Victory!

 

Yes! They've done it!

YOU—in your ignorance and bug-level POV—might have seen yesterday's tiresome, twinbill slog against the Bucs as just another in a seemingly endless succession of...tiresome slogs this season.

But for Hal & Pal, it smells like...victory.

Those two games—whatever happened to the beloved, twi-night doubleheader?  Even the nonsensical name was romantic—drew over 84,000 suckers fans, lifting the Yankees' season attendance total (tops in the American League) to over 2 million in just 49 home games this season.  

Barring two seasons marred by Covid (2020 and 2021), this makes the 29th straight season in which the Bombers have drawn over 2 million fans.  

In the previous 20 seasons, 1976-1995—and again, barring three shortened by labor fights (1981, 1994-1995), the Yanks drew over 2 million fans another 14 times.  

In other words, in the 54 seasons that the Family Steinbrenner have owned your New York Yankees, they have drawn at least 2 millions fans some 43 times. 

Before this year is over, the team will almost certainly draw over 3 million fans before the last, Volpe wild-card pop-up vanishes into the last Guardian of Traffic glove, making that the 26th time this once inconceivable total has been reached. 

(Including the four times the team drew over 4 million, before the team itself, in order to pander to the disgustingly wealthy, made it impossible to ever happen again.)

The only previous, five times when this has occurred came in baseball's postwar boom, with over 2 million fans pushing their way through the turnstiles from 1946-1950.

And yet...the response from the Steinbrenners has been:

Insistent threats to move the team to Manhattan, the Meadowlands, and even Denver, along with strong-arming the taxpayers into two free or largely free stadiums, skyrocketing prices and luxury accommodations that have reducing seating capacity to record lows in favor of super-rich patrons, and incessant whining about what taxes they do pay.

Well, hey. Enjoy the win, Hal. From every picture that we see, we can tell that it gives you such overwhelming joy.

Everywhere, ex-Yanks are taking vengeance on their former team. It's about to get worse.

For anyone who ever bewailed the Aaron Boone Era - a tortuous, Job-like, nine-year stretch of Yankee incontinence - there was always one final, fateful, pitiable rung on that downward ladder to Hell. 

Everyone knew Boone was a mistake. That was the easy part, our baseline disappointment. The real problem wasn't Boone, but who wasn't there. 

Donnie Baseball, of course. 

He was supposed to manage the Yankees. You knew it. I knew it. The universe knew it. The juju gods certainly took notice. If you could travel back to 1995, when Mattingly was finishing his playing career, you wouldn't find a living soul who didn't believe he'd someday run the Yankees. Here was a truly great player and human being, an icon of Yankee pride. Of course, he would manage the Yankees. Why even ask? Are you daft?  

Of course, it never happened.

Yesterday, the Yankees won and lost against Pittsburgh. (Instead of a Ryan McBroom, we got a Paul Splittorf.) Catching for the Pirates was 25-year-old Rafael Flores Jr., hitting .287, who would be the answer to our prayers, had we not traded him. Elsewhere, the Redsocks finally lost, ending a 15-game winning streak, which prompted their manager to call a team meeting. But when he got there, one was already happening, being led by Sonny Gray, who the Yankees cast out, after deciding he couldn't handle the pressure of NYC.  

Everywhere, ex-Yanks are saving a special dollop of bile for their former team. 

This weekend, it will be a sock to the kisser. 

Donnie Baseball manages the Phillies. I wonder if they'll play hard? Ya think so? I wonder how Mattingly would deal with Jose Caballero, whose antics at the plate seem to pointlessly piss off not only our opponents but the umps? I wonder what he'd say about all the strikeouts, all the failed bunts, all the blown opportunities? Instead, we get Boone, assuring us that all is fine.  

The Phillies have no ex-Yanks in their lineup. You might think we're home free this weekend. Dunno about that. Bryce Harper grew up wanting to play CF in the Bronx. As a free agent back in the winter of 2019, he went to New York in search of a contract. The Yankees hid under their beds. 

Everywhere, somebody's got a gripe with us. Gonna be a tough weekend.

Game(s) day thread. As ABOVE AVERAGE would say... Let's Play Two – 7/22 – 2026

 

Today, for the first time, the Yankee rotation features Gerrit Cole and Max Fried. Is the Singularity upon us?

