We can chase a divisional title, but we must think of a dynasty

Ah, another blowout! I love pleasuring myself in blowouts. You score six in the first, add a couple touchdowns, everybody hits, everybody pads their numbers, and I just sit in the milk bath, watching my toesies curdle. Last night, all Uncle Buck could do was fume at the gods. He's adorable when he fumes at the gods. He's a Kewpie doll. You want to put him in a bag and take him home, a souvenir. He'd make a perfect lawn ornament, one of those little stable-boy statues that-

DANGER: WILL ROBINSON... DANGER: WILL ROBINSON... DANGER...

W.T.F? Holy shit. I almost started blathering about the Yank '17 Hall of Fame Superteam of Destiny (TM). Where's our daily blast of hopelessness? While it's critical that this site tastes and savors each individual blowout morsel, giving it the love and attention that it needs to grow... we must be wary of Exit Velo records, of Boston-like hubris, and keep our wandering eyes on the smoldering AL East, where no team - not even Toronto - is in such a Stygian trench that they cannot make a stretch run. (The Blue Jays are only 7 and 1/2 games out; that's a two-week winning streak in July.) It's a long haul, Houston remains the best team in baseball, and we must play the Long Game.

Remember: Other teams chase rings. The Yankees chase dynasties. Last July, the Cubs moved heaven and hell (and Glyber Torres) to reach the world series. This year, they are one game below .500, behind fucking Milwaukee. (Yes, the Selig Cellar Sellers.) The Yankees do not want an outlier championship like 2009. We want piles of rings, oodles of gold, like the late nineties supplied. Soon, Brian Cashman will be tempted to make a few go-for-broke trades, dealing our long term future for a one-shot, Calgon Bath Oil ejaculation in October. 

Look... I'm taking nothing for granted. Before we launch a dynasty, it would be nice to win one championship, right? Still, every Cashmanic move should be predicated on a long-term strategy, and it might mean the politically unthinkable: Trading a veteran, not bundles of prospects.

First, let's dispel of our seventh-grader fantasy trades. We all want Chase Headley or Jacoby Ellsbury to go for some 20-year-old male version of Gal Gadot. Not a-gonna happen. At the July deadline, Chris Carter won't get us a toasted cheese sandwich. But teams are now allowed to trade compensatory draft picks and international signing bonus allotments - it's as if MLB repealed Dodd-Frank - and the Yankees should pounce on such insider opportunities. It's a way to use our money advantage. 

Moreover, we must never lose sight of 2019, when the free agent market could include Bryce Harper, Manny Machado and the talented former cast of Glee. By then, our lineup could see Glyber Torres at 3B, Clint Frazier in LF, and several baby arms - Chance Adams and Justus Sheffield - in the rotation. (That's not to exclude Dustin Fowler, Miguel Andujar and others.) We have a wave of talent, and if we blow it on Jose Quintana, or some facsimile, we could find ourselves next year stomping on the flaming paper bag and wondering what smells like dog crap?   

It's youth that put us in this luxurious first place milk bath. If problems emerge - and they always do - I hope we try all young options before we run out and trade for Kelly Gruber. The Astros are chasing a one-and-out world championship, their first ever. We, however, are chasing history.