Will April in Scranton beget a magical Brigadoon of Yankee hope?

An iron rule of March baseball: 

When you score 12 runs, check the names of the opposing pitchers. 

Yesterday, against the Phillies, that buttery list included Stashak, Suarez, Padillia, Vespi, Mercado, Aoyagi and - wait a minute: holy crap! - Zach Fucking Wheeler, who gave up 5 ERs in two innings. 

Zach Wheeler. Wow. The Yankees pounded a legitimate ace, even if it actually didn't count. 

Searching for meaning in a meaningless universe, right.

That said, today belongs to 23-year-old Spencer Jones, who  doubled off Wheeler, then later added a HR and a single - 4 RBIs. 

What should we make of Jones? He's a former first-rounder, an Aaron Judge prototype - 6'6", thinner and faster - who fans too often (6 Ks this spring) and has been a Yankee hype engine since the 2022 draft.  

This spring, he's 6-14 - that's .429, for you without calculators -  with 2 HRs and a SB. That would anoint Jones as this spring's breakout prospect, but for the presence of George Lombard Jr., a 19-year-old SS - another former first-rounder, high on the hype machine.  Lombard is 5-for-15 with 2 HRs. 

Add Jasson Dominguez - The Martian, who also homered yesterday - and you could close your eyes and argue that the Yankees actually have a Power Triad in their long-term future. If Anthony Volpe - still only 23 - learns to hit, dare I say it? 

A new Core Four?  

(No, I've not been drinking. Nor did Cashman buy me off with drugs and Sarasota hookers. Let's acknowledge The Martian's current fielding woes in left field, but listen: His career won't hinge on his glove. It's all about hitting. This spring, he's 4-for-20. Yesterday, he homered.) 

Barring injuries, Dominguez will play LF on opening day. The Yankee hype machine has invested too much into him. Jones, on the other hand, has no current path to that roster. He'll start in Scranton with 2B Jorbit Vivas, C Rafael Flores, 1b TJ Rumfield, LF Everson Peirera and the cast of Glee.

As for Lombard, his breakout spring - I suppose we can call it that - could elevate him to start the year in Double A, barely a hitting streak from Scranton. 

Let's not get damp over this. Compare the Yankee farm system to Baltimore and/or Boston, and our future looks sober, if not bleak. Both franchises have trios to match Dominguez, Lombard and Jones. (Oh my.) But close your eyes and imagine September: It's not hard to see them in our lineup. 

Hope is not a plan. But it sure beats hopelessness. And the Yankees have legitimate reasons for optimism. At least until the next injury.

An Above Average Haiku Tuesday ~ Please do us all a favor and CUT THE CHEESE, Fondue Edition!

CHEESY CASHMAN, EWW!

THAT'S SOMETHING NO ONE SHOULD CHEW

DUCK AND COVER, SPEW!

The real problem with Giancarlo? It's having nobody to replace him.

Apologies if this post offends big Everson Pereira fans out there. (You know who you are.) 

Ever "The Never" probably deserves better. I mean, he's only 23, he's currently hitting .333 with a HR, and right now, he and Uncle Ben Rice are the main obstructions to an opening day lineup centered around Dominic Smith.

On that note, let me apologize to big Dom Smith fans. I don't mean to single him out as evidence of Yankee malpractice but - well - there, I've done it. Sorry, Smithies. 

Right now, I'd say the odds look good that we will experience opening day with Dom the Bomb batting 5th, a touchstone for our growing sense of hopelessness. 

Dominic, Pereira and Rice... oh my.

Right now, in various permutations, they represent our depth chart at DH. You can toss in Trent Grisham and Oswaldo Cabrera - there's always room for Jell-O - but the moral of this withering story is simple: 

Hope is not a plan.

Apologies to everyone, to be flaring the Bat Signal for Giancarlo Stanton, and to pretend that anyone expected his hot October to roll over into 2025. Nobody thought such things. Yank fans know Giancarlo to be a walking tweak - in the postseason, he couldn't even run - and nobody, not even your Aunt Ginny - expected Stanton to suddenly experience health.  

Wait... I take that back. 

Apparently, Cooperstown Cashman did. Because the Yankees spent the winter penciling Giancarlo into their 2025 lineup, only to be shocked - SHOCKED! - when two tennis elbows derailed his spring. They're waiting for Stanton to return from NYC on "personal business," which I believe is:

a) He's in line, renewing his NYS drivers license.

b) Plastic surgery on the dimple.

c) Dictating his memoir to Meredith.

d) Launching a rap feud with Drake. 

Who knows? But let me go on record here in noting that the problem with Stanton is not his injuries, or his contract, or the way he shimmies after a swinging K: 

The problem with Stanton is that the Yankees have nobody to replace him, aside from three enormous leaps of faith, none of which will inspire optimism through the months of April and May, while Stanton is hitting off a tee. 

Dominic, Pereira and Rice... oh my.

Delete Stanton and paste in any name you wish... it's a deep, dark hole. And all those hopeful midwinter projections? They've been thrown into that crevice.

Luis Gil won't throw for six weeks. He'll be out for probably three months.

 He has a high lateral strain. 

See you in June? 

The Yankee 3B problem has become an official threat to 2025

Nobody wants to admit this - Boone and the courtiers of YES remain happily in denial - but DJ LeMahieu's latest tweak is threatening an entire winter of Yankee fantastical thinking. 

Let's be honest: We secretly hoped LeMahieu, at 36, would somehow recapture his famously honed fundamentals and deliver a comeback season, buying the franchise time for a long-term solution at 3B. He'd hit enough to spare us from the Oswald/Oswaldo conundrum, now entering Year IV with both players straddling their sell-by dates. 

Third base is a problem that deepens with each passing day. We can debate the precise order, but here's how Opening Day might look:

Jazz Chisolm 2B
Aaron Judge RF
Cody Bellinger CF
Paul Goldschmidt 1B
Austin Wells C
Jasson Dominguez LF
Anthony Volpe SS
Dominic Smith DH
Oswald/Oswaldo 3B  

Even if we dismiss Wells' final two months of 2024, and assume he becomes the hitter of last June, the bottom of the lineup remains a deep, dark gorge. And if Bellinger and Goldschmidt start slowly...?  