 

I was starting to think that I would never see...  

1. A poem as lovely as a tree.

2. Madonna as an opener for Justin Beiber. 

3. Measles back atop the U.S.A. medical charts.

4. Gerrit Cole and Max Fried pitch for the Yankees on the same day.

This we know: God is a nut job. 

Never doubt the universe, when it comes to chaos and crapola, the two pillars of American culture. Always be a Beleiber. Yes, you can imagine the Muppets playing "Seven Nation Army" in an open-air stadium, but it's not crazy enough unless you add an orchestra of violins. Odysseus might take 10 years to get home to Ithaca, but you damn well better believe he'll make it in time for the Cortica Jug Game against Cortland State.  

 

Getting back to Cole-Fried, (which sounds suspiciously like a dead bill before Congress):  I never saw this happening. The two pitchers were like moons circling Pluto - you'd never see them on the same day. Together, they represent $50 million in Yankee payroll this season - $134 million through 2028, when the money kicks in on Fried's contract. 

When you factor in the notion that 2027 could be a labor lockout, who knows? This could be it! This could be the Yankee Rotation Singularity - Cole and Fried, together at last, blowing up the Yankiverse, as bookends in a doubleheader. 

Soon, Carlos Rodon could join them (though his lingering elbow issues are troubling) - and then Clarke Schmidt. The infusion of veteran arms would offset the lack of a breakout Yankee farm hand - no Cam Schlittler down the stretch. What we see is what we got. 

For now, all eyes are on the Aug. 3 trade deadline, when King Cashman will try to pry loose a decent RH-hitting catcher from some second-tier tomato can. 

 After that, here are more impossibilities we will see... 

1. The NY Football Giants will tear up that beautiful sod grass in the Meadowlands, laid down for the World Cup, so their team - the sixth most injured NFL roster last year - can play home games on a parking lot covered by a throw-rug. The soccer stars were too valuable to risk on artificial turf. Not the Giants, though. They'll play 15 games on the remodeled asphalt, tied with Tennessee for the most likely to be shredded. Cannon fodder, right? 

2. Yankees will promote George Lombard Jr. A piece in today's Times - via The Athletic - all but demands the move. In it, Boone and Bellinger call Lombard everything but the most terrifying juju curse: "The Next Jeter." They say he's already a better glove than Volpe/Caballero. Hard to Beleibe, am I right? If that's true, what are they waiting for?

3. Jazz Chisholm should bat higher in the order. Why are they sticking him below Belli, Goldie and The Martian? The guy is facing an existential crisis: it's his contract year, and what he does over the next three months will dictate the fate of his family. The Yankees seem to be acting like he's an afterthought, that they're already moving on (as they did with Gleyber.) 

I don't know Chisholm's future, but it seems to me that they could give him some rope and see what happens. Let him bat leadoff, or 2nd, or 3rd - see what happens. When it comes to Jazz, why not be a Beleiber? 

The Greater Fool.

 

A few days ago, in the midst of SNY's SportsNite July discussions about just who our local ballclubs should acquire to salvage their unsalvageable seasons, the name "Gleyber Torres" was suddenly spoken aloud.

I had thought this strictly verboten, and that if it were spoken, all sorts of dreadful things would happen: horses whinnying, groans echoing through the castle, Bettlejuice appearing. The bat signal beaming out to the heavens. The tortured scream of Brian Cashman resounding through our smoke-filled skies. 

Nope. 

But actually, the usual, estimable suspects on that outstanding show made a decent point, and leads me to provide my own, Rainout Analysis, in ten, er, eleven, er twelve bullet points, below:

—The reason the name of the most disappointing Yankees flameout of the last 15 years got mentioned was in comparison to—surprise, surprise—Jazz Chisholm. One of SNY's excellent crew mentioned that, for all his obvious talent, Chisholm seemed sometimes as "unengaged" as The Gleyber did.

—I think all of us can agree with that. Frankly, I'm not so sure that Jazz Chisholm really does possess some amazing, untapped physical talent—and since physical talent is so closely intertwined with field smarts and oh, staying engaged in baseball, I don't know if these skills can be meaningfully distinguished.

But sure, let's leave it that a lot of people think Jazz has great potential that remains untapped—much as they did with Gleyber. What then?

