July 30th, 2027 Game Thread ∞ It starts tonight, Former True Believers™ . . .

 

The Chicago Seven...continues.

 

So Cashman's left us bound and gagged

And he's chained us to a chair

Won't you please turn off Chicago

So I can save my mind?

For a team that's known for winning

How can such a thing be fair?

Won't you please turn off Chicago

Before it leaves us blind?

We can change this team

Rearrange this team

It's dying

To get better

(Can't get any worse...)

Aaron Boone sit yourself down

There's nothing for you here

Won't you please just leave Chicago?

No, we're not being snide

Don't ask Hal to help us

Cause he'll turn the other ear

Won't you please just leave Chicago or join the other side?

(We can change)

Yes, we can change the game

(Or at least the channel)

Rearrange the game

(It's dying)

And if you believe in baseball

(It's dying)

Play the game like you've got half a brain

(It's dying)

Analytics who needs them?

Throw 'em out the door!

Somehow the Yankees must be freed

I hope the day comes soon

Won't you please turn off Chicago?

I can't find the channel anyway

From the back of the bullpen

To the lumps sitting on the bench

Won't you please just leave Chicago?

And rejoin the human race.

We can't find the game

(Believe me, you don't want to)

We can't stand the game

(When we do find it)

If you believe in greatness

(It's dying)

If you believe in more than money

(Not Hal or Pal)

Analytics, who needs 'em?

Throw 'em out the door.

With apologies to Graham Nash.

Runk blog underway. Did I dream that Michael Kay puts Brylcream in his tea?

Siri, write this down. Two nights ago, had a fever dream about Michael Kay and Joe Girardi, explaining how to stir tea. Kay takes off his glasses and sticks an arm into the cup and swirls the tea. Girardi thinks that's crazy, but Bryant Gumbel - I swear I'm not making this up - texts Kay and says he's been stirring drinks with his glasses for 20 years, so if it's good for Bryant Gumball, I mean, it's good for everybody, right, Siri. Siri? Siri?

(Do you want to keep going?)

Yeah, no, actually no. Siri, keep this going. There's nothing worse than a bullpen loss. We had the game, and we lost it. Terrible. I got nothing more to say.

(Send it to the blog?)

Send. 

Happy Happy JOY JOY JOY (SCHLiTT is on the Mound !)

 

Annual dRUNK blog begins today. For next four days, expect no cogency.

 

Every year, I gather with old college buddies for four days of nonstop drinking bullshit sharp social dialogue. Imagine the Burning Man festival merged with a Juggalo convention, which subsists on Labatt's Blue and Utz Honey Barbecue chips. It's not exactly the Chautauqua Institute, unless it hosted a weeklong salute to the Three Stooges, on mescaline and bad laxatives. 

Did I mention that we're all in our 70s?

The event includes a few straggling Redsock fans, to whom I shall gently pose the following questions.

1. WTF happened to the great and almighty Marcelo Mayer? I thought he was supposed to be the next Jeter? Your Jeter. Like Jeter Downs was? Hey, remember Jeter Downs?  

2. Is superman Roman Anthony still a thing? Didn't he bad cleanup for Team USA in the World Baseball Cup? Is it true that he's hitting .229? Wow. That's territory occupied by The Martian.  

3. So, lemme get this straight: Aroldis is gonna close all season. He's never gonna blow? Ever? He's just gonna keep throwing 104 mph strikes, with flash flood warning sweat glands, and everything's gonna be okay? Lemme get this on tape. Aroldis is gonna save the season? Uh-huh. 

4. Where is Jeter Downs, anyway? Drinking with Alex Verdugo? I wonder if they're talking about Mookie Betts?

5. Hey, you DO realize that neither the Yankees nor Boston are gonna win it all, right? We'll play 162 games, then three weeks of postseason, and the Dodgers will walk away with it, as they were always gonna, right?

6. Yeah, I hear you... Giancarlo, Giancarlo, Giancarlo... I yell "Jeter Downs," and you yell "Giancarlo." Do we sound like idiots?

7. Oh yeah? JETER DOWNS, pally. JETER DOWNS.

Okay, folks, I'm off the clock and chasing danger.

HE'$ COMING! BETTER LOOK OUT! 'CAU$E HERE COME$ MR CA$HMAN ! (07•28•26)

 

 

 

 

Last night, the Yankees witnessed what life could be like with a catcher who hits

Across this infinite and eternal universe - an endless expanse of time and space -surely there exists a carbon copy of our world, but for one micro-tweak: 

In this alt-Earth, the Yankees didn't trade away a generation of young catchers so they could hitch their future to Austin Wells. 

In this crazy world - a reality that strains our imagination - the Yankees actually get production from their 9-hole catcher. 

What a concept? Quality at-bats! Late-inning homers! RBIs! From the bottom of the order? Pinch me!

Last night, we visited this enchanted world. It evoked memories of Yogi, Ellie, Thurman, Jorge - even Gary Sanchez, the former future hall-of-famer. For one pristine night in this looming mildew of a season, one fated to end in early October... for one night, our catcher delivered, as they say at the CDC, "explosively."

Strange, isn't it, how the August trade deadline always seems to rouse a burst of hope from those we expect to bid adieu?

Last night, Ali Sanchez - a 29-year-old former Redsock, Marlin, Met, Cardinal and Blue Jay - crushed his first MLB home run, a three-run shot that basically won the game. By this time next week, Sanchez will probably be back in Scranton, replaced by a RH-hitting catcher in some trade that requires us to vastly overpay with young prospects. 

(Also, Anthony Volpe - another endangered Yankee species - continued his unlikely hitting spree. He's at .308 over last seven days, raising his season's average to a serviceable .250. He's out the door, right? George Lombard Jr. is coming, right? Besides, Volpe's botched pop fly in the 9th reminds us of his downsides, right?) 

