Embarrassment

Hey, I'm a fan of the New York Yankees, and as such, I don't mind chewing up as many inferior teams and spitting out their bones as we can get our fangs on.

My favorite year is 1998, followed by 1939 and 1927.  Sure, 1978 was a thrill—but way too close for true pleasure.

Hell, I'll admit it:  deep down inside, there's a part of me that really believes most other teams exist simply as opponents.  It's a world of Washington Generals out there, and we're one, great big, brain-sucking Globetrotter.

But I have to admit, this week has pushed my comfort level with all this.  A little, anyway.

The Baltimore Orioles, a once-proud franchise that we used to respect and even fear, are a disgrace.  D.J. Stewart's head bonk in left field was the single most embarrassing play I have ever seen by a professional baseball player in 53 years of watching the game.

Take a look:

https://nypost.com/2019/08/07/dj-stewarts-embarrassing-misplay-ends-in-concussion/

It's not just that he lost the ball in the sun—or the lights.  It's that by the end, as the excruciating slow motion shows, he's not even trying to pick it up.

Like some Little Leaguer terrified of the hardball, he is clearly just trying to avoid being hit by it:  his head turned away, his arm flailing about protectively.

And he gets clonked anyway.

Hey, I hate to see anyone get hurt.  But this was more embarrassing than the Mark Sanchez "Butt Fumble."

Then there was the Chris Davis thug-out in the dugout.

Gee, what a shame that yutz didn't sign with us when we first drafted him.  Chris, read the sign on the ride:  you must hit at least .200 to get that angry.  You should stick with what you are, which is sorrowful.

And then there was the almost empty park, once the gem of major-league baseball, the few remaining fans overwhelmingly NYY louts in full Yankees regalia, no doubt abusing the hometown fans and so drunk on winning they were actually battling our own outfielders for flyballs.

(A battle they did not win.  Hey, you don't tug on Superman's cape, and you don't mess around with Tauch.)

Folks, this was just sad.  And it goes on and on, all over baseball, in the name of "rebuilding."  The Marlins team the Mets just dispatched was nearly as pathetic, in its own way, a bunch of half-involved vets and hopeless rookies, lackadaisically flailing at everything.

There is no possible way that rebuilding should be this:  5-10 years of utter futility, followed by a couple years contending for the Wild Card Play-In spot.

Then—if your GM is stupid enough to give a blob like Chris Davis a stupendous, years-long contract—more "rebuilding."

This has, of course, long been the trouble with leagues, which are essentially cartels, and thus inevitably end up discouraging real competition no matter how much they try to promote it.  In the old days, it was even worse, with nearly a half of the original 16 teams checking out for 10, 20, 30 years at a stretch.

Yes, a much wider range of teams get in it now and win it now.  But this only covers over the fact that the sucking still goes on for years and years and years.  Take a look, for instance, at the KC Royals.  Their fans are going to have to live off that 2015 ring for a long, long time.

And don't think we're that far away from it.  Exactly how much difference is there, really—save in attitude—between a Chris Davis and a Giancarlo, or an Ellsbury?

For that matter, we're only one bored, HAL phone call away from a quickie sale to Jimmy Dolan to fund HAL's Future World Soccer Empire, and then it's Orioles time in the Bronx for a decade.

Hey, it was one thing when it cost you two bits and a box of cracker jack to kill a summer afternoon watching the Washington Senators or the St. Louis Browns stink up the joint.  Now, the doofuses who are, somehow, still allowed to run these teams are charging the rent money for the privilege of watching Stewart and the Yeti make fools of themselves.

It's not just hurting Orioles fans, it's hurting the game.