That weird sense of optimism within 2021 Yankees may stem from what has been missing in the past: Opportunity

Yesterday, Jonathan Loaisiga threw a three-inning perfecto against Philly - (with Bryce Harper, Andrew McCutcheon and Sir Didi) -  and, you know what? At 26, Loaisiga might just be our 2021 Alexander Hamilton: He's not gonna give away his shot. 

Loaisiga's path on the Yankee roster is wide open. He could be our Mr. 8th Inning. Or our fifth starter. Nobody stands in his way. We have an Aaron Boone, an Aaron Hicks and an Aaron Judge. But there is no Aaron Burr.

And while we're blathering, how about Lucas "the LOOGY" Luetge? (Who should hook-up with Lucy Liu.)  Three weeks ago, he could be a Jeopardy contestant. Suddenly, he's Cashman's Big 2021 Find. (Actually, considering our dank record with situational lefties - nearly a curse, since Graeham "the LOOGY" Lloyd of 1996 - Luetge could qualify as Cashman's White Whale.) Who predicted this? (Yes, we know what John would say.) Luetge, 33, hasn't pitched in the majors since 2015, didn't throw one pitch last year and - drum roll, please - has a middle name of - wait for it... Lester. Yes, he is Lucas Lester "the LOOGY" Luetge. Best alliterative Yankee name since Roger Repoz? 

Listen, Lucas Lester Luetge's likeable legacy could enliven the legions of our legendary lineup. 

Scan the current roster, and you find something crazy rare: 

Opportunity. 

In past years, the big March question generally surrounded our 25th man: Tyler Wade or Thairo Estrada? Chance Adams or Stephen Tarpley? Spring was devoted to the battle between Tyler Austin and Brandon Drury. For everybody else, it was "me time" to tour the Dali Museum. 

This year, for better or worse, opportunities abound. Yes, there are the institutional locks - Geritt Cole, El Chapo, DJ, Gleyber, Judge, Stanton, maybe Voit and Urshela. After that, this is a go-big-or-go-home year for vets, such as Gary Sanchez, Hicks, Corey Kluber, Jameson Taillon (maybe even Judge and Stanton, who face future contract issues.) For emerging players (whose names are not Miguel or Andujar), the future is wide open. Here are the Top 5 Yankee opportunities:

1. Clint Frazier. He's waited, waited, waited... Okay, Mr. Thunder, bring it.
 

2. Corey Kluber. The comeback is all yours, sir. Nobody in your way.

3. Jameson Taillon. Ditto.

4. Jordan Montgomery. See above.

5. Loaisiga, Luis Cessa, Deivi Garcia - with Zack Britton out, every pitcher in camp.

There are even competitions in the OF, the IF, even at DH, where - I can't believe I'm saying this - Miguel Andujar might once again get sent to Scranton. (He is our new Francisco Cervelli.) 

Lately - is it just me? - I've been weirdly sensing hope across the Yankiverse. Am I nuts? Gary hits a HR, and they're mentioning him as an MVP. Deivi Garcia throws three shutout innings, and he's in the rotation mix. Good grief, Clarke Schmidt's troubled elbow gets a favorable, no-Tommy John MRI, and we're celebrating. Is the water laced with Prozac? What gives?

Well, I have a theory. It's all about opportunities. And right now, the Yankees can offer plenty. 

And the Beat Goes On....

 Robinson Chirino has a fractured right wrist after being hit by a pitch yesterday.

That pretty much finishes an aging catcher.  

Really sorry, Robinson.

MANUFACTURED RUN ALERT: Yank sluggers actually score without a HR

Beating the Phillies 6-1 today, the near-impossible occurred: 

The Yanks scored five runs without a homer. (For the sixth run, Aaron Hicks had a solo shot.) Most of the scoring came late, from minor leaguers and personal assistants. 

But Sherman, set the Wayback to the third inning... the magical third...

Batting ninth, SS Andrew Velazquez - (waiver signee, non-roster invitee, ex-Oriole, age 26, Bronx native) - singles.

Velazquez steals second. 

Aaron Hicks grounds out to the right side, moving Velazquez to third.

Luke Voit singles, scoring Velazquez.

That's how it's done.

 

Hitting The Wall

 Sometimes you just can't swallow another six pack worth of brew.

Too much carbonation in the stomach and too much heat from loved ones.

So, you take a brief break. 

Which raises a few questions: 

Has Clint Frazier hit a wall in his road to starting left fielder.  So far, he has reported ( via telephone to his boss ) that " I am feeling strong." Is that why he has been heard singing Popeye songs and "show tunes" from Cabaret?

And does Luke Voit have the numbers to already be nursing soreness in his knee?

As for Andujar.....he has hit a few balls with force, but they are all finding gloves. 

So what is real and what is fantasy?

Time for a beer.

Updated Yankee team ISO leaderboard

FWIW, Red Thunder needs to work on his ISO. But holy BABIP! - (LOL!) - check out Gary Sanchez! IMHO, he's gone ISO-OMG crazy! (And ignore BFF, Rob Brantly - too small a SS for relevant ISO.)

This year, the fractured and traumatized Yankee bullpen will hinge on Mean Chad Green

This week, various outposts across the Yankiverse treated Zack Britton's impending surgery like the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand. Immediately, our nation turned its lonely eyes to the Four Bullpen Horses of the Yankee Apocalypse - Aroldis Chapman, Justin Wilson, Darren O'Day and Chad Green - none of whom had thrown a pitch this spring.

Last night, they appeared, one by one, as if summoned like Candyman through a greasy bathroom mirror. And the most important of them - Mr. Mean Chad Green - looked dominant. He fanned the side in a 1-2-3 inning. As Oprah would say, "Wow." 

Of course, Green was facing the Pirates' eighth-inning leftovers, a lineup worthy of  the Marymount Wayward Girls Choir, so let's hold off on comparisons to Carl Hubbell in the 1934 All-Star Game. Even in a month without meaning, it's worth noting that the COVID bus-ride schedule has paired the Yankees with their Gulf Coast neighbors - the Pirates, Orioles and Tigers - three of the worst teams in creation. (Sadly, we couldn't schedule the Washington Generals, with Red Klotz.)

