The Goldschmidt boy ( photo yesterday with his granddaughter in Japanese restaurant ) was pulled today for soreness in his back, shoulder and lower lumbar region.
He had been solidifying the first base spot for the Yanks. Another brilliant Cashman deal.
Not so sure what is going on.
Is this Yankee team cursed?
Is it bad sushi?
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11 comments:
Don’t go throwing good money after bad sushi, especially down that jizz chasm…
LOLOL
I haven’t mentioned this in a while, but cashman really is an idiot.
Reports out of Tampa…Golden Sombrero slipped on a whitish substance on the floor of the dugout, there in, he fell to the floor injuring nearly his whole body.
Don't blame the sushi. Blame Cashman for chasing old guys over fresh talent, his incompetent training and conditioning squad who break ballplayers like breadsticks... and, of course, the idiots in his analytics team, who are utterly unqualified for their jobs.
There was nothing wrong with the sushi.
Best thing that could've happened to us. One word solution: Runfield.
So let's talk turkey. Jazz Chisholm will miss one-third to two-thirds of all Yankees games tis year. Hw is yet another wish and a payer, a player who cannot possible do what he is supposed to do. In this sense, he is a typical Cashman addition.
"Life During Wartime"
Heard of a van that is loaded with weapons
Packed up and ready to go
Heard of some gravesites out by the highway
A place where nobody knows
The sound of gunfire off in the distance
I'm getting used to it now
Lived in a brownstone, lived in the ghetto
I've lived all over this town
This ain't no party, this ain't no disco
This ain't no fooling around
No time for dancing, or lovey-dovey
I ain't got time for that now
Transmit the message, to the receiver
Hope for an answer some day
I got three passports, a couple of visas
You don't even know my real name
High on a hillside, the trucks are loading
Everything's ready to roll
I sleep in the daytime and I work in the nighttime
I might not ever get home
This ain't no party, this ain't no disco
This ain't no fooling around
This ain't no Mudd Club, or C.B.G.B.
I ain't got time for that now
Heard about Houston? Heard about Detroit?
Heard about Pittsburgh, P.A.?
You oughta know not to stand by the window
Somebody'll see you up there
I got some groceries, some peanut butter
To last a couple of days
But I ain't got no speakers, ain't got no headphones
Ain't got no records to play
Why stay in college? Why go to night school?
Gonna be different this time
Can't write a letter, can't send no postcard
I ain't got time for that now
Trouble in transit, got through the roadblock
We blended in with the crowd
We got computers, we're tapping phone lines
I know that that ain't allowed
We dress like students, we dress like housewives
Or in a suit and a tie
I changed my hairstyle so many times now
I don't know what I look like
David Byrne
Exactly.
This sure ain't no Mudd Club.
I'd say more like bad hubris. We all sound like broken records. This has been going on since about 2010, when HAL all of a sudden announced that he gave Cashman a directive to dive under the luxury tax threshold. It's been all about finances since. Nothing about winning on the priority list.
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