Or probably not."

The twisters seemed to appear almost out of nowhere, defying all weather forecasts.  

"What you saw here was a massive, psychic disturbance in the atmosphere, caused by too many currents of imposed whimsy," explained Dr. Egon Spengler, chairman of Hudson University's Department of Paranormal Inquiry.  "You take this highly sentimental book, transform it into a Kevin Costner film fairly dripping with schmaltz—using not only a random doctor but even an actual hero of the civil rights movement as props, no less—then thoroughly corporatize what is essentially a movie set, shake well, add souvenirs, and play an actual major-league ballgame here, all in a supposed quest for lost innocence."

"Where is any sense of perspective?" asked Dr. Spengler.  "Where is there any admission that modern baseball's roots aren't in some Iowa field, but a bunch of vacant lots in New York City?  With all of this psychic hypocrisy and denial roiling the atmosphere of a country already engulfed in conspiracy theories and eager to bolt as the first sign of reality, well, you were just asking for an atmospheric explosion of this magnitude.

"In other words," said Spengler, "we were all just too full of it for something like this not to happen."

Stanton and Judge: Over the long term, can the Yankees keep two injury magnets?

Damn... this was going to be THE YEAR for Aaron Judge. 

This would be his MVP season, his Triple Crown threat, his Silver Slugger bat and Golden Glove trophy - maybe even his ring. He'd ride the largest float in the Canyon of Heroes. Next spring, as baseball emerges from the pandemic - (fingers crossed) - he would stand not only as the game's biggest name, but perhaps the brightest star in American sports. At age 28, this would be his peak. 

And, damn, it was happening... 

Over 20 games, a third of this truncated season, he'd blasted nine homers. Projected over a full 162-game year, he'd hit 72 HRs, a ridiculous number. Truthfully, he was never going to stay that hot. But still, this looked like his year.

And now... well, fukkit! By now, I'm sure you all know he's out - again. This time, it's a tweaked calf. Officially, he'll miss a week. But that's a joke. If history is any measure, figure him out until September - another Judgian season sabotaged by muscles too large, tendons too stretched, a rubber band physique perpetually fraying. As he ages, it's probably not going to get better.

Since his rookie season - age 25, when he played 155 games - the line on Judge's durability has drifted steadily downhill. In 2018, he notched 112 games. Last year, 102. This year, he was going to miss the first three months with a rib fracture, before they were wiped out by COVID. It wasn't certain that he'd make the July opener. His homer spree became the feel-good story of baseball's opening week. Now, we are back to normalcy, which means No. 99 on the shelf. 

Normalcy... damn. In a normal universe, Judge's future as a Yankee would be carved into stone. He is the Face of the Franchise. He bats second. He covers right field. He kisses babies. If you want to be critical, his lone flaw as a player and a person is that ability to stay healthy. But as lone flaws go, it's a humdinger. 

And we already have a star who does not play. His name is Giancarlo. We have him until 2028, at $25 million per season, long after his muscles will be withered and his bat will be in splinters. 

Can we afford two OF-DHs, at about $50 million per year, who play in a handful of games? Maybe in the pre-COVID world, the Yankees could go there. Now, I'm not so sure.

But there is one hope. I never thought I'd write these words, but we have a lot of baseball yet to play in 2020. There remains a solid narrative that could inscribe Judge into the city's concrete culture.

With or without Judge, the Yankees remain a contender in the AL East, if not the team to beat. Six weeks from now, they will almost surely start the playoffs. Barring a setback - and yes, we are in the Ellsburian Age of players who get hurt during rehab - Judge should be back by then. 

If he leads the Yankees to a championship, even in this dry cough of a season, Judge could cement his legacy in Gotham. (The Yankee brand is desperate for a ring.) But if things go south - if we botch a three-game series or run into a super-heated team of destiny - the brain trust may start viewing Judge as Boston did its own superstar outfielder. 

It's likely that someday, Mookie Betts will enter the Hall of Fame as a Dodger. Look down the road, and maybe Judge will be there too, but not necessarily in the jersey we want. And when we look back, we will say it all went sideways in the middle of that wretched pandemic season. Damn...

Virtual Baseball: CHILDREN OF THE CORN! Yanks Move Into First! Stanton Vanishes! The Master Awakens! Twisters! Falling Houses! Creepy Things in the Cornfield! Field of Screams! Yumpin' Yimminee!

