I did this, so you needn't. I don't recommend such activities. It's like a day trip to Utica: Things you cannot un-see, mysteries you cannot solve.
I found Braden Shewmake.
Yes, Braden Shewmake. He's a 28-year-old infielder who toiled last year in Scranton, hitting .244 with 4 HRs. With Anthony Volpe on the mend, Shewmake is arguably one tweaked gonad from being Opening Day SS.
I don't mean to pick on The Shew. He's a former first-rounder - (the Yankees love them) - who has played 31 MLB games, with 1 HR and a .118 BA. He bats LH. He's from Texas. His jersey number is "89." In 2022, he ranked fifth on the Braves' prospect list. Downhill, ever since.
With a due respect, when I see a fellow like Shewmake on our 40-man, it makes me ponder the gravitas of the Yankee system. Right now, our depth chart looks as thick as a coat of Windex. (Again, I don't wish to malign the guy; he stole 15 bases last year; speedster?)
Apparently, the Yankees will protect Shewmake in next week's Rule 5 draft. It's part of Cooperstown Cashman's intricate game of 3D chess. We should breathe easier, knowing the Yankees cannot lose Shew. Right? Show of hands? Uh-huh...
Lately, all we hear from the Brain Trust is how Food Stamps Hal doesn't want to spend $300 million on the payroll, and the Yankees are already tailgating that number. Last month, when Trent Grisham accepted their $22 million, one-year qualifying offer, Cashman quickly assured us that all was going to plan. He resembled a waiter who just dropped a platter of clams, and shouts, "I meant to do that!"
The Yankees appear to be stepping back from bidding wars on Kyle Tucker and/or Cody Bellinger. Meanwhile, they're talking about trading The Martian and/or Spencer Jones.
If they're seeking to reduce expectations, they're doing a great job.
So, sleep easier, folks! Outside, it's a white-out. But next week, in the Rule 5, we're on course to keep Shewmake.
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2 comments:
Hal is a cheap, mean-spirited, tight-lipped, unhappy billionaire. He won't spend enough to win. What he DOES spend is spent by a moron who doesn't know baseball, but who thinks he's a genius. That's why we can't have nice things.
And I intent to keep honing the above sentiment until it's just a few words, then an acronym that only I understand, at which point I'll just walk around with a demented grin, mumbling, "I told you so" over and over. Hal will have been the thing that drove me over the edge into madness. My only saving grace is that I barely give a shit anymore. And that is sad.
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