—The fact is that his mini-streak of three home runs in his last two games has surely saved Chisholm's place on the Yankees this season—and probably ensured him at least a qualifying offer after the season. Whoop-de-doo. But this by no means is the same as saying that Jazz will ever have a useful career with your New York Yankees.

—Or maybe not. Brian Cashman has a way of absolutely committing to ballplayers...before suddenly cutting them loose. For nothing in return. 

This is very much what happened with Mr. Torres. For over seven yeas, from when he was first acquired for Machine-gun Chapman, Gleyber Torres was the key to building the next Yankees dynasty.

Until he wasn't. And he was gone. As a free agent. For nothing.

—This happens again and again with our Mr. Cashman. Sonny Gray—inexplicably acquired over Justin Verlander for the 2017 stretch run—was then flung away for nothing (The Shedd Long deal notwithstanding.)

This can sometimes be a good thing, considering our Cashie's acuity in judging talent. Another gigantic bust, Gary Sanchez, was dealt along with Gio Urshela, for Josh Donaldson, IK Falafel, and Muscles Rortvedt. Subtraction by addition, not to mention calculus, trigonometry, and algebra.

—Proposed deals for what the Yankees should do now to try to win a ring, regularly include somehow acquiring the likes of Clay Holmes, Luke Weaver, Luis Torrens, and even Juan Soto—all useful individuals who Hal & Pal let walk off the Yankees for absolutely nothing in return.

Stop it.

—The truth of the matter is that the Yanks' threadbare roster and farm system contains absolutely nothing with which they could possibly re-acquire any of these individuals. Or any of their other, myriad needs: a good, right handed-hitting catcher, a useful infielder, a back-up outfielder, and a gaggle of effective relief pitchers, to say the least. 

This is just not going to happen.

—The current big idea is that Cashman should deal our two big outfield flops, Jasson Dominguez and Spencer Jones.

But talk about untapped potential! Neither Spencer nor The Martian have really been given a full opportunity to sink or swim (unlike Cashie's favorites). If you strapped me to a board, clamped electrodes on my nipples, and gave me several jolts of electricity, I would say more, please 'No, they almost certainly will not make it.'

—But here's the thing: Spencer and Jasson can at least take the field. The same cannot be said for so many of the Yanks' other outfielders. Let's face it. Judge is not coming back this year. Stanton is probably never coming back. Hop-a-long Grisham is another hammy blowout just waiting to happen.

Max Schuemann is certainly game; he just isn't a right fielder. All of which leaves us with...what, exactly? Will we even be able to field three outfielders without Dominguez and Jones?

—What Brian Cashman never seems to have heard of is, "The Greater Fool" theory. That there is always somebody out there who is the greater fool, willing to take up the risk on the very chance properties you have acquired. Surely, we can peddle our worthless trinkets somewhere.

—This Yankees team is not one or two more, useful role players away from taking it all. All this Yankees team has left is some good starting pitching—and that looks worse and worse with each passing week. I don't think it will be enough to get them into the playoffs, and if it does, they won't go far.

Therefore: the Yanks need to be sellers, not buyers, come the trade deadline.

Deal "the New Gleyber," Jazz Chisholm. He will bring the biggest possible return—and someone will ante up for him. 

Deal Anthony Volpe, for the love of God. You watch: someone will bite. 

Deal Austin Wells, for pity's sake. For that matter, I would say, deal Ryan McMahon, and Paul Goldschmidt, and Ahmed Rosario, and Cody Bellinger—talk about looking unengaged!—and all the worst of the bullpen clutter.

Deal them, everyone. For whatever outstanding or merely promising minor leaguers you can get. And the younger and further down, the better, for when the Baseball Apocalypse descends upon us and wipes out the 2027 major-league season.

Stop pretending that the World Series is one more Jake Bird or Camilo Doval away. Admit that the Yanks have failed to produce that new dynasty, or even a true contender. 

Cash-in now, before the end of the season. Before these guys are out there demanding free-agent money, or simply getting a year older during the big lockout that will be soon upon us. 

Find the Greater Fool. Don't, for once, let it be us again. 

No game today

 Doubleheader at 1 and 7 tomorrow.

The Yankees better figure out a plan... fast.