The virtual New York Yankees moved into first place by a game today, with a win in the (truly virtual) cornfield known as All-Star Ballpark Heaven (yes, that's really what they call it).  But it may have been a Pyrrhic victory, considering all the strange things that went on before the afternoon was over.

What the boxscore says is that the Cole Train rumbled to another win, throwing 7 strong innings, striking out 11, and leaving with a 4-1 lead over the White Sox, that relievers Adam Ottavino and Aroldis "Cool Hand" Chapman held on to enough of that for a 4-3 win.  But all that happened in between!

The first indication that this might not be a normal day came when The Master, John Sterling, suddenly awakened from his medically induced coma at the Hebrew Home for the Aged in Riverdale.  His eyes blinking open, Sterling called out, "The children of the corn!  The wicker man!  There's no predicting Twilight Zone style creep-outs in a ballpark cornfield!  Warn Giancarlooooo!"

After that, though, Sterling lapsed back into his coma, and manager Ma Boone laughed off the broadcaster's mystical imprecations, starting Stanton in left field.  Throughout the game, though, outfielders on both teams reported hearing strange whisperings in the cornfield just behind them—all of which Head Umpire Joe West dismissed as "Just the wind!  Just the rustlings of the wind!  What, you want me to go back there and find out?"

Pale Hose outfielders Nicky Delmonico and Nomar Mazara both swore that groups of incredibly swift children with fixed, blue eyes darted out to grab home run balls hit by Stanton and Aaron Judge.  Many players, meanwhile, said that they were unnerved by the gigantic, wicker effigy of a goat that had materialized in dead center of the cornfield the night before.

Then, with two outs in the ninth inning, the winds picking up, and twister cones forming in the near distance, a Yoan Moncada homer cut the Yankees lead to a single run.  The next batter up, Edwin Encarnacion, batting with an actual parrot on his arm for luck, hit a long blast to left that Stanton tracked all the way into the corn—which was in fact as high as an elephant's eye, in keeping with official MLB cornfield regulations.  

Nonetheless, the handful of spectators who had not yet run for cover, saw Stanton reach up and glove the ball, and the ump give the out call, before all hell broke loose.  The gathering tornadoes ripped apart the cornfield and the quaint little ballpark, and sent players diving for cover.  

Almost miraculously, no one was seriously hurt, even though Aaron Judge was recovered, unconscious, from under a nearby Dyersville house that had been flung all the way into the cornfield.  Revived by the team trainer, Judge looked around at his worried teammates and told them, "I had the strangest dream.  But you were there, and you were there, and you were there, Gleyber, and—where's Giancarlo?"

Where indeed?  By the time the search was called off, the Yankees' man of knowledge was still missing.  However, Edwin Encarnacion's parrot had been recovered.

The bird was a goner.

This weekend, the Yankees can basically crush Boston's 2020 short season. (But would we be doing them a favor?)

When the nasty and very disrespectful Redsocks visit NYC tonight, they will notice  a bumpy ride along Mariano Rivera Avenue. 

After all, the wheels came off their minivan two weeks ago.

Boston arrives with a record of 6-13, doormats in what constitutes "the AL East." They have no Mookie Betts. They have no David Price. Chris Sale is gone. Eduardo Rodriguez is hurt. Carl Yazstremski's grandson stars for San Francisco. Ted Williams' head remains in the icebox. Ric Ocasek is dead. It's gotten so bad that Curt Schilling's not running for Senate. And holy mackerel! This just in: Andrew Benintendi scraped a knee, he's out for a month. I suggest the Hub immediately establish a protective cordon around its remaining national treasures, Batman Ben Affleck and Marky Mark Wahlberg. 

For the Death Star, this four-game series is a perfect opportunity to do the right thing - and put this suffering puppy to sleep.

If the Yanks can sweep - (yes, I know the dangers of expressing overconfidence on this blog, especially with these cheap-ass, pandemic-swollen juju gods, looking to throw their weight around) - Boston would leave the Bronx Sunday night with baseball's worst record, 6-17, and the utter certainty in their bones and billiards that 2020 - the shortest season ever - just ended six weeks earlier than expected.

