The 2026 New York Yankees season began around the same time the first wagon trains started heading out over the Western plains. Since that time, the Yankees have played some three or four hundred thousand games, in some of which they have even scored.
Like the early pioneers, many Yankees have been felled by various ailments and hazards: snake-bite, the pellagra, throwing balls, chasing balls, catching balls, diving for balls, swinging at balls, crashing into a big electronic sign, and trying to run out of the batter's box.
Over the two hundred years or so since the 2026 season began, at least one American League team has been eliminated, meaning that the Yankees still have a chance to make the World Series, much as the Donner Party had a chance to make California.
There are also old-timers who say that making one's way across half a continent at the pace of an ox's walk was more entertaining than an average, 2026 Yankees' games. But this sort are dismissed as win-greedy malcontents by the team's management and its servile media, who insist that they don't know how good they've got it.
As in any good Western, the Yankees' wagon train has been joined along the way by dubious characters who appeared out of nowhere and seem determined to sabotage its progress, while beloved supporting characters such as that apple-cheeked Volpe kid have been left to expire by the roadside.
Not to worry. The 2026 season is expected to continue for at least another millennium or two, at the end of which we are reliably assured that the Yankees will be gliding through the Canyon of Heroes in shiny new cars, festooned with confetti by their adoring fans.
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11 comments:
Excellent, Hoss! This western is straight from my own heart!
You forgot their current ailment: Sucking balls.
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Let 'em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mama, put my guns in the ground
I can't shoot them anymore
That long black cloud is comin' down
I feel I'm knockin' on Heaven's door
I'd rather be a sparrow than a snail
Yes, I would
If I could
I surely would
I'd rather be a hammer than a nail
Yes, I would
If I only could
I surely would
Away, I'd rather sail away
Like a swan that's here and gone
A man gets tied up to the ground
He gives the world its saddest sound
It's saddest sound
I'd rather be a forest than a street
Yes, I would
If I could
I surely would
I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet
Yes, I would
If I only could
I surely would
Put the saddle on the stove, ma, we're gonna ride the range tonight.
Somehow, Hoss this post perfectly captures how this season feels. Goes on forever, no respite, no beating the elements (otherwise known as competition). And the wagon train master is no Ward Bond.
I've been through the desert
On a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
La, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la
We got a wagon master who's leading us straight through the heart of Comanche territory!
There's a killer on the road
His brain is squirmin' like a toad
Take a long holiday
Let your children play
If you give this man a ride
Sweet memory will die
Killer on the road, yeah
One more for the road, love The Doors:
Now listen to this and I'll tell you about the Texas
I'll tell you about the Texas, radio
I'll tell you 'bout the hopeless night
Wandering the western dream
Tell you about the maiden with wrought iron soul
Thanks, guys. And I should have added that many scientists believe that the 2026 Yankees' season actually started in the Mesozoic Era or Pleistocene Epoch.
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