In 1987, in the leadup to his historic clash with Tyrell Biggs - (Note: Sarcasm Alert) - Mike Tyson, the future Yogi Berra of Boxing, was told that his esteemed opponent claimed to "have a plan." 

Iron Mike's response: "Everybody has a plan until they get hit for the first time." The quote was later digitally enhanced to, "Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth." Tyson ended up doing one-man, off-Broadway shows, including an HBO special directed by Spike Lee. From that lost plan, the Bard was born.

I raise this morsel of literary history not because the Yankees have yet to be punched in the choppers; the Redsocks did it two weeks ago, and the Dodgers followed suit last weekend. Right now, teams across baseball are soaking their knuckles in pee, awaiting their own shots at the Yankee unraveling.  

With 100 games now under their belt, could it be time for the Yankees to launch a plan, beyond doubling-down on last year? 

When you look at this team, you see a franchise that was somehow stunned by the losses of Aaron Judge and Giancarlo Stanton, even though every Yank fan in captivity saw it coming - especially with Stanton, the closest thing in sports to a rostered retiree. The Yankees appeared shocked - shocked! - that their two sluggers would crumble, and so here we are, with Max Schuemann playing RF. 

I don't wish to demean the Schuester, a fine 26th man. But right now, every series loss to another contender feels like a fist to the nuzzle nozzle, if not the groin. The Yankees seem to think Anthony Volpe, Camilo Doval, Jake Bird and Jasson Dominguez will suddenly catch fire and lead this team to some Knicks-in-Five Valhalla. With each lost series, they seem to be summoning Tyrell Biggs. 

The Rays have a plan. It's quite simple. Every March, they launch a new crop of young, hungry, cheap-as-hell players, up from their farm. Every three years, give or take, they go for broke. This is one of those years. 

The Redsocks have a plan. They wait in the grass, positioning themselves to catch a wave of young players. They add a couple free agents, and they survive the spring frosts. They have now won 14 straight. It's not hard to imagine them overtaking the Yankees by mid-August. 

So, I humbly ask the Yankee brain trust: What's the fukking plan? Trade for another crop of bullpen disappointments. Deal away The Martian or Spencer Jones? Reopen the Strait of Hormuz? Gimme a plan, any plan. Or is it merely to reach the postseason in a shamefully lame American League, then hope to get lucky? Because the plan hasn't worked in 16 years. If that's our strategy, we're Tyrell Biggs.

Quick, before I'm stepping on Duque's toes

In honor of AA, whose unceasing efforts to provide us with a graphical accompiament brighten each and every Yankees game. And who is the only other person I know besides my cousin Marilyn who remembers the words to this song...with an incredible solo by Robert Fripp.

Sources indicate that the Yankees will win/lose tonight's game by at least 2-5 runs

 

After barely escaping a home sweep, the Yankees begin their Odyssey

After four months of searching for Ithaca  Binghamton Cortland Syracuse Scranton, this we know about the lotus-eating, siren-chasing, lost-at-sea '26 Yankees. 

1. They cannot manufacture runs. Their offense is entirely Homeric. 

2. Nor are they grinders, who outlast opponents by running up pitch counts. They come to bat swinging, seemingly oblivious to a pitcher's control problems.

3. Without Aaron Judge, they are a sorry team, a tomato can. 

4. Anthony Volpe has exhausted his Yankee karma. He needs to play in another city. 

5. At 23, Jasson Dominguez might someday become a star. But right now, he has no business batting third in the Yankee order. 

6. There is no hope from a lineup with Max Schuemann, a utility infielder, playing RF.

7. Yesterday, against the Dodgers, the Yankee lineup had Dominguez batting third and Schueman in RF. Talk about waving the white flag...

8. Our greatest fear is no longer Scylla (Tampa). It is Charybdis (Boston, now only four behind us in the loss column.) 

9. Anyone who says the Yankees are postseason shoe-ins has not been watching this team over the last month. It is capable of a full-scale epic meltdown. 

10. We are now hearing the five most frightening words in the Yankiverse: Cashman is looking to deal.

May the Gods have mercy on us.

Game Thread - Part Two - July 19th, 202sux

 

They could have been Teammates ∞ Game Thread – 07/19/26

 

Biggest NY sports day of the year? Yamamoto v Schlittler in the afternoon, World Cup in the evening, dueling kitchen sinks at night.