If they lose all four this weekend, Boston would require a miracle turnaround to reach the post-season. To finish at, say, five games above .500, with a serviceable shot at the wild card, they would have to win 27 out of their remaining 37 - three out of four - with a Triple A rotation and a bullpen full of dry matches and Kingsford. 

But but BUT... should we do them such a favor? 

Ever since Sale went down with TJ surgery, Boston fans have been itching to pull the plug on this wretched, abbreviated season. Free of even the wild card race, their ownership can gleefully trade JD Martinez, (whom they don't want to pay, anyway), and Mitch Moreland, (currently in a career season) for prospects. Moreover, by finishing last, they would draft first next June, enjoying a bumper crop of prospects, compared to this summer's pandemic-choked breakfast buffet. 

I know what you're thinking: "Yeepers, Duque, you yapping about how the Yanks are gonna sweep Boston? That's how we lose four! Shut yer fat mouf, ya goddamm fool." Okay. I get it. There is always the chance of a meltdown. But after Devers, Bogaerts and Martinez, it's a Boston shit show. Anything less than taking three out of four will be a disgrace. 

But in this modern era, Boston has shown absolutely no reluctance to tank its weaker teams. And it's worked. In this millennium, they wear more rings than we do. And if next June they parlay this hideous dwarf of a season into a superstar No. 1 draft pick, they might be smiling long after COVID is a memory.

My suggestion: Win the first three, then lose Sunday night, giving them momentum into next week. 

In my life, I never thought I would ever write these horrible words, but here goes...

Let the puppy suffer!

Just Wanted to Point out.....

When I was Aaron Judge's age, and for a period of decades surrounding that, the description; " he has some lower body tightness," was a good thing. 

Just saying.....

 

Virtual Baseball: Yanks Catch Rays in Kansas City! Cue Burt!

(Posted on behalf of HoraceClarke66, whose machine doesn't like Google.)

Virtual Masahiro Tanaka pitched the Yanks into a first-place tie with the elusive Tampa Bay Tightwads today, winning their getaway day game, 6-4, over the Royals.  

Back-up catcher Kyle Higashioka hit a key, three-run blast for the Bombers, while roundtrippers by Gleyber Torres and Thairo Estrada, in a rare start, nailed down the victory.  A game Tanaka pitched six innings of 3-run baseball until his arm began to bulge and wobble noticeably.

Afterwards, the Yankees all helped the clubhouse crew pack up their equipment, and manager Ma Boone's rocking chair, and  lash it to the top of the team bus.  

Aaron Judge, nursing a sore left shoulder after he was hit by a pitch, was asked by Suzyn Waldman, "Did they hurt ya, son?  Did they hurt ya and make ya mean mad?  Sometimes they do somethin' to ya.  They hurt ya, and ya get mad, and then ya get mean.  Then they hurt ya again, an' ya get meaner an' meaner, until ya ain't no boy or man anymore, just a walkin' chunk a mean mad.  They hurt ya that way, son?"

"It don't matter," Judge told her.  "I'll be all around in the dark.  I'll be everywhere, wherever you can look.  Wherever there's a guy on the Astros, tryna cheat his way to a pennant, I'll be there.  Wherever there's somebody on the Red Sox, tryna steal another game, I'll be there.  I'll be there in the way guys yell when Joe West blows another call.  I'll be there in the way kids laugh, when Brian Cashman tells them what a genius he is again."

"Well, time to go," Suzyn said, backing up uneasily.

The bus started down the old highway, where once the Plains tribes had ridden, and the wagon trains had rolled.  Where the iron horse had once roamed, and now where there was only a long, black ribbon of asphalt.  Just over the border of Io-way, the bus pulled into a gas station where the attendant, looking out at the storm clouds gathering over the plains, along with repeated lightning bolts, several twisters gathering momentum, a swarm of locust, a huge dust cloud, a raging prairie fire, and a giant eye hanging in the sky.

"There's a storm coming," he said.

Ma Boone nodded, and readjusted his sunglasses.  "I know," he said, and the bus rolled on.

Pass it on: If Boone doesn't start playing Clint Frazier full-time... we riot

Shhh. You know the rule: Nobody talks about the jailbreak until... the jailbreak! Just go about your business. Avoid eye contact. Wait for the moment when everything snaps. Then - kabam! - suddenly, it's Minneapolis, it's Portland, it's Chicago! No justice, no peace! Suddenly, we push the button. 