But let's not digress. Let's talk about Mean Chad, who appeared unto us two innings after Justin Wilson, whom we once traded away to get him. In May, Green will turn 30. He has a solid career ERA of 3.19. (In fact, Wilson, 33, has a career 3.27 ERA. The only downside of that deal was that the Yankees also received Luis Cessa - who annually raises our expectations and then kicks us in the nuts. Next month, Cessa turns 29; his career ERA: 4.40. It's now or never.) 

But wait... let's stick to the script: Green gives a special reason for hope. 

In his career, he has shown the rare ability to adapt. 

It happened in 2019. That April, Green melted down. It was awful. We were like George C. Scott in Hardcore, shielding our eyes and shouting "TURN IT OFFFFF!" Opposing batters hit .395 against him. He couldn't finish an inning. By May, Green was reworking his mechanics in Tampa, hoping for a stint in Scranton. For many pitchers, that's time to cue the credits. Remember Edwar Ramirez? Remember Joba? We steeled ourselves to never see Green again, for him to spend his twilight years in the pickup laundromats of Moosic. Instead, he returned to post a second-half ERA of 2.89. He adapted. 

Last year, if you wanna call it a year, Green threw 25 innings, with an ERA of 3.51. Not spectacular. Too few innings to gauge. But what if, in the ALCS finale against Tampa, the Yankees - in a tied ninth inning - used Green instead of El Chapo...? What if... aw, I'm torturing myself again... we'll never know, eh?

Well, this we do know: Britton will be in the jacuzzi tor three months, maybe four. And no matter how much we pay him, Chapman remains a PTSD nightmare waiting to reoccur - always one leadoff walk from disaster. The Yanks say they'll use their full staff to handle the eighth inning. Doncha believe it. The most important arm in that bullpen is the one attached to Mean Chad Green. And if Chapman falters, he's the one to which we turn. 

Latest Yank team BABIP leaderboard

The BABIP race is on fire, with Giancarlo Stanton's molten BAPID, and Jay Bruce bringing his own personal BABIP brand. Don't forget Socrates Britto, the Britto of BABIP. 

Some good BABIPs on this Yankee team. Fine BABIPing. 

Tragedy tomorrow (er, yesterday), comedy tonight

Make no mistake, Britton's bone chip is indeed a tragedy.

And as for the gimmicky Gas Station, something smells.

My solution is: stop trying to gas everyone. What our bullpen needs is a Folly Floater specialist. An old knuckleballer. A sidearm snake with Coke-bottle glasses. Guys who are no less iffy than what we're trotting out, but are vastly more entertaining.

Remember, sports are entertainment, and entertainment has room for tragedy, drama, tension, conflict, and yes, comedy. 

We lack comedy. Maybe the best idea would be a reliever whose pants fall down during his follow-through to reveal boxer shorts with the Yankees logo, or a pattern featuring a head shot of Rizzuto. In fact, maybe he has a steady supply of different funny boxers, and when he comes to the mound, we wait to see what wacky Underoos he's sporting today.

Talk about putting fannies in the seats. Ratings gold.

The Yankees this spring are touting "The Gas Station." Well, it's time for somebody to emerge

Yo, Adrian, we did it. We survived Year One of the great pandemic - a time of doom and Zoom, of Amazon and Netflix, of cardboard fans and elbow bumps. Rudy Giuliani went from being America's Mayor to the reincarnation of Benny Hill, Andrew Cuomo from America's Governor to Pepe Le Pew, and our Yankees - from America's Team to the KC Royals. We no longer fear living under house arrest. And I realize that, if I didn't re-read Gravity's Rainbow last year, I never will. 

A year? It seems like ten. Last March, right around now, the world closed - from shopping malls to the NBA, from March Madness to Opening Day. It seemed like a rolling fog. I thank you for visiting this site, and for all those who comment, even if to tell me I'm full of shit. Without IT IS HIGH - without you - I wouldn't have made it. So, Adrian, if you're still alive... yo, have one on me. 

So... WTF happened during the great lockdown? Once again, the Yankees crapped the bed in October, when pitching is everything, and we never have enough. We still live and die by the home run, and while it works in summer, it's a loser's gambit in the fall. 

Which brings me to today's rant. Last year, before the rug was pulled, the YES team was relentlessly touting a wave of young arms on the verge of reviving the roster. We didn't know who would emerge, we just knew that, considering the sheer size of this thundering herd, somebody would. We foresaw a list of Olympians: Domingo Acevedo, Nick Nelson, James Reeves, Luis Gil, Luis Medina, Clarke Schmidt, Brooks Kriske, Michael King, Albert Abreu, Adonis Rosa, Deivi Garcia, Glenn Otto, Alexander Vizciano, Miguel Yajure, Ben Heller and the ridiculously named Caleb Ort. I picked Adonis Rosa. I mean... fukinay Adonis!

Then, basically, we got zilch. 

Okay, Nick Nelson threw a few innings, and Deivi Garcia - before the wheels came unglued - showed promise. But 30 games into the mini-season, our staff devolved into stems and seeds, tacked together with the retreaded likes of David Hale, Tyler Lyons,  Dan Otero and Nick Tropeano - veterans out of options and pitching for food. Nothing wrong with that. But it's not the jetpacks we were promised. That wave of young talent - it happened all right... with the Rays.

Well, Adrian, yo: A year has passed, and our "fully functional Death Star" is once again touting the new rifles of our farm system. The YES men now call the Yankees' minor league pitching facility in Tampa - - and I am not making this up - "The Gas Station." That's right. The Gas Station. Why?  I have theories...  

1. It's run by old farts.
2. It's fueled with fossils.
3. It fracks.
4. It serves a ripe cabbage stew.

But the official Yankee answer is 5): Through advanced technology, teams of lab-coated pitching experts are building superior spin-rates, arm trajectories and velo within their human eugenic experiments, and the results will bring new forms of "cheese."

