Why?

Is Mauer in the Hall because he played consistently throughout his career? Because Donnie had a bad back? Because the HOF won't accommodate any more Yankees with a mustache?

Or is it just because HE WAS A YANKEE? 

Ya gotta wonder. This is getting some play on the twittex.

For a team claiming to be "all-in" on 2024, the Yankees are still straddling the line

Early this offseason, before the Yamamoto dominoes began to drop, the Yankees appeared to be launching a dramatic, all-or-nothing crusade in 2024. 

To exorcize last season's debacle, they horded players in contract years - Juan Soto, Alex Verdugo, Gleyber Torres, Clay Holmes, Tommy Kahnle - and stars approaching career twilights - Gerrit Cole, Aaron Judge, DJ LeMahieu, Andrew Rizzo, Carlos Rodon.  

If all goes well, this team wins the AL East. But add a few blips, and it could collapse sensationally - a meltdown that might even topple Brian Cashman, the front office, deep state Rasputin who has run the team 15 years without even conjuring a world series fart. 

But for a franchise so desperate to win, the Yankees are standing naked and flaccid at the point of making a full commitment. It's worth wondering: Are they real... or Memorex?

Look, we all harbor suspicions about the value of Blake Snell and Jordan Montgomery, and the chance of concocting another disastrous Rodon deal is as unsettling as dealing with a shirtless Jason Kelce after a 30-rack of Jenny Cream. But the Yankees have a glaring weakness in pitching, and that's before the inevitable first wave of injuries has hit.  

Want to see a team that cannot afford to lose in '24? Check out the Dodgers. As for the Yankees, they can sign all the thrift shop Luke Weavers in captivity, but unless they step over the line, they're just pretending, hoping the fans and media don't notice. 

MLB Pipeline issues its Top 10 prospects at SS; Yanks keep perfect zero streak alive

 They have not rated a Top 10 prospect for the following positions:

RHP, LHP, C, 1B, 2B, 3B, SS...

Onto the outfield. 

ARod overlooked again for Hall of Fame; can someone explain to me how David Oritz got in?

Officially, Alex Rodriguez is being spurned because of performance enhancing drugs.

Honestly, it's because he played for the Yankees.

There is nothing else to say. 

As they wait on pitchers, Yankees assert bold new fashion upgrades to unsightly road getups

And so it goes...

The Yankees, seeking to bury the last 50 years, will adopt a look from 1974, back when Ron Blomberg and Bobby Murcer wore flannels, except that these jerseys won't be flannel, they'll just look that way, without the embarrassing white outlining and sleeve trim that has tortured us ever since - and, if you're scoring at home, this is the first time in the history of this blog that "white outlining and sleeve trim" have appeared. And friends, there are moments - random, seemingly inconsequential moments - in the life of every dumb cluck fan, when you must stand back like Dostoyevsky, ponder the unponderable, and ask what the fuck is going on inside the Yankee hive brain? 

The team, the franchise, the world, is staggering toward a cliff, and somebody took the time to sell a uniform change - no more white outlining and sleeve trim - to Hal 9000. Was it a sister? A Steinbrenner granddaughter who went to RISD? Cashman? Boone? Did Luke Weaver, as a condition of his new digs, say, "Fuck them goddamm white outlines and sleeve trim, I aint playing for no fashion abomination!" 

Yes, we have achieved the moment in every offseason where the only change is change, itself. This particular tweak could have flown 20,000 feet above us, well into June before we noticed - yet here we are, absorbing it with our daily meds and media-driven despair. Last summer, a much more apparent fashion bomb exploded in our zeitgeist: The Starr Insurance money patch appeared where black armbands once memorialized Yankee immortals. 

So, the Yankees road costumes will no longer feature white outlines and sleeve trim, and that's today's news. Blake Snell remains in limbo. So does Jordan Montgomery.  Last month, their futures seemed imminent. But something happened - way up there, in the stratospheric realm of money - something we may never know. A week from February, the two best free agent pitchers - according to MLB track records - remain unsigned. A huge balance of power is still out there, waiting to land somewhere. 

