Is Jasson Dominguez the new Jackson Melian, or the new Estevan Florial?

Before the cheating scandal, the big Yankee news was that Baseball America - the ultimate ranker of wankers - had named 16-year-old, switch-hitting OF Jasson Dominguez as the Number One Yankee prospect. Top dog in the system.

The BA write-up on Dominguez gushes with legend-building hope, stroking the prospect erection of every secret-14-year-old fan; it reads like the jacket from a beefcake romance novel: 

"... advanced hitter... low chase rate for someone his age... strong hands, wrists and forearms... power from both sides... exit velocities of up to 108 mph..."

Yowzer! He's practically Fabio. Now there's a cabana boy that Jerry Falwell Jr. can appreciate! 

Listen: I don't want to be a downer here. Prince Hal has shelled out the biggest bonus for a 16-year-old Latino in the history of 16-year-old Latinos. Every fan worth his lucky fork is projecting Fabio - uh, I mean Jasson - in the 2022 Yankee lineup - (he'll be 19) - if not in the 2044 Hall of Fame class, (which I probably will not live to see.) 

Of course, this is decadent Yankee fantasy, and in the privacy of your bedroom, I suppose there's nothing wrong with it. Still, it's sort of exploitative and desperate, because Yankee prospects come and go, and most of them end up  sinking without a bubble. Remember Jesus Montero? Remember Ruben Rivera? They were BA Top 100s. My recollection is that Rivera reached BA's Top 5. He's now remembered for stealing Jeter's glove.

Insert sigh here. These guys are simply meant to our hearts.

Mostly, I'm thinking of Jackson Melian, a Venezuelan kid who couldn't miss. In 1996, the Yankees signed him - age 16 - to a $1.6 million contract, the highest ever for a Latino teen. His Dad had named him after Reggie Jackson. He was one of Scott Boras' boys, a world class swimmer, said to have given up a shot at the Olympics to play baseball.

Out of the shoots, he made the BA Top 100, clocking in at Number 40. (Keep that in mind when Dominguez gets rated. Will he beat Melian?)

Jackson bumped around the Yankee farm system, hitting around .265 with mediocre power. He was dealt to Cincinnati in 2000 with Drew Henson, Ed Yarnall - (both prospect legends with their own histories) - and Brian Reith for Denny "Train Whistle" Neagle. Melian bumped around the Reds and Brewers systems and actually re-signed with the Yankees as a minor league free agent in 2004. From there, he tried the Braves, Tigers and Astros. Nothing. He never reached the Majors.

One other thing about Melian: I still remember the moment of silence the Yankees held at Yankee Stadium in late August of 1988, the day after Melian's parents had died in a car crash. They'd been following the Yankee farm club in North Carolina. I don't know how a kid recovers from such an event. I'm not offering an excuse; maybe it had no effect on his overall career. But it happened. Whenever I write about Melian, a moment of silence is in order. 

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please rise for a moment and remove your hats. 

........

Thank you. 

Maybe a more meaningful comparison to Dominguez belongs to Esetvan Florial, who last year was the Bull Goose rookie in Camp Tamp, and who then slogged through a miserable, injury-laden season in the lower minors. Last year, Florial ranked Number 2 on the Yankee list. This year, he doesn't even make some of the Top 10s. It's a make-or-break season. He either hits, or he'll start to slowly disappear like superheroes on Thanos' hit list.

Remember Jose Tabata, who's wife was old enough to be his mom? Or Jorge Mateo, the fastest Yankee in the system? Or Dustin Fowler, who in his first-ever MLB game wrecked his knee on a metal protrusion at Comiskey Park, bringing Joe Girardi to tears. 

These prospects, they raise your hopes and then break your heart. 

All Hail the 1948 Yankees! Wait, WHO???

Amongst the revelations regarding Cora-gate is that only three teams in major-league history have managed to lead their league in both slugging average AND fewest strikeouts.

They are:

2017 Houston Astros

1995 Cleveland Indians

1948 New York Yankees

Since the other two cheated (the Indians were obvious juicers), ONLY your 1948 New York Yankees have done this legitimately.

The '48 team remains one of your more obscure version of the Bombers.  They won 94 games, but finished third in a torrid race with two other superb team, the Indians and the Red Sox, who finished tied for first that year.  (Before the "Denny Galehouse" playoff.)

Those Yanks had a .432 SA, and just 478 strikeouts.  They were led by Joe, Joe DiMaggio (of course), who had 39 homers, 155 ribbies, and hit .320; Yogi (98 ribbies, .305), and Ol' Reliable, Tommy Henrich, who had 42 doubles, 25 homers, 100 ribbies, and hit .308).