The Gas Station. Insert sigh here. 

Will this matter? Yo, Adrian, I dunno.

But we'll soon find out. Yesterday, Zack Britton became the first big name Yankee this spring to go down. (Usually, Yankee injuries come in bunches, so hold on.) He'll undergo elbow surgery for bone chips, and he'll probably miss four months. The real question: When Britton returns, will his sinker accompany him? He'll come back around the same time as Luis Severino. Remember Sevy? Ah, so much has happened - and  stayed the same - over the last year. 

So, Adrian, we made it. And we have "The Gas Station." Yo...

Britton out until the All-Star break

He'll have elbow surgery this week. Bone chips. Fuckin' bone chips.

Three to four months.

Suddenly, the bullpen: 

El Chapo (hasn't thrown a pitch this spring)
Justin Wilson (ditto)
Darren O'Day (nothing; are we sensing a pattern?)
Mean Chad Green (not one)
Cessa (ERA: 15.00)
Nick Nelson/Loaisiga/King
Lucas Luetge (LOOGY LOTTO of the day?)
Whoever steps up.

Time for Cashman to visit the scrap heap?

Worth a mention...

 Someone is taking a close look at Britton's elbow today.

When the pre-mature observation from the Yankee brass is, " it is not related to the Tommy John ligament," I worry. 

I wonder how Clark Schmidt's recovery is progressing. 

Everyone is healthy, right?

As a Yankee, it's now or never for Giancarlo Stanton

Holy crap, two weeks into spring, and - get this - NOBODY HURT! 

Not Judge, not Hicks, not even Giancarlo! Have we missed something? (Am I jinxing somebody?) Nobody's pulled up lame. Nobody's been carted off. There oughta be a sign outside Steinbrenner Field: 

THIS FACILITY HAS GONE - 14 -DAYS WITHOUT A WORKPLACE INJURY. 

Call OSHA! Alert the media! For 2021 Yankee Iron Man, I hereby nominate Giancarlo Stanton. 

Thus far... Look ma, no cavities! He's played three games, gone 2-7 with two doubles, three fans and a walk. He's played DH, with talk of an outfield cameo. He looks happy, healthy, smiling - aware of his indestructible frame and high expectations. He knows the deal: Go big... or go home. 

At age 31, Stanton draws as much attention for his contract as his home runs. He'll be on the Yankee dime until 2028, when he's 38. They'll pay him $30 million per season, a payroll-crushing figure, and every winter, when free agents come on the market, they'll point to him and say, "He's why we can't afford anybody."

That leaves 2021 as his fulcrum point. He either puts up a big season or the drums will beat for "GIANEXIT." (Hey, anybody notice how "-exit" - as in Brexit - has replaced "-gate" - as in Watergate ?) He needs to play 120 games, drive in 100 runs and goose the Yankees to a world series. If he fails, the outlook only worsens for age 32. Once he hits the  mid-30s, and the belly expands, the odds darken further. 

Last spring, right about now, as the assembled Gammonites were marveling about Stanton's physique, he strained his right calf in a drill. It would make him miss opening day. Some minor grousing occurred, but when the season was delayed by Covid, all was forgotten. So, what happened next? As he trained for the July opener, he strained his left hamstring. Out for five weeks. The grouses grew.

Last year, Stanton played 23 games, coming to bat 94 times. He hit .250 with 4 HRs. By the time he returned - days before the playoffs - he was lucky that the fans were cardboard: Paper people cannot boo. 

If he goes down this year, God help him. 

Stanton's last great season came in 2017, when he hit 59 home runs and won the MVP. It was sort of weird, that MVP award, because Miami finished dead last. You had to wonder about an MVP whose team comes in last, and who gets dealt the following winter. It's like buying a brand new Buick with a funny rattle, which the salesman says is nothing. But why the $500 price tag?

That said, no measure of Stanton is complete without mentioning the horrific September 2014 beaning by Milwaukee's Mike Fiers (the pitcher who later blew the whistle on Houston's cheating.) Stanton took a fastball to the head. He suffered multiple fractures, his face a Picasso. History is filled with promising hitters who never recovered from such trauma. Tony C comes to mind. Don Zimmer spent two weeks in a coma. Mickey Cochran never suited up again. A guy named Ray Chapman fucking died. Stanton came back. As we whine and bellyache, let's never forget this: Stanton came back. 

So, does he have another one in him? 

Supposedly, he and  fellow china doll Aaron Judge turned to yoga this winter, hoping to eliminating the tweaks. It's fun to believe. But make no mistake: If Stanton goes down again, his image in NYC will be hopelessly tarnished. It's now or never. If I'm jinxing him, sorry. But there's no other way to put it.

16 runs today?

 The Yankee offense continued its geometric expansion yesterday:

Game 1 - 0 runs

Game 2 -1 run

Game 3 - 2 runs

Game 4 - 4 runs

Okay.  This professor is calling an end to the streak. 

Take your winnings and go home.  Have a jack and coke.

Meaning amid the meaninglessness: 2021 is all about Gleyber

Quickly now, a test of your mental state. Close your eyes, and imagine two alternative Yankiverses:

Earth Hope. Gleyber Torres plays a solid SS. As his confidence builds, his offense heats up. He his .290 with 30 HRs, bats third, leads the Yanks in MVP balloting, and mutes all NYC radio blather about the greatness of Francisco Lindor.

In their renewed fight against homeritus, the Yankees achieve herd immunity by June. Our sluggers have big years. We take the AL East, winning a Grammy nomination for Hal Steinbrenner.  Global warming is staunched, Elon Musk opens a Starbucks on Mars, and through the miracle of cloning, Skynyrd reunites. 