Welp, God help us. 

I don't wanna be Chicken Little; it's too early to run for the hills. But if Juan Soto is lighting up Citifield, and Clay Holmes is delivering quality starts, it's not hard to imagine an insanely cruel media and furious fan base picking over a Yankee carcass before Memorial Day has even arrived. 

In recent years, we've enjoyed hot Aprils, even if they led to meltdowns in Augusts. What if April goes sideways? Honestly, I don't wanna think about it.  

Of course, everything revolves around The Martian. If Dominguez hits, we can imagine anything. Trouble is, he was supposed to start 2025 by hitting deep in a circular lineup, full of pop. The impending loss of Giancarlo Stanton - and now with LeMahieu's barking calf - just blasted two holes in that fantasy. 

Also, I don't see how the Yankees can save themselves by spring trades. The farm system gasping for air. (By the way, there's a terrifying rumor going around that Boston will use its wellspring of prospects to pry Vlad Jr from Toronto.) Also, we're still clinging to the delirium that Stanton and/or Mahieu will surprise us. But one more tweak, one more lost soldier, and the '25 Yankees could be a team for the ages - not in a good way.

Stanton, Brubaker, Effross, Gil, LeMahieu, Vivas... For the Yankees, could this be one of those years?

This week, the generally joyful prophets of YES told us that...

1. Oft-injured Giancarlo Stanton will miss the month of April, if not more.

2. Oft-injured JT Brubaker broke three ribs on a comebacker. He's out.

3. Oft-injured Luis Gil would get an MRI for shoulder issues. Be afraid.

4. Oft-injured Scott Effross threw one pitch and hurt himself. Yep.

5. Oft-injured DJ LeMahieu tweaked a calf muscle. Uh-huh.

6. Oft-injured Jorbit Vivas is still Jorbit Vivas, and he's hurt. Vivas, Las Vegas! 

Insert fart here.

Look, fractured ribs come with the job, right? Google "Boston injuries," and you'll learn that Lucas Giolito, Connor Wong and Wilyer Abreu are all M.I.A, and that Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner are healing as a couple. Life happens, the world churns, time is a wheel, and when you get the chance to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance.  

But but BUT... fuck me. As Yank fans, who regularly suffer rosters of hobbled thirtysomethings, always with one toe on the Injured List, maybe - just maybe - it's time to ask some existential questions about 2025. 

1. Is this one of those years?

2. Is this team hopelessly entombed by bloated contracts?

3. Can this team win the AL East?

4. Does this team have the bench to survive injuries still to come? 

5. Should the Yankees start thinking of a backup plan?

6. Should we sit it out... or dance?

Let's cut to the chase. Right now, questions boil down to JD Martinez: 

To solve the Giancarlo crisis, should the Yankees spend $20 million on a 37-year-old free agent who hit .235 last year? Or do we really go with - gulp? - Dominic Smith? We can tell ourselves that Ben Rice is ready to break out. How much Kool-Aid do we guzzle? 

For 14 years, Martinez has killed us. In fact, we should ponder the Youkilis Scenario. The guy who kills you throughout his career finishes the job while wearing your uniform.  

Obviously, March 2 is too early to throw in a towel. Three weeks ago, the Gammonites were touting us to win the AL East. Now, blasted by MRIs and comeback liners, we're already penciling in Carlos Carrasco and resembling a team limping through August. 

Yesterday, the YES sirs bleated praise on the '25 Yankees. Judge was back! Jazz! The Martian didn't get hit by a liner. Lombard! Rice! Jones! Hooray.

In the late innings, the announcers talked about the death of a lifelong fan in East Rochester, a gentleman being buried with a Yankee cap. It was sweet. It brought home the notion that, in the end, Yank fans are one big family, and it's the struggle - not the outcome - that we must embrace. 

In any family, there has to be an Uncle Gary, the one who gets drunk and asks the tough questions. Here's one: As the tweaks keep piling up, how hard should the 2025 Yankees seek Band-Aids?  

Last year, around now - with Soto, Verdugo, et al -  we faced an all-or-nothing season. This year, for now, anyway, I'm not sure what we're doing.   

Gil, gone? Stroman, stay? And other primal questions across the Yankiverse.

Not sure I've ever felt "shoulder tightness." Generally, my shoulders feel like interlocked Leggos baked together on an Arizona driveway. At times, it's all they can do to raise a pint glass to the magical height that lets gravity work its magic. At that point, I often experience "brain tightness." 

So... Luis Gil has shoulder tightness. 

This is bad. This is really bad.

Yesterday, the Death Barge shut down Gil. Today, he'll get an MRI. They're saying nothing more, because  - why bother? - nobody believes a word anyway. And everybody knows the implications: Gil - 26 and the reigning Rookie of the Year - was supposed to be a bulwark of the rotation. You don't want your youngest starter to be having an MRI. This is a potential Cat-5. 

So... across the Yankiverse today, the name "Marcus Stroman" is going viral. That's because Stroman - assigned by Dean Wormer to Double-Secret Probation - is back to being our 5th starter. For the last six weeks, Cooperstown Cashman has shopped Stroman like a plate of bad liver, seeking to shred the $18 million contract that the Yankees lavished on him last year. Frankly, it's a wonder that two days ago, Cash didn't trade Stroman for some thirtysomething lug nut who peaked in 2019. He held on. I wonder what he knew...

Not much more to say about Gil and Stroman. But if anybody thought the Yankees, heading into spring training, had too many starters, they haven't watched this franchise very long. And if you think Gil will be the only starter to go down in March - Rodon? Schmidt? Cole? Fried? - you know nothing about reverse negative juju - of which the 1st Law states: Never predict anything positive about your team.  

Other matters from yesterday...

Cody Bellinger homered. Great. In 2023 he won Comeback Player of the Year. Is it realistic - or right - to hope that he wins another Comeback award? And what does it say that we'd have that conversation?

Also, as much as I like the guy, I cannot shake the fact that the Yankees obtained Bellinger in a straight up deal for Cody Poteet. Yeah, there was cash. But it was Cody for Cody.