One thing about the '26 Yankees, mired on this rather hopeless planet:

They play just well enough to win, and just bad enough to lose. 

Boston recently won 15 in a row. These Yankees won't do that. If they win seven in a row, they'll lose the next seven. They hold second place in the AL East like a fat person on a bus. They're hard to get around. But once they fall into a seat, there's no getting up. 

Ahh, a hitting catcher... what a concept. For one night, we got to see it...

07•27•26 – THIS JUST IN . . . ALERT THE PRESS AND INFORM ALL MEDIA OUTLETS

Andruw Jones and Carlos Beltran into the Hall? And Bob Costas becomes a voice of reason? Yank fans must wonder W.T.F?

The last 15 games show Bellinger's loss

Maybe for Meat Loaf - (R.I.P.) - two out of three aint bad. But the Yankees last night had phumbling Philly encased in carbonite and ready to be dropped into Lake Michigan, then couldn't finish the job. 

That's our '26 team: Two baby steps forward, one giant hamstring-pull backwards. 

Next up, seven days in Chicago - the Sox and Cubs - with the trade deadline about to hit. We cannot fathom how they'll fare over the next few days, but this we do know: 

They will leave Chicago as a different team. And not necessarily a better one. 

For starters, George Lombard Jr. will probably be our SS. Last night, Anthony Volpe continued his assault on Jeter's tradition, hitting two doubles and then botching a throw to first, which opened the flood gates. At 3B, the comedy team of Rosario and McMahon will likely be replaced by Jose "Eight Seconds Over Tokyo" Caballero. We'll have a new catcher - somebody, from somewhere. And our farm system will be cleared out to a degree that - dear God, why am I thinking of the phrase "explosive diarrhea?"  

Which brings us to The Hall. Last night, on the NBC broadcast, Bob Costa made a grand pitch for Don Mattingly to get the call. Good for him. I believe Costa, in old age, is trying to compensate for the anti-George sentiments he often expressed as a young turk. Like many top baseball announcers, most notably Joe Gariogiola and Red Barber, Costas often criticized Steinbrenner for spending too much and ruining the game for cheap owners. In recent years, he has warmed to the family and the franchise. I think he came to realize how Yank fans suffer, while the baseball world views us as pampered fat cats. (I'd like to see a Royals fan deal with Giancarlo Stanton's injuries. You think they would whine?) 

Costa's plea for Mattingly was on the mark. The sad part, though, is that he had to be the one making it. Why aren't NYC writers screaming about Mattingly's absence? It's ridiculous - embarrassing - that Donnie Baseball is not in the Hall. Where is the thunder? Where are the death threats?  

Meanwhile, this weekend, two huge Yankee disappointments got in. Seriously, we missed the greatness of Andruw Jones and Carlos Beltran. 

First off, Jones? For starters, there's the spelling. Was that a joke? Secondly, he came to the Yankees at 34, when some players still show a spark. He hit .220 with tiny tot power (27 HRs over two seasons.) His glove was a satire of what it had been. After year one, he moved in the A-Rod and vowed to rededicate himself to the game. Then he sucked again.

Here's a stunner: Jones' career batting average is .254. Two fifty fukkin' four. Bernie Williams (career average .297, plus a handful of rings) gets routinely passed over, and yet everybody is supposed to think the voters favor the Yankees? Are you kidding me? And it wasn't just the Yankees. Jones sucked for the Dodgers. (.158) He sucked for Texas (.215.) He sucked for the White Sox. (.230). Honestly, when they announced that Andruw Jones was going into the Hall, I thought it was a prank. 

Then there is Beltran. He came to us in 2014, Hal's last power play, when we signed three big free agents. (Brian McCann and Jacob Ellsbury were the others.) It backfired. Beltran, 37, batted .230 with 15 HRs. This effectively ended the Yankee owner's attempts to buy a pennant, or a wild card, or - frankly - anything. Beltran played three seasons with the Yankees - 56 HRs and a .270 average. I'll grant him some good years with Houston, KC and the Mets. But with the Yankees? His best season came in the broadcast booth.

As for Jeff Kent, the third Hall of Fame star this weekend? We never signed him. But don't be surprised if his son, Kaeden - the Yankees' third round pick two summers ago, and one of the jewels of their system - goes off in a trade. To get talent, you have to give it up. 

Damn. Seven days in Chicago. The winds are gonna blow.

Oh My Gawd – Whatever could THIS BE • • • ?

A) Revolutionary New Medical Imaging of Bellinger's Hamstring Injury 

B) A Yankee Branded Chicken Leg marinating in Cornell BBQ marinade 

C) Prototype for a new, 2027 post-lock out NY Yankees Mascot 

D) Hal Steinbrenner's Dorian Gray Portrait

E) Revolutionary New Medical Imaging of Juan Soto's Calf Strain

WHAT DO YOU THINK IT, UH, LIKE YOU KNOW . . . IS ? 

 

Spencer Jones' Yankee career has just been thrown a lifeline

 

Win or lose, Yank fans take delight in the fun time parlor game called, "What is the worst thing that could happen?" 

It's especially rewarding to top off a Yankee victory by reminding yourself that a) the universe is stacked against you, b) the juju gods hate you, and c) the slightest scent of hope should inspire a vomitous burst of negativity. This is what happens when one of the pillars of your childhood - the Yankees, as the greatest dynasty in sports - devolves into a poorly run money mill.  

So, last night, celebrating the Yankees 3-1 victory over Philly, we had to wonder, "Okay, universe, how do you plan to ruin THIS?" 

The answer: Cody Bellinger had suffered the first tweaked hamstring of his 10-year career. Today, it will be scanned like Epstein phone texts. The results will determine whether Belli will miss weeks... or months. 

