Schadenfreude Week, Day Two! "A billion dollars worth of Mets out there and none of them could pick it up."

It's sure to become a classic: Caustic Kevin Brown, somehow an MLB baseball color man, remarking on how three top Mets—Juan Soto, Francesco Lindor, and Bo Bichette—let a pop fly drop between them for a double last night.

One could, of course, say something similar to Caustic Kev. You know, maybe along the lines of:

"$15.7 million and you couldn't get past the second inning in two starts against Boston in the 2004 ALCS."

Or:

"$15.7 million and you couldn't win a playoff game where the Yanks scored 19 runs."

Or:

"$15.7 million and you couldn't keep yourself from slamming your hand into a wall."

No, I'm still not over it.

The Mets, of course, are just phoning in at the end of yet another, weirdly lost season. The Billion-Dollar Bumble completed a three-game sweep at the hands of the Orioles in which they were thoroughly punked. But it didn't really mean much.

The bigger questions involve the three featured stars.  

Francesco Lindor has been a good shortstop and given the Mets four good-to-excellent years at the plate (out of 6). He has been injured and bad this year, though. At almost 33, he looks to be in decline—and has 5 years left on his contract. (More on that, later in Schadenfreude Week.)  

Still would've been better than Volpe, though.

Bo Bichette, who is 28, got off to an awful start. He's been better in the second half, but still a poor season. (He can opt out after this season, but as he's due to make $42 M in 2027 AND 2028, he won't. More on that, later in Schadenfreude Week.)

Which leaves Juan Soto.

I know that many of you are now breathing a sigh of relief over the fact that we did NOT re-sign Soto. 

He is an erratic fielder, to be sure, and he has missed a bunch of games with injuries this year. Jane Leavy, who also knows a lot about baseball, wrote in Make Me Commissioner! that she was shocked to see that much money go to a guy she expects to be a DH in a few years.

And it is a lot of money—a helluva lot of money, even by the standards of professional sports these days. At least $661 mill and maybe more still owed on his contract, over the next 13 seasons. That's a crazy commitment.

Buuuutt...

I still think the Yanks were fools to let him go.

The Yankees have plenty of guys who get injured all the time, play an erratic game in the field, and are owed too much money.  (And Steve Cohen can afford it.  So can ol' Food Stamps.)

Just as Aaron Judge isn't the problem with the Yankees, Juan Soto isn't the problem with the Mets.

We didn't hear much about it because the team was so lousy, but in 2025 Soto finished 3rd in the NL MVP voting, and nearly had a 40-40 season (a real one, Jazz), with 43 HRs, and a league-leading 38 stolen bases.

This year, he's only played in 101 games, but he still has 25 homers and a .907 OPS.

Think we couldn't use that? From a lefty, in the Stadium?

Erratic as he is in the field, Soto's led the league in putouts for a corner outfielder 5 times in his career, and has repeatedly been in the top 10 for assists.  He has 104 stolen bases in just 134 attempts.

And yes, he IS a generational hitter. 

Lifetime .945 OPS. He is an on-base machine, with a .415 OBP that is currently tops among all active players. He already has 386 home runs.

His command of the strike zone is unmatched. You can see how uneasy umps are about calling a strike when he doesn't swing. 

Also—and this is not to be underrated on the current, semi-engaged Yankees—he's locked in on every at-bat, every time, even in all the useless games the Mets play.

His clutchness sparkles in October. He is a terrific postseason player, with 11 homers in 43 games, and a .927 OPS. In two World Series, he has 4 homers, a .326 BA, and a 1.147 OPS. 

Cashman, in a true small-franchise move, gave up four young pitchers and Higgy to get him for just one year, hoping the Yanks could win it all, and we would wave him a fond farewell in our ecstasy. 

Hey, it almost worked. But it was fraud, of course—and the Yanks should've done everything they could to keep this lefty juggernaut hitting before or after Judge for the last few, productive years of his career. Then he should see about getting another righty slugger, because Juan Soto—still jus 27—will be around for a loooong time.

Instead, we'll no doubt get the next Caustic Kev. Whoopee. 

By the time we get to Phoenix, they'll be rising. They'll find the note left hanging on their door. They'll laugh when they read the part that says we're leaving, cause we left that team so many times before.

Yesterday, it was nice to have the reactive Joe Girardi in the bullshit booth, positing in real time to Michael Kay that something in the Yankiverse appeared to be horribly askew.  