Paul Goldschmidt is listed in yesterday's box score as "Goldschm..." WTF? They add a three dot ellipsis rather than finish his name? That ain't right. 

Jasson Dominguez didn't play yesterday. I wonder if somebody took him to a secret field and hit him 1,000 flies? More likely, he had the day off and went bowling. 

Since being allowed to grow meaningless beards, the Yankees are 3-3 in meaningless games.

The Martian is making left field into a place of terror and suspense.

There's a new streaming sci-fi flick, The Gorge, where Anya Taylor-Joy - (last year's IT girl) - plays a gritty military sniper sent to an obscure base and told to shoot whatever emerges from a deep dark canyon, because it threatens humankind. Haven't seen it, but I like the concept. 

It describes our situation in left field - because, right now, whatever emerges may threaten the future of Yankind. 

Why do I say this? Yesterday, Jasson Dominguez botched another fly. 

This one was a misdiagnosed liner to the track, a catchable ball turned into a double - the Martian's 4th defensive goof in four games. His woes in LF have begun to shade not only the 2025 lineup, but the balloon of hype that lifted Dominguez - aka "The Martian" - all winter.

Okay, let's step back. Before I play Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, let's acknowledge that:

1. It's still February - at least, for today.
2. We're only four games into spring training.
3. This is the time to make mistakes.
4. Dominguez is learning a new position, LF, (though it's not like he's donning a mask and cup.) 

Right now, our main problem is credibility. For years, the Yankee brain trust has hyped Dominguez as a rock-ribbed perfectionist, a tireless student of the game, with the work ethic of a team of huskies. He hungers for self-improvement, takes notes, remembers birthdays, a bone-crushing handshake, forever seeking to elevate the Yankee human condition. 

Unfortunately, over the winter, he does not seem to have worked on his defense in LF. 

Last September, he looked imperiled in left - so lost that the Yankees played a disappointing Alex Verdugo throughout the postseason. The October narrative went that Dominguez would catch flies all winter and report to Tampa with at least a clue. Something has gone wrong. Every fly ball is The Gorge. 

Having built their 2025 lineup around The Martian, the Yanks now seem to have few options, aside from sticking him in LF, closing their eyes and hoping for the best. Giancarlo Stanton's barking elbows might offer a solution:  Dominguez could become a fulltime DH. But, seriously, do we want our top prospect, age 22, without a position? Yikes.

Welp, the hype machine may giveth what it taketh away. Today, The Athletic devotes 800 words to the newest Yankee IT boy, Spencer Jones, who's having a nice spring - .286 with a HR. At 23, Jones could nicely fill the role of breakout OF prospect, if the Martian keeps flubbing flies. 

The problem: Jones last year fanned more than any 200 times, more than any Yankee farmhand in history.

We all know Jones. A former first rounder, who stands 6'6", he's been hyped for years. He'll surely start 2025 in Scranton. Last spring, the story goes, the Yankee brain trust saw a hole in his swing and began retooling his stance blah-blah-blah. That said, Spencer hit .444 in spring training last year - you can look it up - so he couldn't have looked too badly.

Welp, the Yankees have made their bed in LF, and Dominguez is sleeping in it. Whether he can wake up, that's the question. 

But if The Martian cannot play LF... holy crap, are we ever in trouble. I hope they have a sniper, because what emerges from left field could threaten everything. It won't be February for long. 

BAH - BAH - BAH - NANZA BOONIE !

 

Searching for meaning in a meaningless void... and finding the existential matter of Will Warren

 

I believe that we are all sick of hearing about William Harper Warren. Let's cut to the chase, send him to Wilkes Barre and call it chowder. 

I mean, liberty-biberty! the guy's no prospect. He's almost 26, and he's been rattling around the farm system since before Billie Eilish. Last year was supposed to be his breakout. Instead, he summoned the Babadook.  

In spring training, Warren battled Luis Gil for the final rotation spot. (Remember, Gerrit Cole was hurt.) Gil won the competition and became AL Rookie of the Year. Warren crashed like a self-driving Tesla. 

Over 22 MLB innings, he compiled an ERA of - this is not a typo - 10.32. 

Yes, he topped the magical "10." That's not easy; throw one scoreless inning, and you're down into single digits. Here's how his death march unfolded.

1. In July, against the Phillies, 5.1 innings and 4 ERs. (Austin Hays homered and was later hit by a Warren pitch, so there's that.)

2. In August, against the lowly Angels, 4.1 innings and 8 runs. (Zack Neto went deep.) 

3. August, against the horrible White Sox, 5 innings, 2 runs. (Gavin Sheets homered. Warren's ERA fell to 8.59 - Colter Bean territory.)

4. August, against Colorado: 3 innings, 5 ER. (No HR, just 7 hits and a walk.) 

5. August, against the Cardinals: 4 innings, 4 ER. 

He was done. They exiled him to Moosic, where he got further raked. In late September, they recalled him for a final, garbage inning, against Pittsburgh. He gave up 3 runs, including a HR by Nick Yorke. This boosted him over "10." 

I don't mean to rub Warren's nose into this. We're not a congressional hearing. We're a mirthful, fun time blog! I'm just explaining why, when I hear that Warren looked good yesterday, my good eye twitches. Will we buy another YES load a' crapola?  

Well, here's the case for hope: 

1. Technically, he's still 25. He turns in June.

2. In theory, he can forget last year and start over.

3. Yesterday, he threw 3 perfect innings, fanning 4.  

4. Supposedly, he's back to throwing his curve. (This, the current YES narrative, begs the question:  Why did he stop? Like characters in a time-travel movie, we're not supposed to dwell on such conundrums.) 

So, there it is: the Warren Report. Three innings? Fine. Wonderful. Hachacha! But if we expect nothing, we won't get burned. At least the guy knows what it's like to be dead and buried, and maybe get a last chance? Technically, that's more Dr. Phibes than the Babadook. But let's see... 

Three Predictions

1) The Martian 

Jasson Dominquez is not an instinctive fielder. 

At best we can hope for a Juan Soto type fielding performance, where he works really hard to improve all the way to substandard, as opposed to decent. Or good. 