NOBODY on the team struck out more than 86 times, and only two guys fanned more than 67 times.

The 1948 team even had the second-best staff in the league, having put together the Big Three—Reynolds, Raschi, and Lopat—that was about to lead them to 5 straight titles.

So what didn't they have?

Well, their bullpen wasn't great, after they had worked Joe Page nearly to death in winning the 1947 World Series.  And Cleveland had more starting depth thanks to Gene Bearden, a 27-year-old, knuckle-balling rookie who went 20-7, with a league-leading, 2.43 ERA.

He pitched a complete-game win in Fenway in the playoff, then threw a shutout in the World Series and got the save in the clinching game.

Just two years before, Bearden had been a top prospect in the Yankees' system, but was traded for back-up catcher Sherm Lollar, because the Yanks didn't fully trust Yogi.

Also, Cleveland had something else the Yanks didn't have:  two of the very first black players in the American League, Larry Doby, who hit .301 to start an excellent major-league career, and the great Satchel Paige, now (probably) 42, but still good enough to go 6-1, 2.48, with 2 shutouts and a save.

The moral of the story?

Never trade a promising young pitcher for a back-up catcher.  Especially when you already have Yogi on your team.

And don't be racist dickheads.

Thank you.

The week that changed everything

Once upon a time, the Houston Astros were adorable, and the Boston Redsocks represented lovable underdogs, everywhere. Disney caricatures. This was bullshit, of course, but nobody cared: It played well on TV: Two long-suffering, slightly rebellious franchises, battling the evil mega-markets of NY and LA. All you had to do was listen to Joe Buck - or, for that matter, anyone.

Well, last week, whatever vestiges of their ginned-up innocence crash-landed in the garbage bins of Twitter. Now, instead of the Astros symbolizing Houston's recovery from the flood, or the Redsocks restoring hope after the Marathon bombing, both championship teams will be remembered along with allegations of cheating. Funny thing, Karma. 

Both teams will piss, moan and accuse - we haven't scratched the surface - but their times are up in the airbrushed spotlight of public approval. 

That could make each team especially dangerous in 2020; to save their withering reputations, both must win. Make no mistake: Last week, the Yankees' path to a world championship did not get easier.

Still, the week changed everything. On that note, I direct your eyeballs to Tyler Kepner's thumb-sucker in today's Gray Lady. Kepner, in magazine-length mode, contacted a few retired and/or veteran players - rarities who thus far are willing to comment. Some barn-burner quotes:  

“When you’d go to Houston, it always seemed like they were on pitches,” [former Oakland catcher Stephen) Vogt said. “As a catcher, when you see your pitcher execute a perfect slider down in the zone with two strikes and someone doesn’t even flinch at it, you start to get alarm bells going off in your head. I spent a lot of time wondering if I was doing something in my setup that would be tipping pitches to the other team.”

“Now you’re telling me that could have potentially shortened my career or sent me back down” to the minor leagues, Indians pitcher Mike Clevinger said in a video posted to YouTube, “because they knew what I was throwing when I was in their park?”

“It’s time for the players involved to step forward,” the veteran reliever Jerry Blevins tweeted. “Take your lumps publicly. Your name is coming out sooner or later. Maybe there’s some integrity still in you somewhere.”

Blevins is right. Soon - like, this week - every past and present MLB player will get his shot at the microphone. A dam is about to break, and a lot of angry players - especially pitchers - are going to weigh-in. It's going to get crazier than ever. But make no mistake: Last week was 2019 B.C. (Before Charges). Today, we are in 2020 A.D. (After Disclosures.)

I Know Where They Are Hiding The Electronic Devices !

Take a look at this Astro and see if you can guess where the transponder is hidden :



The Yankees have had no such problems because of our clean shave policy.

We also have fewer player with lice.

Unlike the red sox and Astros.

Lice ridden cheaters.

I say: "re-write the records and strip them of their titles. "

Just put in the books;  " MLB declares there was no world champion this season because the team that won the games cheated. "

Then list the Red Sox and the Astros and the years when they ( supposedly ) won the series.

We could make a plaque for Cooperstown.

It could be rigged so that every time someone touches the plaque, they experience " an electronic buzz."  Just like Altuve did.

We Can All Rest Easy

I don't mean to interrupt the discussion about those no good, dirty low-down cheatin', body-buzzer wearin' Astros but, according to a Boston Sports Radio Podcast, Alex Rodriguez and Curt Schilling have kissed and made up!