 

b

Okay, campers, buckle up, 'cuz here we go: 

It's Judgeless Judgement Day, an epic 10 hours of chips-and-dips, couch-potato, flat-screen flatlining, featuring trad world superpowers in a smoky, doomsday haze of celebrities, testosterone and explosive diarrhea. With Justin Beiber! OMG! Did I mention Beibs? Pinch me! 

At 12:35 p.m., the Yanks and Dodgers launch with Yamamoto v Schlittler, a duel for the ages, if not the afternoon. Let's hope Schlitt throws seven zeros, because the Yankees strikeout machinery won't touch Mr. Moto. There could be a lingering pack-a-day impact from the great Canadian smoke out, and maybe a Jake Bird bullpen meltdown? (If Grisham gets on base, I suggest a pinch runner.) Either way, this game - if not the Yankee season - should be decided by 3 p.m. (Note: During commercials, feel free to switch to the WNBA - LA v Paige Bueckers - or golf; there is always golf, I think Congress passed a law requiring golf.)

Which lets us click to the World Cup finale - Spain v Argentina! - in the Meadowlands, featuring more Canadian smoke, maybe some NY transit flooding and a 40-minute halftime show that will prove to the soccer world, once and for all, that America absolutely ruins everything it touches. Celebrities will be there. Trump will be there. All of Jersey will be there. The whole world will be watching. It will make the Knicks championship look paltry. This should bounce into the evening, even if Trump snores straight through. 

By then, we go back to the LA/NY double-header nightcap, which will either restore the Yankees to a playoffs-worthy dignity or leave them gasping on the dugout floor, swept and smoked. 

If the Yankees split, I suppose we can call it a day and get ready for the Pirates. 

If they get swept, it's an Edmund Fitzgerald Defcon One, and fellas, it's been good to know ya.  

If they get swept, get ready for a tidal wave of spin involving George Lombard Jr. and Clarke Schmidt. But really, why would we care? Since last winter, everyone in the world has known that...

a) Spain was a global FIFA power,
b) the Dodgers were the MLB team to beat
c) You don't mess with Messi. 

Today, on NYC's second biggest venue, it's time for the Yankees to show up. 

If they get swept, well, there's always soccer.

Dreaming of the past whilst disgusted with the present – today's game got "Weathers'ed"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yank fans should start bracing for the worst

John Sterling coined a nickname for Yankee CF Trent Grisham. He called him "Mr. Cool," for the way Grish loped after flies into the gap, snagging them at the last moment and making difficult catches look easy. Grisham's ambling presence conveyed a gracefulness the Yanks have seldom seen in this rather wretched millennium. 

I'm sorta glad The Master didn't have to witness last night's game, which hinged on "Mr. Cool" once again trotting towards an uncertain fate. 

Unfortunately, this time, Grisham wasn't chasing down a liner. He was seeking to score in the 8th inning of 2-1 heartbreaker. 

Grisham was thrown out on split-second relay from a centerfielder who busted his ass from start to finish. Meanwhile, replays showed Grisham stutter-stepping towards second, slowly ramping up towards third and finally reaching home a moment too late. 

"Mr. Cool," indeed.

You live by the lope, you die by the lope.

Once again, the Yankees collapsed in the crosshairs of a quality team. It's becoming their trademark. They squandered not only a chance to close on Tampa - which was swept by Boston - but they crapped on an otherwise great outing by Gerrit Cole, a commodity that looks increasingly finite.  

Once again, the Yankees found themselves on the receiving end of a brutal Dodgers' message: You're not in our league, literally and figuratively. 

Okay, I suppose we should all get a grip. The season didn't end last night. We play LA tonight and Sunday night, two marquee matchups that - when scheduled last winter - were meant to showcase baseball's two greatest sluggers. Nobody anticipated Max Schuemann. But here we are, bent over and waiting for the paddle. 

It's time to start preparing for the worst.

For the first time since April, the Redsocks sit at .500. Every Yank fan in captivity knows what comes next, and we can anticipate it like explosive diarrhea from that contaminated lettuce. 

It's happening again. 

You can feel it.  

Boston spent the last four years growing its farm system, while we systematically traded our future for spare parts, which often didn't even work. Suddenly, they have all the momentum, and we have all the baggage. We're awaiting scans on Aaron Judge, while Giancarlo Stanton can't even open a bag of potato chips, and the very air around us makes us feel like a smoked brisket. 

