How the Steinbrenner Family Understands Baseball.

 

Lately, I have noticed in these spaces a lot of joking—I HOPE it's joking!—about finding a way to make sure that Giancarlo Stanton, how shall we say it? 'won't be around here no more.'

Stop it! Stop it right now, before we get assorted government agencies sniffing around our beloved website. 

Besides, it's not Giancarlo's fault that he accepted gazillions of dollars to work out until his body inevitably breaks...well, all right, it's partly his fault. But who among us would have turned that money down? And just look at how he rocks a flouncy, transparent white...I dunno what that is. Blouse?

Never mind! A much easier way to get rid of Giancarlo, as I have suggested numerous times, is just play him until he breaks. Ellsbury the guy, you know what I'm talkin' about?

But let's face it. That's never going to happen. It's never going to happen because that's not how the Steinbrenner family thinks about ballplayers. Never has been, never will be.

You do some reading back into the history of the shipping company that the Steinbrenners' inherited and ran into bankruptcy, and you learn how thoroughly unhappy everyone at the company was. George's father and grandfather were apparently slavedrivers, torturing all their employees. Any raise meant an exponential increase in hours and expectations. People HATED that company.

That's exactly how George and HAL think of ballplayers, too. George was apparently an erratic tyrant back in the Yankees' home office, while HAL seems to be beloved. But that doesn't matter.

When it comes to the guys on the field, the expectation is the same: "I gave them lots of money. Why aren't they performing?"

You saw that mentality reflected in the Brown-Noser-in-Chief's statements about how, in 2024, we have to get Giancarlo and DJ rebooted, or whatever he said, and back to playing as they once did. As always, the Greatest Office Politician Whatever Was, was echoing his chief's thoughts.

It never registers that guys like Stanton or LeMahieu, after years of injuries—after aging into the upper realms of ballplayer lifespans—will never, ever be what they were before. Not without huge helpings of special joy juice, and maybe not even then. 

They're done, finished. Get what you can for them, write off the money, and move on. 

But just like his father, HAL will never accept that. Getting worse with age? They're supposed to get BETTER with age! Giancarlo Stanton is supposed to be one more office worker, toiling away ever harder because of all the raises and promotions he's got, banging that office calculator until the big heart attack leaves him sprawled facedown over his desk one day.

See you in 2029!