I'll pause for a moment to let that sink in.  

Yes, it's true.  The following news story appeared in this morning's "Rhode Map", a special online edition of the Boston Globe featuring matters of interest to Rhode Islanders:

It turns out that the 38 Studios debacle did some good, after all: It helped repair the relationship between former Red Sox star Curt Schilling and former Yankees third baseman Alex Rodriguez.

 
In an interview on The Gerry Callahan Podcast last week, Schilling said he made amends with his old rival during spring training a few years ago after reading a story in ESPN The Magazine about how Rodriguez was preparing to have a conversation with his daughter about the steroids scandal that likely cost him the all-time home run crown.
 
“As a father, I sympathized with that,” Schilling said. “And I had to do that with my family and my kids with 38 Studios. I didn’t cheat or anything, but it was embarrassing. And I realized that I never wanted anybody to feel the way I felt in front of my kids.”
 
The two had been feuding for years – dating back to the great Red Sox/Yankees rivalry in the early 2000s – but Schilling said he apologized to Rodriguez that day.
 
It may take a bit longer for Schilling to repair his relationship with Rhode Island taxpayers, but there’s some good news on that front as well: The state budget that Governor Gina Raimondo proposed Thursday includes the final $12.5 million payment to 38 Studios bondholders.

Imagine that!  A-Rod and Sir Curt Catsup Sock have buried the hatchet!  Woo-Hoo!

Don't you just feel tingly all over?

As a Rhode Island taxpayer, please pardon me if I don't join in the singing of Kumbaya, which will undoubtedly start pouring forth from every street corner between Southie and Morningside Heights now that the news is out.

When Aroldis Chapman is trolling you on Twitter, you're at war

Yesterday, this ditty popped up on the Interweb. 

Don't bother clicking. It's just a screen shot. What matters is that Aroldis Chapman appears to have joined the global online conga line of fans joyously ripping the Astros. It's the Ice Bucket Challenge, but with piss. And it's a sign of the impending meme war. 

These days, it's gotta be tough, being a fan of Jose Altuve. Your watch your guy, one of the most inspiring athletes of this millennium, being bashed from all sides, even from someone who not long ago wore his own pariah horns. I mean, taking shit from Aroldis Chapman... him of the bullet-ridden garage door...  wow.

Of course, it could be a fake Twitter account. Aren't all celebrities required by law to have fake accounts? The internet doesn't require guarantees of authenticity - and on Facebook, good grief, lying is legal. At this point, who cares if it's really Aroldis? We've created a world where facts are optional, and truth is determined by who makes the best viral memes, or yells loudest into their echo chambers. What if Houston's owner simply doubled-down on his team, cried "WITCH HUNT," and sued MLB and its "Yankee-appointed commissioner?" The case could reach the Supreme Court by 2022, the Justices might be Astros fans, and by then, Houston might have two more world championships to celebrate. 

But here's the thing: 

Over the last two days, a witch hunt did emerge, sort of...

Claims that Altuve and others may have wore electronic buzzers - making them hugely complicit in the scandal - went viral, without one actual live person making an accusation. Everything stems from a fake twitter account and a Reddit-style prosecution, based on videos,and photos, none of which prove anything. It's amazing how fast it spread. It's crazy. As a fan, it's intoxicating.

Listen: I hate the Astros. I hate how they built their team - by tanking for practically a decade. I hate their players, their owner, their uniforms. Thus, it's been joyous fun passing along these accusations, as they roll off the assembly line. Plus, we've got Boston and the Mets, frying in their own greases! It's the Tri-fecta! What's not to love? It's open season on Yankee arch rivals and - dammit - they brought it on themselves, because they did cheat. Load the cannons, boys! Fire at will!

But still... something screwy is happening here. We're becoming the sports version of Infowars. And Altuve, guilty or not, may never live this down. 

I gotta believe that if any Astros did wear electronic devices, it will come out, eventually. If it's true, they will need to serve suspensions, because the Players Union won't be able to protect them. But if it's not true, I wonder where all this is going? Because here's the deal: The next time, it will be the Yankees in everybody's cross hairs. 

Each of these teams, and their loyal fan bases, loathe the Yankees with the heat of a billion suns. So does half the MLB pool of fans. If you were to add all the Astros/Redsocks/Mets haters in America, it wouldn't come to 50 percent of the Yankee-haters out there, waiting for an opening. One thing we're seeing in America is a vast cultural pendulum, swinging back and forth. One of these days, the Yankees will face full-frontal attacks, whether truthful or not. We should prepare for the worst. Once Houston, Boston and the Mets have finally licked their wounds, their fans will want revenge. Buckle up.