If the Yankees were to sign either, they would quickly become the team to beat in the AL East, if not the league. 

Instead, the Yankees are tweaking their road pajamas. I am speechless. Calgon Bath Beads, take me away!

Yanks whiff again on top 10 3B prospects

 Have yet to place anyone on the MLB.com top 10 prospect for...

RH pitchers
LH pitchers
Catchers
Firstbasemen
Secondbasemen
Thirdbasemen

Of course, it means nothing. Less than nothing. I spit on prospect rankings. They are worthless. I'm going to bed. 

Who is Ole Munch, and why do the Yankees need him?

In the recent season of Fargo, a kilted, hulking, rather terrifying immortal from the good-ole days of witchcraft and leeches, wreaks havoc on the North Dakota MAGAscape. His name is Ole Munch, and he's got a Moe Howard haircut and the face of a Buffalo snow storm. He's an ancient sin-eater, one who devours the bad shit that rich people did in life, so they can go to heaven, while he walks an eternal hell. 

What does this have to do with the '24 Yankees?

Well, Brian Cashman needs a sin-eater. 

Specifically, he needs somebody who devours innings - 180 would do - and spare the Yank bullpen from what has become a late-summer tradition: The annual implosion. 

Last year, the Yankees wrangled 368 innings out of starters Gerrit Cole (209 IP) and Clarke Schmidt (159). That's not far from the output (440 IP) of the remaining rotation. The final three starters included:  

Domingo German, 108 IP
Carlos Rodon, 64
Jhony Brito, about 50 (swing role)
Nestor Cortes, 63
Randy Vasquez, about 30 (swing)
Luis Severino, 89
Michael King, about 40 (swing)

German, Brito, Vasquez, Severino and King are gone. That's about 317 innings, out the door. We've signed Marcus Stroman, who last year ate 136 for the Cubs. We're hoping for Rodon and Nasty Nestor to suddenly eat their weights. Either way, we'll need somebody - human or mortal - to gulp down another 180. 

And God forbid something happens to Cole or Schmidt, the latter who polished off far more innings than he'd ever done before. 

Which brings me to the current rumored mini-war over closer Hector Neris. Supposedly - and let's note that news stories could be Gammonitic tripe to make Food Stamps Hal look like a player - the Yankees are dueling with Stevie Cohen over Neris, the ex-Astro closer. Either way, Neris will be 35 this year, and in 2023, he pitched 68 innings in 71 appearances. 

Look, I'm all for signing bullpen lug nuts. You never have too many, and Clay Holmes might be running out of bandwidth. But unless the Yankees shore up the rotation, they can fill their bullpen with the cast of Glee, but it's destined to crash, come August. What they need is not another closer. They need an Ole Munch. 

So... can Blake Snell or Jordan Montgomery wear a kilt?

Yanks whiff on MLB.com prospects list at 2B

Keeping the streak alive, nobody from the Yankees made MLB.com's top 10 prospect list at 2B.

We've now fanned at RHp, LHp, C, 1B and 2B.

Might have a low-Single A, big bonus signee, guy at SS... Roderick Arias, perhaps? 

Yeesh. 

The NFL must stop games from being decided by referees. Here's a plan.

After watching 16 hours of football this weekend, I am sick of...

a) TV insurance commercials 
b) Betting parlays
c) games decided by penalty flags, (which, as it turns out, is every game.) 

Again and again, game-breaking plays get called back because a ref spotted something - usually a hold. But the replay shows nothing, or the kind of minimal violation common to every play. (The announcers generally side with the refs, unless the call is so awful that even they jump ship - and that happens several times per game.) 

In the violent pandemonium of the NFL, refs can throw a flag on every play. 

Next week's conference playoffs - and later, the Super Bowl - will be decided by a few flags so questionable that some fans believe the outcomes rigged. 

What can the NFL do? It could build a massive A.I. system, a Forbin Project that watches every player, every moment, every play. That would mean constant penalties - hardly a play without multiple flags thrown. 

Or, better... eliminate holding. 

That's right! When a WR breaks from the line of scrimmage, the DB should be allowed to grab him. The skilled receiver will free himself via a forearm chop or some other MMA-inspired, bone-breaking move. No more zone defenses. Man-to-man coverage. Holding allowed. On every play, let the big dogs fight!