Hammies are the Springsteen of injuries: You think the show is over, and then they play five more songs. Bellinger could be out through August, and that's not counting the chance of setbacks, the kind that long ago turned Giancarlo Stanton into Mitch McConnell. Belli probably won't miss the rest of the season. But nobody knows. 

What we do know is that Spencer Jones, at 25, just received from the universe a mystical, if not miraculous, reprieve. He is the logical outfield answer, beyond Max Schuemann, an overachieving everyman who plays hard but cannot inspire long range hope. 

For years, we wondered what Jones would look like in a hitting streak. I think we gave up hope of knowing. I think Jones was ticketed for a trade next week, and we would never see what might be.  

Suddenly, he has a month to show us. 

Last night in Scranton, Jones went 0-2 with 2 Ks (his signature stat line.) In 194 at-bats this year, he has 14 HRs, 10 SBs, a .273 average and a .942 OPS. (And 72 strikeouts.) He's left-handed like Bellinger. He's fast like Bellinger. He's got power like Bellinger. But he's no Bellinger - more a Joey Gallo. 

A month from now, we might regret having one more chance to decide Jones' future. But at least we should know. Bellinger's hammy should have scuttled any Yankee plan to trade him.  

For years now, we've fantasized a Yankee outfield featuring Jones and Jasson Dominguez, home grown stars supplementing the twilight seasons of Aaron Judge. I had given up hope. It was never gonna happen. Well, last night, the Martian homered. He went 1-4. He hasn't gotten hot. He BA is mired in the .230s. He hasn't shown what he can do.  

Suddenly, the two most hyped Yankee prospects of this millennium have a month to show themselves. The worst thing that could happen? Well, it happened. But damn... it could be interesting.  

A "BIT" of a warning to remind us all of what's coming – uhhhh – Game Thread

 

 

 

we  "BITTY"  the  FOOL 

 

The Yankee catching debacle simply cannot go on. But will anything change?

 

Sometime soon, the wise and all-knowing Yankee consigliere, Brian "Cooperstown" Cashman, will overpay in a trade for some middling catcher, prompting the courtiers of YES to cheer another great victory. 

We do not know who that catcher will be. 

We do not know what young players will form the package that brings this unlucky bastard to our creaky doorstep. 

What we do know is the List of the Damned - those who have come and gone during our 10-year odyssey. 

In the past, Cashman has spoken of the "great white whale," his pursuit of an ace who leads the Yankee staff. Over the years, from Kai Igawa to Sonny Gray, he has generally failed, at times, quite miserably. 

But today, let us ponder Cashman's record on catchers. A quick glimpse into the past conjures a Schindler's List (or Schlitler's List?) that includes Brian McCann, J.R. Murphy, Austin Romine, Gary Sanchez, Kyle Higashioka, Rob Brantly, Carlos Narvaez, Jose Trevino, Agustin Ramirez, Luis Torrens, Rafael Flores and Mickey Gasper, all of whom came and went, often jettisoned to our enemies, in the last 10 years. Several could help this team today, were they available. That's baseball, Suzyn.

The tragedy is the Volpe-esque collapse of Austin Wells, who even tried growing a beard over the all-star break, hoping to start anew. In 203 at bats this year, Wells is by far the game's worst offensive starting catcher. He is a human GIDP. The Yankees are said to be looking for a RH catcher but - come on, be honest - any catcher will do. (And before you say "Higgy!," Kyle is on the IL with a flexor strain, where he had Tommy John surgery three years ago.)

So, brace yourselves. Cashman has no choice. He must top off a package with prospects and then cut a deal. And regardless of the price, the YES team has no choice but to wildly cheer, to claim we gave up nothing, and to observe how lucky we are to be Yankee fans. 

Then we will deal with the long-term consequences. 

Coming soon, the 2026 Cashman trade blitz. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Schlitt √s Schwarb – Friday Game Thread – 07•24•26

w   o   r   d

 

The Dodgers are done.

 

Quick, everybody... write this down: 

It's over for the Dodgers. 

Shohei Ohtani? You can feel the elbow barking. 

Freddie Freeman? The knee is starting to swell. 

Mookie Betts? Well, he called in sick yesterday, rather than visit the White House Rose Garden bunker ballroom algae pond construction zone, so maybe the juju gods will go easy on him. 

But the Dodgers just did what Spain's soccer team - and most of the free world - refused to do. They just rubbed elbows with the most toxic sports curse since Madonna bedded down Canseco.

By now, everybody knows you don't compare a 16-year-old kid to Mickey Mantle and Mike Trout. But, of course, that's exactly what the Yankees did, and Jasson Dominguez will forever wear the curse. Is that juju, or stupidity? 

By now, everybody knows what Buffalo Bills fans long ago came to realize: Anything you do or say will be held against you in a juju court of eternity. 

By now, everybody knows about the Knicks. Their lone playoffs loss came on the night Trump tromped into MSG for a photo op. He arrived in a Brinks truck, sat behind a clear brick wall, fell asleep on his haunches and provoked boos whenever the cameras found him. The Knicks crumbled. Everybody went home blaming the gods, or the refs, or the universe - whatever. That's how curses work. You can't pin them down to one misplaced fastball or a Scott Norwood "wide right."  

It's remindful of last September 11, the World Trade Center observance, when Trump visited the Yankees for a game against Detroit.  It came one day after the shooting of Charlie Kirk, and the nation was frazzled. They opened Yankee Stadium five hours early, so each fan could be scanned, if not fingerprinted and vetted more deeply than the last U.S. Senator candidate from Maine.  

In the end, Trump got his picture, and the Yankees got - well - the AL East wild card. 