It happened in the 6th, when Aaron Judge didn't come to bat with two runners on base. Judge had fanned in his previous two at-bats, but nobody cared. He's Aaron Fukkin Judge, and this was Minneapolis, the Yankees' City of Perpetual Rebirth. Judge had homered the night before, and surely, another was coming. 

Then, instead of Judge - whose statistical doppelgangers include Hall of Famers Ralph Kiner and Willie McCovey - out popped Heliot Ramos, he of 55 career HRs, a recurring mathematical incarnation of Darryl Motley. You remember the Mot-Man, right? In essence, that's who we have to replace Judge.

"Very concerning," said Girardi the prophet. "Very much concerning. "

At that point, everybody in the world - except maybe MBS, the Saudi crown prince, who has other worries, such as the sound of approaching machine guns - collectively feared that Judge's recently fractured rib had begun to bark. If so, 2026 was probably lost.  

With Judge hitting, the Yankee lineup only blinks with Austin Wells and Ryan McMahon. 

Without him, they're the 1983 Runner-Up Royals, home to Motley, Don Slaught and Buddy Banancalana. They are a team a few games above .500 in a league where mediocrity makes the postseason. It's a terrifying difference.

The Yankees don't play today. (Thank you, scheduling gods.) They'll fly to Arizona, where the D-Backs - 7 games above .500 - probably won't reach the NL postseason. Judge's problem - if the Yankees can be believed - is right leg "tightness." If it's a muscle issue, the Sonoran Desert could be a good fit. The entire city of Phoenix is a sauna - weekend highs at 98, overnight lows in the upper-70s - a far cry from wool-socks-and-Carhartts Minnesota. 

Suddenly, the AL East race looks like a joke. Let's stop kidding ourselves:  The Yankees won't sweep Tampa. They're more likely to get swept. And Boston has accepted its three-game blood match, which will pit Cam Schlitter against Garret Crochet. In that game, every run will contain the consequences of a point in soccer. Two runs will make a game feel out of reach.

So, we can watch Friday night knowing that nothing matters, aside from the heat pad on Judge's leg. Today, that's the state of the Yankees. Very concerning, says the prophet. Where's Glenn Campbell? 

WIN GAME – GAME THREAD – º9/1∂/2∂ – "Rocky Rodons"

 

 

Schadenfreude Week Is Here! Day One: A Tale of Two Sluggers.

Picking up off El Duque's excellent post yesterday, I think it's high time we added "Schadenfreude Week" to New York's various "Fleet Week," "Restaurant Week," "Broadway Week," and "Library Week" extravaganzas.  

Yes, folks, it's that wonderful time in mid-September, with days and nights full of heady good weather, when we can shake off yet another lethargic, Yankees summer and dream of Octobers past. The Yanks have once again clinched a playoff spot and a winning record, and we can all wonder if maybe Brian Cashman isn't right after all that the postseason is just a crapshoot ("I, uh, didn't say that.") and we will win the whole World Series.

We won't. But at least, as our Peerless Leader points out, we can all thank the Good Lord that we weren't made Mets fans.

This week has been pure torture for our Metsian brethren (say that ten times fast), beginning with a Monday night game when, once the Polar Bear took his last swipe at a 300th home run, the fans started streaming for the exits—in a game tied 1-1 in the 8th.  

Last night, when Alonso got that 300th dinger, erasing a one-run Mets lead in the ninth against Kodai Senga, a failed starter who the Queens team is hoping to turn into their closer, Pete got a standing ovation and a curtain call—the only time I've seen anything like that since I was at the Stadium in 1982, when a returning Reggie Jackson belted a home run off no less than Ron Guidry.  

(Even Guidry later admitted that he was quietly applauding in his glove.)

The Mets went on to lose the game, remarkably, with two out in the 11th inning when A.J. Ewing, actually a terrific young outfielder, turned the wrong way and hit the centerfield wall, allowing one Coby Mayo (a lifetime .215 hitter), to belt the rarely seen, inside-the-park, standing three-run homer.

Oh, Mets.

Afterwards, the estimable crew on SNY's Sportsnite was divided over whether or not Mets fans should have given the Polar Bear his standing O. Sean Manaea, the Mets' starting pitcher on the night, seemed a little stunned afterwards, wondering—very cautiously—why it was the fans would do such a thing.

With all due respect to Sean Manaea, who lasted all of 5 1/3 innings last night, and is a 34-year-old, journeyman 84-73, 4.15 starting pitcher who has nonetheless accumulated nearly $100 million in that mediocre career, and who is actually making more than Alonso this season ($25 million to $21 million)—okay, I admit it, there's not a speck of respect for Manaea in here—this ain't State v. Tech.