That's right. I'm talking about the Crocodile Hunter's daughter. I'm talking about those baby-snatching dingoes. I'm talking Serengeti. I'm talking penguins. Enough is enough. We grab the channel-changer and switch from YES to Animal Planet.

If Boone doesn't start playing Clint Frazier full time, everyday - not a platoon, a player - we check out the polar bears.

Tonight, the Yankees rest. Normally, that would be fine. In this case, though, it's dangerous. It gives the creative chess-master Aaron Boone a full 36 hours to rationalize a lineup that doesn't include Frazier. That's one of Boone's cognitive talents and managerial legacies: A batter goes 3-4 with a HR, and - like Kurt Vonnegut imagining Ice-9 - Boone somehow concocts a Betsy DeVos plan to bench the guy. It's amazing, like treating leeches with leeches. If Frazier last night had gone 0-5, Boone might start him Friday, figuring he needs a boost. But going 3 for 4? That means he's delivered his hits for the week. 

Friday, the Death Star hosts last-place Boston. The current pitching match-ups show two of the game's most mysterious starters: TBD v TBD. Probably, that means a RH tilt of Redsock pitchers, which could prompt Boone to play Brett Gardner, Mike Tauchman and Mike Ford - all of whom are fine human beings, credit to their species, etc. - but none who just went 3-4 with a HR.

Surely, some of you are wondering why I'm popping off like this. Frazier homered yesterday and - with DJ LeMahiue - led the Yankees to a critical victory. Surely, the brain trust will keep him in the lineup. Surely, he won't get dispatched to the Scranton mines before Shark Week has ended. Surely, the Yankees will give him his long-awaited chance. Right?

Well, let's see. Just keep your head down. No talking in the commissary. By mid-Friday, we'll know. (And how about them Astros! Turns out, guessing on pitches must be harder than they thought.)

They Whisper

Just to riff off Duque’s and Alphonso’s recent posts and comments:

In their sycophantic pandering to their co-author/subject (That combination should tell you something right there.) in Inside the Empire, Bob Klapisch and Paul Soloratoff described him as an expert at “the courtship of a dejected superstar…” “Done right, it’s a whisper-quiet, three-step waltz, among the GM, the player, and his agent,” they wrote, or rather, breathed heavily. But of course, Brian Cashman did it right. “Cashman, like the three or four masters of his craft, is one part diplomat to two parts pickpocket,” they gushed on, like a runaway fire hose. “He can politely boost your watch and wallet and leave you thinking the heist was your idea. Jeter’s style, by contrast, is to dictate terms and expect you to glumly accept them.”

Oh? In 2017, as El Duque mentioned, the Yanks had a bumper crop of minor-league prospects, shining like so many gold nuggets. Not only that, but 8 of their 9 minor-league teams had winning records, with a winning pct. of almost .600 (.586). Scranton, Trenton, Tampa, Staten Island, Pulaski, and the GCL West Yankees all finished first in the regular season, with GCL West also winning the Gulf Coast League playoffs. Only the Yanks’ Dominican Summer League team had a losing record.

Combined with the players they had already brought up, and the likes of Greg Bird on the DL, how could they miss? Well, they missed. And the farm system promptly imploded.

Could it just be that the reason was the real “whisper-quiet,” master pickpocket here? The man who whisked away Gary Denbo, the team’s farm director, at the same time that he pawned Giancarlo the Magnificent off on the old master whisperer?

Not saying the Yanks’ success was all Denbo’s doing. Not saying all those golden nuggets weren’t fool’s gold to begin with, as prospects so often are. A lot of them failed to pan out with other teams.

But still. The farm system has never been the same since. The kids have never been the same since. And we have a new permanent resident on the DL, to replace Jacoby Ellsbury.

There's something missing this year, and it's not just fans in the bleachers

It never really seems right. You hear the fake crowd noise and wonder if it's fooling the players, because it's not fooling you. Now and then, maybe for a moment, you forget. Then a foul ball bounces off the empty seats, reminding you that nobody's there. It's just not right.

Don't get me wrong. In just two weeks, I have become hooked on the role that baseball is attempting to retake in my life. Baseball at night means less time doom-scrolling the internet, or watching cable news retread our tribal hatreds, 24/7. I'm lucky that the Yanks have played relatively well: If the team tanks, I might return to the misery news networks, and it won't do my heart any good.