Four weeks later, the Yankees fell to Toronto in the AL Division series. It wasn't an instant "explosive diarrhea" Trump meltdown, just another year with nothing to show but a wild card flag that nobody will bother to raise.

I wonder if the Dodgers know what they've done? It's going to be a hard October. The juju gods, they are assholes.

Thank you, Mr. Cashman. Thank you, Mr. Boone. Thank you...er...Hal.*

Thanks to the incompetence of Cashman and Boone and the rapaciousness of Hal, we have been spared what LA fans have not: Our baseball heroes accepting the Invitation the Knicks Refused and enjoying the congratulations of the first orange president.

Because you know that the Yankees would have gone, and our favorite players would have been doing what Ohtani is doing here. And they would have loved it, because most of them support the old man and think he's just swell. Including immigrant players or those who remain foreign citizens.

I think it was the observant Cindy Lauper who once sang, "Money changes everything." I suppose that's part of it. Plus peer pressure and incredibly misplaced religiousity. Jesus is just alright with me, but what people do in his name...Jesus.

Regardless, thank you, Yankees management. Your seemingly intentional goal of maximizing profits while staying far away from that World Series trophy has kept us all from the chagrin, embarassment, and shame of seeing a scene like this involving our haphazard stumblebums.

*(Sorry for the overt political content, but I think when the polls say 67% of the public disapprove of his job performance, it's time.)

Victory!

 

Yes! They've done it!

YOU—in your ignorance and bug-level POV—might have seen yesterday's tiresome, twinbill slog against the Bucs as just another in a seemingly endless succession of...tiresome slogs this season.

But for Hal & Pal, it smells like...victory.

Those two games—whatever happened to the beloved, twi-night doubleheader?  Even the nonsensical name was romantic—drew over 84,000 suckers fans, lifting the Yankees' season attendance total (tops in the American League) to over 2 million in just 49 home games this season.  

Barring two seasons marred by Covid (2020 and 2021), this makes the 29th straight season in which the Bombers have drawn over 2 million fans.  

In the previous 20 seasons, 1976-1995—and again, barring three shortened by labor fights (1981, 1994-1995), the Yanks drew over 2 million fans another 14 times.  

In other words, in the 54 seasons that the Family Steinbrenner have owned your New York Yankees, they have drawn at least 2 millions fans some 43 times. 

Before this year is over, the team will almost certainly draw over 3 million fans before the last, Volpe wild-card pop-up vanishes into the last Guardian of Traffic glove, making that the 26th time this once inconceivable total has been reached. 

(Including the four times the team drew over 4 million, before the team itself, in order to pander to the disgustingly wealthy, made it impossible to ever happen again.)

The only previous, five times when this has occurred came in baseball's postwar boom, with over 2 million fans pushing their way through the turnstiles from 1946-1950.

And yet...the response from the Steinbrenners has been:

Insistent threats to move the team to Manhattan, the Meadowlands, and even Denver, along with strong-arming the taxpayers into two free or largely free stadiums, skyrocketing prices and luxury accommodations that have reducing seating capacity to record lows in favor of super-rich patrons, and incessant whining about what taxes they do pay.

Well, hey. Enjoy the win, Hal. From every picture that we see, we can tell that it gives you such overwhelming joy.

Everywhere, ex-Yanks are taking vengeance on their former team. It's about to get worse.

For anyone who ever bewailed the Aaron Boone Era - a tortuous, Job-like, nine-year stretch of Yankee incontinence - there was always one final, fateful, pitiable rung on that downward ladder to Hell. 

Everyone knew Boone was a mistake. That was the easy part, our baseline disappointment. The real problem wasn't Boone, but who wasn't there. 

Donnie Baseball, of course. 

He was supposed to manage the Yankees. You knew it. I knew it. The universe knew it. The juju gods certainly took notice. If you could travel back to 1995, when Mattingly was finishing his playing career, you wouldn't find a living soul who didn't believe he'd someday run the Yankees. Here was a truly great player and human being, an icon of Yankee pride. Of course, he would manage the Yankees. Why even ask? Are you daft?  

Of course, it never happened.

Yesterday, the Yankees won and lost against Pittsburgh. (Instead of a Ryan McBroom, we got a Paul Splittorf.) Catching for the Pirates was 25-year-old Rafael Flores Jr., hitting .287, who would be the answer to our prayers, had we not traded him. Elsewhere, the Redsocks finally lost, ending a 15-game winning streak, which prompted their manager to call a team meeting. But when he got there, one was already happening, being led by Sonny Gray, who the Yankees cast out, after deciding he couldn't handle the pressure of NYC.  

Everywhere, ex-Yanks are saving a special dollop of bile for their former team. 

This weekend, it will be a sock to the kisser. 

Donnie Baseball manages the Phillies. I wonder if they'll play hard? Ya think so? I wonder how Mattingly would deal with Jose Caballero, whose antics at the plate seem to pointlessly piss off not only our opponents but the umps? I wonder what he'd say about all the strikeouts, all the failed bunts, all the blown opportunities? Instead, we get Boone, assuring us that all is fine.  

The Phillies have no ex-Yanks in their lineup. You might think we're home free this weekend. Dunno about that. Bryce Harper grew up wanting to play CF in the Bronx. As a free agent back in the winter of 2019, he went to New York in search of a contract. The Yankees hid under their beds. 

Everywhere, somebody's got a gripe with us. Gonna be a tough weekend.

Game(s) day thread. As ABOVE AVERAGE would say... Let's Play Two – 7/22 – 2026

 

Today, for the first time, the Yankee rotation features Gerrit Cole and Max Fried. Is the Singularity upon us?

 

I was starting to think that I would never see...  