Okay, college sports are now so professionalized that that's not a good analogy. This is not high school, it's not Little League. We're not root-root-rooting for the home team.

And what Mets fans did was actually a good thing: a proof that, contrary to Jerry Seinfeld's maxim, it's not just "rooting for the laundry." 

It seems like a moment ago that Pete Alonso broke Aaron Judge's record for home runs as a rookie, 53-52. Alonso was actually a year younger than Judge when he broke in, and for a while there was lots of speculation as to whether Alonso would be the greater star.

Well, that proved not to be the case. Alonso is not the all-around hitter or even the slugger that Judge is. He has never cleared a .900 OPS in a single season, much less his career. He does not steal bases, as Judge can and does, and he is a mediocre first baseman, where Judge is an outstanding outfielder. 

He strikes out less than Judge does—but also walks much less. He is much less injury-prone—despite getting hit a Mets-record 100 times with a pitch in his career—frequently playing every game on the schedule, but has not come close to winning a single MVP, as opposed to the three Judge won (and the four he deserved to win, you little cheating SOB, Altuve).

Alonso will also be 32 this December, and despite the excellent year he is having for the Orioles, it was not beyond the bounds of reason for Mets GM David Stearns—more on him, later in Schadenfreude Week—to not want to be stuck with a huge contract for Pete's declining years.

The really dick Cashman move by Stearns was letting the Polar Bear lope away, rather than getting something, anything in return. The result has been another, dismal Mets team that has not come close to replacing Alonso in the lineup, or even at first.

Yet who is the greater fool here? When Stearns was trying desperately to let Alonso walk the year before, the Yanks refused to take a one-year gamble on him—even though Steve Cohen had just stolen away Juan Soto (more on him, too, coming up in Schadenfreude Week).

Think Alonso, with his NL-leading 41 doubles, 38 homers, and 126 ribbies in 2025 just maybe would've got the Yanks to the Series again? Does a polar bear, uh, gambol on the Arctic ice?

News Item: Giancarlo Stanton may return as late-inning pinch-hitter for postseason.

 Giancarlo Stanton could return to Yankees this season

    —Meta, AI, and our other, electronic overlords

Reportedly, Giancarlo Stanton—who injured his left calf while taking a jog to rehabilitate his a right calf injury that kept him out of the lineup for four months—is "doing some hitting."

Speculation has arisen that Stanton could make a gutsy comeback in the mode of Yankees star Aaron Judge, and return to the Yanks as a "late-inning pinch-hitter" in the postseason.

We here at "It is high..." will keep you informed of all new developments in this fast-breaking story. 

As the season winds down, can the Yankees achieve recursive self-improvement? Ten existential questions about the 2026 team.

Between now and Oct. 3, here are 10 unanswered questions regarding A.I. Yankee slop...

1. Is Anthony Volpe the new go-to IF backup? Can he beat-out Cabby, whose HR the other night belied a long, grinding slump?

2. Is Spencer Jones our postseason CF? Grish could return around Oct. 1, but he wasn't hitting or covering much ground before the hammy screamed. Is Jones the new Bernie? (Who should be in the Hall.) 

3. Is Max Fried the new No. 2 starter? (Schlitter is the ace.) Gerrit Cole cannot seem to avoid HRs. Did Fried's outing last night push him up a notch? Or was it just Minnesota?

4. Is Carlos Rodon the new No. 3? (He pitches this afternoon.)

5. Does Giancarlo get a final shot at 2026? (This sounds ridiculous, but it is apparently for real.) In a three-game series, you shouldn't need 15 pitchers. You can make room for a base-stealer - (Duke Eliis in Scranton, 55 SBs?) - and maybe even a famous pinch-hitter. Stanton? 

6. Is Clarke Schmidt our new bridge to Bednar? (Sorry, Brent.)

7. Is Ryan Weathers our new situational lefty? (Sorry, Tim.)

8. Is 3B a platoon of Ryan McMahon and Amed Rosario? (Can Rosario field the position?)

9. Can Jazz Chisholm return? (And does he sit against lefties?)

10. Knicks in five? 

Squirrel-Free Game Thread - 09/15/2∂

TRACKING FOR ANOTHER WIN ?

ONLY IF MAX AIN'T FRIED 

 

Yanks clinch a meager prize, the postseason. But let's give credit to a NY team that is not the Mets.

Well, it took nearly 150 games, but here we are - tickets punched for a three-game October rumble with Boston - where the fate of humanity can hinge on a bloop. 