The Scandal, according to Mean Girls

You gotta see this. 

"Shy Jose"

After his big home run, Jose Altuve says he didn't want the world to see him shirtless. 

He was a little late.

To sum up baseball's new normal, we need George Bernard Shaw

It's only been four days since MLB dropped its stink bomb on the Houston Asterisks, formerly the AL's marquee franchise. Four measly days. Since then, we've seen four firings, a billion blog rants, a minor league promotion dedicated to trash cans, and then the cherry on top - a crazy, viral conspiracy theory - from a phony twitter account, no less - based on a bizarre video of Jose Altuve, clutching his jersey like a terrified school girl wearing falsies. 

Four days. Already, baseball has a new normal: The cheating scandal that will never go away.

It won't leave because two teams won world championships by cheating, and the trophies won't be returned. It won't leave because two teams were caught red-handed, and all the Trump rally-worthy hollering is just our cultural jury duty. I'm reminded of the famous line from George Bernard Shaw, to a socialite who said she would sleep with him for a million dollars, but certainly not for ten. "What kind of woman do you think I am?" she said, and he replied, "We've already established that. Now, we're just haggling over the price."

We've established that Houston and Boston cheated. Now, we're just haggling over the details.

Some are calling it "Buzzergate," the charge that certain Astros wore electronic thingys to signal pitches. If it's true, the stakes have just flown off the charts. For years now, Jose Altuve has been a fairy tale, a testimony to grit, and a future lock for the Hall. This could crush his reputation in the way he crushed that fateful final pitch off of Aroldis. (My guess is the 8-Hour Energy Drink people have already pulled the plug on his endorsements.) And if it's not true, well, I feel sorry for him, because it will never go away. That's how fans are. That's how we are. When Altuve steps to the plate, the p.a. systems should play "Your Cheatin' Heart." It's going to be harsh.

Thus far, no player has been punished in this scandal. But if any were wearing electronic buzzers - well - this is not China Town, Jake. This is the Land of Judgement. It's one thing to have coaches bang a trash can. It's another to be fitted for a cyborg tit-jiggler. If Altuve was wearing an electronic enhancement, the next four days will make the last four look like a Kardashian Rock-a-Hula Christmas. Has anybody asked Lev Parnas what he knows?

Well, what's done is done. MLB ain't gonna negate Houston's 2017 world championship, or force a replay of the last fall's Yankee series. But Altuve's game-winning blast will always include the scene at home plate, where he desperately fears being disrobed. He blames shyness. MLB says there's nothing new to investigate. Good luck with that. A whole new world of electronic surveillance is here. What are they gonna do? When a batter strides to the plate, must he pass through a metal detector? Four days. Wow. 

Mother of Mercy, Could This Be the End of PEDs?

Maybe I'm just being Brightside Jack again, but does it occur to anyone else that the clampdown on stealing signs might be bad for ALL kinds of cheating?

I mean, back in the day a dozen sports reporters/cartoonists around the country would have already sketched out a drawing of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, labeled "Sign Stealing," "PEDs," "Defensive Shifts," and, oh, I dunno, "That Rap Music the Kids Like Playing in the Ballpark So Loud You Can't Hear Yourself Think!" and captioned it, "The Four Horsemen Coming for Our National Pastime."

This won't happen, since there are no more sportswriters/cartoonists, not since Bill Gallo or maybe Max Mercy moved on, which is a crying shame.

But the point is, how long is it going to be before one of the usual suspects rounded up in this raid turns around and says, "I'm cheating?  You see the guys I'm up against?  At least my head didn't grow!"

Let's face facts.  As Bob Dole used to say, you know it, I know it, the American people know it:  PED use is still rampant in baseball.

How could it not be?  They can invent new roids as they go along, ones that they won't even be able to detect in a test for years down the road, when the users have long retired and stowed their money in untraceable Bahamian bank accounts.   (Trust me:  those things are air-tight.)

I wonder if all that will change, now that we're evidently going to recognize that electronics have moved into the 21st century.

Whatever happens, there's one thing we can count on:  it will adversely affect the Mets.