He will hit however, and we will live with it because...

2) He will be the DH two days a week. 

It is vital that the Yankees understand that he should never be in the field when Cole or Rodon is pitching because any error he makes will melt those guys down. So...

Dominguez is the DH on the days when they pitch. Two days a week.

He can do this because...

3) Stanton ain't coming back. 

He's going to retire.

He's made too much money to go through all the rehab again knowing he's just going to get hurt in a different way as soon as he returns. 

This is an arm injury.  He's still due for an upper body injury and the inevitable leg injuries. 

As an added incentive, he knows if he quits now, his final act (the 2024 Playoffs), will be redemptive in the eyes of many. 

He can go out on what passes for on top. Plus, did I mention that he's made more than enough money by now?  

BONUS PREDICTION 

The Martian has to play left during the playoffs even when Cole and Rodon are pitching and costs them at least one game.  

Yanks ho-hum on the Martian's woes: "What happened here today, I think, is a really good teaching moment."

A teaching moment. That's what they're calling the fly ball that dropped into left-center the other day, while a discombobulated Jasson Dominguez watched. It didn't look good. Shades of Inning 5. In fact, the moment has spawned several theories regarding the young left-fielder known as "The Martian."  

1) He lost the ball in the Florida sun, which anyone can do.

2) He took a bad route, which inexperienced players can do.

3) He shied away from the onrushing CF Cody Bellinger, which smart players in spring games should do.

4. He - aww, screw it - anybody got Verdugo's number? 

Actually, there's no calling Alex Verdugo, or Tim Locastro, or Slade Heathcott, or any of the Lost Legion of Ledee, (as in Rickie) which has haunted the Yankee left field killing grounds since the days of - well - Cody Bellinger's dad, Clay. 

Over the years, great Yankee lineups were earmarked by a) a star in CF, b) a big hitter in RF, c) a bedrock catcher, d) a big bat at 1B, and e) a jersey-filler in LF. It could be Chad Curtis. It could be Arturo Lopez. This spring, it's Dominguez, now in his 6th year as the future of the Yankees.

Since 2019, when he received the then-highest signing bonus in history - eclipsing Gary Sanchez - Dominguez has been viewed, unfairly, as our savior. Immediately,  he was compared - and this is criminal malpractice for a publicist - to Mickey Mantle and Mike Trout. You can look it up. The Yankees actually churned out such bullshit, basically consigning Dominguez to a career of disappointments. 

To make matters worse, in his upper teens, Dominguez bulked up. The brain trust started comparing his physique to an NFL running back (which guaranteed nothing, in terms of his ability to hit.) At one point, it was suggested that he'd play 1B - a death sentence for a kid who stands  5'9." At every step, they heaped pressure on him. You'd almost think they held that big bonus against him. (In the name of Kei Igawa, they wouldn't do such a thing, would they?)

So, here we are.  At age 22, Dominguez is being handed the keys to LF, no competition. He faces a sink-or-swim spring that, frankly, could tank his and our  seasons. If The Martian gets off to a bad start, a lotta shit's gonna start flowing downhill. Remember how, two years ago, we thought Anthony Volpe would thrive, and how difficult it's been for him to assume Derek Jeter's legacy? 

I think Yankee fans have been subliminally programmed to expect Dominguez to replace Juan Soto. That's ridiculous. And it's dangerous.

Thus far, on the spring, he is 0-4 with a walk and a run - and a fly ball that coulda/shoulda been caught. 

Listen: If Dominguez plays 10 years, and maybe makes an all-star roster, and maybe hits 200 HRs, and maybe wins a ring, that would be a fine career... for anybody else. 

Insert sigh here. 

Whatever happens, I probably won't live long enough to see Dominguez get called out for an ovation on Old Timers Day. He's probably the last Great Yankee Hype in my lifetime - and in the traditions of Steve Whitaker, Jackson Melian and Ruben Rivera, there have been some doozies. Still, in the lore of baseball, he is already entrenched: 

There is one Babe. One Iron Horse. And now, one Martian. 

That's really cool. Or really sad.

Let's hope he's a good learner. It's getting late for teaching moments.   

An Above Average Haiku Tuesday ~ Close but NEVER Close Enough, edition!

the more that things change

the more that things stay the same

ch-ch-ch-changes

Stanton has left Casa Tampa, and the Yankees are shocked... SHOCKED!

Remember those fantastical, toad-licker dreams of January, 2025? Three weeks ago? Remember the Yankees' Fearsome Foursome: Bellinger, Judge, Stanton and Goldschmidt. Oh, perchance to dream... 

Sandwiched by Jazz Chisholm and Austin Wells - two rising, independent nations - they'd bring shock and awe to the AL's most potent lineup. Oh, hopeful times... 

Well, it's now a Gleesome Threesome, and the gonadal tweaks of spring have yet to find Paul Goldschmidt's 37-year-old hammy. We could soon be down to a Gruesome Twosome or a Loathsome Onesome?

The issue - surprise! - is Giancarlo Stanton, who has somehow managed to develop two tennis elbows, simultaneously, and be up for a lifetime achievement award from some surgical trade association. Yesterday, Stanton left Tampa for NYC, to have both elbows evaluated by some big, scary machine. 

When a player leaves camp, unless it's for childbirth, that is not happy news. Considering that it's Stanton - age 35 - who has been injured almost constantly since joining the Yankees in 2019. (That year, he played 158 games, by far the most in Pinstripes. Last year, he managed 114, spackled over by a healthy October, when he won MVP of the ALCS) - it's barely news at all. It's just newsy normalcy. 

As far as we know, the real problem with Stanton has not changed from last fall: 

Guy cannot run. 

Last October, it hurt just to watch him, attempting a gallop worthy of the Pope (Hang in there, Your Eminence!) Yeah, he stole 2B against Cleveland; the 1B positioned himself in RF. Even if Stanton solves his barking elbows, he remains a GIDP on any ball on the ground. You can play a hobbled DH in a seven-game series. It won't work over a regular season. 

To replace Stanton, well, it's not pretty.

