As seen on the right, the top tractor-trailer is Kyle Tucker, who announced he will become the newest Dodger because - of course - he wants a ring. The second truck is Cody Bellinger, surrounded by suitors - the Mets, Phillies, Jays and several mystery teams - all of whom will likely outbid the Yankees, who are off screen in a ditch.
Onto our fire of hopelessness, toss another log.
This is the most depressing January since 2005, when Cooperstown Cashman was touting the chops of Richard "Bubba" Crosby in centerfield. While the AL East bulks up, via free agents and trades, the Yankees are struggling to maintain last year's aging, also-ran lineup - now a year older and spackled with injuries.
Tucker's signing - and, by the way, hats off to the inscrutable Dodgers, who sat for three months like a cobra before striking - suddenly explains why Scott Boras has pursued an outlandish seven-year deal for Bellinger. The three wildest bidders - the Mets, Phillies and Jays - must now chase two remaining major free agents: Bellinger and Bo Bichette. It doesn't matter that Food Stamps Hal has lost his taste for spending. There is plenty of money out there. So, how 'bout that Bubba!
I say it's time to invoke the Yankee Fan Insurrection Act, which means forgetting the holes at LF, SS, 3B, the rotation and bullpen, and starting to say aloud the most frightening word in the team dictionary:
Rebuild.
Ouch. What a word. In many ways, it's time to think about 2028, or 2030, or some distant future time line, when a crazy, vulgar trillionaire has taken over the team. By then, if we're still cogent, our brains will be wired into the new singularity, running traffic lights and smart refrigerators.
As a great yogi once said, It's getting late early. I hate to go Chicken Little on the upcoming season. But let's face it: The Dodgers will win the 2026 world championship, and the Yankees will be lucky to reach the second week of October.
They're not the Yankees, anymore. The Dodgers are. It's time for an insurrection. It's time for fans to remind the Yankees of who they are. (Or were.)
8 comments:
"REBUILD" would be music to all of our ears. But you know what that means? It means money, wisely spent. That is an impossibility on the current team. It also means a shift in priorities from pure profit and tax dodging to *minor* sacrifices - money-wise - in order to field a winning team. Hal suck balls.
The Dodgers were named after pedestrian-streetcar activities. Now they're just dodging luxury taxes.
What an outrageous contract. This guy is not a 30 million dollar player, much less a 60 million dollar one.
The Dodgers ownership should be sued for malfeasance.
I don't necessarily agree with the esteemed Publius's post on the DodgerMLB conspiracy theory, but I do think there's something funny, possibly some weird thing we don't know. Otherwise, how do you explain this shit? Is a conspiracy theory simply the absence of logic? Or, maybe L.A. has shopaloism.
It's a . . . beautiful morning,
Oh Hal
I’ll stand by the window and smile a while
Oh Hal
Just press my face against the glass and smile a while
Oh Hal
Its still dark outside and I’ve got the time
Oh Hal
it's a . . . beautiful morning,
Oh Hal
Each bird falling dead from out of the sky
So long
It just ain't no good when the sun goes away,
Can’t breath
When you're still inside trying to hide
Oh Hal
Still inside (trying to hide)
Oh Hal
Still inside (trying to hide)
Oh Hal
Still in - - -
Oh No
do you think that Hal and Brian are sitting around now, after maybe the worst off-season/hot stove in memory, thinking, "we're so fucking smart..."?
In the previous post's comments, AA posits that we should be compensated for watching the 2026 Yankees. To which I say, WHERE ARE MY REPARATIONS FOR THE 2025 SEASON? Hal, do you have something you'd like to say? Even a simple apology? I have known White Sox, Cubs, and Mets fans over my life and they all received money for therapy from the Baseball Mental Trauma Trust©, but it appears that the Yankees don't pay into that one. Another example of Hal's greed and malfeasance.
y e s
y e s y e s
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