Still, something is missing, and it's not fannies in seats. Last night, as the Yanks pounded Atlanta, it was on display. 

Okay, close your eyes and set the Wayback to winter of 2017...

It's four years ago. The Yankees have the second most fruitful minor league system in baseball, behind only the - gulp - Braves. This stems from the Great Tanking of 2016, when Cooperstown Cashman traded Andrew Miller, Aroldis Chapman, Carlos Beltran, Rudy Giuliani, et al, for a new beginning. For the sake of our parlor game, let's recap our top 15 prospects that winter, according to MILB's John Sickels. 

1. Gleyber Torres
2. Clint Frazier
3. Blake Rutherford (now in White Sox system)
4. Jorge Mateo (in A's system)
5. Justice Sheffield (in Mariners system)
6. James Kaprielian (in A's system)
7. Chance Adams (in Royals system)
8. Domingo Acevido (Yankee non-roster candidate)
9. Albert Abreu
10. Aaron Judge
11. Miguel Andujar
12. Dillon Tate (now in Orioles system)
13. Dustin Fowler (mired in A's system)
14. Ian Clarkin (out of baseball)
15. Jordan Montgomery

Quick outlook: The Yankees would go 7 for 15 - succeeding with Gleyber, Judge, Andujar, Montgomery, Sheffield (traded for James Paxton), Tate (traded for Zack Britton) and - let's be hopeful - Frazier. 

We squandered Fowler, Kaprielian and Mateo for Sonny Gray. Likewise, we turned Rutherford and Clarkin into Todd Frazier and Tommy Kahnle (sort of a win, I suppose.) 

Worth noting is the depth of the Yankee system. An "HM" group includes Tyler Wade, Tyler Austin, Giovanni Gallegos, Chad Green, Jonathan Holder, Nick Solak, Jake Cave, Nick Goody, Kyle Higashioka, Billy McKinney... all of whom will reach The Show. Not bad, overall. So much hope for the future... the Yankees seem destined to win again.

Of course, the top-rated franchise - whom we watched last night - is led by prospects SS Dansby Swanson, 2B Ozzie Albies, OF Ronald Acuna and pitchers Sean Newcomb and Mike Soroka - all of whom now play for Atlanta.

Why am I mentioning all this? Well, that's what's missing. 

Along with the empty bleachers, baseball's empty minor leagues keep reminding us of this alt-COVID universe. In the old days, the daily reports from Scranton, Trenton, Charleston, Tampa and even Pulaski offered me to somehow picture a future worth inhabiting. If the Yanks lost three out of four in Tampa, I'd scour the minors for a few young nobodies - most would never reach the majors - who hit HRs or pitched well. They'd give hope, even if it was as fake as last night's crowd roar.

Without the minors, baseball is a ghost ship. There is no future. The so-called "taxi squad" plays in Scranton, without eyeballs, and there are presumably workouts in Tampa for low level prospects. There are no daily updates on Jasson Dominiquez - the 17-year-old OF phenom - or even Clarke Schmidt, who is one more JA Happ bombing from a call-up. We have only the TV games. 

I say this because, before the pandemic, MLB was doing its best to shrink the minor leagues - the last bastion of rural America's love for the game. My fear is that when we're done with this ongoing crisis - maybe next year? - the lords of the game will seek to kill off vast sectors of the minors, which they'd happily see NCAA sports factories replace. (Note: Financially stressed NCAA programs might have something to say about this.) The baseball world is going to change incredibly next year. Not for the better, I suspect.

So... my point? I miss the minors. I miss the cheesy mascots. I miss the stupid promotions, the Dollar Beer Nights, the fireworks. I miss the veterans on rehab, who absolutely hate being stuck here. I miss the kids, the families, the bad hot dogs. I miss the daily boxes. 

If baseball pulls this off - if we have a full season and a world series - it will be a great achievement. But if the minors die, it will be a national tragedy. Just sayin.'

I Was Going to Write to Speculate About What Stanton's Injury While On the Injury List Would Be...

...But what's the rush? 3-4 weeks out is the word now. Worst Yankees deal ever?

Virtual Baseball: Yanks Pound Royals Again, Go to Six- (or Seven- ) Man Rotation. Also, Crop Rotation. And Crop Circles.