For example, Dominic "Sloth Bear" Smith. He's 29, a scrap heap signee, built like a water heater, can barely play 1B in a pinch, and who peaked during the first Trump administration. Last year, he belted 6 HRs, hit .233. That is Franchy Cordero territory - Jake Bauer, Willie Calhoun, Billy McKinney - love to them all! We played them in 2023, finished 4th in the AL East, two above .500. You cannot replace 30 HRs with people who should be playing in Korea.

Then there's Ben Rice, who somehow last year hit 3 HRs in one game - (forever, Ben Thrice.) He still managed to finish the season at .171. He's 25. In camp, the Gammonities have bestowed upon him the time-worn trope that he's added (apply number here) pounds of muscle! 

For young hitters, that means absolutely nothing. 

Then there is the runner-up to the current competition at 3B, which falls somewhere between American Idol XXL and Miss Utica-Rome. Suddenly, we must digest the idea that there will be two winners of the 3B battle: the guy who can play 3B - Oswaldo? - and the first runner-up, who will be the DH? 

Basically, it all comes down to DJ LeMahieu, one of baseball's worst hitters, statistically, over the last two years. He'll turn 37 in July.

Finally, there seems to be no financial solution to this crisis. The brain trust has been whispering that Owner Hal is fed up with spending his money, that there'll be no more spring acquisitions, aside from maybe a recycled Dooley Womack or Alvaro Espinosa.

The Gleesome Threesome! Wasn't it just last month when the Gammonites projected the Yankees to win the AL East? Oh, the good old days...

DH For Sale or rent.....

The latest report on Giancarlo is that he has two tennis elbows. 

Does that matter in baseball?

I think he should have two TJ surgeries so that he is ready for next season, when he'll be in his early 40's.

Meantime, Duke ellis can be our DH.  Speed kills. 

Or we can rent some retired guy. 

Duque, maybe.

The Hirsute of Happiness

 By frequent Bardball contributor Greg Simetz:

The Yankees offseason was not inconsequential;
They lost slugger Soto whom all deemed fundamental
But the Cash Man got busy, signed Bellinger, Goldschmidt and Fried
Though the bigger news by far came from the facial hair side:
Their beard ban was shaved after a 50-year drought.
The ground crew’s been ordered to let stubble sprout
So come Opening Day, here’s the new Murderer’s Row:
Wells, Stanton and Volpe sporting 5 o’clock shadows.
Can ZZ Top Bombers stop the Dodgers from winning?
Or stop beating themselves in horrific 5th innings?
There’s only one thing for sure we’ll all get to see:
Aaron Judge going from goat to goatee.

List of suggested songs for the Yankees to play after a home defeat

 They'll no longer play NEW YORK, NEW YORK. (See below.)

Here's your suggested playlist:

Poor Poor Pitiful Me (Warren Zevon)
Alone Again, Naturally (Gilbert O'Sullivan)
Send Lawyers Guns and Money (Warren Zevon)
Don't They Know It's the End of the World? (Skeeter Davis)
Loser (Beck)
Lonesome Loser (Little River Band)
Won't Get Fooled Again (The Who)
I'm a Loser (Beatles)
It's the End of the World as We Know It (R.E.M.)
Why Me Lord? (Kris Kristopherson)
Tears in Heaven (Eric Clapton)
It's Too Late (Carol King)
Dust In the Wind (Kansas)
Crying (Roy Orbison) 
Meet the Mets (traditional) 

“We will be rotating through a number of different songs after a Yankees loss this year, none of them will be ‘New York New York." Calling Gilbert O'Sullivan.

They said it couldn't happen here. 

They said the Yankees would always keep their stars. They were baseball's richest franchise. They could never be outbid, certainly not by a rival. They could never be NY's "other" team. Their players would look different. They would always be clean-shaven. There was an aura to the Yankees. The winningest team in American sports. And win or lose, each game would conclude with a joyous singalong of Sinatra's great anthem, New York, New York. 

Well, folks, here we are. Each day, another pillar tumbles. John Sterling is long gone. So is Juan Soto. Will jerseys be unretired? Will Monument Park become a Tiki bar? Will the nightly roll call be piped-in? 

If the Yankees are not MLB's most dominant team - (note: they haven't been for years) - then what are they?  The Anaheim Angels of New York?

Lately, I find myself asking that question a lot. Like most of you, I'm a lifelong Yankee junky. One of my first memories is Mickey Mantle, having morphed from Mickey Mouse, and cheering for megalopolis 215 miles away - light years, culturally - from my Appalachian foothills of upstate NY. 

Weird, how I feel, today. Didn't see this coming - the last-call for New York, New York. Didn't anticipate a sense of loss. I get the concept: When the Yankees lose, there must be consequences. But there was something defiant about New York, New York. There was a pride, win or lose, in singing NY's great anthem - the Sinatra version, not Liza's. Win or lose, those little town blues were melting away, and we would make a brand new start of it... in Old New York. 

So, it's now fair game, I guess? Maybe the Mets should claim it. The Jets? Knicks? Hell, why not the Islanders? As for the Yankees, I suggest that, after a loss, they play Gilbert O'Sullivan's 1971 hit, Alone Again (Naturally).

In a little while from now
If I'm not feeling any less sour
I promise myself to treat myself
And visit a nearby tower
And climbing to the top
Will throw myself off
In an effort to
Make it clear to whoever
Wants to know what it's like when you're shattered...

Yeah, perfect. We can draw collective strength from a suicidal sense of loss - not just of a baseball game, but of a team that was once globally revered. The Yankees were the pride of NY and - for those of us who moved from Yogi Bear to Yogi Berra - the hope of humankind. 

They were the New York Yankees, the team that would always make us proud. Other fans were poor. They would chase second place. The Yankees were always America's most prideful team.

They said it could never happen here. Look around, everybody. That knock on the door? That's not a bearded Gerrit Cole. That's the wolf.

An artist's rendition of bearded Yankee greats offers hope for humankind

You'll find it here. 

Thanks, Doug K,

Searching for meaning in a meaningless world... and finding Spencer Jones

Game Two brought the first 2025 spark of optimism: 

Playing CF yesterday, Spencer George Jones  - the future of Yankee hope - clubbed a 2-run HR against Toronto's D team. (The Jays' Olympian first five pitchers: Lucas, Little, Pop, Fluharty and Pardinho...) 