That's baseball, Suzyn. For six tortuous months, you crash walls and snap hamstrings like bungee cords, and then everything boils down to three games - maybe two - in a gathering darkness, which the Dodgers will rule, anyway.   

With the AL's second-best record, to fall in the wild card round would make 2026 a colossal Yankee disappointment. But today, as the Yankees nurse their hangovers, let us give thanks for a franchise that, all things considered, is not the Mets. 

Ten takeaways:

1. Instead of Francisco Lindor and Juan Soto, the Yankees are led by Aaron Judge and Gerrit Cole. End of discussion.

2. You could tease the stats for 2026 and argue that Lindor and Soto had superior seasons, but in terms of leadership, there's no comparison.

3. Soto might someday grow into the role of a de facto captain. He's 27 and will probably hit his way into Cooperstown. But he shall never escape the burden of being baseball's highest-paid player. That's not nuthing.

4. With a lockout coming this winter, and the entire 2027 season in jeopardy, Soto's name will become shorthand for "overpaid." And depending on how the lockout ends, Soto might wear that "highest paid" albatross for the rest of his career.

5. The huge reception Pete Alonzo received at Citifield - Mets fans deliriously chanted his name - shows the hunger for team loyalty beyond the bottom dollar. I wonder if Steve Cohen heard. 

6. Who can explain the Yankee mastery of Minnesota? But last night, you felt it all game, even when the middle innings looked like a vintage Yankee loss. (I.E. no hitting.) Somehow, you knew their bullpen would crumble. 

7. Great to see Aaron Judge finally hit that HR, signifying his return. He has 18. He needs at least 20 - pulling ahead of Jazz Chisholm (19), Paul Goldschmidt (18) and Trent Grisham (18). Of course, Ben Rice has 38. (Tied for 3rd in AL.)  

8. Some Gammonites are calling for Cam Schlittler to be the AL MVP, in part because Ron Guidry got screwed out of it in 1979. Certainly, Schlittler deserves the Cy Young, but let's not put him on a pedestal guaranteed to topple.

9. Last night, George Lombard Jr.'s double launched the Yankee rally. He's been in a deep slump, that period of Stygian darkness that all rookies experience. The Yankees must play him at SS. And he must hit.

10. There is ridiculous talk of Giancarlo Stanton returning as a late-inning pinch hitter. Dear God. This is insanity. Are the Yankees swallowing their own bullshit? We've seen Judge battling to come back. Why subject Giancarlo - and the fans - to shaking off so much rust? Bad idea.

Watch out for them Minnesotan Squirrels, Game Thread . . .

 

 

Thirteen games left. The end is near. The Yankees have run out of time.

This week, the Yanks and Rays face certified tomato cans (the Twinkies and homeless A's, respectively.) Barring a collapse by the Tampons - (getting swept by a team 38 games below .500, with MLB's third worst record) - the AL East race is, effectively, over. 

Once again, the Yankees will finish 2nd.

What about that upcoming four-game set against Tampa? The odds of the Yankees sweeping the Rays are roughly equivalent to those of Mitch McConnell unveiling an erection on the U.S. Senate floor. The Yankees will be runners-up.  

Ten takeaways from a day when three out of four of NYC teams - the Giants, Jets and Yankees - all won. Sorry, Mets.

1. Cam Schlittler should be a lock for the Cy Young, but this crapola about winning the MVP? Nope. He's the Yankee MVP, for sure. But Yordan Alvarez in Houston could win the triple crown. (He's two HRs behind Junior Caminero, with 40, and tied with Ben Rice, at 38.)   

2. By now, the tabs have secretly decided never to use one particular headline: "Hail Schlittler." 

3. Since returning, Anthony Volpe is 4-14, due to his amazing first night back, when he went 3-4 with a grand slam. Since then, he's 1-10 and reverted to the Volpe we remember. Yesterday, he made a fine defense play, throwing out the runner with a Jeteresque leap. I think one verdict is in: He can play 2B, defensively. 

4. But will he ever hit? He has the Minnesota series to start. Otherwise, Volpe Derangement Syndrome will return. At that point, he will disappear on the roster behind Jazz Chisolm and Amed Rosario. He'll be home for October.

5. You know who deserved a better shot this year? Oswaldo Cabrera. Guy homered twice yesterday for Scranton - 19 on the season, batting .287 at Triple A. He played three games for the Yankees - three - went 0-9, and vanished along with J.C. Escarra and their adorable CarShield commercial. Oswaldo is 27. I still think he will have a decent career. But not with us.