Trapped as I am near the inner circle of thought, I have the vantage spot to see not only into virtual realities but also through time. Hence: The Virtual Yankees pounded the Kansas City Royals tonight, 12-3.

Gleyber Torres, Aaron Judge, Gio Urshela, and Miguel Andujar all homered for the Bronx team, while Clarke Schmidt pitched six strong innings for the win. Schmidt's start marks the beginnings of the Yankees trying to go to a six- or seven-man rotation, according to manager Ma Boone. "I think it's six, but I keep losing count When do we play that creepy corn game again?" Boone said after the game.

Meanwhile, new allegations shook Wall Street, as investigators determined that the new brokerage giants, Vevillburyyouse.com, Putard.com, and Chokeonitcapitalizt.com were all really entities created by the Russian government. As the market dropped today for the first time in three years, President Trump dismissed sellers there as "wimps," and left for another of his 167 golf resorts. Also, unpopular Democratic nominee Joe Biden went up to 13 percent in the polls.

Dear Clint...

At last, here we go. 

That long-awaited visit to the quantum molecule cyclometer... it's here. According to the undeniable laws of comic book universes, you will either emerge with staggering new super-powers, or your atoms will be smashed and dispersed to Kansas City for a middle-innings villain.

No pressure here. We don't want you overthinking this. It's just joy or doomsday, that's all. The next two weeks will probably decide whether the last four years were a mine-pitted path to Monument Park, or a rocky off-road to Zolio Almonteville. We've been waiting on you since 2016. We've been waiting on the Yankees to give you a chance since 2018. We've been waiting on Giancarlo Stanton's hamstring since Saturday. Our waiting is over. There are no more concerns about the length of your hair, or your inability to play left field. (We've seen Miguel Andujar out there; it's not you we fear.) We remember the concussions, that horror show in RF on national TV, and the ginned-up controversies about your personality, because you didn't handle the Gammonites with rubber gloves. It's time to see what you've got. It's time to see if you can hit. 

I say this with the recognition that, in fact, your chances could unravel quickly. Go 0-5 tonight, and you could be in Scranton by Wednesday, not to see another empty Yankee Stadium this year. That's the stark reality. But something tells me this is it: When bamboo Stanton went down, the brain trust chose you over Miggy, who was slumping. I believe they figure you need 50 at bats to show your stuff. Thus, you might get 30. It's up to you, New York, New York.

At this point, let's recall a little history.

It's worth noting that the numbers for 2019 are deceptive. In the first half of last year, you helped rescue an injury-decimated team - hitting .283 with 11 HRs and 34 RBIs. For that, you were sent to Scranton, where you immediately fell into a slump. Upon returning in September, you hit .176. 

The Yankees need a spark plug. They need the Clint Frazier from last spring. And for all the talk of an overcrowded outfield, there should be enough at-bats to give you an honest audition. After Aaron Judge in right, the OF-DH slot looks open to be claimed. Aaron Hicks has not looked good. Gardy is old. Mike Tauchman might be our best CF, and Mike Ford might be your real competition at DH. Left field is yours for the taking. 

So, no pressure here. But at last, here we go. 

Virtual Baseball: King Crowns Royals, Hangs on for Win Thanks to Judge Bullet!

Surprise starter Mike King managed to overawe his fellow Royals for five innings tonight, as the Yanks broke out to a 6-1 lead, on home runs by Giancarlo Stanton, D.J. LeMahieu, and Luke Voit.  The Royals cut the lead to 6-3 on roundtrippers  by Salvador Perez and Ryan Mc-BROOM! and threatened against the usual, long line of Yankees relievers.

In the bottom of the ninth, Whit Merrifield tripled to deep left-center off Zach(k) Britton, who then allowed a deep flyball by Mc-BROOM to right.  However, a bullet to the plate from Aaron Judge cut down Merrifield, wit or no wit, and preserved the victory. 

The win kept the Yanks just a game behind the ever-victorious TB Rays, a race that makes the Pinstripers upcoming game against the White Sox in the "Field of Dreams" game all the more of an attraction.  

Manager Ma Boone, though, told the press he thought it was likely to be a routine game of little interest.

"Why, look at all the excitement we've already had this year," Boone said.  "Train derailments, the team plane crash-landing in Citi Field, Stanton actually playing more than ten games in a row.  What else could possibly happen, just playing a game out in a corn field?"