This is getting interesting

8

Jose Altuve was just shy; that's why he didn't want his jersey to be ripped open

An important announcement from Major League Baseball:

MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL HAS FULLY INVESTIGATED THE POSSIBILITY OF ANY HOUSTON ASTRO BATTERS WEARING ELECTRONIC DEVICES THAT COULD CONVEY INFORMATION ABOUT STOLEN SIGNS.

NO HOUSTON ASTROS WORE ELECTRONIC DEVICES THAT COULD HAVE CONVEYED INFORMATION REGARDING STOLEN SIGNS.

PEOPLE ARE ADVISED TO REMAIN IN THEIR HOMES AND WATCH THEIR TELEVISION SETS FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.

ALL IS WELL. 

MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL HAS EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL.

(Aren't conspiracy theories fun?)

Uh-Oh

Under the category of be careful what you wish for:

https://www.nj.com/yankees/2020/01/mlb-rumors-astros-interview-ex-yankees-manager-to-replace-aj-hinch.html

Yes, that's right.  Buck could be back.  And not with some flock of benighted Birds this time, but a real team.

I don't like it, I don't like it at all...

News Flash: Beltran Niece Reveals That Altuve, Bregman Wore Buzzers Triggered by "Hallway Video Guy."

Wow, I feel like I should buy a fedora with a press pass in the band.  This story is exploding!

"Get me rewrite!"

News Flash: Mets Have First Manager to Retire Undefeated!

Oh, Mets.

"Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise."

With apologies to Thomas Gray, Cora-gate shows us the deep, 3-dimensional chess wisdom of Cashman hiring a manager who is not exactly regarded as a mastermind.

Don't get me wrong.  A guy who made over $16 million while hitting .263 in his career—a guy who's loved everywhere he goes, a guy who has a former Playmate for a wife who spends her spare time saving homeless orphans—obviously has something on the ball.

For all I know, Ma Boone spends hours after each game scientifically recalculating the precise angle which the Yankees spy satellite must assume in order to bounce its beams off the Steinbrenner memorial in right field, capture other teams' signs, and relay them on to the state-of-the-art microchip he had implanted in his cerebral cortex.  (We DO have a spy satellite, don't we?)

But it doesn't hurt that our beloved manager often looks and sounds a little, well, goofy.

All the better.  Even though Boonie is, in fact, a baseball lifer—and scion of the longest running family dynasty in baseball history—he's never assumed to be a shrewd, inside-game guy like Alex Cora and Carlos Beltran.

Which is all to the good, right now.  In fact, I want him to blurt out at his next press conference, "Wait, teams have signs?"

Couldn't hurt.

The trading of Stephen Tarpley is a good sign, the type the Astros cannot steal

Yesterday, the Death Star traded LH Stephen Tarpley to the Miami Jeets for a minor-league 3B named James Nelson and clam dip money. Surely, they gave up more than they received. So be it. They had no leverage.

Last week, Tarpley was ditched from the Yankiverse - a roster cut to make room for the signing of Brett Gardner. Thus, Cooperstown Cashman had one Five-Day Deodorant Pad to trade Tarpley for something, anything. That he found a trade partner speaks to the depth of the Yankee roster, a good omen for 2020.

As you know, I'm not one to gush. Nothing positive ever comes from optimism. It's better to assume that Tarpley will win the Cy Young Award someday, making this a dark moment in Yankee history. But the fact is, when you've got a deadline to your head, any deal is better than no deal. And the Yankees now have found trading partners for all three of their roster casualties - Chance Adams, Nelson Cortes Jr. and Tarpley. Not only that, but the kid they couldn't protect - RH pitcher Rony Garcia - was the first player selected, by Detroit, in the December Rule 5 draft. By all indications, our 40-man brims with of talent. 

(Note: When the Yankees banished Greg Bird in November, he became a free agent. He still is, with the Giants and Orioles rumored to be interested. Here is a recent update on Bird, Cortes and a bunch of former Yankees playing winter ball.)  

That the Yankees can can a player and still get something in a deal is a good omen. This winter has brought a bunch, and I'm not even mentioning Adele's weight loss.

1. The sign-stealing debacles for Houston and Boston, our greatest rivals. (And yes, the Mets are suffering slowly.) Could we have picked out more delicious villains to suffer? Lately, it's like the last reel of The Godfather, where all the bad guys get blown away. Who's running this show, Mario Puzo?

2. The signing of Gerrit Cole, and the delirious unveiling of that sign declaring him a Yankee fan forever. Seriously, not since Jason Giambi invoked the memory of his dad - he took number 25 to signify the two numbers that equal "7," his father's favorite Yankee - has the otherwise cynical fan base seen such emotions swirl around a free agent. Cole's love for the Yankees is on a special boyhood plane; it's the kind of love a moose has for his flying squirrel. What a wonderful event!

