Did you know that we almost got to watch David Cone have a stroke on the mound?
Back when Cone had that aneurysm in his arm, in 1996, he was on a hot streak, 4-1 on the year with a 2.02 ERA. Only trouble: his fingers turned blue after his last start.
Even after the aneurysm was diagnosed, though, Cone claimed he was ready to go—and George Steinbrenner was willing to let him try.
But back then, the Yankees were run by men, not the Ibogaine-laced, statistical simulacra of human beings who direct the team now. Cone was shut down, and operated on by Dr. Oz, of all people. He recovered, and the rest is history.
Now we're being told that CC is going to be ready to go, 3-4 months from now.
Enough.
CC—unlike Coney—is in terrible shape to begin with, and has never shown any ability to keep himself fit for any extended length of time. Sending him back out to pitch after this is flirting with MLB's first-ever death on the field. (Ray Chapman died in the hospital.)
Yes, CC has been a great contributor to the team. But the Yankees owe him nothing.
CC has made over $252 million in his career, with over $216 million of that coming from the Yankees, and another $8 million due next year. For that, he got us our last ring, which was great. But overall, he has averaged just under 13 wins a year with a 3.71 ERA for us.
We stuck with him through the four years it took him to learn to pitch without a fastball, and stunk the joint out.
We stuck with him through the alcohol rehab he had to go to on the eve of the playoffs.
We stuck with him throughout his awful road performances last year, and his bullpen-killing inability to go more than five innings.
Or hey, if the Yankees feel very sentimental about it all, they should give CC some official front-office job for his money. I don't care.
What I do care about is not seeing someone die on the ballfield. And even if that doesn't happen, I object to us giving up both a rotation spot and valuable payroll money to someone who is more likely than ever to spend most if not all of next season on the DL, or completely ineffectual.
For whatever reason, CC has not been able to keep himself fit for the job we pay him to do. That's too bad. But this also should be the end of it.
Time for The Bear to hang it up.
Saturday, December 22, 2018
Paging Dr. Oz
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17 comments:
As my friend Tom - who reads this blog religiously, but does not post - said repeatedly tonight: "Every time a player signs a contract, it's always 'pending a physical.'"
1. Did they do a physical, a thorough one, the kind I'd administer if I were spending even a measly 8 million bucks?
2. Would a physical reveal a heart condition? Winnie, can you weigh in on this?
3. Fuck you, Brian.
Fuck you Brian. Yes. Yeeesss.
No. A routine physical world not have revealed a blocked coronary artery.
Fuck you Brian so very much, with extra holiday season's cheer.
Bitty, did you cut your hair?
I need to cut my hair, as I'm about to hit the Great American Road and I like to look like a clean-cut citizen when I'm traveling through southern jurisdictions. Luckily, I'm getting old enough to play the foggy, late-middle-aged card if need be. Hopefully, there will be no need.
Back to CC - now known as "The Cardiac Kid" - what would it have taken? An echo-cardiogram? A stress test? Would a slowly-unclenching fist up his butt have revealed anything about his condition? I love CC, don't get me wrong, but shouldn't we have been a bit more rigorous about checking him out? Then again, some of us here must be familiar with ©The One and Only Original Famous Actual "Babe" and his "bellyache heard around the world?" It was some mystery ailment that Ruth suffered in the 1925 or 1926 season that required hospitalization and actually put him in a short-lived, but effective path towards taking care of himself. Big eaters, self-destructive behavior and the Yankees go way back together.
Okay, I need to go buy some meat for the dog to pack in the cooler. I'll be cooking it at some roadside table in Georgia in a few days and, if you think I'm joking, think about, motherfuckers. This blog may be one of my only lifelines and a link to my people up north, where the sun don't shine.
Dear world of thinking people.....
The Yankees have re-signed him for only one reason.
He is closing in on some strike-out plateau...like 3000.
The Yankees, in their twisted, self-serving logic, believe that strikeout achievement, and the "count-down" which can be done in parallel with that achievement....visually and verbally....will draw fans and headlines. I can see the "countdown clock " now, as every batter saunters to the plate.
They believe ( Brian believes ) that the resulting publicity is more important than winning.
That is all.
It would have taken a stress test. That's not part of a routine or extended physical exam.
Publicity over winning and also over living. That sounds about right. Think of all the press CC's collapse on the mound will get us. Then the team can rally to win it all "for CC," who unfortunately will no longer be with us.
But what a story. Think of the tabloid back pages we'll rack up, squeezing the Joggy Mets into oblivion. Golly.
Re Alphonso: Is cynicism still cynicism when it's the truth?
Doug K.
Yes. It is. Don't be so difficult.
Enjoy, 13bit, and have some of that great barbecue for me (just not for CC).
As I understand it on the Babe, he used to always work out hard on the offseason—if only because, with what we would now call ADHD, he couldn't sit still. He even hired a personal trainer for this.
Until...the Yankees put it in his contract that he could NOT workout in the winter, not even play golf. The story goes that, because of this, his legs "atrophied." Though considering the fact that he played until he was 40, and remained a dangerous hitter, one wonders what he would have done otherwise.
As for the Big Bellyache, it has been attributed to everything from overindulgence to a venereal disease. But judging by what actually happened—an operation—I suspect medical misdiagnosis, followed by...who knows what? Something with the gall bladder?
Medical care was truly scary back then, as I'm sure the Warbler can attest.
I don't know what happened to Babe, other than he did of a smoking related head and neck cancer. There really wasn't "medince" back then add we understand it now. No diagnostic testing. No effective medical treatments. Only very early surgical techniques. Specialty care was unheard of. The most accurate diagnoses were made post mortem.
PM
I don't know what happened to Babe, other than he died of a smoking related head and neck cancer. There really wasn't "medince" back then as we understand it now. No diagnostic testing. No effective medical treatments. Only very early surgical techniques. Specialty care was unheard of. The most accurate diagnoses were made post mortem. But even so, a skilled doctor could accurately diagnose many diseases with physical exam alone. It is said The Babe had some sort of surgery to heal the belly ache. Not sure how surgery world help alcoholic hepatitis and venerial disease(s). And none of his doctors ever leaked the real diagnosis.
could it have been....and I almost hesitate to say this....something scrotally-related?
anyway, Kaptain Krunch the Kardiac Kid is a beloved Yankee and who knows? maybe it'll be good for him to get up there and chuck it every five days?
maybe he'll lose some weight and it'll be different than the last time he lost weight.
maybe this time I'll get married and it won't turn out to be an atomic bomb blowing up in my face.
maybe this time I'll put a dollar into the slot machine at McCarran Airport in Vegas and 1000 bucks will come out.
maybe this time...
The Babe's death—like everything else about him—was also very interesting.
The throat cancer was very bad and very painful. His daughter claimed that they had to break into his bedroom in their luxurious Upper West Side apartment; he was trying to break off the window grate so he could jump to his death.
Supposedly, he got both revolutionary chemo and radiation therapy. That put it in recession long enough for him to do "The Babe Ruth Story" and a couple farewells, but it didn't save him, of course.
There is some speculation that the cancer was caused by one of the "preventive" treatments for the terrible, 1918 influenza epidemic. Apparently, some genius had a doctor swab his throat with silver nitrate, a common "treatment" of the time. You can imagine...
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