Live by the lope, die by the lope. 

Start spreading the news. And expect the worst.

Welcome Back–to the–Second Half Game Thread – 07º17º26

  

Here's what the '26 Yankees need to do the job

It can happen here... 

No, I'm not referring to the breakdown of society, leading to civil war and the collapse of democracy. I'm talking about the imminent crack up of the NY Yankees, despite the pathetic AL East, a division of cupcakes and cans of tomato. The Death Star is fluctuating wildly. They bungle eight of 10, then win four straight - (thank you, Washington.) They look warped, like a particle board table that's gone through a carwash. 

The Yankees can still make the playoffs. Hell, everybody can, except KC and the Angels. That's our new reality. But to win this sad division, here's what needs to happen.

1.  Aaron Judge must return in full form. Folks, this aint complicated. Without him, they win doodily-squat. And here's the rub: He might not make it. We should know more this weekend, after he goes through the primordial ooze atomizer. He's probably out through August. Without him, the Yankees are the Savannah Bananas, without the soundtrack. If Judge cannot return, forget the Canyon of Heroes. The Jets have as much a chance.

2. Austin Wells needs to start hitting. Forget the idea that they'll trade for a RH-hitting catcher. Even if Cooperstown Cashman finds a guy, and the trade chips to cut a deal, we still need Wells to hit, say, .230 the rest of the way. (Ten HRs in the second half would give him 15 on the season.) All this trade talk belies the fact that Wells would still start against RH pitchers. The Yankees are stuck with him. He simply has to start hitting. Good luck with that. 

3. Max Fried must return and be a dominant Number Two. He's only 32. He should have some years left. Forget Rodon and Cole: They will win through guile and grease, but neither will ever be the pitcher he once was. Warren and Weathers are cardboard cutouts. We've seen what they've got, and it belongs in the bullpen. Fried could still be a solid starter. He simply must return.

4. They need one solid addition to the bullpen. He doesn't need to be Mason Miller. He doesn't need to be a closer. He just needs to NOT have already pitched in 50 games, and NOT be on the verge of throwing the most innings of his career. He must NOT be the next Camilo Doval or Jake Bird. That's a lotta NOTs.

5. Jazz Chisholm must hit 10 HRs in the second half (which would give him 23 on the season.) If he steals 20 bases, he finishes in the mid-40s. It won't be the 50-50 contractual pot of gold he envisioned last winter. But if he hits, say, .260 over the second half, he can save the bottom of the order and salvage a bidding war next winter, though it will coincide with the labor stoppage.

The Martian? Spencer Jones? Elmer Rodriguez? George Lombard Jr.? Yeah, they'd all be nice. But unless something huge breaks - I'm talking about a catastrophic, roster-clearing deal - we're still stuck in Anthony Volpe's cosmic infundibulum.  The infield doesn't hit, and it throws a lot of short-hop bouncers to first. If Cashman tries to remake the team - well - Tarik Skubal could be the end of time. It can happen here.   

Today in The Athletic

"In a crackdown that has rankled some front offices across the league, Major League Baseball has effectively outlawed the growing practice of using league-provided dugout iPads to access generative artificial intelligence, which some teams had increasingly leaned upon to help shape in-game strategy."

"Oh, geez, are we ever fucked."

Lettuce not forget that Legends Hospitality is also incorporating the use of . . . .

 

AI into it's day to day operations, menu and recipe planning
 

Ranger strikes again

You may have noticed Ranger's comment to Duque's post that likely explains Hal's $3 billion loan.

He also sent me the below, what Chat GPT (or is it GTO?) has to say regarding AI use in baseball. This helps explain why so many decisions seem to fly in the face of what our lying eyes are telling us.

As a final grace note for those wary of AI, this answer to Ranger's question ends with "decision-making," which should not be hyphenated. AI... it's the footure, don't you know.

"Are major league baseball teams using AI for analytics?"

Yes. Today, every Major League Baseball team uses advanced analytics, and many are now incorporating AI and machine learning as part of those systems. AI hasn't replaced traditional baseball analytics—it has expanded what teams can analyze and predict.

