In the spirit of.....

Cashman shat the bed, despite our hopes and prayers.

....oh the hell with it.

Whatever we tried in order to divert our attention from disaster, that fucking supertanker never once altered its course. The old ways of proven failure have endured, thanks to the conspiratorial white men who hate difference, and own the property.

Collision imminent, sound the alarms!  Put out the distress signals on all communication networks.  Save Our Ship !

The youth movement is officially and irretrievably battered, and our excitement and enthusiasm is headed to the sea bed.  Where there is no oxygen.

Cashman will use all the techniques of the fabulously articulate and clever new Communications Director at the WH, to tell us he " stole" the day.  That we gave up something, true, but not that much.  After all, a good trade is defined by each team's belief that they improved themselves.

Thanks Brian, you lying toad.  What we gave up was the program.  What we gave up was the reason to maintain interest in our developing players.  What we gave up was excitement and optimism.  What we traded, like cheap junk, was our future.  Because once the line is breeched, more is certain to follow.  The pursuit of Gray continues.  Beware.

 In the meantime, someone, please call Dr. Andrews, because I promise you we have just obtained highly damaged goods.  We have just pissed into the wind wearing out new khakis, and hoping to ask that cute girl out on a date.

You watch.  The enthusiasm this team showed in the last three days will be sewer meat today.  The team will be flat, bumbling and non competitive.  Why?   Because they, too, were fighting for the program.  They, too, were energized by the commitment to to give youth a chance.  Properly integrated with guys like Brett Gardner, CC, and Holliday, we had a revival.  The team knew that the old car just wasn't able to hit 140 in the top end gear anymore.  That we needed a new engine.  A new, competition clutch.  The car had to be rebuilt.  Instead, Cashman is changing the carburetor.

Starting today, this team and its fanbase will drift back into the flotsam of baseball, fall asleep to the endless strike outs, groan to the failures of moving runners over,  suffer the two run maximum games, while the team inevitably drifts south in the standings.  With the one game play-in objective fogging our interest every goddamned day.

Many Yankee fans will be shocked and wonder why the team went flat?  What happened?  But not the readers of this blog.

Cashman has just delivered a killer shot to our morale, and to that of this team.  No one on the team will speak of it until their memoirs are published.  But you will see it, today, on the field.  And you will read about this " end day" in the future.

Mark my words.  This will be a 48 hour period filled with upbeat and optimistic pleadings from management, but this moment, in truth,  should be draped in purple and black.