In 2011 - the year of Swishalicious and the Grandyman - (we lost in the playoffs to effing Detroit) - Freddy Garcia happened.
At age 34, Garcia came to the Yankees from the boneyard and threw 146 innings with a 3.62 ERA. (Coulda used those numbers last year, no?) He was one of Cooperstown Cashman's prized rare gems, an over-the-hill pitcher plucked from the darkness. But he wasn't Cash's prime salvage.
That belonged to rotund Bartolo Colon - "Big Sexy," who at 38 found rebirth via some revolutionary (and apparently legal) blood infusions. (Don't ask, don't tell.) Bartolo pitched 164 innings - an ERA of 4.00 - and then, nobody's ever figured this out how - he pitched seven more seasons, including an all-star game. Today, Colon's second career puts him within spitting distance of the Hall. Maybe he'll go in with Cash!
Which brings us to Carlos Carrasco, whose 6.18 ERA from 2023-24 was a legitimate shit show. Worst in baseball. Amazingly awful. When the Yankees signed Carrasco in February, at 38, it looked like one of those practical joke reality shows. He was number seven in a five-man rotation, dueling the great Allan Winans.
That was then. This is - geez - now?
Close your eyes, and Carrasco could be Number three in the Yankee rotation. Three. That's how terrifying this current world has become.
But but BUT - if he could be text Freddy or Big Sexy, wow, a lot of pain would be mitigated.
Listen: Carrasco merely has to get us through the month of May. That's all. Get us to Luis Gil and Clarke Schmidt - forget Gerrit Cole; he's a YES personality - and we'll be sated. By then, some stud can rise from the minors, on his way to Tommy John, because you're only as strong as the number of young arms you can ruin.
Some guys pitch forever. Carlos - aka Big Sexy II - is that you?
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(coughs) …It ain’t.
Much as I like to believe in fairytales and unicorns, this particular matrix that our leader is describing is powered by a seven-year-old car battery out in the back shed and a feral woodchuck is about to eat through the ground wire. Even if I squint, it's difficult to see a rotation in the distance.
As a remembrance - kindly make all of your four squares today on your Foreman Grill. Even a flash-fried feral woodchuck tastes better when seared between two slices of Home Pride on a Foreman Grill.
Never drop your hands and remember to protect yourself at all times.
We're doomed.
Boone is an idiot.
All of Foreman's kids are named George, but what about his wife?
The Pharaoh is out for two months. HBP, broke his wrist. Tough.
Who is The Pharaoh?
Ahhh...Thairo Estrada...how quickly I forgot.
Which one?
Good question.
All of them?
All the Georges were identified by their unique middle names.
That said, you haven't lived life to its fullest until you've had a bite of this flash-fired feral woodchuck, expertly seared to golden goodness on this George Foreman Grill. And fur you non-meat/flesh eating humans out there (I'm glancing up towards uhm....uh, you know, exit 54 on the old i95) you can also Foreman-up a fine tasting portobello sando, complete with all the fixings!
Could Cameron "Heil" Schlittler be starter #5?
Foreman made more money on the grills than though boxing. And his agent embezzled less of it, too.
The pitching coaches better stock up on duct tape and bailing wire. And linament.
Damn! And I still have 10,000 of those headdresses in that Bronx warehouse. That guy has had some hard luck in his career.
Best if allowed to marinate in the roadway.
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