I know what you're thinking: This means it will take longer for WRs to break free. No problem - because offensive linemen will be holding, too! They'll latch onto the DLs, or each other, and strengthen the pocket. With everybody holding everybody, the QB will have several extra seconds to find somebody open. Generally, the only person not holding or being held will be holding the football. And no flags!  

Okay, I know what you're thinking: Duque, this is - well - brilliant! You've cracked the code, you've hacked the system, you've saved the sport... but, um, won't this take some, you know, getting-used-to? 

Of course, it will, dammit! And that's why we have a pre-season. Jeez Grice, do I have to spell out everything? But think of this: Suddenly, for Giants' fans, there's hope at the end of the Daniel Jones tunnel. 

Free the holders, NFL. Free us from the refs. Yes, it will change the game. But at least the Super Bowl won't be decided by another flag. 

Next up, no more "Liberty biberty."

With Blake Snell still out there, it's time for Yank fans to decide what they stand for

According to the Internet, the Yankees recently offered Blake Snell a $150 million, six-year deal, and it remains the only piece of paper that the pitcher has received this winter with an actual dollar figure on it. 

Supposedly, Snell's nefarious manager - The Sheik - tore up the contract, dusted his hands with fentanyl, and now vows to destroy not only Brian Cashman, but Bruno Sanmartino, when they face off Feb. 3 at Desi's Oysterama in downtown Elmira, good seats still available. Incensed over The Sheik's antics, the Yankees signed Marcus Stroman, who had been a bad guy but is now a good guy. Are you tracking this?

Bottom line: Snell remains a free agent pitcher while the Yankees desperately turn over rocks in search of, gulp, free agent pitching. 

With all due respect to you, dear readers, I sometimes wonder what the eff is going on around here? Since when do we side with Food Stamps Hal Steinbrenner on money matters?

Remember, as Yank fans...

We should never worry about the price of players. That's for Brewers fans. 

We are the Billionaire Boys Club. When a player reaches free agency, even if we don't need him, we should demand him.  

We are supposed be "Jolene," from the Dolly Parton song. Homely small market fans should beg us hotties not to steal their man, just because we can. 

Now, I get it that some of you feel guilty about your incredible beauty and unlimited wealth. You want to help the poor, ugly, small marketeers. It saddens you to tear another rising star from his loving home, bringing him to NYC to be eaten alive by an unrelenting biomass of hookers, waitresses, actresses and sideline reporters. 

It's okay if KC signs a star now and then. But in the end, the Yankees are supposed to vacuum up players, even if we don't need them. Remember Jason Giambi? Remember Moose Mussina? 

I know what you're thinking: But Duque, the Yankees aren't the Yankees anymore. The Dodgers are now baseball's marquee team. The Yankees might not even be runner-up. You're thinking of how it was, not how it is.

Yeah, okay, I hear you. But when we accept that role, we are siding with Hal Steinbrenner in contract negotiations, something we should never do. When we accept Hal's frugality, we let him off the hook. 

That's why I say this: 

Blake Snell is still out there. Sign him, for God sake! Do that, and the Yankees open camp as favorites to win the AL East. Let him go elsewhere - and Toronto is a distinct possibility - and we will be chasing a wild card. And Hal will think we're okay with that, because he saved himself some money.

Namath Weeps

Sports Illustrated is gone. It was inevitable. Sports information and opinion is a 24/7/365 endeavor now. There’s no way a weekly, even one with great writing, could survive in this current market.  I haven’t bought one in years. Decades actually. 

I find it especially sad because there were certain magazines that defined and marked the stages of my childhood and now they are all gone.  The Street and Smith Baseball Annual… The first real sign of Spring. My monthly issue of National Lampoon. That grocery bag filled with Playboys that I found in a dumpster, some of which are still stuck to the bottom of a mattress in a landfill off Staten Island.

Then there was SI.  

Sports Illustrated was more than my weekly immersion into the world of sports. It was my introduction to journalism. To developing an understanding of , “Why and how.” That there were other games, other people, people outside of the purview of the New York dailies.