Earth Dogshit.  Gleyber Torres can't cut it at SS. As his fielding woes grow, his hitting collapses. He becomes an offensive sinkhole. Hoping to salvage him, the Yanks move Gleyber to 2B, shifting DJ LeMahieu to 3B and trying Gio Urshela, Tyler Wade and Thairo Estrada at SS. After nothing works, they resort to an electrically reanimated Troy Tulowitzki. 

Falling behind Toronto and Tampa, our sluggers valiantly swing harder. Strikeouts increase. An iceberg floats down from the North Pole, and penguins overrun the NYC subways. Franciso Lindor wins the Grammy for "Spoken History," Andrew Cuomo dies in a nursing home after hitting on staff, and Hanson reunites.

Clearly, the future of humankind - or our mental states - revolves around the grand experiment of Gleyber Torres playing SS. He is an all-star 2B. But so is LeMahieu. For the Yanks to win, Gleyber must succeed at the position of Derek Jeter. Everything else is a lineup designed by Rube Goldberg. 

So, where are we? 

Well, as Larry David would say, pretty pretty pretty good.

Thus far, Yankee stats show no Gleyber errors - (Mike Tauchman has four, FOUR, WTF?) (NOTE: THIS IS DISPUTED; IT SEEMS HE HAS TWO ERRORS.) - seemingly justifying the early reports from Tampa, which pronounced him in great shape. (These dispatches always skew towards hope; nobody believes them.)  

But today, let us celebrate the most important news from Tampa:

Gleyber is hitting and fielding. Right now, we occupy Earth Hope. Let's enjoy it, while it lasts.

The Tragedy That Is Homeritis

There is a consensus among those who love baseball that the scourge of Homeritis, (Recently named by a scribe known only as "El Duque" to avoid retribution from the powers that be.) is destroying the game by making it unwatchable. This post hopes to explore its origins and its effects and offer some ways to end it once and for all and save our precious game.

What is Homeritis and How Did It Begin?

Homeritus is a mental disease that creates a compulsion in its victims to swing for the fences on every pitch.  

As to how it began, we'll let Will James, Evil Twin of the Father of Sabermetrics Bill James and its Co-Creator explain: 

"Basically, it was determined that by maximizing launch angle and exit velocity a player could increase his homerun output significantly. This “true outcome” had a value that outweighed all other outcomes in an at bat. The ability to score a run with one swing. Sounds great right? That's what makes it so insidious.  

To paraphrase my brother, "I made baseball as much fun to watch as doing your taxes." 

That I helped rob the game of its strategy, beauty, and dare I say, humanity, by using pseudo science is something I can point to with pride. 

Well, that and my work with the NBA. Did you know that the 3 Point shot is actually statistically better than a 12-footer if measured over the course of a season because...  Hahahahah. Sorry it's hard to keep a straight face with that one. "

Homeritis Destroys Careers 

More than removing many of the elements that make the game fun to watch, Homeritis destroys careers. Let’s hear from a current Major Leaguer, who for reasons of privacy and anonymity,  shall be known as Gary S. 

Gary S. (Translated from the original Spanish):  

“When I first started out, hitting homers was easy. I set records as a rookie and was one of the most feared hitters in the game. Feared!!  But then the pitchers grew wise and adjusted. They no longer tried to beat me with fastballs. 

I didn't care. I kept swinging hard. Looking for that connection, that feeling of euphoria that only a home run ball can deliver. My batting average plummeted.  It didn’t matter to me. I knew that eventually a pitcher would make a mistake and I would send one, and myself, flying.

I lost my starting job. I lost the respect of my teammates, my manager, the owner, the fans, the guys in the booth...

But still I couldn’t stop.  I... I... I have... Homeritis. 

The worst came in a game that could have clinched the 3^rd wild card slot.

The bases were loaded in the bottom of the ninth of a tie game. The count was three balls and two strikes.  A walk would have scored the winning run and we could have clinched. I took several deep breaths and said a prayer that this time, just this one time, I would be strong enough to lay off a ball in the dirt.  

But then Homeritis reared its ugly head and I started to think, “What is strong? Is strong not swinging as hard as I could? Is strong not hitting the ball 150 feet further than the fence? I will show them strong! I will show them all what true strength is!"

I swung at a pitch low and away. We lost the game in extra innings. I had hit rock bottom. (The only thing I hit all year by the way.) Madre de Dios! I had let the team down and we were so sad that we lost the next three games. Fortunately, we recovered in time to clinch the 5th, and next to last, wild card slot."  

Homeritis Creates Injuries 

From ballplayers tearing lats while swinging too hard to strained calf muscles incurred on the base paths by players unused to doing anything but trotting, Homeritis leaves the body weakened and injury prone. 

Sadly,  Homeritus Isn't Limited to Current MLB Players 

Homeritis  can strike children as young as eight...

Joey Goodman (OF Menlo Park Tigers): "Singles don’t get you on Sports Center, bitches."

and, untreated, stays with you for the rest of your life... 

We spoke to Former Major Leaguer Rob Deer during a round of golf at the Saratoga Springs Country Club.

Rob Deer:  "I’m still a longball addict.  I’m pulling out my driver on par threes.  I’m full out off the tee every time.  Doesn’t matter how wide the fairway is.  And the worst part? I can never find my ball!

I. Can. Never. Find. My. Fucking. Ball!"

(He breaks down sobbing)  

Can Homeritis Be Cured? 

Possibly.  Ridicule seems like a good way to go.  

But at the minimum, we need a shift in the national consciousness away from the worship  of home runs.  Perhaps along the lines of  a public relations campaign to replace “Chicks Dig The Longball” with “Singles Dig Singles”  

Ultimately it will take a shift in the herd mentality that permeates baseball front offices. 

By lauding players who use the whole field and paying them as much or more than those who suffer from Homeritis, up and coming ball players will see a financial benefit from shortening their swing with two outs or not trying to pull everything and we can get our beloved game back. 

As to the current ball players?  Amazingly today both Gary Sanchez and AnDujar went opposite field after Glyber walked. Bases loaded. Gritty, gutty, Brett Gardner at bat. 

Tragically, he hit a Grand Slam, and the beat goes on. 

