Rivalometer

“[Moving to left field] kind of brings a little bit of excitement to me, to be able to cover more ground.”

"It’s tough to defend the whole field; it’s a big field out there."

Redsocks seeking Bronze Medal in AL East

Boston's Olympians remain two-and-a-half out in their quest for Bronze.

Also, a win today would put the Beantown Nine at the magic .500 mark.

An Improved Floater. Thank you CC.

                                                      Someone please check the gas gauge.

                                    We don't want to get out in open water and find out the tank is empty.

Friday Yankee Grinder of the Night

Curtis Granderson: 20 pitches.

Runners up: Teixeira and Chavez, both with 19.

I've waited a long time for this picture to be relevant, and today is the day

Johnny Damon is looking for a job: Did we blow it by getting Ichiro?

Yesterday, the Indians waived Johnny Damon. The great Johnny Damon. The great Yankee, Johnny Damon.

In a perfect world, we would sign him.

Correction: In a perfect world, he would have never been stuck in Cleveland.

Johnny was hitting .222 with 4 home runs. That's not Johnny Damon. That's Lenn Sakata. It looks like it could be the end. Not only that, but he joins Bobby Abreu and Hideki Matsui as former Yankee LH outfielders cut loose this week. (Abreu from the Dodgers, Godzilla from the Devil Rays.)

All of them, scrapped just days after we scratched our LH LF itch with Ichiro. (Ich with Ichiro, get it? That's wordplay!) Right now, it's hard to imagine why the Yankees would sign any of them. (Well, actually, it's not hard: A couple injuries could do it quickly.) 

I have no desire to see Abreu wear a Yankee uniform. Nothing against the guy, but too many catchable balls hit the wall on his watch. Matsui always will be a great Yankee; I wish there was a way. He had a great Yankee run.

Damon, though, is another matter. I have been an irrational Johnny Damon backer since he refused a trade to the Redsocks during the 2010 pennant race. It was one of those rare moments that only a psycho Yankee fan can appreciate. Here was a player who gave that city and team everything he had - Damon was a key part of the 2004 championship; he hit the grand slam in game seven that killed us. Then the ownership told him to take a hike. They wouldn't pay him what he was worth, and they ran him out of town -- and the fans drank their Kool-aid. (As Yankee fans drank our Kool-aid when we jettisoned AJ Burnett; are you listening, Mustang?) When Damon signed with the Yankees - the most important contract of his life, the one that would guarantee his family financial security - Boston suddenly hated him, reviled him, defaced his image. They suddenly became post-Stalin Russia.

So when the time came in 2010, when they needed a LH bat for a pennant drive against the Yankees, he said no.

I write from a part of the brain known as the medula rizzutongatta. It doesn't always make sense. But that day, Johnny Damon became a lifelong great Yankee. Remember: He is only human being capable of stealing two bases at once.

Yes, we now have Ichiro, a future Hall of Famer. But Johnny Damon will also go into Cooperstown. The expanded rosters are a 27 days away. Sign him, Cash. SIGN HIM, put him on the DL for 15 days, then rehab him for a week. Do something. SIGN JOHNNY DAMON, AND YOU WILL NEVER REGRET IT.

Damn. If only it were a perfect world...

Still Floating, After All these Years

Do we play tonight?  Do we get another bonus win from the intervention?  Stay tuned.

Olympicsatorial: The Chinese badminton team doesn't even know how to throw a game

Clips of the Chinese badminton team this week purposely slapping birdies into the floor are a disgrace, an embarrassment to the great tradition of the Olympics. What a bunch of dorks.

The Olympics ruling committee of international harrumphers rightfully tossed these clods from the vaunted 2012 games, and let's hope their ruthless leaders back in the underground doom castles of China deal with them accordingly - and I don't mean just reddening rumps with ping-pong paddles.

These "actors" have rolled back the art of losing by 100 years. They stand as an affront to the traditions of Shoeless Joe Jackson and the courageous point-shavers from City College in 1951.

Everybody knows that, when called upon to lose, you don't just whack the frickin' birdie into the floor 21 straight times. You volley. It's not that hard. You end up losing 21-19, or whatever the score needs to be. You don't stand there like a lump of clotted bull semen and motionlessly watch the birdie fly past your ear. You dive for it, you twist an ankle, you writhe in pain and you condemn the gods for turning the damn thing in mid-flight, causing your errant return. Jesus Christ, every fourth-grader in America knows this. They don't teach basic human acting in China?

Folks, this is what's wrong with communism. They're raising their kids to be unthinking globs of spit, and when the time comes to deliver, they lose like robot zombies. This was the role of a lifetime: Get in there, give it everything... and come up short. If I were fixing a game, I wouldn't trust anybody from China. I hope that's not a racist statement. I apologize if it offends anybody. But after this debacle, how can you trust any Chinese person to throw a game?