Stories. The 1968 Olympics. Curt Flood. Ali-Frazier. 

Stories that deserved more than five hundred words and, since a picture is worth a thousand words, some of the best sports photography ever produced. Sometimes I would look at the covers for minutes on end before cracking open the magazine.  

Today we have so much information, are bombarded with so many images, that most of it loses meaning. 

We no longer get the pleasure that comes with waiting. Saving up for an album and then having to play it over and over because, even if you didn't like it at first, you were invested and, as it turns out, the fourth song on the flip side ends up being one of your favorites of all time. 

Sports Illustrated was like that. You spent a week with it and, after reading the "important" articles, it still sat there waiting for you to keep going. To read a small blurb about a kid in Indiana named Mattingly who was setting high school records or, to get a sense of what it was like to be a Kenyan long distance runner. 

Stories... 

Namath Weeps. And so do I.

 

It's prospects ranking season, and for the Yankees, the early results show ups and downs

For baseball news, late January is the doldrums, the time of table-scraps. The monster free agents have signed, and the remainders are digging in, playing chicken, waiting for spring training injuries to juice the market. Frankly, it's amazing that last year's NL Cy Young winner remains unsigned, while the Yankees - claiming to be "all in on 2024," despite a dearth of pitchers - seem to be in a full thumb-twiddle, waiting for camp Tampa to open. 

Time is frozen, as the sports world watches - seriously - Buffalo?

So, how do Yank fans and MLB news munchkins fill this void? By pouring over lists of prospects, ranked, firewalled and released in slow teases, like dancers at the Bada Bing. Such icons as Baseball America and MLB.com have begun measuring the prospects of measuring prospects. Soon, the bloggers will join in, basing their rankings on other rankings, as the industry lines up mirrors to reflect each other. This creates a massive news turd-burger, which falls somewhere in meaning behind the Golden Globe awards and the SI swimsuit edition. 

(I must sadly note yesterday's apparent passing of Sports Illustrated, the sports mag of my youth, shredded and bled by some faceless new asshole billionaire. As a kid, every trip to my Uncle Paul's house meant securing a corner couch and pouring through SI. Later, my dad gave me a subscription, mostly so he could read it. Another one bites the dust, eh? Nothing lasts forever. Still, in a perfect world, we should be awaiting Kathy Ireland in a ballcap and little more. Instead... prospect rankings? Shoot me.)

So... PROSPECT RANKINGS, EVERYBODY! Hey, here are some takeaways...

1. The Yankees landed six on Baseball America's Top 100 - (Spencer Jones, Jasson Dominquez, #16; Spencer Jones, #47; Everson Pereira, #67; Roderick Arias, #68; Austin Wells, #71; Chase Hampton, #72.) Not bad. Tied for the most in baseball. The problem: Both Tampa and Baltimore also landed six each, and theirs generally come in higher than ours. Not quibbling. Just saying. 

2. The Yankees whiffed on MLB's  Top 10 catching prospects list. (MLB is releasing scattered position-by-position rankings.) Wells didn't make it, despite having a clear path to a 2024 platoon catching slot. The Yankees protected two young catchers on their 40 man roster - Carlos Narvarez (age 25, who hit .239 across three levels last year) and Augustin Ramirez (age 22, who hit .271 across three levels). Neither is ready. Frankly, for all their high draft picks and top international signings - a theme of the 2010s - the Yankees showed little success in developing catchers.   

3. The Yankees also whiffed on MLB's Top 10 list at 1B. This isn't as bad as it sounds, because if Wells doesn't cut it behind the plate, he might move to first. (Assuming he hits.) Three years from now, Aaron Judge will probably be our first-baseman, so you could argue that we don't need to grow our own. Still, it's nice to watch a stud corner infielder through the system. Maybe somebody will emerge. (Ben Rice, age 24, out of Dartmouth, who hit .324 with 20 HRs over three levels.) For now, though, we're sucking air down there.