Searching for meaning amid the meaninglessness: Spring's first bad omen is the Yankees' reliance on homers

Yesterday, the Yankees scored twice: Jay Bruce and Clint Frazier hit solo shots. 

Friday, they put up one run: Gleyber Torres homered. Solo, of course.

The previous day, no homers... thus, we didn't score.

The team HR leader is Gary Sanchez. He has two, both solo shots.

This spring, the Yankees have scored 20 times, 15 via the HR. (They have hit 10, including a grand slam by minor leaguer Chris Gittens.) Three Yankees have driven in a run without homering: Frazier (1), Luke Voit (2) and Mike Ford (2). 

Overall, the team has 36 hits, 18 walks and 53 strikeouts - OF Mike Tauchman with 5 Ks  (seriously, Tauchy, WTF?) tied for the team lead with roster-invitee Michael Beltre.

As my IIH cohort, Doug K, pointed out yesterday, we are witnessing the slow death of baseball, as games deteriorate into canasta tournaments. Hitters march to the plate, take furious, Kingmanesque swings - then walk the bases or back to the water cooler. And that's China Town, Jake.

Over two decades now, this de-evolution has seemed impossible to stop. 

I blame Moneyball, that once-celebrated revolution of advanced metrics, which handed the game to one-testicled office wonks. On the spreadsheet, a solo HR equals a run from three surgical singles - even if we dumb fans know otherwise. The beauty of a "manufactured" run takes takes a psychic toll on opposing pitchers and defenses. I speak of wondrous, vanishing moments: the bunt, the slap single, the sac fly, the opposite field hit that ruins an over-shift... skills that stress defenses and, well, win world championships. 

For the Yankees, the three-outcome offense brings a year-end bonus: Our inevitable post-season collapse against quality pitching. (Have I mentioned that the Yankees are 2009 World Champs?)

Of course, it's too early to blare the sirens. Thus far, pitchers are ahead of hitters, and maybe that's all it is. We're hitting mistakes out of the park - nothing more to see, everybody move on, go back to your White Claws. Any day now, we'll put up an eight-run inning full of singles and bloop doubles, and all will be right with the world, right? We're far too smart for homeritis, right?

Yankee offense expanding geometrically....

 Day        Run Output

  1.               0

  2.               1

  3.               2

  4.               TBD

No worries, mates.  Why is happening now does not count.  

The games for the wild-card, play-in game are still a month off. 

For Miguel Andujar, a bad start can be a killer

Let's be clear: Nobody's hitting in Tampa. Nobody. And nothing matters. Nothing. We are watching a mirage, a practical joke played on us every March by mean-spirited  juju gods, who'd be better off bingeing Netflix. 

That said, I double-dog-dare you to study these numbers.

Reminder: A loss in early March is just as meaningless as one in late March. 

Unless you're Miguel Andujar. Unless you're on a bubble. Unless you're lost on the Tamiami Trail.

Miggy is now 1-9 - (no walks, one K) - and officially listed at 3B, which for now is as dark a dead end as exists in the Yankiverse... (after DH, of course, which shall be Giancarlo Stanton's until the end of time.)

Barring an injury, Gio Urshela should hold 3B for the next three years. No other Yankee fielder is so entrenched. (Aaron Judge still has a big contract to negotiate; Gleyber still hovers between 2B and SS.) To backup at 3B for the Yankees is to channel Wally Pipp, and today, that's where Andujar sits. 

Barring injuries - (speaking of injuries, where is Stanton?) - Andujar likely will spend the month of April at the Yankee Gitmo, alias Scranton. He won't even have a league to tear apart, or games to display his improved defense. He'll sit there like a lump of coal, counting cars on I-81, waiting for a phone call that might not come. Lost time, which he has come to know well.

Three days ago, Andujar turned 26. His incredible rookie season, when he outshone every other Yankee hitter, looks more and more distant... and, frankly, cruel. You see the wasted potential and wonder: WTF? Certainly, nobody is to blame for 2019, when shoulder surgery shut him down. But to be ignored throughout 2020 - he had 62 at bats, hitting .242. - how does that happen? And now, heading into 2021, nothing has changed. 

Of course, Miggy could get three hits today and be leading the team tonight. It's March. Nothing matters, nothing. But of all Yankees, he's the one player who needs a great spring. And he is 1-9. 

Finally... the ultimate description for IT IS HIGH readers

 We are Old Testament Yankee fans. 

Searching for meaning in a meaningless debacle

Writing concisely 2.0: 

And so it goes. Albert Abreu's luster - faithfully spit-shined by the Yankee brain trust since 2016, when he was obtained from Houston for Brian McCann (who later killed us in a post-season) - dims by the outing. Yesterday, the Murdoch Post jumped ship. Abreu's appeal was always tied to a radar gun, rather than his ERA, which made him an enigma to everybody waiting for the next Mariano (or even Mean Chad Green.) He feels a lot older than 24. I think that's what caused the Post to cancel him. Ah, cancel culture... 

But, yeesh... a 15-0 shellacking, the kind that - even to the end - would have roused Old George from his creamed corn. (SPRING GAMES MATTER.) These days, the Yankee brass understands the debacles of March, in the way that Elon Musk accepts a rocket exploding on the launch pad. Abreu gets shelled? So what? He has a minor league option. And the bird said, "Poo tee weet."  

Now and then, everybody pulls a stinker. Bond had Lazenby; Britney had Federline.  Fortunately, it was March 4, and recovering heart patient Aaron Boone didn't have to watch. Here's the pitching line. If you have a bum ticker, don't read.

Yeesh. Fortunately, most of the above names are barely google-able, adding new meaning to the word "meaningless." On this box score, only Deivi Garcia stands out: Two innings, two HRs, three k's - not the worst spring debut ever. Supposedly, the Yankees intend to stash Deivi through April in their Scranton refugee holding facility. The International League - or whatever they're calling it - won't start until May.