1. A poem as lovely as a tree.

2. Madonna as an opener for Justin Beiber. 

3. Measles back atop the U.S.A. medical charts.

4. Gerrit Cole and Max Fried pitch for the Yankees on the same day.

This we know: God is a nut job. 

Never doubt the universe, when it comes to chaos and crapola, the two pillars of American culture. Always be a Beleiber. Yes, you can imagine the Muppets playing "Seven Nation Army" in an open-air stadium, but it's not crazy enough unless you add an orchestra of violins. Odysseus might take 10 years to get home to Ithaca, but you damn well better believe he'll make it in time for the Cortica Jug Game against Cortland State.  

 

Getting back to Cole-Fried, (which sounds suspiciously like a dead bill before Congress):  I never saw this happening. The two pitchers were like moons circling Pluto - you'd never see them on the same day. Together, they represent $50 million in Yankee payroll this season - $134 million through 2028, when the money kicks in on Fried's contract. 

When you factor in the notion that 2027 could be a labor lockout, who knows? This could be it! This could be the Yankee Rotation Singularity - Cole and Fried, together at last, blowing up the Yankiverse, as bookends in a doubleheader. 

Soon, Carlos Rodon could join them (though his lingering elbow issues are troubling) - and then Clarke Schmidt. The infusion of veteran arms would offset the lack of a breakout Yankee farm hand - no Cam Schlittler down the stretch. What we see is what we got. 

For now, all eyes are on the Aug. 3 trade deadline, when King Cashman will try to pry loose a decent RH-hitting catcher from some second-tier tomato can. 

 After that, here are more impossibilities we will see... 

1. The NY Football Giants will tear up that beautiful sod grass in the Meadowlands, laid down for the World Cup, so their team - the sixth most injured NFL roster last year - can play home games on a parking lot covered by a throw-rug. The soccer stars were too valuable to risk on artificial turf. Not the Giants, though. They'll play 15 games on the remodeled asphalt, tied with Tennessee for the most likely to be shredded. Cannon fodder, right? 

2. Yankees will promote George Lombard Jr. A piece in today's Times - via The Athletic - all but demands the move. In it, Boone and Bellinger call Lombard everything but the most terrifying juju curse: "The Next Jeter." They say he's already a better glove than Volpe/Caballero. Hard to Beleibe, am I right? If that's true, what are they waiting for?

3. Jazz Chisholm should bat higher in the order. Why are they sticking him below Belli, Goldie and The Martian? The guy is facing an existential crisis: it's his contract year, and what he does over the next three months will dictate the fate of his family. The Yankees seem to be acting like he's an afterthought, that they're already moving on (as they did with Gleyber.) 

I don't know Chisholm's future, but it seems to me that they could give him some rope and see what happens. Let him bat leadoff, or 2nd, or 3rd - see what happens. When it comes to Jazz, why not be a Beleiber? 

The Greater Fool.

 

A few days ago, in the midst of SNY's SportsNite July discussions about just who our local ballclubs should acquire to salvage their unsalvageable seasons, the name "Gleyber Torres" was suddenly spoken aloud.

I had thought this strictly verboten, and that if it were spoken, all sorts of dreadful things would happen: horses whinnying, groans echoing through the castle, Bettlejuice appearing. The bat signal beaming out to the heavens. The tortured scream of Brian Cashman resounding through our smoke-filled skies. 

Nope. 

But actually, the usual, estimable suspects on that outstanding show made a decent point, and leads me to provide my own, Rainout Analysis, in ten, er, eleven, er twelve bullet points, below:

—The reason the name of the most disappointing Yankees flameout of the last 15 years got mentioned was in comparison to—surprise, surprise—Jazz Chisholm. One of SNY's excellent crew mentioned that, for all his obvious talent, Chisholm seemed sometimes as "unengaged" as The Gleyber did.

—I think all of us can agree with that. Frankly, I'm not so sure that Jazz Chisholm really does possess some amazing, untapped physical talent—and since physical talent is so closely intertwined with field smarts and oh, staying engaged in baseball, I don't know if these skills can be meaningfully distinguished.

But sure, let's leave it that a lot of people think Jazz has great potential that remains untapped—much as they did with Gleyber. What then?

—The fact is that his mini-streak of three home runs in his last two games has surely saved Chisholm's place on the Yankees this season—and probably ensured him at least a qualifying offer after the season. Whoop-de-doo. But this by no means is the same as saying that Jazz will ever have a useful career with your New York Yankees.

—Or maybe not. Brian Cashman has a way of absolutely committing to ballplayers...before suddenly cutting them loose. For nothing in return. 

This is very much what happened with Mr. Torres. For over seven yeas, from when he was first acquired for Machine-gun Chapman, Gleyber Torres was the key to building the next Yankees dynasty.

Until he wasn't. And he was gone. As a free agent. For nothing.

—This happens again and again with our Mr. Cashman. Sonny Gray—inexplicably acquired over Justin Verlander for the 2017 stretch run—was then flung away for nothing (The Shedd Long deal notwithstanding.)

This can sometimes be a good thing, considering our Cashie's acuity in judging talent. Another gigantic bust, Gary Sanchez, was dealt along with Gio Urshela, for Josh Donaldson, IK Falafel, and Muscles Rortvedt. Subtraction by addition, not to mention calculus, trigonometry, and algebra.

—Proposed deals for what the Yankees should do now to try to win a ring, regularly include somehow acquiring the likes of Clay Holmes, Luke Weaver, Luis Torrens, and even Juan Soto—all useful individuals who Hal & Pal let walk off the Yankees for absolutely nothing in return.

Stop it.

—The truth of the matter is that the Yanks' threadbare roster and farm system contains absolutely nothing with which they could possibly re-acquire any of these individuals. Or any of their other, myriad needs: a good, right handed-hitting catcher, a useful infielder, a back-up outfielder, and a gaggle of effective relief pitchers, to say the least. 