Listen: We don't need another inkwell devoted to Spencer Jones. Guy's already played in two (2) Futures Games and garnered more than enough attention. As the 25th pick in the 2022 draft, he was quickly anointed as the next  Aaron Judge because of - well - let's just say that size matters.   

At 23, Jones stands 6'6" and weighs 235 - (Judge is 6'7," 282) - and is generally viewed as the highest ceiling Yankee prospect after the Martian. 

Last year, in 122 games at Double A - (he didn't even score a coffee in Scranton) - Jones hit 17 HRs and batted .259. Not terrible, if you're into Aaron Hicks. Unfortunately, the guy fanned 200 times in a Sinatra season - riding high in April (.328) shot down in May (.170.) Those 200 strikeouts placed Jones 2nd in all of the minors, behind a 20-year-old turnstile in Washington's single A system.   

In May, after Jones fanned in nearly every other AB, the Yankee brain trust sent in the swing doctors,  generally the kiss of death. Did it work? Sorta. He continued to rise and fall. Jones had entered 2024 as Baseball America's 46th ranked prospect. By midyear, he'd slipped out of the Top 100. He recently was named one of 30 MLB prospects entering their "make or break" year. 

So, yesterday, Jones joined Zolio Almonte in the "Mr. Yankee February Society," homering in the earliest games of spring. He is a leading contender for his second consecutive James P. Dawson watch award as the best-looking Yankee rookie in camp. (Last spring, he hit .444 - 8 for 18 - with a HR and 4 RBI, then bashed two HRs in the first ever "Spring Breakout Game" against Toronto's prospects.) 

So, been there, seen that, right? Obviously, it's to early to expect anything. Jones will surely open 2025 in Scranton; the cheapskate Yankees will option him out just to maintain an extra year on his contract.

But but BUT... these are weird times. For all their reconfiguring, the Yankees have a big black eye.  The Mets stole Juan Soto, and maybe the zeitgeist of NYC. A rawboned rookie goliath in CF would create a nice Bronx buzz, and two-years ago, they pulled the trigger on Anthony Volpe. (We're still wondering if that was a wise move.) Today, Zolio. Tomorrow, Aaron Hicks? Hey, you never know. And you can never have too many watches. 

AAArrgggg

 Dear Hal,

In case you didn't notice, whilst you were growing your beard, Soto went deep in his first Spring training at bat with the Mets. 

Yours untruly,

Alphonso

Searching for meaning in a meaningless universe

Prediction: It will be a banner year to be a Tampa Bay Devil Ray.  

They will play 81 home games in an open-air, sold-out, homer-happy, real grass bandbox, instead of a giant ping pong ball with a constant stream of sound effects. 

Yesterday, they presented themselves as "visitors" to George M. Steinbrenner Field, their future home. 

What happened? Who cares? 

Oh, well... New first baseman Paul Goldschmidt hit a double. His replacement, TJ Rumfield, a prospect with no prospects, had a single. Outfielder Spencer Jones drove in a run with two outs. A 31-year-old, 5'8" infielder named Pablo Reyes, playing outfield, went one for  two. 

Marcus Stroman started - his requirement, of course - and pitched a scoreless inning. So did eight other pitchers (though not starters, of course.) 

Earlier in the day, the Yankees dropped their longstanding policy against facial hair, replacing it with a policy against crazy looking facial hair and, perhaps, next, Post Malone forehead tattoos?

Finally, Aaron Boone began anew with a two-season contract extension. What photos does he possess?

Musta' been an Executive Order . . .

 

Yanks blink on beards

 

The ban on facial hair is over.

LET MY PEOPLE GROW!

Let's face it: The only way we'll be done with Boone is if the asteroid hits us

In 2032, when the asteroid cleans house, Aaron Judge will be 39, Anthony Volpe will be 30, and Juan Soto, 32, will be nursing a barky gonad, somewhere on his arc in the Riviera of the Middle East, drinking lunches with U.S. Brigadier General Jared Kushner and Pentagon Chief of Staff Kid Rock. By then, King Trump the First will have annexed Canada, the Ukraine will be a Brigadoon-like experience, which only appears every 10 years, and we will totally be winning the endless war over Greenland, according to White House spokesman Alex Jones.

That won't be the year we're done with Aaron Boone. 

Nope. He'll just be warming up. 

By 2032, the Yankees will have played in a few postseasons, with varying outcomes, none of which satisfy the fan base or replace the epic Game 5 Inning 5 meltdown of 2024 - a future cornerstone of Yankee folklore. Don't get me wrong: I'm sure we'll experience some incredible, out-of-body losses, the likes of which melt our faces,  but none will beat the acute horror of 2024, and cause Owner Hal to cut bait on his friend and confidant, Boonie. 

Nope. Gene Mauch had better watch out, because Boone is gunning for the all-time managerial shit show crown. That is, unless the asteroid has a say.

Now, let me clarify: I'm not rooting for the asteroid. To do so would exhibit poor sportsmanship, which no Yankee fan within a stranglehold of Mookie Betts would ever do. I'm just saying that if the asteroid does not take him out, nothing devised by humankind ever will. Four months ago, the Yankees put their fans through the most humiliating postseason since 2004, the burst curse of the Bambino, and apparently, nobody will pay so much as a nickel deposit on accepting the consequence. 

Yesterday, the Yankees extended Boone's contract by two years. Maybe it's time to start building the arc? By then, will Elon have finished Mars-a-Largo?

Today, in The Athletic, the Gammonitic Bible, a story spins numerous statistical projections to show the Yankees to be one of the most successful franchises in all of  baseball. It reminds me of the 1956 boxing movie, "The Harder they Fall," when a cancer-throated Humphrey Bogart barks at Rod Steiger, "Don't give me your numbers. You can make those numbers jump through hoops." And he's right. In this era, there is nothing more flimsy than an argument based on stats, especially when it's up against the memory of your favorite player dropping a routine pop fly. 

We will go to our graves with Boone managing this team. 