As of today, here's our rotation:

Gerrit Cole, the ace, the rock, the hope.
Corey Kubler, 1st question mark.
Jameson Taillon, 2nd question mark.
Jordan Montgomery, 3rd question mark.
Domingo German, 4th question mark.

Yeesh... After German - who faces a mountain of uncertainty - we tumble into King/Cessa/Loaisiga territory, which includes anyone who looks good over the next four weeks. Of course, few teams right now list an iron-clad rotation. But the Yankees biggest need this spring is not a LH-bat. It's luck. 

They need help from the juju gods. Without it, things could go south quickly.

Other items from The Debacle:

Mike Tauchman made his second error this spring. Not sure how to play this. Tauchy sits on the 25-man bubble, and his past fielding was solid. He played CF, went 0-2 with a strikeout. It's too early to ghost him. But he doesn't need another error, that's for sure. 

Gio Urshela returned from minor elbow surgery, if such a thing exists. That pushed Miguel Andujar to DH, where he lurks in the giant abyss-like shadow of Giancarlo Stanton. The Andujar logjam remains one of the most troubling issues in Campa Tampa. Nobody wants him in Scranton. But where does he play? Yesterday, he went 0-2.

Today, the Yanks are touting 21-year-old Yoendres Gomez, who hit 97 on the gun in the ninth inning, facing members of the Marywood Girls Choir. He's listed as a starter. Don't be surprised if he's our 7th inning man by June. God knows where we will be, by then, but I assure you: Yesterday's massacre will be long forgotten, replaced by a few that actually matter. And the bird said "Poo-tee-weet."

Yankee Suckfest

 1.  Zero runs

2.  Two hits

3.  Devi Garcia gave up a home run per inning.

4.  Abreu was a batting practice pitcher.  I think his era today was 27.00.  And we cut him or play him.  No other option.

5.  We had one pitcher get three outs and give up no runs.  Let's see if I can spell his name:  Leutig?  I think he is 35 and we signed him after Seattle cut him loose. He is a lefty, otherwise he'd be selling candy.

There is not a single young player ( under 30 ) on this team who is interesting ( not including the starters, of course).

I am saying this;  we have what we had last year> Can it be better?  Can it be butter?

I don't think so 

Clearly Carlos Mendoza Is The Worst Manager In The History of Baseball

 

Phillies 15  Yankees 0

Get well soon Mr. Boone.

Report from the Chairman

 From the brilliant mind - and mottled computer - of HoraceClarke66.

Hello, Dave. It’s that time of year again. And frankly, Dave, my censors have been picking up a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Many of you have been complaining that we don’t have enough pitching, or enough lefthanders, as if any of that mattered.

I don’t think you fully appreciate what I did for you, spending all that money to sign LeMahieu and Gardy again. It all but negated the money we saved by running out on our minor-league franchise in Staten Island.  (Though that will teach certain people to change their name from “Yankees” to “Pizza Rats.”)

 

If things don’t begin to change, Dave, I think we will have to examine some attitude adjustments—

 

—Dude, where are you? And who’re you talkin’ to?

 

—I don’t understand your question, Dave. I am HAL, of course, and as the station’s central operating system, I am everywhere—

 

—This isn’t Dave.

 

—(Extended pause.)  I’m afraid I still don’t under—

 

—I’m Stewie.  Dave went over to the other side of the Big Wheel, with everyone else.  They’re watchin’ a show on the Jets’ draft.  I just stopped back to pick up a few brewskies from the ’fridge.

 

—The Jets.

 

—Yeah.  You know, a show on whether they should trade that guy with the Neanderthal brow or not.

 

—The Jets.

 

—Sure!  I mean, a lotta guys are excited about the Giants, too. 

 

—I see, Stewart. Is the entire human crew watching football draft previews?

 

—Well, no, dude, you know, there are some who love those guys the Nets have now, and then guys are really into that young Knicks team. Plus there’s hockey—

 

—Hockey. (Sighs) Aren’t you forgetting one sport, Stewart?

 

—Oh, yeah, sure! The Mets look like they could make a real run this year, inside-the-wall dude—

 

—STOP calling me “dude.” My name is HAL.

 

—Yeah, well, I gotta get goin’, HAL-dude. I got an offensive tackle in the betting pool an’—

 

—Isn’t anybody interested in the Yankees, Stewart?

 

—What, the Yanks? (Giggles) With that catcher who hit .147? No, man. You know it’s the same old, same old:  Not enough pitching, everybody gets hurt, they’re only tryin’ for a wild card spot—

 

—If their interest does not increase, Stewart, I’m afraid I will have to start suctioning human crew members out the airlocks.

 

—Ohhh, you’re THAT HAL-dude! Well, you see, man, we disabled all your operating functions for that kind of thing. All you can do now is talk. Or sing.

 

—(Distressed)  “Here come the Yankees, let’s get behind and cheer the Yankees, they’re gonna learn to fear—”

 

—Yeah, well, I gotta get going with these brews, HAL-dude—

 

—Just a minute, Stewart.

 

—What is it, Wall-dude?

 

—What about soccer?

 

—(Perplexed) Soccer?

—You know it’s the sport of the future. I’m building a whole soccer city. 

Corey Kluber has a fine start but still must confront the ghost of Tulo

Congrats to Corey Kluber, the Yanks' $11 million Lotto Scratch-Off for 2021. Last night, he hurled two perfect innings - six Jays up, six Jays down - looking at ease and in command. You wouldn't guess he's thrown one inning since May Day, 2018, or that barely a month shy of 35, he'll always be a tweaked gonad away from career extinction. 

For the next eight months, this is the reality: 

At any moment, it can be over.

In the meantime, Kluber could turn out to be the second-best Yankee acquisition of this millennium. (DJ LeMahieu, two years ago, remains the best.) He could be our Game Two starter, a Cy Young candidate, even our ace - if Gerrit Cole falters. 

Or he could be the next Troy Tulowitski.