6. Note to the Captain: Any time now, sir, feel free to stop lunging and start hitting. Any time now...

7. Let's give Cooperstown Cashman credit: Luis Garcia Jr. turned out to be a great trade deadline pickup. We spewed hot bile over Cash's failure to improve our bullpen and catching situations. (Which remain problems.) But Garcia is the real deal. He's hit .307 with 7 HRs as a Yankee. We have him under contract through next season, if there is one.

8. The Yankees are two different teams: 

a) when Hendrick, Blackburn and Bednar pitch the final three. 
b) when the rest of the bullpen must pitch. 

Conclusion? A shitload of pressure - maybe too much? - hinges on Clarke Schmidt. 

9. The Jets and Giants are undefeated! That will grab a bunch of tabloid back pages through October. It could be the difference in our final race. 

10. Prediction? Knicks in five.

I'll have the rat feces, fries, and some of that water there

The Giants won. The Bills won. (As my father used to say, the only truly New York team since they don't play in New Jersey.)

Even the Jets won. The Jets. That's spooky.

Meanwhile, a woman dies from measles--"no vax, please, I'm enjoying the golden age"--and the Legionnaires are performing in the Bronx (they were so great with Elvis).

A good time was had by all. L'chaim!

Can't Argue with THAT, MR. BøøNE ! (GT–º9/13/2∂)

 

The Yankee bullpen "Circle of Trust" is shrinking into a dot

So much for the emotional pageantry of 9/11.

One hundred forty-eight games into the season, the world still cannot figure out the enigma that is the '26 Yankees.

But but BUT... it's hard to see a championship destiny for this team. 

Certainly not after yesterday.

Saturday, one batter in against the Mets, the Yankees found themselves behind. By the third inning, they were in a deep hole. By the eighth, they were on the verge of using a position player to pitch. 

This is what happens when you burn your entire bullpen in the first game of a series. It's a frightening omen of what's to come. 

Right now, the Yankees have a bullpen of David Bednar and the exhausted, stems-and-seeds pair of Brent Headrick and Paul Blackburn, both of whom look increasingly spent. Yesterday, it meant brining in Bradley Hanner, who has bounced around the minors since 2019, finally making his MLB debut in August. The game quickly spiraled out of control, and today, the Mets - a miserable team of wasted money and failed expectations - are today poised to win the most emotional three-game series of the year. 

Every Yank fan knows the reality:

This team beats tomato cans and not much else.

Yes, we beat Boston at home, a series that hinged on a trapped fly ball - an umpiring decision that could have gone either way. But the Yankees could not hang in against Houston and San Diego. We hoped the world would change when Aaron Judge returned. Thus far, it hasn't.  

Yesterday, Judge went 0-4 with a strikeout. Since returning, he is 3-14 with a walk. Everyone is quick to note that he's "still in spring training," and working back to form, and he's got nearly three whole weeks to get there. 

It doesn't look like the Yankees can catch Tampa. But they should be able to stave off Boston. That means a best-of-three playoff series with the home field advantage. Today, the Yankees could clinch an appearance in the postseason - a big nothing-burger for their fan base. Soon, the entire year will boil down to a Circle of Trust that right now barely exists.

Something to ease the pain of today's loss to the Mets . . .

The Game Thread, The Year is 202∂, The date is The Twelfth of September

 

 

 

The Soto-in-Hell, Volpe-Rising, Met-Yankee Continuum goes on

An iron law of juju is to always, always, always embrace good sportsmanship and never never never mock an opponent - at least until the ass wipes have boarded the team bus after being swept. 

Then, let the feces rain!  

On that note, let's withhold our wanton cruelty toward the Mets and their beloved superstar left-fielder, the smiling and warm-hearted human ATM, Juan Soto. Watching the Juanster grimace malevolently, while occupying LF like a butter sculpture of Trump, is a new 9/11 memory night that I shall cherish, at least through Sunday.

But nothing today and tomorrow could change my view of the great Soto auction of 2024: Thank God the Mets outbid us. 

Ten Takeaways from last night.

1. Anthony Volpe continued to hit - 1-4 with a single. Maybe, just maybe, his near future isn't at 2B? 

Clearly, Jazz Chisholm's thumb will decide Volpe's fate, hopefully by the four-game Tampa series. If Jazz can hit, the Yankees could try Volpe at 3B, where Ryan McMahone - (the Yankee, not the Onondaga County Executive) - has for most of the season pounded out infield grounders. We could learn why Volpe played both 2B and 3B at Scranton. 