3. The changeover among the training staff. Okay, this one smacks of scapegoating, but why kid ourselves? After last season, changes had to be made. Three players - Luis Severino, Dellin Betances and Giancarlo Stanton - kept injuring themselves during rehab. (And we're not even counting Jacoby Ellsbury.) That's unacceptable. Change had to come.

4. Wait. Did somebody say Jacoby Ellsbury? We dumped him. Finally. Nothing against the guy personally: It sucks to be injured. But we finally came to grips with the fact that he's not coming back, not for us anyway. I'm not sure how to view the front office attempts to cut his pay. That could haunt us someday, if players come to believe the Yankees don't honor contracts. But Ellsbury is gone. A weight is lifted. 

5. CC Sabathia is staying. He'll advise Cashman, and he might join the YES broadcast crew. Supposedly, he's not a fan of Michael Kay. (Who is?) My guess is they'll do just fine, and that CC will become one of the most popular play-by-play voices through eternity. (A prediction: John and Suzyn will retire after the Yankees win one more championship. That will leave two openings in the radio network, and Sabathia will become the new Suzyn.)

6. Cashman has signed a bunch of lug nuts - two catchers, two outfielders, a utility man and a few arms - to minor league contracts. It's obvious what he's doing. He's searching for another Voit, another Urshela, another Tauchman, another Maybin. Good for him. If we learned anything from 2019, it's that there is a vast underground reservoir of talent in Triple A. This is an area the Yankees can financially exploit, and I believe Cashman intends to do just that. I say, go for it.

7. We haven't done anything disastrous - yet. Listen: We all feared a snap trade of J.A. Happ/Miguel Andujar/Clint Frazier for Vidal Nino III, and it still can happen. But it hasn't. The closer we get to spring, the more likely the Yankees will get their own exclusive chances to assess Andujar's glove, Frazier's bat and Happ's aging fastball. Who knows? We might like what we see, and avoid doing something terrible. No news is good news.

Good signs, the kind the Astros can't steal.

Rueful wit

And when I think of all the shit we had to eat because A-Rod was a cheating pariah.

And watch:

1) Hinch and Cora will manage in 2021, watch, maybe even for the same teams.   
2) The players who engaged in this scheme will all skate. Some will make the Hall, with no comment.

3) There will be no asterisks. 

4) Houston and Boston fans will continue to be insufferable. 

5) So will Altuve. 

6) We will continue to be the most hated team in baseball. (Admittedly, we did steal signs and got caught a few years back, but that was piker stuff compared to this.)

7) Hal will still be a cheap bastard who doesn't understand that rings have far greater long-term value than beating the luxury tax.

We are designating "Cora-Gate" as the official IT IS HIGH name for the 2017-19 baseball cheating scandal

We're going with "Cora-Gate" because Alex Cora remains the ringleader and critical link between Houston and Boston's world championships, which will be forever tainted. Also, "corrugated" metal is used to cover excessively large roofs, and - um - there must be a metaphor in there somewhere. C'mon, folks, use your imagination. I can't do all the work! 

Some other thoughts...

1. Rob Manfred - aka "Mr. On My Watch" - should thank his stars that the Washington Nats miraculously rallied, game after game, to win the 2019 World Series. Otherwise, he'd be facing a nationwide call to vacate the outcome, and maybe Congressional impeachment. Houston would have won two out of three championships, firmly ensconced as baseball's marquee franchise. It would sure suck to be commissioner. Today, it's hard to mount a campaign to overturn events of 2017 and 2018, but if the Astros had two rings to show for their mean-spirited cheating, Manfred would be facing an unprecedented shit show. I wonder if he would survive. 

2. This winter, the Yankees have punished Houston more than Manfred. Those lost draft picks won't affect the Astros' talent surplus. The $5 million fine is barely equal to a utility outfielder. And no matter how much you personally covet A.J. Hinch, he's just a manager. No manager ever delivered a key hit for his team. But the Yankees - damn! - we took Gerrit Cole from them without coughing up a prospect. That truly hurts, though it'd hurt more if the Angels signed Cole.

3. Even without Gerrit, Houston remains Bull Goose Loony in the AL West. They have Altuve, Bregman, Springer, Verlander, Correa - (yeesh, they practically drafted first for five straight years) - and who knows how good Yordan Alvarez will be. (One of these days, maybe the Yankees should sign another Cuban star?) A new manager could unite this team under the public taint, and they could win their division by 10 games. Also, Lance McCullers Jr. will return. Could he be Gerrit II?