Not rooting for the big rock. But it might be our best bet.    

Time to Refill the Bucket of Dubble Bubble

The New York Yankees announced today that they have signed Manager Aaron Boone to a two-year contract extension through the 2027 season.

Yee. Hah.

The first red tide just went out, revealing the Yankees' tweaks and strains

I've always hated how the Gammonites equate a lack of injuries to a player "staying healthy." WTF?

Even the most injury-prone pro athletes should be models of "health," as we know it. They don't suffer pink rashes and hammer toes. They're young, in peak condition, and if they miss a month of playing time, they should be required to donate blood twice a week. "Health," as we know it, has nothing to do with a tweaked hamstring. You wanna hear about creaks or lack of mucous? I can fucking tell you about creaks and lack of mucous. No player needs to "stay healthy" unless he's drinking from the sump pump.

Anyway, so much for Happy Health February. 

One week into open camp, as red tide roils across the Gulf of Stupidity, the Yankees are already limping to the emergency room. At least five key players have reported injuries that could be nothing - or the equivalent of that city-killer asteroid. (If it's the latter, I vote for Cleveland, which is already dead.) Not a pitch has been thrown, not a grounder has been legged out, and we're dropping like flies. 

The list is terrifying... 

Giancarlo Stanton. Throughout his tortured career, Gio has suffered every injury known to humans. But this could be his masterpiece: Two tennis elbows? WTF? Who suffers two bum elbows, simultaneously? And this, atop his already legendary inability to run, which last fall made him a Strat-o-Matic card with four outcomes:  HR/K/BB/DP. Stanton was always a china doll. Injuries are his art. But he's outdone himself. 

Frankly, I cannot imagine how anyone can expect anything from Stanton in 2025. At best, he will always be one swing away from a three-month rehab. He's already "questionable" for opening day - in Stanton's dictionary, that means out through May - and it's a long cliff dive to Dom Smith and Ben Rice. For the Yankee batting order, it's night and day. I can already feel the intentional walks piling up for Aaron Judge.

Chase Hampton. Already, major concerns for his future. He's starting to looking like a mythological muse, or a sub-atomic quark, a phantom who only exists in legend or theory. He's suffering from a right flexor strain, which is what cost him almost all of 2023. It hasn't gone away. A month ago, to assure fans of a hopeful pitching staff, Boonie touted Hampton as a looming surprise. So much for that.  

Clarke Schmidt. A bad back. Shades of Mattingly. It might be nothing. Maybe he just needs an adjustable mattress. But anybody who's ever had a barking lumbago - (I assume that's everybody here) - knows how life-redefining such a condition can be. We wanted Schmidt to bypass Fried and Rodon, and become the Yankee No 2. We wanted his career season. We counted on him to give us flexibility to trade Marcus Stroman (which increasingly looks like a bad idea.) Now, everything is at risk.  

Trent Grishman. An old-fashioned, gee-wilickers, hammy pull. No worries. Grish will be back. Trouble is, he's Grish. His every appearance signifies an outfield vacancy, which the Yankees cannot afford. Imagine Judge, Bellinger or the Martian going down. (Assuming the Martian hits.) There's Grish. Yikes.

Clayton Beeter. Barking shoulder. For three years now, Cooperstown Cashman has desperately touted Beeter as a future spoke in the rotation. He's the last shard of positivity from the Joey Gallo debacle, the worst trade in Cash's algorithmic career. Now 26, Beeter is headed to the bullpen, if not the IL. One of these days, he's going to run out of options and disappear, the last vestige of Joey G.   

There's also a lingering timetable for Jonathan Loaisiga, returning from surgery. And Jake Cousins, who remains Jake Cousins. Let's hope they stay "healthy." 

Why kid ourselves? Everything about the 2025 Yankees revolves around Aaron Judge

Yesterday, we pondered the ever-expanding shitpile of narratives surrounding the '25 Yankees: What'll Volpe do? Will Bellinger hit? Who's on first? Who'll stop the rain? Who, who wrote the book of  love?  

Enough hilarity. One player - one human being - occupies Center Square, and it's not Paul Lynde. His name is Aaron Judge, and every conversation about 2025 runs directly through him. 

Last year, he hit 58 HRs, led the AL in RBIs by 26, and batted .322  - three scratch singles from the Triple Crown - and it wasn't his greatest season. Think about that. His MLB-leading OBS landed 100 points ahead of the runner-up, a DH named Ohtani. But it wasn't his greatest season. That came three years ago, when Judge had what is arguably the greatest season ever by a hitter. 

So, naturally, all we'll hear this spring are questions about his postseason slump and The Flub. 

We can prattle until sunrise about the Yankee Vision Quest at 3B, or what happens if/when Giancarlo Stanton limps off into the sunset, but if Judge, at 33, puts together another Ruthian Judgeian season, we have a puncher's chance in every matchup, from April through October. 

And if Judge gets hurt - two years ago, he missed about 60 games after smashing into Dodger Stadium - there is no replacement, nothing, nada. (Some might ponder Vladimir "I'll never play for the Yankees; wait, I've changed my mind" Guerrero. But Toronto won't trade him to us, and if it ever comes to an auction, he'll wind up on the other side of town, anyway.)

Yank fans have been blessed to watch the modern day Bambino - a complete version, not a steroidal Barry Bonds, a showy Reggie Jackson, or a strikeout machine like Mark McGwire. We got to witness - and, hopefully, appreciate - the greatest player in our lifetimes. He's a Gold Glove RF who sacrificed his legs last year to roam CF for 105 regular season games, without making one fucking error. Not one.

So, obviously, we'll obsess over the fly ball that bounced off his glove, and the postseason where he hit .186. We'll keep reliving Game 5 Inning 5 until something comes along to replace it. Because that's what we do. We have been waiting since 2009 for our prince to come. 

But make no mistake: Everything is Judge. If he's healthy, we are Alpha Males in the AL East. If he's healthy, whoever hits in front of him will have a great year. 