4. Guess what - more shutouts in the top 10 lists for RH and LH pitchers. For whatever it's worth, Drew Thorpe - whom we traded for Juan Soto, didn't make the RH list. Not sure what this means, because these days, it seems as if every young pitcher is ticketed for Tommy John surgery. The key is having a large wave of arms, and letting the Fates whittle them down. On that note, the Yankees this winter have traded or lost nine young pitchers. Strength in numbers? Hard to see it.  We better hope for good health. In the meantime, Bada Bing.

Jeet, we hardly knew ye: The Jeter Downs Era with the Yankees has ended

 

And we shall know him as Oumuamua.

Rumor: Paul is Dead and Brian Cashman has been replaced.

Paul is dead. We all know he is. Don't think so? Then how do you explain this? 

Plus he's facing the wrong way on the back cover.  What more proof do you need? 

That said, Brian Cashman is no longer running the Yankees. I'm not sure if he has been deposed or is dead and is  now hanging out with the other Paul, Gabe, in where ever GM's go. 

If he is dead,  Cashman's soul is probably caught in some kind of purgatory where big stars choose other franchises and he's forced to overpay for lesser talent. An infinite loop where all of his trades bring back injured players that don't help. 

A place where he doesn't get fired, nor can he quit. Just an endless number of marginally winning seasons ending without a championship. Always derailed by freak injuries and players who never revert to the mean.    

But, whether dead or simply replaced, he is no longer the GM of the Yankees. What proof do I offer? Consider yesterday's "press conference".  

According to the Athletic 

"The New York Yankees general manager spoke with reporters via video conference Thursday afternoon, just an hour after the club introduced starting pitcher Marcus Stroman as its newest signing. But because Cashman was driving, he didn’t appear on video."

He didn't appear on video because his replicant is still healing from his plastic surgery. 

Here is a quote from the call...

“I think our team overall is going to be a constant evolution. We have a very strong team in my opinion, but we always look to improve upon it where we can and when we can." 

Uh, team? When was the last time Brian Cashman used the word team? Isn't it, product? 

 "I think we’re improved, but it doesn’t matter what I think."

It doesn't matter what I think? This from the self proclaimed smartest man in the room? 

And here's the kicker... I got a hold of the audio of the press conference and played it backwards and can swear I heard a message straight from Purgatory... 

"No number 28. No number 29. No number 29. No number 29. No number 29. No number 29. No number 29. No number 29... and "There's-a-hole-in-Left-Field... forever." 

"The setbacks were largely attributed to injuries that plagued Carlos Rodon’s debut season. A lack of an adequate "on-ramp" into the season, as both Rodon and the Yankees acknowledged, contributed to the challenges he faced. However, there is a sense of determination to address these issues and set a positive tone for the upcoming season."

The Brian that Wouldn't Die
(courtesy of Above Average)

Mm-mm. Tell me more, Dr. Kevorkian...

As we grope towards February, I'd almost forgotten the sweet, reassuring backrub of offseason press clippings, the comforting crapola of knowing that no one is hurt, that we have yet to lose, and that every returning lug nut will soon emerge from his winter cocoon looking rock-ribbed, hungry and "in the best shape of his career... "

In upstate New York, January is a best-forgotten Hellscape, unless you actually care about the Golden Snowball (see below), enjoy shoveling the roof, and savor speculative news stories about what Taylor Swift might do this weekend in Buffalo. The world is bonkers. The Houthis are about to learn why Americans don't have free health care. Did Kanye really have his teeth replaced by Titanium dentures? And what if the Academy snubs Barbie? Do we hang Mike Pence?

Syracuse has fallen 22 inches
behind Buffalo. Fire the mayor?

But but BUT... it just doesn't matter. 

Carlos Rodon and Nestor Cortes have arrived in camp.

I can't tell you what this means for the upcoming season. Not because I can't find the words. I just don't fukkin know. Because there is nothing to know. They've shown up in Tampa because a) Fargo ended, b) the temperature dipped below 40, or c) the eaves need clearing, and last time they climbed a ladder, they fell into the prickers and needed stitches. There's always a reason. 