This is just not going to happen.

—The current big idea is that Cashman should deal our two big outfield flops, Jasson Dominguez and Spencer Jones.

But talk about untapped potential! Neither Spencer nor The Martian have really been given a full opportunity to sink or swim (unlike Cashie's favorites). If you strapped me to a board, clamped electrodes on my nipples, and gave me several jolts of electricity, I would say more, please 'No, they almost certainly will not make it.'

—But here's the thing: Spencer and Jasson can at least take the field. The same cannot be said for so many of the Yanks' other outfielders. Let's face it. Judge is not coming back this year. Stanton is probably never coming back. Hop-a-long Grisham is another hammy blowout just waiting to happen.

Max Schuemann is certainly game; he just isn't a right fielder. All of which leaves us with...what, exactly? Will we even be able to field three outfielders without Dominguez and Jones?

—What Brian Cashman never seems to have heard of is, "The Greater Fool" theory. That there is always somebody out there who is the greater fool, willing to take up the risk on the very chance properties you have acquired. Surely, we can peddle our worthless trinkets somewhere.

—This Yankees team is not one or two more, useful role players away from taking it all. All this Yankees team has left is some good starting pitching—and that looks worse and worse with each passing week. I don't think it will be enough to get them into the playoffs, and if it does, they won't go far.

Therefore: the Yanks need to be sellers, not buyers, come the trade deadline.

Deal "the New Gleyber," Jazz Chisholm. He will bring the biggest possible return—and someone will ante up for him. 

Deal Anthony Volpe, for the love of God. You watch: someone will bite. 

Deal Austin Wells, for pity's sake. For that matter, I would say, deal Ryan McMahon, and Paul Goldschmidt, and Ahmed Rosario, and Cody Bellinger—talk about looking unengaged!—and all the worst of the bullpen clutter.

Deal them, everyone. For whatever outstanding or merely promising minor leaguers you can get. And the younger and further down, the better, for when the Baseball Apocalypse descends upon us and wipes out the 2027 major-league season.

Stop pretending that the World Series is one more Jake Bird or Camilo Doval away. Admit that the Yanks have failed to produce that new dynasty, or even a true contender. 

Cash-in now, before the end of the season. Before these guys are out there demanding free-agent money, or simply getting a year older during the big lockout that will be soon upon us. 

Find the Greater Fool. Don't, for once, let it be us again. 

No game today

 Doubleheader at 1 and 7 tomorrow.

The Yankees better figure out a plan... fast.

In 1987, in the leadup to his historic clash with Tyrell Biggs - (Note: Sarcasm Alert) - Mike Tyson, the future Yogi Berra of Boxing, was told that his esteemed opponent claimed to "have a plan." 

Iron Mike's response: "Everybody has a plan until they get hit for the first time." The quote was later digitally enhanced to, "Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth." Tyson ended up doing one-man, off-Broadway shows, including an HBO special directed by Spike Lee. From that lost plan, the Bard was born.

I raise this morsel of literary history not because the Yankees have yet to be punched in the choppers; the Redsocks did it two weeks ago, and the Dodgers followed suit last weekend. Right now, teams across baseball are soaking their knuckles in pee, awaiting their own shots at the Yankee unraveling.  

With 100 games now under their belt, could it be time for the Yankees to launch a plan, beyond doubling-down on last year? 

When you look at this team, you see a franchise that was somehow stunned by the losses of Aaron Judge and Giancarlo Stanton, even though every Yank fan in captivity saw it coming - especially with Stanton, the closest thing in sports to a rostered retiree. The Yankees appeared shocked - shocked! - that their two sluggers would crumble, and so here we are, with Max Schuemann playing RF. 

I don't wish to demean the Schuester, a fine 26th man. But right now, every series loss to another contender feels like a fist to the nuzzle nozzle, if not the groin. The Yankees seem to think Anthony Volpe, Camilo Doval, Jake Bird and Jasson Dominguez will suddenly catch fire and lead this team to some Knicks-in-Five Valhalla. With each lost series, they seem to be summoning Tyrell Biggs. 

The Rays have a plan. It's quite simple. Every March, they launch a new crop of young, hungry, cheap-as-hell players, up from their farm. Every three years, give or take, they go for broke. This is one of those years. 

The Redsocks have a plan. They wait in the grass, positioning themselves to catch a wave of young players. They add a couple free agents, and they survive the spring frosts. They have now won 14 straight. It's not hard to imagine them overtaking the Yankees by mid-August. 

So, I humbly ask the Yankee brain trust: What's the fukking plan? Trade for another crop of bullpen disappointments. Deal away The Martian or Spencer Jones? Reopen the Strait of Hormuz? Gimme a plan, any plan. Or is it merely to reach the postseason in a shamefully lame American League, then hope to get lucky? Because the plan hasn't worked in 16 years. If that's our strategy, we're Tyrell Biggs.

Quick, before I'm stepping on Duque's toes

In honor of AA, whose unceasing efforts to provide us with a graphical accompiament brighten each and every Yankees game. And who is the only other person I know besides my cousin Marilyn who remembers the words to this song...with an incredible solo by Robert Fripp.

Sources indicate that the Yankees will win/lose tonight's game by at least 2-5 runs

 

After barely escaping a home sweep, the Yankees begin their Odyssey

After four months of searching for Ithaca  Binghamton Cortland Syracuse Scranton, this we know about the lotus-eating, siren-chasing, lost-at-sea '26 Yankees. 

1. They cannot manufacture runs. Their offense is entirely Homeric. 

2. Nor are they grinders, who outlast opponents by running up pitch counts. They come to bat swinging, seemingly oblivious to a pitcher's control problems.