2. Last night, both McMahon and Volpe went 1-4. McMahon drove in a run with a dink pop fly into left field. (Looks like a line drive in the box score.) If Jazz comes back with any vinegar in his swing, it might be McMahon who loses his job.

3. But let's be clear: Two games does not a Volpe resurgence make. To be anything more than an infield selfie, he needs to excel through the next eight games.

4. Is Carlos Rodon finally peaking as a Yankee? It's been four years. Last night, aside from the HR - (which is an automatic for Yankee starters this season) - Rodon looked - dare we say - in command? In fact, he looked like a better chance of pitching the seventh and eighth than the Yank bullpen.

5. For the record, in his fourth Yankee year, Rodon's ERA is for the first time under 3.00 - (that's 2.96.) At 33, he seems to be getting stronger. Before coming to NYC, Rodon was a three-time all-star with a no-hitter on his resume. Over the years in NY, he's been a steady disappointment. Dare we hope?

6. Speaking of the bullpen, Paul Blackburn and Brent Headrick are clearly showing signs of Boone Abuse Overuse. It's a bad time for Boonie to be channeling Scott Proctor. 

7. Ah, yes... there's a name. Scott Proctor. The man who torched his jerseys at home plate. There's a Name That Yankee for Joe Girardi to ponder, eh?

8. Last night's game hinged on one nutso play, and the Yankees were just damn lucky. With the bases loaded, Headrick snared a line-drive back at him, a ball that would have scored at least one run, maybe two, and rejigger the game. Damn, we wuz lucky. 

9. Spencer Jones botched another play in CF. Well - checks lineup, sighs - we have nobody else. Up the middle, the Yankees are a carnival of uncertainties - Wells, Lombard, Volpe and Jones. So be it. 

10. Afternoon game today. Prediction: Knicks in five.

Game Thread – 09/11/202∂

 

"I plead the Fifth!"

—"Point of order! Point of order, Mr. Chairman! Those lobster tails were foisted upon me by a very friendly server!"

—I see, Mr. Clarke. So how many did this fair maiden 'foist' upon you first?

—"Um the first foist was only, uh, one. One extra."

—For a total of TWO lobster tails, then. But did you not, in fact, RETURN to the crustacean counter?

—"Uh, well, yes."

—I suppose that charming wench made you do THAT, too?

—"Well, she was very nice..."

—And how many lobster tails did you have THIS time?

—"Um, I ordered...two."

—Two MORE lobster tails! And how many did she FOIST this time?

—"Uh, one. Just one! More."

—I see. So add them up, gentlemen! That is FIVE lobster tails in all! Five! And three of them even before the foisting! Have you NO decency, sir? At long last, have you NO sense of decency at all?

—"Uh, no. But, you know, they were free."

—And did you dip these foisted crustaceans into melted butter?

—"...i did..."

—And we have not even turned to the steak! How many pieces of THAT did you have?

—"Only two. They were very small. As were the lobster tails. Tiny, tiny little tails. Like those on a kitten."

—I see. And now may I turn your attention to the Candy Wall—

—(sobbing) "Oh, not that! Please don't go into the Candy Wall! I plead the Fifth! I plead anything! Just don't tell them!"

The real highlight, of course, was being so close to the action. (I swear!). McMahon is really a wizard with the glove. I was determined to get him fielding a hotshot, but of course, could barely get my phone up before the ball was in his mitt or past him. I have a newfound respect for sports photographers, as these shots might indicate. 

Meanwhile, L'Shana Tovah to those who celebrate, and may we never see another 9/11.

A glorious night in the Bronx leads to a solemn day in Manhattan. Ten Takeaways

For the record, Anthony Volpe does not qualify as a prodigal son. He never squandered an inheritance. He never renounced his family. And until last night, he never returned with much more than a fart. 

After last night, who does not feel an escape from Volpe Derangement Syndrome? Trouble is, we've been here before. 

Which comes next, the happily-ever-after? Or the morning after?

Ten Musings from last night.

1. Volpe's slam reminded me of what's been missing since early May: John Sterling's beloved homerun calls, which had become a Yankiverse parlor game. In case you forgot, here was The Master's first-ever call for a Volpean blast:

"Anthony Volpe! A spettacolo oggi! Ohhh the fox socks one to left!"

2. Ridiculous, right? Cringey? Still, Sterling's moments of pure joy conveyed a grand, eloquent innocence. And it has me wondering:

Would it not be a great gesture for Michael Kay or Dave Sims to remember Sterling with home runs call for each player - especially those who were on the team during The Master's final incarnation. (Thinking Judge, Grisham, Rice, Wells, Volpe...)