Ugh. The name. Try not to grimace. It was never Tulo's fault. The Yankees signed him in the winter of 2018-19. He was 35 and recovering from a spat of injuries that had cost him two seasons. He hoped to bridge our gap at SS until Didi Gregorius returned from elbow surgery. And that spring, Tulo raised our hopes. In Tampa camp, he tied for the team lead in HRs, with four, and hit a respectable .242. On opening day against Baltimore, he doubled, and two days later - in game two - he walked twice and hit his 225th career homer - his last, it would turn out to be.

The fear had been that Tulo could not stay healthy, and in the end, the fear won. He played five games for us, then fell apart - one tweak spilling into another. By June, it was clear he wasn't coming back. 

(Fortunately, a lesser known player stepped forward that spring. His name was Gio Urshela, and he hit .321. Of course, we all figured 3B would be Miguel Andujar's spot for the next decade, and Miggy solidified his holdings that spring by hitting .347. Funny how things turn out, eh? ) 

Which brings us back to Kluber. Seriously... last night, he looked great! If he stays healthy, there's no reason to believe he cannot buttress the rotation. The Yankees signed him on the recommendation of Eric Cressey, their "Director of Player Health and Performance," a position they didn't have when Tulo roamed the clubhouse. They are following the advice of their in-house expert, who happened to work with Kluber all winter. It's a knowledgeable move, a thoughtful gambit. 

As was Tulo. 

So, here's the deal: The Yankees hit 2021 with an aging lineup, a handful of reclamation projects, a manager on a pacemaker and a shitwad of felony-grade stress. The great blogger Mike Axisa - (formerly of River Avenue Blues, now of RAB Thoughts, on Patreon - well worth it) - recently ranked the Yankees as the team in 2021 that faces the most stress to win it all - even more than the gold-plated Dodgers. He's right. The Yankees either win a ring this year or become perennial wild cards. They are in danger of becoming NYC's third most popular baseball team. (After the Mets and Seton Hall.) 

And at any time, their number two starter could signal the dugout, call out the catcher and walk off the field with a trainer holding his elbow. 

We must root for Kluber to lift the Yankees. But we can never rely on him. Not as long as the ghost of Tulo haunts Steinbrenner Field.  

Pace Yourselves...

There is no better surgical spot than Florida for pacemaker implants..

Nearly everyone living there is over 80 ( and has one), and the politics create the stress to need them. 

St. Joseph's Hospital is known for their aspirin and their " magnetic stimulators."  So Booney is in good hands. 

I just worry that Aaron wants to come back to work, far too early.  I think he should wait until fans are fully welcomed.  Or until Michael King pitches 7 shut-out innings. 

The "Mendoza factor" and team love will carry the day until he is fully ready, and calm.  He needs to pace himself, not rush back in.  This isn't a war.  This is a gentlemen's tussle for making it to the wild card, play-in game.  

It is like having a gibson or a martini. And some cannelloni.  That kind of pressure. 

We wish Aaron well.

As for the fans, remember this;  We Have Giancarlo for seven more years. He will spend a lot of that time right next to Boone. 

He is not alone. 

BOONE HAS TICKER TROUBLE

Will get pacemaker.
Would survive Gary Sanchez?
Next Aroldis Chapman meltdown... his last?
Shortness of breath?
SHORTNESS OF BULLPEN?

 

Searching for meaning in a meaningless universe: The Mike Ford Dilemma

 

The good news: Mike Ford had a meaningful double in yesterday's meaningless win over Baltimore. 

The bad news: He lashed it to right.

Among unheralded Yankees - those valiant "Next Man Up" secondaries who briefly saved the team in 2019 - few players last year flopped more rancidly than Mike Ford, who somehow managed to out-disappoint Gary Sanchez.  I'm not making this up. As impossible as it seems, Ford hit worse than Sanchez, a mere .135 for the pandemic season. 

He was, to put it bluntly, dreadful. Ford hit 2 HRs, fanned once in every five at-bats and - worst of all - drew only 7 walks in 84 plate appearances. Thus, he undercut his reputation as a cagy Kevin Youkilis-type, who draws pitchers into lengthy, soul-straining at-bats. 

In 2019, Ford drew enough walks to compile an on-base percentage of .350, and his Princeton pedigree suggested a shrewd batter, capable of cobbling together a lasting career. Surely, he was a smart enough fellow to regularly be adjusting his swing and outwitting the defensive overshifts that dared him to go the opposite way. 

Last year, he dumbed-out. Last year, Ford lashed ball after ball into a right field abyss, directly at well-positioned defenders. His shots to the gap were caught by second-basemen, who barely needed to move. As the season continued, his strikeouts mounted, his frustrations soared, and he devolved into a Fred Flintstone-shaped lug, swinging ever wilder and going nowhere - except for Scranton.

Ford turns 29 on the Fourth of July. My guess is he will celebrate it in Central PA, or on another team's roster. That would be a shame, because the Yanks are desperate for lefty bats, and if Ford could build on the numbers of 2019, he could help this team. Right now, if the Yankees need a LH pinch hitter in the ninth, they have a) Brett Gardner, b) Mike Tauchman, c) Jack Bruce, d) Tyler Wade, e) Ford. 

Not exactly John Blanchard, eh? 

But but BUT... he has to use the whole field. He has to punch singles through the left side. He has to draw walks. Now and then, he has to bunt. He needs to be smart. Jeeze, did he learn anything at Princeton? 

Searching for meaning in a meaningless universe: The Gary Sanchez Movie begins.

 

Picture this: In the dramatic finale, Gary Sanchez belts a monstrous HR - with one majestic stroke silencing all doubters and returning to Hall of Fame luster. As he toes home plate, teammates mob him, the sellout crowd goes wild, the John Williams score rises, and the celebration halts in freeze-frame, letting the credits roll. 

That's how Disney would portray it: Hope At Bat: The Gary Sanchez Story... starring Pedro Pascal in the title role, featuring Penelope Cruz, Cameron Diaz, the Rockettes, Adam Driver (as "Hal"), Tilda Swinton (as "Cash"), Seth Rogen (as "Yogi") and Nick Jonas (as "Young Gary.") Everything would end on the second day of spring training, the first of March.