4. Alex Cora is gone, but it's way too early to twerk on Boston's grave. Redsock fans are whining about the deal given Chris Sale, who seems shaky from overuse. But they'll keep Mookie Betts, Andrew Benintendi could rebound, and Raphael Devers is a looming MVP. Forget about "winning the winter." Two years ago, remember how much confidence burst across the Yaniverse when Giancarlo Stanton arrived? Then the season began. All downhill from there. As stated above, no manager ever delivered one big hit for his team. Cora might be missed, but the next guy will be formidable - unless, that is, they somehow find another Bobby Valentine. If they can do a Bobby V, then we put on that "Dance Monkey" song that I can't get out of my head.  

5. In this ongoing tale of squalor, new Mets manager Carlos Beltran remains a bit of unfinished business. Thus far, the Mets seem to be pretending that nothing happened. No statements, as today's NY Post puts it, "at least for now." Good luck with that. They'll have to do something, especially after the bloody axing of Hinch and Cora. This is the elephant in the room - next to the 900-pound gorilla and LEGO statue of Stump Merrill.  

6. There are stirrings that the Yankees closet may have its own scandal. (After all, Beltran is a former Yankee.) My guess is that Brian Cashman couldn't be so stupid - filing complaints about others on what you're doing. But if evidence emerges of Yankee complicity - well - so much for his "Cooperstown" nickname. It might even end Cashman's era in New York. (People might start recalling the questions surrounding A-Rod's drug use during the 2009 World Series, which remains his greatest moment.) Again, I doubt there's anything here; an earthquake always brings aftershocks. But Cora-Gate's box is open, and we should brace ourselves for what flies out. 

7. Finally, by ditching the Redsock manager, baseball restores the name "Cora" to its rightful owner: the late wife of the great Phil Rizzuto. 

Who's the cheater?

Margaret, or Peg, a new voice here, writes to ask the intriguing question (if I may be so bold as to paraphrase): 

"Why is, say, gambling on ballgames worse than stealing signs?  Isn't cheating cheating?  Shouldn't it all be punished equally?"

First, Peg, I would like to say thanks for joining our merry band of lonely, bitter, drunken men.  (The upside is, you could do even worse, such as maybe a heavily armed incel militia.)

My response would be this:  gambling is the red line, the third rail, the inviolable sanctum sanctorum because it leaves in question whether people are trying.  

Players get caught "cheating" all the time. 

They smear stuff on the baseball, they smear stuff on their bats, they run out of the baselines, they steal signs the old-fashioned way (squinting from second base), they let the infield turf grow long or they cut it short, they ingest dangerous substances that make their heads grow and their testicles shrink, and they grab onto opponents belts when they're turning third or hide extra baseballs in the outfield grass. 

Well, all right:  those last two not so much since the original Baltimore Orioles of the 1890s.

But you get my point.  Everybody's always looking for an edge and if they go overboard they get punished for it, as they should.  

But gambling is something else.  Gambling rips away the essential pretense that keeps the game going.  

Much as we groan and moan about ballplayers, they go to incredible lengths to win, even now that they're all rich.  They crash into walls (and into each other), tear up their knees making sliding catches, risk taking 100-mph fastballs to the head.

Once that stops—once we don't know if anybody out there really is doing their best to win—then it's what Jerry Seinfeld called it:  just rooting for the laundry.

Or even less!  What reason is there at all to watch the games, if the players can purposely lose and don't get punished?

This is why major-league baseball hired an egotistical nut job like Kenesaw Mountain Landis and even handed over power to him, in order to quash the gambling pandemic that was threatening to wipe out the game at the start of the 1920s.

And that is why it meant so much when the glorious Babe ascended to New York City, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty, from whence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

Or something like that.  

But it's true:  the ascent of the New York Yankees is intimately connected to stomping out gambling by ballplayers.  

The Babe was what we want all ballplayers to be:  a wonderful, overgrown manchild, who in his sweet naivete made himself a fortune entertaining us.  

Pete Rose can go suck an egg.

   

So why aren't players punished in the Astros/Redsocks cheating scandal?

As we wait for MLB's well-oiled shoe to drop on Redsock manager Alex Cora, one question bubbles up amid all the juicy cheating scandal details: 

Why not the players? 