Some of the main uses include:

• Player evaluation: AI models analyze thousands of variables from tracking data, scouting reports, biomechanics, and historical performance to project how players will perform or develop.

• Pitch design: Using high-speed cameras and ball-tracking systems such as Hawk-Eye Innovations, teams use AI to identify grip and release changes that can increase spin, movement, or deception.

• Injury prevention: Machine learning analyzes workloads, biomechanics, sleep, recovery, and movement patterns to identify players at higher risk of injury before problems become obvious.

• Game strategy: Teams simulate thousands of game scenarios to optimize defensive positioning, bullpen usage, pinch hitters, stolen-base decisions, and pitch sequencing.

• Player development: AI helps identify subtle mechanical issues in swings and deliveries, allowing coaches to create individualized training plans.

• Scouting: Teams use computer vision to process enormous amounts of video, automatically tagging pitches, swings, defensive plays, and player tendencies that scouts can review more efficiently.

AI works alongside several major data sources, including:

• Pitch velocity, spin rate, and movement

• Exit velocity and launch angle

• Fielder positioning and reaction times

• Biomechanical motion capture

• Video analysis

• Wearable sensor data (where permitted)

Which teams are known for heavy AI and analytics use?

While all 30 clubs have analytics departments, several organizations are widely regarded as leaders:

• Los Angeles Dodgers

• Tampa Bay Rays

• Houston Astros

• Cleveland Guardians

• New York Yankees

• Boston Red Sox

These clubs invest heavily in data science, software engineering, biomechanics, and quantitative research.

One important point is that baseball decisions are rarely made by AI alone. Front offices typically combine AI-generated insights with the judgment of scouts, coaches, medical staff, and executives. AI can highlight patterns or probabilities that humans might miss, but personnel decisions, game strategy, and player development still rely heavily on human expertise.

In many ways, MLB is among the most data-driven professional sports, making it one of the earliest and most extensive adopters of AI-assisted decision-making.

Happy news. The Yankees will tap funds from an investor long linked to Jeffrey Epstein

Nothing beats replacing baseball banter with news about money. I can't get enough! And yesterday, the House of Steinbrenner offered up some prime, chewable, financial crapola: 

The Yankees will soon secure $3 billion from Apollo Global Management Inc., the giant corporate asset squid, which has about $840 billion sunken into everything from hedge funds to designer dildos. (Actually, not sure about the dildos, but I felt this post could use an extra spank of alliteration.) 

Apollo was founded in 1990 by Leon Black, an all-star from the ongoing Jeffrey Epstein tomfoolery. Black resigned from Apollo in 2021, so Apollo's pristine rep would not be dragged through the leach field of public attention. According to that beacon of muck-rakery, Wikipedia... 

Between 2012 and 2017, Black paid Epstein a total of $170 million for "tax and financial services" that reportedly saved him over $1 billion in taxes. After Black had a long-term affair with a Russian model, she threatened to make public allegations of sexual abuse unless he paid her $100 million. Epstein negotiated a 2015 NDA under which Black agreed to pay her $100,000 per month over 15 years, totalling $18 million. In 2024, Black said that he "deeply regrets" his relationship with Epstein.

Uh huh. Yeahp. Whatever. 

Somehow, it always boils down to an old creep chasing sex. Am I right? 

Of course, Hal Steinbrener is just chasing a RH-hitting catcher. 

Listen... I hate to taint this blog with non-baseball chatter. But now and then, it's worth remembering, as Charles Bukowski wrote, "Sometimes you've got to kill 4 or 5 thousand men before you somehow get to believe that the sparrow is immortal, money is piss and that you have been wasting your time."

Now and then, it's worth noting that, throughout human history, the soul-less fucks who sit atop the shit pile of civilization think nothing of washing their hands with money and blood. But the stink never leaves. Here at IT IS HIGH, we want to think of the Yankees as a team of players led by a heroic captain and an ace pitcher deep into his twilight years. What they are is a massive investment cockroach whose tentacles manage to caress every evil in the universe.

But for now, let's close our eyes and hope that the extra $3 billion frees up a catcher and some bullpen fodder. 

I prefer to think of Hal as a guy who would be happier running a baseball card store in downtown Utica. He was born into gold and knows nothing else. He will never understand what it's like to owe money to an algorithm. But he'll never escape that stank.