As soon as he finished speaking, though, Boone suddenly whipped his head about, and a troubled 

expression passed across his face.

"Didn't anybody else hear that?" he asked.  "No?  Why, it sounded just like rustling...like a rustling in the corn..."

Yanks Send Jeter Down, Acquire Fermin for Rivera.

April 1, 1996:  The New York Yankees announced today that their "shortstop of the future," Derek Jeter, would be headed back down to the Columbus Clippers.  To keep the spot warm for him, meanwhile, the Yanks acquired shortstop Felix Fermin from the Seattle Mariners, in exchange for pitcher Mariano Rivera.

Originally, Jeter was supposed to back-up veteran star Tony Fernandez at short, but opportunity beckoned when Fernandez broke his elbow in spring training.  But Jeter's performance in Florida convinced at least some of the Yankees' brainstrust that he was not ready to start in the major leagues.

"I'm sure he'll be a fine player," Yankees front office fixture Clyde King acknowledged, "but we just can't win with him right now."

The rest of the Yankees' organization, led by Gene Michael, Bob Watson, and new manager Joe Torre were reportedly adamant against demoting Jeter, but George Steinbrenner said that he had made the final call.

"My baseball people were divided, so I had to step up and make the big decision.  That's what leaders do," Steinbrenner told the press.

"I did have a terrible spring," a dejected but still determined Jeter said.  "I'll just have to do better, and earn my way back to New York."

Fermin, 32, batted just .195 last year for the Mariners, and has hit only 4 home runs in his 9 years in the majors, but he was batting a career-high .317 when the lockout shut down the 1994 season.  He is considered a good if not great glove, and all the Yankees want him to do is to give them a credible shortstop until Jeter is ready to take his place.

Mariano Rivera had impressed the Mariners during his three, scoreless appearances against them in last year's ALDS, but he remains a young, unproven pitcher, while the Yanks still have John Wetteland as their closer.

Rivera said he was disappointed to be leaving New York, but was sure that it was all God's will.

(ALMOST...a true story!)

Ripley's Believe It or Not: Yes, It's Baseball! The Crazy Sport Where NOBODY Knew What They were doing for 150 Years!

THIS IS FROM HORACECLARKE66...

Yes, believe it or not, people: for 150 years, nobody knew how to play baseball, our national pastime!  From roughly 1860-2010, NOBODY KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING!

Don't believe it?  Why just look at these amazing examples, things that people actually believed about baseball before our modern age of enlightenment:

Don't just swing for the fences on every pitch.  Nonsense!  As we know now, EVERY swing can lead to a home run!  Swing from the heels no matter what!

Cut down your swing when there are two strikes on you.  Why?  so you can miss out on that possible home run??  Remember:  close your eyes and swat away!

Protect the strike zone when there are two strikes.  Don't be silly!  DARE to take a called third strike! Or...swing from the heels!

Go with the pitch and try to hit what you're given.  And how will you ever hit a home run THAT way?

Learn to hit to the opposite field and even bunt, to keep the other team from putting a shift on you.  Why worry about a shift?  Just hit the ball OVER everybody.  Into the seats!!

Starting pitchers should learn to pitch to contact, so they can last more innings, and get guys out with fewer pitches.  Tommy rot!  Just throw every pitch as hard as you can until you're exhausted. There are always plenty of equally mediocre pitchers to relieve you!

Your best power hitters should hit in the 3-4 slots.  Don't be absurd!  Your best power hitters are also probably best at getting on base.  Therefore:  don't worry about using your power hitters to drive in runs. Bat them first, so they can work walks and...lesser hitters can drive them in.  Right?

Put your top power hitters together in the lineup, so they'll be all the more certain to get a pitch to hit.  Sure, in the past teams put guys like Ruth and Gehrig, DiMaggio and Gehrig, Simmons and Foxx, Aaron and Mathews, Mantle and Maris, and Ortiz and Ramirez together in their lineups.  What'd THOSE guys ever do?  Be sure to separate your power hitters at all times, with lots of lesser hitters in between.

Don't work out too much, and get overmuscled.  What kind of old wives tale is this???  Overtrain until you pop or strain every muscle, ligament, tendon, and joint in your body!  So you won't be able to stay on the field.  So what???  As long as you can you'll still hit a home run!  Maybe!