After all, somebody had to decode those whistles. Somebody had to dig in and swing the bat. It's not enough to simply steal the blueprints. Somebody must enter the bank and drive the getaway car. A heist doesn't just happen in a cubicle. You need cheaters on the field.

As a result, for all its sound and fury, yesterday's round of punishments from MLB still seem to lack a decent bite. I get it that management should know better about electronic surveillance. It knew the rules and flat-out broke them. But as they stood in the batter's box, awaiting pitches they knew were coming, did no Astro or Redsock players ask whether it was ethical to steal signs? Did anybody say, "Hey, coach, is this illegal?" Apparently no. They simply dug in and swung away. And it worked!

This isn't about Bill Belichick taping a practice of the Buffalo Bills. This is two world series outcomes, back to back, engineered by hackers. Forget the fans - (I mean, why start thinking of them now?) - and we're still talking about hundreds of millions of dollars at stake. We're talking about cities. We're talking about stars. We're talking about careers.

In 2017, Jose Altuve hit .346 with 24 HRs, an MVP season for sure. But how many of those hits came when he knew what was coming? Ten? Twenty. If you delete - say - 20 hits from his season, Altuve bats .312, finishes fourth in the MVP ballot, and he's no longer doing commercials for 24-hour energy pills. Nothing against Altuve - star of "Big Deams: The Jose Altuve Story," put out in 2015 by MLB - but how much of his success came from the CF camera? 

How about Mookie Betts, the following year's MVP. Remove 20 hits that year, and his .346 average tumbles to .308. Should Mookie's MVP trophy have an asterisk? 

And, of course, there is Carlos Beltran, the new Mets manager. For years, we heard about what a great "clubhouse presence" Beltran was, how he took young players under his wing, and what a fine manager he'd make. Before the Yankees hired Aaron Boone, we here at IIHIIFIIc campaigned for Beltran. And I'm sure he's a prince among players, great handshake, always flushes, remembers your mom's name... but, now, what? 

Listen: Something smells here. MLB just caught two championship organizations in boldface lies, and so it's throwing the book at... two suits. Two off-field hamburgers. It's rolling up a newspaper, slapping Houston's snout, and yelling, "BAD DOG," while the actual culprits - the stars - go free. You almost think the Commissioner simply wants this thing to be forgotten. (After all, it was only because a news investigation - hey, three cheers for the Gammonites! - broke the story and forced MLB to take a look.) Now, Houston will lose four draft picks over two years, and Boston - well, we'll wait to watch them skate. 

Two consecutive world champions have been tainted. Everything comes with question marks. 

What did the players know, and when did they know it? 

A.J. Hinch didn't hit any home runs. 

Houston lied then, so should we believe them now? Boston's great 2018 now carries a taint. Apparently, the shit's about to fall on Alex Cora. But then, will it simply go away? Both cities have world championship flags flying in their stadiums. Nobody is going to take them down.

Astros are guilty, but here's how it'll go down in history...

Whenever we recall that mammoth home run by Jose Altuve to end the Yankees' 2019 playoffs run, we'll have to believe he knew which pitch was coming.

By cheating, both Houston and the Redsocks won world championships, and nobody will ever take them away.

Meanwhile, the big bad Yankees - the consummate evil, according to all self-respecting Gammonites - played by the rules, and lost.

So, now the perps face merely a one-year suspension... one year? Wow. 

And they say crime doesn't pay?

Isn't cheating a worse crime than what Pete Rose committed, betting on his own team? Rose is banned for life. They get a one-year suspension... along with their World Series rings. 

Luhnow and AJ Hinch--FIRED!!

I DEMAND JUSTICE

Welcome Back Duque

Let's show the man some respect.



Who else travels north in the winter?  Who else mixes native draft beer with " rocks?"

Who else Tangos through the night through?

Do they have fiery pickled eggs in Iceland?  Non frozen slim Jims?  Alfalfa chips?

Did he find a new player for our bullpen?

Was he there with Hal and Brian?

We can begin our year.

Cheaters!

From ESPN (this is the whole article). I DEMAND AN ASTERISK!

Sources: Houston Astros' Jeff Luhnow, AJ Hinch suspended 1 year

2:00 PM ET

Houston Astros GM Jeff Luhnow and manager AJ Hinch have been suspended for one year after an MLB investigation found the team used technology to cheat during its World Series-winning 2017 season, sources familiar with the punishment tell ESPN.

Additionally, MLB will fine the Astros $5 million and take away their first- and second-round draft picks in the 2020 and 2021 drafts, sources tell Passan.