3. Yes, some would find this as blaspheme. Not anyone could do it, but Kay could, leaning into his own longevity with the organization. He'd have to make it clear that it was a remembrance of John, not an attempt to steal his bit. But with every HR call, people would remember the tradition begun by Sterling.

4. At the least, come next May 4, the anniversary of Sterling's death, could Yankee announcers celebrate him with homer calls? Dunno. But I do know this: You cannot predict baseball, Suzyn.

5. Regardless of what happens next, it was truly satisfying to watch Volpe's grand slam and curtain call. Plot twists are a major reason to follow this show.

6. Cams showed Jazz Chisholm wildly cheering Volpe's HR. Good for him. But it had to hurt. If Volpe hits over the next two weeks, Jazz becomes a platoon player.

7. On a night of hope for misgiven prospects, Jasson Dominguez botched a ball in RF and looks headed back to Scranton. For The Martian - (that nickname is starting to carry a twinge of mockery) - 2026 looks like a total loss. Like 2025 was.

8. MLB did the Yankees and Mets no favor by scheduling a subway series on the weekend of 9/11. It smacks of trying to exploit the city's pain. This weekend, the Mets can play with abandon, for simple redemption. If they lose, who cares? Meanwhile, the Yankees face a pennant race.

9. Max Fried's inability to last four innings is a real concern. We've got Schlittler, Cole and - gulp - Rodon? Yikes. Somehow, I see Will Warren pitching in a critical situation.

10. The Colorado Rockies look like a terrible team - and next season's pennant winner. One reason: An ascending 1B named TJ Rumfield, whom we gave away for Angel Chivilli. I recognize that Rumfield was blocked on the Yankee roster. But I'm amazed at how they never seemed to give him the time of day. You win pennants with great 1B. And Colorado might just have one.

G'bye

 

 

Everybody's high on consolation

Everybody's trying to tell him what is right for him, yeah

Boonie tried to bore him with a sermon

But it's plain to see that they can't comfort him

 

Sorry, Brian, for the imposition

He thought he had it, he had the strength to carry on, oh yeah

He needs a drink and a new position

Now it's up to Shelley, ooh, what will be

 

He's gone, he's gone

Oh he, oh he

He better learn how to face it

He's gone, he's gone

Oh he, oh he

He'd pay the devil to redo it

He's gone, and he's gone

Oh why, what went wrong?

He's Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack ! Game Thread – 9/10/2∂

 

Just a touch of Brian in the night.

 

We don't need the latest edition of Anthony Volpe to be Reggie. All we need is for him to be Brian Doyle.

Doyle was a Kentucky boy, drafted in 1972 by the Texas Rangers, who had bounced around their farm system for five seasons, until Texas traded him to the Yanks along with Greg Pryor—destined to be another journeyman middle infielder—for Sandy Alomar, Sr., in 1977.

By then, Brian Doyle was best known as the younger brother of Denny Doyle who, with his quintessentially Boston name, had gone to the Red Sox in 1975 and boosted the Sawx into the World Series, hitting a completely unexpected .310 in 89 games...before receding into the wallpaper of mediocrity that was the rest of his major-league career.

(Bill Lee later blamed Denny for making an error and failing to complete a DP that would have ended the sixth inning of Game 7, with the Sox still holding a 3-0 lead. Most other people blamed Bill Lee for being a horse's ass and throwing an eephus pitch to the next hitter, Tony Perez. But that's another Boston trauma story, heh-heh-heh.)

Brian didn't look capable of conjuring up even those 15 minutes of fame (and infamy). A decent but not spectacular glove, he could and would play anywhere in the infield. A slap hitter, he never hit more than 4 home runs in a minor-league season, generally batted around .250. 

Early on it looked as though he might have some speed, but his base-stealing ability quickly diminished and then was gone. During his call-up to the bigs in 1978, he attempted all of three steals, and was thrown out every time.

That call-up came about because the Yankees, stumbling through the first half, came apart physically (as well as psychically, under Billy Martin). Doyle filled in as he could, but did not provide much. 

Used mostly as a late-inning pinch-runner or defensive replacement, he managed all of 10 hits in 54 plate appearances—every one of them a single. He also drove in no runs and drew no walks, making his batting line a statistical anomaly:  .192/.192/.192. 

Then came his moment. The Yanks held a reed-thin, one-game lead over the Red Sox, in their epic comeback from 14 1/2 games back, going into the last weekend of the regular season. They were hosting Cleveland, which would finish a distant sixth that year, but in the Friday night game they were wasting a terrific pitching performance from rookie Jim Beattie, trailing 1-0 going into the bottom of the 8th (Sound familiar?)