So here it is: The unbridled hopes of mid-February, served via Door-Dash, four weeks early. Bathe in it. Drink it. Let the healing waters boost our vim and shrink our skin tags. Spring is not around the corner, not even close. But Carlos Rodon's 2023 season is now officially last year's problem. That 6.85 ERA? It's old news. And let's forget that Nestor appeared at a Trump rally. That was last year. He is once again Nasty. 

Yesterday, the Prophet himself - Cooperstown Cashman - posted from the laboratory where he is being kept alive eternally. He spake these words: 

"I think we have a good rotation if everything goes right."

Sums it up, eh? Now, about that bullpen...

The Elephant in the Room

 I have remained relatively silent as the Yankees have vomited ideas all over themselves during the " off season."

But the obvious misjudgment so far is this:

1.  We had a legit, "gold glove" super star in right field ( Judge ). So the Yankees "idea' is to move him to centerfield, for which he is neither well-suited nor close to being a gold glove.   

2.  We moved the earth to sign a legit 4 tool guy, to make up for the fact that Stanton has become a 1 tool guy. 

 Unfortunately, Soto's missing tool is called " outfield defense."  So, the Yankees will start him in RF.  Now we have weakened 2/3rds of our outfield.

3.  In LF, we have the disgruntled, now beardless Vergdigo, whom many say is a worse teammate than Josh Donaldson.  He can't run  and he has a modest arm.  But if he hits .250 we'll all drink champagne. 

So while the Yankees tell us they have strengthened the team, they have built an outfield defense that ranks between poor and medium. Not the sign of a champion.  

And we haven't even speculated on what happens if one of these starters gets tweaked. We'll probably wind up with our back-up catcher playing CF. 

Luckily,  Dallas was embarrassed by Green Bay, and the Eagles collapsed.

So all is well until the Yankee games begin. 

Apparently, the Yankees will hit spring training with the current OF conundrum

Yesterday - for good, clean fun - we pondered the Top 10 Yankee "IF"s for 2024, and I must say: It's one fine, sun-kissed, pants-pissed, limp-wrist ground-up grist shit-list. 

But but BUT... we neglected one key "IF," which has been happily soaring about 20,000 feet above the chattering Yankiverse: 

In their current incarnation, the Yankees apparently expect Aaron Judge to play about 120 games in CF, and - basically - this is madness. 

A day after waiving OF Oscar Gonzalez to make room for Marcus Stroman, the Yankees are down to eight OFs - one fifth of the 40-man roster. And the nominees for Best Actor in a Limited OF Conundrum are: 

Trent Grisham, 27
Aaron Judge, 31 
Everson Pereira, 22
Juan Soto, 25
Bubba Thompson, 25
Alex Verdugo, 27
Giancarlo Stanton, 34
Oswaldo Cabrera, 25

And the winner is... Baltimore.

For now, Grisham stands as the fulltime, defensive CF. But he swings a toothpick. Soto and Verdugo, our new LH sluggers, will man the corners.  In the vast, pastoral glen of Mickey, Joe and Bernie, the Yankees apparently plan to use their franchise player, their best hitter, their captain - surely the largest biomass ever to patrol centerfield in MLB history - Aaron Judge. He is a legitimate Golden Glove in RF, where Soto is - well - so-so, at best. We will have Judge sprinting gap to gap, coast to coast, pitch after pitch, game after game, and this apparently is no concern?

Lately, we've seen a parlor game on Twitter (or X) where Yank fans work up erections over the batting order. It starts with Verdugo, peaks with Soto, and ends with Volpe, whom everybody secretly still envisions as the Second Coming of Jeet. We ignore the rotation - assuring ourselves the Yankees should hold the line on spending for, say, Blake Snell. (Do you realize that we are exhibiting symptoms of the Stockholm Syndrome, assuming the views of our hostage takers.)  

Okay, so be it. So let me just add another "IF:" 

IF Aaron Judge can last 120 games in CF, the Yankees will be fine. 

And if he can't... that is, if he tweaks a gonad, or runs into a wall, or just blows a gasket from trying to cover an entire Zip Code, well, we can take that wonderful batting order and add Bubba Thompson to the mix. That may happen away. But let's be honest with ourselves: Right now, the Yankee OF out of whack. Let's not claim we weren't warned.  

