In just four weeks, Hal "Food Stamps" Steinbrenner - the most swaddled nepo baby since Jesus - will lug an iron chain to the front gate of George M. Steinbrenner Field in Tampa. He'll be joined by family consigliere Brian Cashman, holding one of those oversized padlocks that belongs in a Road Runner cartoon.
Then, together, they will kill Major League Baseball.
If any Gammonites are watching, they will be a solemn bunch, like witnesses to an execution. The padlock will click, and whatever Hal has to say - lamenting that this happened - it will be too late. His craven words will be a fart.
If Hal has anything to say, now is the time to stand and deliver.
Once the locks snap, MLB will birth another endless war, the kind everybody originally thought would last a week.
These days, every war is an endless war.
And in any lockout, Hal will be one of the biggest losers.
If the owners "win," they will impose the salary cap they've coveted for decades, and the Yankees will lose their fiscal advantage. They will become a coastal version of the KC Royals, forced into austerity payrolls that effectively kill the franchise for years.
If the players' union wins, Hal will have to do what he hates - spend his inheritance. No billionaire wants to be told how to spend his money. How do think they became billionaires? The last thing Hal wants is wide-open bidding on players. If the union wins, that's what he'll get.
And once the padlock clicks, it will be too late to speak out.
So... a suggestion...
Whatever Hal has to say - if anything - he better say it soon. He should rage against the gods, the owners, the players, you, me, our moms, I don't care, everybody - whatever!
The storied New York Yankees - his dad's pride and joy - will soon be on the chopping block. Is it really going to happen? It's up to you, New York, New York.













