The Chinese curse goes, "May you live in interesting times." And, yeah, 2018 was interesting. Aaron Judge turned out to be real. Gary Sanchez didn't. Giancarlo Stanton fanned in his final at-bat; if he just didn't swing, he might be a hero. Luis Severino mysteriously wilted, Greg Bird floundered, and the awesome specter of Super Luke Voit exploded, perhaps to make us forget them all. Will he return in 2019?
Aaron Hicks became "on paper the AL's second best CF," whatever that means. Miguel Andjujar outshone both Gleyber Torres and Joe Dimaggio, though his glove clanked and he might soon disappear. Didi Gregorius gave everything he had - a headfirst slide into home to seal the wild card - (because the underachieving team had crumbled at the end, to make it closer than it should have been) - and now he will miss half of 2019, his contract year. The juju gods owe both Sir Didi and Miggy D a better deal.
El Chapo and Dellin Betances suffered massive meltdowns - again - but still survived. Aaron Boone may have learned how to manage in the playoffs. He sure didn't know this time. Brian Cashman remains the eternal Yankee Rasputin. He keeps those incriminating photographs of Hal Steinbrenner under lock and key. In 2019, we'll learn whether they are damning enough to force Food Stamps Hal to spend some money - aside from trying to buy back YES.
One great victory in 2018: The Master and Suzyn made it through yet another season, unscathed. They have become the Yankiverse's center square, the tribe's primordial elders and keepers of the nuclear codes. I cannot imagine a long summer drive without a win-warble, or a homer-holler, or Suzyn muttering, "Oh, boy." One of these days, they will be gone, and all the critics who for decades were complaining will be faced with drone-voiced car salesmen, who will never measure up.
Alphonso made it through another year. Yesterday was his birthday. Party on, Alph. We're not in the ground yet. One more Yankee dynasty before the ants get us? One more... ?
May we all rejoice in such a sentiment. We're not dead yet. Who knows what 2019 will bring. My guess is that it will be - well - interesting.
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9 comments:
Stay on the green side of the grass.
FUCKRRS!!!!!
Happy birthday, Alphonso, and many—NOT Manny—returns on the day.
Good, balanced summary. Duque.
The single most disappointing Yankees year, I think, ever. Or at least since I've been following the team (since 1966).
I never would have thought Ma Boone could be this bad. Or Bird. Or Sevvy in the second half. Or, above all, that Sanchez would hit .186. Although, to keep things in perspective, that might have just been the injuries. Had Sanchez just suffered some clear, obvious injury—say, a broken leg, knock wood—we wouldn't have excoriated him.
Could be —COULD BE—his combination of shoulder injury plus gonad tweaking was the equivalent thereof. And sure, it could be that all those diehard Bird supporters are right, and he just needs more ankle strength to get that swing back. And maybe Sevvy WAS just having trouble hitting spots. For half the season.
The thing that seemed REALLY unfair, Dr. Bogadon, was both Clint Frazier AND Billy McKinney going down immediately when they finally had their shot. Never mind how disappointed we were—for BOTH of them to get so hurt, so early? And right on top of the Dustin Fowler catastrophe the year before?
The JuJu gods still owe us for that one—it was gratuitous, and undeserved. On the other hand, we'll probably squander any reserve karma by letting CC stagger out to the mound with his brain stent.
I dunno, 2019 does not bode at all well. But hey, if it was ultimately ashes in our mouth, 2018 was at least entertaining and exciting—at times. I've been through entire Yankees seasons—1971 springs to mind, for some reason—when nothing at all happened, and there was not hope of it happening. Now, we're lousy with hope again, for what that's worth.
But at least we'll be going into 2019 with eyes open—and with you all of you. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Happy New Year!
Sevvy was tipping his pitches and the entire league knew it and took advantage of it. But Larry and Boonie? Naahhh. They didn't notice. So he got creamed in the second half. Winning!
Say, Hoss, wasn't 1971 the year of Danny Cater hitting .300? That was something I had never experienced before...wow, a Yankee hitting .300. One of those years they even finished at .500 with a last-game win.
I miss the Senators. They were fun.
I'm still waiting for the truly stupid move(s) Cashman and Hal are going to make before April. It's going to hurt. Even things that might be considered good ideas will doubtless turn out to be disasters.
Yeah, not a lot of hope for 2019. How can Stanton make so much money and be such an easy strikeout victim? Get him to two strikes, throw the next pitch on the ground to the ballboy, and you get a K. Unbelievable.
Remember how great they looked the first half this year? A mirage. A shimmering, misleading, fakery of unsustainable perfection. It was nice while it lasted, but only made the rest of the year so much more incredibly depressing.
Whoo.
We're not dead yet and that truly is everything.
2019? Meh. Anything can happen, but it'll probably happen in Boston.
Thank Dog for this blog and everybody on it. It keeps me coming back.
I was in Tampa for the past few days and thought - naturally - about Papa George and the organization he built.
As I drove out of Tampa today, I was somberly thinking "Fuck you, Brian."
As I rolled into Bonita Springs, where I will stay for the next two days and ring in the new year in a motel room with the pup, I was thinking "Fuck you, Brian."
And, as I roll across the Everglades on Tuesday - god-willing - I might just be thinking "Fuck you, Brian."
I intend to stay on the Atlantic coast for a couple of weeks - maybe - and then roll my weary way home into the cauldron of non-winter that we seem to be having this year. I do like to drive.
Anyway, thank you, Duque, Alphonso, Hoss, Winnie, Doug K, Joe FOB, ALL CAPS, John M and the many others that my old brain is not recalling at the moment. I love you all and can't wait to see you around the ranch to moan and groan about the inevitable horrible moves that the moron who runs the team will make, without fail, from now until the trading deadline next summer.
Happy New Year! And Fuck you, Brian!
I love you all.
BONITA SPRINGS, 13 BIT?
I HAVE A CONDO THERE....
TRY THE DOG TRACK IN TOWN, IF YOU HAVE TIME (RIGHT NEAR THE EVERGLADES TOO)....ALWAYS A FUN, RELAXING DAY WITH SOME DRAFTS.
CONTINUE THE PARTY, AT THE NEARBY SPORTS BAR, "JOHNNY MALLOY'S"....(FREE HAPPY HOUR PIZZA)...
HAPPY NEW YEAR 13 BIT, AND THE REST OF THE GANG HERE!
Felice Anno Nuovo e tanti auguri !!!!
Same to you, 13bit, and ALL-CAPS, and all the rest of you gorgeous individuals. You keep me (more or less) sane.
John M., you are slightly off on Cater. He hit .301, I think, in 1970. Munson, a rookie, hit .302 the same year. Or maybe it was the reverse. But in any case, I was stunned, too. TWO Yankees hitting over .300 in the same year??? And for a time, Roy White was even leading the AL in batting that year, if only because Rod Carew got hurt.
That was the season we won 93 games, and finished second. In 1971...Danny Cater and everybody else took a nose dive.
EXCEPT...Bobby Murcer, who hit .331 and probably deserved the AL MVP. They gave it to Vida Blue, instead. Major bummer. At least we were then able to trade Cater and Mario Guerrero for Sparky Lyle—hell of a deal.
And I miss the Senators, too. The only reason we had a winning record in 1971, was because Senators fans rioted, and ran on the field during the last game of the season. The Nats were way ahead at the time. An appropriate ending.
It has been historically established that the Red Sox do very well for the first 18 years of every century. We have suffered through it, but now it is over - now we can look forward to many years of Yankee dominance...
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