Cliff Johnson led off the inning with a walk against former phenom David Clyde. Fred Stanley ran for him, and Mickey Rivers, playing the forbidden dance of small ball, bunted him over. Then Willie Randolph hit a high chopper to third. He beat it out—but pulled the dreaded hammy racing to first.

It was Brian Doyle's moment. Maybe it was in the genes somehow. Maybe the Doyles were like certain, monocarpic flowers, that bloom only once, at night, under an exact phase of the moon, then never again.

Doyle went in to run for poor Willie. The Yanks pulled it out as Thurman, Reggie, and Sweet Lou Piniella hit three straight singles (Those 1978 Yankees could beat you big and beat you small.)

Doyle alternated at second with Chicken Stanley for the last two games of the season, the heart-stopping playoff up in Boston, the four-game ALCS win over Kansas City. He had 2 singles in 7 at-bats vs. the Royals, drove in his first major-league run, drew his first major-league walk. Steady, but not spectacular.

The World Series looked to be much the same. Doyle started twice, and had a single in the first four games.

Then, Brian Doyle bloomed. 

In Game Five, he went 3-5, with a walk, as the Yanks lined 16 singles and beat LA, 12-2, without so much as hitting a home run. In Game Six, he was 3-4, including 2 RBI, and his first major-league double, which tied the game at 1-1. The Yanks were never headed, wrapping up the Series with a 7-2 win.

The World Series MVP went to Bucky Dent, as well it should have, Bucky batting .417 with 7 RBI, and fielding brilliantly. But Brian Doyle finished at .438, turning 4 DPs in the field, and making no errors.

That's all we need out of Anthony Volpe now. No, not .438, but steady, error-free play in the field. Make the plays you need to make, stay within yourself, bang a few timely singles, turn a DP or two, and it's all good. 

That's it. Just a touch of Brian Doyle in the night. Do that, and we will sing your praises down the years.

Lo and behold, after striking out on previous attempts, Anthony Volpe has yet another chance to claim his Yankee heritage

Remember that intoxicating fog of hope we used to lustily breathe every spring?

The Martian? Homer Jones? Uncle Ben's Rice? Oswald & Oswaldo? Estevan Florial? Volpening Day?  

Remember the stars we were promised - Sevy, Nasty Nestor, the Kraken? - and how, as soon as we came to believe, they were suddenly replaced by the G-Strings - Giancarlo, Gleyber, Grish and Gallo...? 

Wellp, here we are - September going on forever - losing sight of Tampa and flicking off Boston - and we're back to that eternal Vince Lombardi Rest Stop, near rollicking Ridgefield, awaiting one more shot at a new Yankee heritage. 

And, gulp, is this real? 

At SS, George Lombard Jr. 

In CF, Spencer Jones.

Somewhere, anywhere, Ben Rice.

And now, at 2B, Anthony Michael Volpe, the pride of Morristown. 

(Note: After viewing this list, it occurs to me that Jasson Dominguez might not be far behind. Yankee OFs - especially those over 6'7" - should be careful with their hamstrings.)  

It's taken 140 games and six months, but that glorious wave of youth we've heard about since 2022 is finally within sight, thanks to Volpe's recent power surge in Scranton and Jazz Chisholm's hyper-extended thumb. 

That sprain might not only end Chisholm's season but crush his remaining time as a Yankee. Last night, after Chisholm's injury was disclosed - (Jazz hits the 10-game IL with 18 to play) - Jose Caballero (hitting .071 this month) took over at 2B. But as soon as the Yankees announced Volpe's recall, the juju gods began weaving their Lady MacBeth/Cashman machinations. 

Volpe returns with a BA of .240 and 1 HR, a rather dreadful OPS of .660 and a lame SB/CS ratio of 7/4. The big surprise of the trade deadline was that he didn't end up packaged with a wide-receiver and sent to some corn city backwater. And frankly, the biggest reason why Volpe remains a Yankee is probably that nobody else wanted him enough to part with a pencil sharpener.  

But but BUT...  he's hit 10 HRs at Scranton, on a tear of late, and here he is - back and receiving what few failed Yankee prospects ever see: 

A fourth shot at redemption.  

In the movies, he learns the power of love from manager Woodie Harrelson and becomes a Yankee legend. Dunno about that. But once again, it's Volpe! Bring it on! One more time, we shed our caustic disillusionment and face the fact that we are insufferable believers. One more time. Could it happen?