3. Without Aaron Judge, they are a sorry team, a tomato can. 

4. Anthony Volpe has exhausted his Yankee karma. He needs to play in another city. 

5. At 23, Jasson Dominguez might someday become a star. But right now, he has no business batting third in the Yankee order. 

6. There is no hope from a lineup with Max Schuemann, a utility infielder, playing RF.

7. Yesterday, against the Dodgers, the Yankee lineup had Dominguez batting third and Schueman in RF. Talk about waving the white flag...

8. Our greatest fear is no longer Scylla (Tampa). It is Charybdis (Boston, now only four behind us in the loss column.) 

9. Anyone who says the Yankees are postseason shoe-ins has not been watching this team over the last month. It is capable of a full-scale epic meltdown. 

10. We are now hearing the five most frightening words in the Yankiverse: Cashman is looking to deal.

May the Gods have mercy on us.

Game Thread - Part Two - July 19th, 202sux

 

They could have been Teammates ∞ Game Thread – 07/19/26

 

Biggest NY sports day of the year? Yamamoto v Schlittler in the afternoon, World Cup in the evening, dueling kitchen sinks at night.

 

b

Okay, campers, buckle up, 'cuz here we go: 

It's Judgeless Judgement Day, an epic 10 hours of chips-and-dips, couch-potato, flat-screen flatlining, featuring trad world superpowers in a smoky, doomsday haze of celebrities, testosterone and explosive diarrhea. With Justin Beiber! OMG! Did I mention Beibs? Pinch me! 

At 12:35 p.m., the Yanks and Dodgers launch with Yamamoto v Schlittler, a duel for the ages, if not the afternoon. Let's hope Schlitt throws seven zeros, because the Yankees strikeout machinery won't touch Mr. Moto. There could be a lingering pack-a-day impact from the great Canadian smoke out, and maybe a Jake Bird bullpen meltdown? (If Grisham gets on base, I suggest a pinch runner.) Either way, this game - if not the Yankee season - should be decided by 3 p.m. (Note: During commercials, feel free to switch to the WNBA - LA v Paige Bueckers - or golf; there is always golf, I think Congress passed a law requiring golf.)

Which lets us click to the World Cup finale - Spain v Argentina! - in the Meadowlands, featuring more Canadian smoke, maybe some NY transit flooding and a 40-minute halftime show that will prove to the soccer world, once and for all, that America absolutely ruins everything it touches. Celebrities will be there. Trump will be there. All of Jersey will be there. The whole world will be watching. It will make the Knicks championship look paltry. This should bounce into the evening, even if Trump snores straight through. 

By then, we go back to the LA/NY double-header nightcap, which will either restore the Yankees to a playoffs-worthy dignity or leave them gasping on the dugout floor, swept and smoked. 

If the Yankees split, I suppose we can call it a day and get ready for the Pirates. 

If they get swept, it's an Edmund Fitzgerald Defcon One, and fellas, it's been good to know ya.  

If they get swept, get ready for a tidal wave of spin involving George Lombard Jr. and Clarke Schmidt. But really, why would we care? Since last winter, everyone in the world has known that...

a) Spain was a global FIFA power,
b) the Dodgers were the MLB team to beat
c) You don't mess with Messi. 

Today, on NYC's second biggest venue, it's time for the Yankees to show up. 

If they get swept, well, there's always soccer.

Dreaming of the past whilst disgusted with the present – today's game got "Weathers'ed"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yank fans should start bracing for the worst

John Sterling coined a nickname for Yankee CF Trent Grisham. He called him "Mr. Cool," for the way Grish loped after flies into the gap, snagging them at the last moment and making difficult catches look easy. Grisham's ambling presence conveyed a gracefulness the Yanks have seldom seen in this rather wretched millennium. 

I'm sorta glad The Master didn't have to witness last night's game, which hinged on "Mr. Cool" once again trotting towards an uncertain fate. 

Unfortunately, this time, Grisham wasn't chasing down a liner. He was seeking to score in the 8th inning of 2-1 heartbreaker. 

Grisham was thrown out on split-second relay from a centerfielder who busted his ass from start to finish. Meanwhile, replays showed Grisham stutter-stepping towards second, slowly ramping up towards third and finally reaching home a moment too late. 

"Mr. Cool," indeed.

You live by the lope, you die by the lope.

Once again, the Yankees collapsed in the crosshairs of a quality team. It's becoming their trademark. They squandered not only a chance to close on Tampa - which was swept by Boston - but they crapped on an otherwise great outing by Gerrit Cole, a commodity that looks increasingly finite.  

Once again, the Yankees found themselves on the receiving end of a brutal Dodgers' message: You're not in our league, literally and figuratively. 

Okay, I suppose we should all get a grip. The season didn't end last night. We play LA tonight and Sunday night, two marquee matchups that - when scheduled last winter - were meant to showcase baseball's two greatest sluggers. Nobody anticipated Max Schuemann. But here we are, bent over and waiting for the paddle. 

It's time to start preparing for the worst.

For the first time since April, the Redsocks sit at .500. Every Yank fan in captivity knows what comes next, and we can anticipate it like explosive diarrhea from that contaminated lettuce. 

It's happening again. 

You can feel it.  

Boston spent the last four years growing its farm system, while we systematically traded our future for spare parts, which often didn't even work. Suddenly, they have all the momentum, and we have all the baggage. We're awaiting scans on Aaron Judge, while Giancarlo Stanton can't even open a bag of potato chips, and the very air around us makes us feel like a smoked brisket. 

Live by the lope, die by the lope. 

Start spreading the news. And expect the worst.

Welcome Back–to the–Second Half Game Thread – 07º17º26

  

Here's what the '26 Yankees need to do the job

It can happen here... 