Glitch in the Matrix? As balloting closes for the Oscars, the Yankees release Oscar Gonzalez

 

They needed to make room for Marcus Stroman.

Top 10 Yankee "Ifs" for 2024

Don't look now, but while we've been pondering the rise and fall of humanity, the wily Yankee brain trust has been quietly assembling some of baseball's greatest IFs. 

To win it all in '24!, all we need to do is turn a few of these IFs into DONEs, instead of the usual ANDs or BUTs. 

But but BUT... let's face it: IFs are bastards. Every team has a bunch. The Yankees currently face questions about pitching, infield and outfield - (Judge in center, seriously?) - and IFs have become the currency of hope. 

Here are the IT IS HIGH current Top 10 Yankee IFs List... ranked according to the John Mayberry Scale of Maybe. 

The Yankees can win in 2024, IF... 

10. Oswaldo Cabrera learns to hit.

9. Austin Wells proves to be a MLB catcher.

8. Clay Holmes can last a year as closer. 

7. Tampa loses Wander Franco due to his, um, proclivities. 

6. Anthony Rizzo's noggin recovers.

5. Anthony Volpe stops trying to be Aaron Judge.

4. Giancarlo has a comeback season.

3. Rodon pitches like 2022.

2. Soto hits as we expect.  

1. Judge and Cole stay healthy.

Hmm. You know what? That's a shitload of IFs.

The Jeter Downs Era could soon end: Is he the Yankee Oumuamua?

You've probably heard about the massive interstellar turd, dubbed "Oumuarmua," which buzzed our solar system in 2017, prompting one Harvard know-it-all to claim it was a space shit ship, a strange visitor from another planet with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men.

Barring a Twilight Zone "To Serve Man" live sequel, we'll never know whether Oumuarmua was a dead rock or alien probe. It came and went - outa sight, outa mind - and humanity had better things to do, like genocide and stuff. 

But the Yankiverse may soon see the twilight of our own Oumuarmua - the famously named Jeter Downs, who signed with the Death Barge on December 19 and might be gone before his first month anniversary.

Downs is the 25-year-old former Redsock prospect and lynchpin in the Mookie Betts giveaway/trade of 2020. Thus far, in his brief career, he has bounced around like a superball in an elevator: We are his fifth MLB franchise, counting the Reds, Dodgers, Redsocks and Nationals. 

He's a glove SS who just hasn't hit. (MLB 50 plate appearances, .182.) When the Yankees plucked him off waivers, everyone at IT IS HIGH had a grand chuckle, because we now had both Downs and Alex Verdugo, two of the three pieces of bounty Boston received for Mookie. Ha ha! Few life events bring as much joy as a certified Redsock fiasco. Downs and Verdugo can remind us that, however awful the Yankees may be, Boston might even be worse. Ah, the little things in life!

But our Jeter Downs Era might soon end, and the culprit could be - gulp - Luke Weaver, a cold reminder of our ongoing pitching kerfuffle. Weaver is an earnest but pre-owned, 30-year-old swingman, who will join a Yankee staff that, entering 2024, could be mistaken for that of a 4th place team. 

Right now, the Yankees have 42 players earmarked for their 40-man roster. When Marcus Stroman and Weaver pass their physicals, assuming they can turn their heads and cough without fainting, they will immediately join the team, and two current members will disappear.

Right now, there are three most likely to go:

Oscar Gonzalez, a 26-year-old OF.
Bubba Thompson, a 25-year-old OF.
And Downs, the 25-year-old SS. 

I won't waste your time by speculating. Who knows? Downs might survive the current crunch, but it's hard to believe the Yankees are done signing players. They'll probably add, at least, a bullpen lug nut, rather than let such a thin staff threaten the season. Downs looks like a candidate to disappear, like Oumuamua, into vast interstellar space.

Of course, he might pass waivers and land in Scranton. You never know. Either way, we had good fun, mocking Boston for a few weeks. In that regard, he's done his job. Wherever the interstellar winds guide him, I say, "The universe beckons, o, Oumuamua! To infinity, and beyond!"