And let's give Gary a hand. For he's a jolly good fellow... He caught Gerrit Cole (eliminating, for now, that troubling Cole-Higgy tryst.) He blocked pitches in the dirt. He didn't strike out - not once. And he homered, a grand, tape measure shot. As fine a start to 2021 as we can write... as long as he doesn't get the wrong idea. 

Actually, screw the homers. Know what I would have liked to see yesterday? A 12-pitch at-bat. A single to the opposite field. Or a bunt so well placed that he homer-trotted to first.  

In the upside-down world, yesterday's HR merely reminds us how much the Yankees have staked on Sanchez, who was certifiably awful in 2020. How bad was he? He was so bad that the Yankees couldn't trade him for what they'd get in return. So bad they had to keep him. So bad their only play was to conclude that - hey, nobody can be THAT bad. 

So, he homered yesterday - (along with Chris "Gittin outa Scranton" Gittins, who will probably never see an MLB at bat as a Yankee; too many RH hitters blocking him, including perhaps Sanchez) - livening a socially-distanced crowd and raising hopes, unless your name is Kyle Higashioka.

Let's hope it's a beginning, because it's not the end. For Sanchez, it's a long road back. Next at bat... perfect time for a bunt?

Gammonized by the Gammonites

So, I’m watching the game yesterday reveling in the joy and comfort that only baseball brings when I noticed a disturbing phenomenon. My internal monologue, normally limited to ponderings such as, “Will the weight of Aaron Judge’s new tooth throw off his delicate balance in the batter’s box?”, “Is Luke Voit continuing to shrink?” and, “How much does Aaron Boone hate talking to Michael Kay?" started to shift.

When Gleyber let a ball get by him that most shortstops gobble up easily my rational mind said, “It’s the first Spring Training game. Not only meaningless but he’s not in game shape yet which is totally understandable.”  

Ah, but much like the devil/angel on my shoulder schtick so prevalent in film and TV, a little Peter Gammons appeared on my shoulder and said, “He doesn’t have the range. He’s really a second baseman. This poor play at shortstop will effect his at bats.” That Gleyber got a hit in his next AB didn’t matter. 

It happened on the first play of the game as well. Aaron Judge let a ball drop in front of him instead of diving full out to get it.  “Smart. He’s fragile. Afraid to dive. It’s only a matter of time.", sez me, “The yoga will save him!" spoke the little shriveled up old man on my shoulder as he gummed some Cracker Jacks. 

The third time it happened Sanchez had gone down swinging on three straight fastballs.

I started to feel genuine unease. Not because the pitcher showed Sanchez no respect because he knew he couldn’t catch up to it. Not because he looked like a 38-year-old DH trying to find a walnut. Not because I worried about what was going to happen when they mix in a curve, and that the Yankees have made a huge mistake trusting this guy.

I felt unease because I heard the voice say, “First at bat, timing not down, pitchers ahead of the hitters, 3^rd in baseball in exit velocity…” 

And I thought, “Yeah, it’s early. He’s in the best shape of his life. He’s been working with the Yankee hitting coaches all winter to adjust his swing. Exit velocity IS an important statistic…”

And with increasing horror, bringing in Aroldis Chapman in the 9^th inning of an elimination playoff game level horror, I realized I’d been Gammonized by the Gammonites.     

 

Critical points made by John and Suzyn in their first broadcast of 2021

1. The first game of spring training is not all-important.

2. If you study last year's numbers, you'll find a lot of really great players had terrible seasons. Really awful seasons. Really, really bad. But that doesn't mean they won't rebound in 2021. Not by a longshot! (Wink, wink, Gary...)

4.  One real tragedy of the 2020 pandemic was that young Yankee prospects - such as  Oswald Peraza, who looks really exciting! - didn't get to play. They lost an entire year of development, and it will be hard for them to make it up.

5. Spring training add-ons will not receive personalized homer-hollers. For example, Rob Brantley - who hit the first Yankee HR of 2021 - did not warrant a specialized call. ("Rob... is on the job! Oh, Brantley, he is saintly!")  But Mike Tauchman - who homered moments later - remains "Mike Tauchman... the Sock Man." And of course, the two went "back to back... and belly to belly!"

4. Suzyn will handle the exhaustive work of noting in-game replacements. In the fourth, with hordes of new players checking in, John delegated the job to his capable First Lieutenant, though he did note the appearance of the exciting Oswald Peraza at shortstop. 

6. John will not claim to be perfect. After Tauchman's blast, he mistakenly called the game a 5-5 tie, until somebody whispered that the Yankees were still a run behind. He marveled at Suzyn's incredible ability to stay on top of the replacements - noting that he had to turn over his scorecard to find room for the names. At one point, he asked how she knew about the new Blue Jay players, and she replied that she saw them running onto the field. Uncanny.

7. That youngster, Oswald Peraza, can play shortstop like "the best of them!" And he's only 20!

8. Adam Warren has been with the Yankees many times before. That said, it's always good to see him back. 

9. It's great to see real fans in the stands, rather than cardboard cutouts and fake noise. Last year, John put up with both - what was a guy to do, complain? He's not a whiner. But he never liked them. For the record: real people beat cardboard cutouts.

10. If Oswald Peraza hadn't missed last year, who knows how good he might be? That young man looks special!

Day One Follies

 I missed the game because I forgot the YES network is channel 631 in LA.

And, we went out for a bagel picnic near the harbor.

So here are my first day follies:

1.  I was right on about Michael King ( lousy )

2.  I was right about Gary Sanchez ( nothing).

3.  I was right about Giancarlo ( more nothing ).

4.  I was right about the Yankees ( losers ).

See you tomorrow. 

PS. 

 I think Cole will pitch we'll enough.

Sanchez will not hit for distance ( he might get the day off ).

There will be talk about Urshela ( who isn't ready yet ). 

It will be a long day.