No, I'm not referring to the breakdown of society, leading to civil war and the collapse of democracy. I'm talking about the imminent crack up of the NY Yankees, despite the pathetic AL East, a division of cupcakes and cans of tomato. The Death Star is fluctuating wildly. They bungle eight of 10, then win four straight - (thank you, Washington.) They look warped, like a particle board table that's gone through a carwash. 

The Yankees can still make the playoffs. Hell, everybody can, except KC and the Angels. That's our new reality. But to win this sad division, here's what needs to happen.

1.  Aaron Judge must return in full form. Folks, this aint complicated. Without him, they win doodily-squat. And here's the rub: He might not make it. We should know more this weekend, after he goes through the primordial ooze atomizer. He's probably out through August. Without him, the Yankees are the Savannah Bananas, without the soundtrack. If Judge cannot return, forget the Canyon of Heroes. The Jets have as much a chance.

2. Austin Wells needs to start hitting. Forget the idea that they'll trade for a RH-hitting catcher. Even if Cooperstown Cashman finds a guy, and the trade chips to cut a deal, we still need Wells to hit, say, .230 the rest of the way. (Ten HRs in the second half would give him 15 on the season.) All this trade talk belies the fact that Wells would still start against RH pitchers. The Yankees are stuck with him. He simply has to start hitting. Good luck with that. 

3. Max Fried must return and be a dominant Number Two. He's only 32. He should have some years left. Forget Rodon and Cole: They will win through guile and grease, but neither will ever be the pitcher he once was. Warren and Weathers are cardboard cutouts. We've seen what they've got, and it belongs in the bullpen. Fried could still be a solid starter. He simply must return.

4. They need one solid addition to the bullpen. He doesn't need to be Mason Miller. He doesn't need to be a closer. He just needs to NOT have already pitched in 50 games, and NOT be on the verge of throwing the most innings of his career. He must NOT be the next Camilo Doval or Jake Bird. That's a lotta NOTs.

5. Jazz Chisholm must hit 10 HRs in the second half (which would give him 23 on the season.) If he steals 20 bases, he finishes in the mid-40s. It won't be the 50-50 contractual pot of gold he envisioned last winter. But if he hits, say, .260 over the second half, he can save the bottom of the order and salvage a bidding war next winter, though it will coincide with the labor stoppage.

The Martian? Spencer Jones? Elmer Rodriguez? George Lombard Jr.? Yeah, they'd all be nice. But unless something huge breaks - I'm talking about a catastrophic, roster-clearing deal - we're still stuck in Anthony Volpe's cosmic infundibulum.  The infield doesn't hit, and it throws a lot of short-hop bouncers to first. If Cashman tries to remake the team - well - Tarik Skubal could be the end of time. It can happen here.   

Today in The Athletic

"In a crackdown that has rankled some front offices across the league, Major League Baseball has effectively outlawed the growing practice of using league-provided dugout iPads to access generative artificial intelligence, which some teams had increasingly leaned upon to help shape in-game strategy."

"Oh, geez, are we ever fucked."

Lettuce not forget that Legends Hospitality is also incorporating the use of . . . .

 

AI into it's day to day operations, menu and recipe planning
 

Ranger strikes again

You may have noticed Ranger's comment to Duque's post that likely explains Hal's $3 billion loan.

He also sent me the below, what Chat GPT (or is it GTO?) has to say regarding AI use in baseball. This helps explain why so many decisions seem to fly in the face of what our lying eyes are telling us.

As a final grace note for those wary of AI, this answer to Ranger's question ends with "decision-making," which should not be hyphenated. AI... it's the footure, don't you know.

"Are major league baseball teams using AI for analytics?"

Yes. Today, every Major League Baseball team uses advanced analytics, and many are now incorporating AI and machine learning as part of those systems. AI hasn't replaced traditional baseball analytics—it has expanded what teams can analyze and predict.

Some of the main uses include:

• Player evaluation: AI models analyze thousands of variables from tracking data, scouting reports, biomechanics, and historical performance to project how players will perform or develop.

• Pitch design: Using high-speed cameras and ball-tracking systems such as Hawk-Eye Innovations, teams use AI to identify grip and release changes that can increase spin, movement, or deception.

• Injury prevention: Machine learning analyzes workloads, biomechanics, sleep, recovery, and movement patterns to identify players at higher risk of injury before problems become obvious.

• Game strategy: Teams simulate thousands of game scenarios to optimize defensive positioning, bullpen usage, pinch hitters, stolen-base decisions, and pitch sequencing.

• Player development: AI helps identify subtle mechanical issues in swings and deliveries, allowing coaches to create individualized training plans.

• Scouting: Teams use computer vision to process enormous amounts of video, automatically tagging pitches, swings, defensive plays, and player tendencies that scouts can review more efficiently.

AI works alongside several major data sources, including:

• Pitch velocity, spin rate, and movement

• Exit velocity and launch angle

• Fielder positioning and reaction times

• Biomechanical motion capture

• Video analysis

• Wearable sensor data (where permitted)

Which teams are known for heavy AI and analytics use?

While all 30 clubs have analytics departments, several organizations are widely regarded as leaders:

• Los Angeles Dodgers

• Tampa Bay Rays

• Houston Astros

• Cleveland Guardians

• New York Yankees

• Boston Red Sox

These clubs invest heavily in data science, software engineering, biomechanics, and quantitative research.

One important point is that baseball decisions are rarely made by AI alone. Front offices typically combine AI-generated insights with the judgment of scouts, coaches, medical staff, and executives. AI can highlight patterns or probabilities that humans might miss, but personnel decisions, game strategy, and player development still rely heavily on human expertise.

In many ways, MLB is among the most data-driven professional sports, making it one of the earliest and most extensive adopters of AI-assisted decision-making.