What? You say he'll miss Juan Soto? Let's get this straight: Last year, Soto didn't protect Judge. Not once. It was always the other way around. Let's see how Whining Juan does without the game's greatest hitter in the on-deck circle. What? Francisco Lindor, you say? Fine, if you add 20 HRs, 50 RBIs and 50 batting points. What's that you say, Mrs. Robinson? Joltin' Joe has left and gone away? Not at all. He's still a Yankee. 

So... do we have 6'7" of bubble wrap? 

An Above Average Haiku Tuesday ~ Dem' Bows, Dem' Bows, Dem' Elbows, Edition!

The Yankees vow to improve on defense this season. Are they actually better off than a year ago?

Every year, around now, Yankee-driven happy talk roils Tampa like the fresh scent of mahi-mahi decomposing in the red tide. 

Just two days into camp, there's no shortage of Pollyanna narratives circulating throughout the Big Guava. 

Here are the Top 10 Yankee Happy Talk Narratives, ranked by their unhinged positivity.

10. An energetic, in-house competition for the 3B slot.

9. Giancarlo Stanton back by summer.

8. A full season of Austin Wells.

7. Anthony Volpe ready to break out.

6. Paul Goldschmidt and Cody Bellinger expecting big years.

5. Jasson Dominguez to come of age.

4. Max Fried.

3. Jazz Chisholm on the brink.

2. Olympian bullpen, unmatched, anywhere.

1. Yankees to emphasize defense, defense, defense! 

As bile-spitting Yank fans, we accept numbers 1-9 without reservation. All shall come to pass, though maybe only for 15 minutes. It's No. 1 that bothers us, because a voice in my head - a cross between Wolfman Jack and Selma Diamond - keeps grumbling that we heard the same crapola last February. 

On that note, let's compare defenses, from last year and now. 

Catcher: Last year, we presented Jose Trevino as one of the game's premier pitch framers and a great defensive backstop. By July, he was being torched for slow throws to 2B. Wells came of age, but if you compare the hopes of Feb 24 to Feb 25... Advantage 24.

First base: Last Feb, we took comfort in the notion that Anthony Rizzo would mount a comeback season and, at the least, give us great defense. He's gone. This year, we're talking about Goldschmidt, a 37-year-old reclamation project, who would probably become the fulltime DH, if Giancarlo is done. Advantage: 24.

Second base: Gleyber Torres v Chisholm. Honestly, I donno what happened to Torres last summer, when he became a sleep-walker. Last Feb, we expected him to have a big contract year. Chisholm should be a solid 2B. Advantage: Toss up.

Shortstop: Volpe vs Volpe. I'll go with Volpe. Advantage: Toss up.

Third base: Last year, this was a festering sore until Chisholm came, though he was still learning the position. This year, it just looks like a festering sore. Advantage: Toss up.

Right field: Aaron Judge beats Mister Met. Advantage: 25.

Center field: Bellinger beats Judge, though Trent Grisham 25 probably loses a step to  Grisham 24. Advantage: 25

Left field: Alex Verdugo beats the Martian, who is learning the position. Advantage: 24.

We can debate these comparisons until the cows come home, and - dammit - that's what spring is for. Still, it's a worthwhile question: Will we really field a stronger defense in 2025? Boonie will say so. Cashman will say so. The Gammonites might join in. But take a deep breath, and that scent of rotted fish is out there, bobbing in the morning tide. 

Shocker: Giancarlo Stanton has two bad elbows

Welp, that sure didn't take long...

That misbegotten sense of hope. Remember it? Those brief moments, last week, when you forgot to stay supremely negative, and you let yourself drool happily into your egg cream? What if Bellinger and Goldschmidt both return to MVP form? We'd have the AL's best lineup!

Yeahp, remember that? We toyed with the order, like a cat with supper. Does Judge bat 2nd or 3rd? Does Wells hit ahead of or behind Goldschmidt?  

And when we imagined Giancarlo Stanton, we saw him in the playoffs last October, hitting moonshots and stealing 2nd.

The baseball world saw a postseason titan, a mighty slugger, capable of carrying a team. And we let down our guard... 

Fools. 

So... by now, you've heard the news: Giancarlo Stanton has two inflamed elbows and will likely miss opening day. Add this to the fact that the man could not run last October - he seems to pull an invisible tractor - and suddenly, that fearsome batting order looks like a taxi squad from Oakland, or Sacramento, or wherever the A's will play this season. (By the way, I've decided they will be "Oakland" this year, and maybe for the rest of my life. No "Gulf of America." No "Sacramento A's." I'm keeping it simple.)

But here's the kicker: After a winter of big moves and fine tuning, the Yankees enter 2025 with a massive hole at DH, in the heart of their lineup, and have nobody to replace the 35-year-old, chronically injured Stanton. 

Wait. I take it back. There's Trent Grishham. (Nine HRs and a .191 BA last year.) Or Dominic Smith, on loan from Scranton. Or another 2023 scrap heap mashup of Jake Bauers, Willie Calhoun and Franchy Cordero. Can Slade Heathcott come out of retirement?

One day into camp, and Stanton is hurt. Can't swing. Can't run. Wow. 

In Tampa, the poet B Cashman stuns with free verse on climbing the Yankee mountain with an unpeeled onion

Friday, on the matter of why the Yankees cannot spend as heavily as the Dodgers, Mets and Phillies, the famed singer-songwriter B Cashman gushed spontaneous poetry. 

The following are his lyrical words, verbatim. 

He said...

To Peel That Onion

By B. Cashman  

Ultimately, there's 

A lot of different ways

to climb the mountain.

A lot of different ways

to peel that onion.

And the only thing,

in the end, that matters

is winning in October.

How utterly true. How deliciously wondrous. How luminously grand. Later, in the  same session, he spake this:

Lying Agents 

By B. Cashman

In some cases,
they tell you they have this.

In other cases,
it’s blind bidding.

In some cases,
they say they’ve got something

   that they don’t

      and you don’t find out

    until later.

You just have to choose to navigate

what you’re comfortable with.

Sometimes

you don’t win 
the day.

And finally, this gem.

Hats Off 

By B. Cashman

Ultimately, the Dodgers

have raised the bar.

They’re the defending

world champions.

They’re doing a lot of things

really good.

Looks like a magical year in store.