Yankeetorial: Ichiro can't change the Yankees. But could we change him?

Here’s how it plays out in the Brad Pitt movie: It’s the ninth inning of game seven, the 2012 World Series. Yanks down by one. The Giants’ evil Matt Cain – portrayed by a CGI-enhanced Mark Ruffalo - is firing a shutout. Around the globe, children of every ethnicity and Higgs boson-collision-angle hug their electronic devices in rapt attention, as Ichiro – (Brad) - trudges to the plate. Yeesh, he looks old. He’s had a great October, capturing the attention of the world, and even the monster aliens who are monitoring our civilization in outer space. (Touched by the Yankees' heroic campaign, they no longer plan to eradicate us.) Yankee fans weep openly, recalling the final days of Bobby Murcer, or Enos Slaughter, or even Johnny Callison. Ichiro is our last best chance. Here comes the pitch, 100-mph fastball… and the universe stops…

Listen: In Hollywood, we could be "Mighty Ducks V." But in life, we don’t get to game seven unless Joe fixes our RISP problem. Nobody homers their way to the Promised Land. (So the aliens decide, "These Yankee heroes have failed; let's eradicate.") Still, let’s take a moment to honestly assess what Ichiro can and cannot do.

HONEST ASSESSMENT OF WHAT ICHIRO CAN AND CANNOT DO.

1.      When Ichiro switched dugouts in Seattle, every Yankee fan in captivity had the same fantasy analysis: He was bored with the Mariners, and the chance to play meaningful baseball will take 10 years off his swing. Not gonna happen.

2.      Folks couldn’t wait to see that legendary arm – the ball like a proton shooting around a 17-mile buried super-collider and hitting another proton smack in its Playtex Living Girdle. Well, the other night, we saw it. On a crucial throw to the plate that could have saved us a game, Ichiro threw off line and rather buttery. Nick Swisher has a better arm.

3.      Ichiro can still motor. Thus far, he’s beaten out a few DPs. He can probably steal a base or two, but he’s not the mosquito who drives a pitcher batty. He’s not Brett Gardner.

4.      He can reach the right field porch. He’s already hit one. He could hit four or five before the year ends. Woopie. We don’t need another HR hitter.

5.     He’ll do fine in LF. Might not feel comfortable, and let's cross our fingers on a first catchable drive between Ichiro and Grandy. But he’s a defensive upgrade over Raul or Andruw. Not sure he’s better than Dewayne Wise or Darnell McDonald – but he’ll do all right.

6.      He might ride the pines, which could be trouble. One can envision a game seven with Swish in right, Ibanez in left, and Eric Chavez is our DH. He could be a sub. Not sure how he would react to this, but gotta bad feeling.

7.      He doesn’t grind. Ichiro doesn’t draw walks. But here is where every Yankee fan in captivity should consider a different fantasy: Ichiro doesn’t lose 10 years, but he could play 10 years smarter.

OK, THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN LEADING TO. ALL THAT OTHER STUFF, FORGET IT. HERE'S THE CONCLUSION... AND I URGE YOU TO PRINT THIS OUT AND SEND IT TO ICHIRO. RENT A SOUND TRUCK AND DRIVE BY HIS HOUSE, READING IT ALOUD. ICHIRO NEEDS TO HEAR THIS. IT MAY NOT ONLY SAVE HIS LIFE, BUT KEEP HUMANITY FROM BEING DESTROYED BY MONSTERS FROM OUTER SPACE:

What if the Yankee mindset rubs off on Ichiro? What if – if instead of being Slappy Suzuki, dribbling grounders to third, he punches foul ball after foul ball, takes at least two pitches before doing anything and starts grinding out walks? Ichiro can lead this team, or at least lead off. He must tweak his game. A .288 on-base percentage won’t cut it.

Here comes the pitch, a 100-mile fastball. Ichiro starts to swing... THEN HOLDS OFF. Ball. High. One and oh. Matt Cain is pissed. He's in our movie now. It’s not Brad Pitt at the plate. It’s Ed Norton. Ichiro needs to change.

GRIND, ICHI, GRIND.

Here come the brides: The Seattle Mariners - who are linked to our hip

Who would have thought the Seattle Mariners would turn into the Yankees' Reverse Flash? Yeesh, everybody on the team is a past or future Yankee. It's like meeting yourself in a crappy time-travel movie.

Of course, we all know the Biblical story of Jesus, Hector and the Pinata. Let's not go there. But in another dimension - one where the Higgs Boson is slightly dimmer and reacts more to the whiskey molecule - Montero is our backup catcher and Ellen Degeneres is working at Chick-Fil-A.

Of course, there is Felix Hernandez, the future Yankee. Write this down: It might not happen until he's 40 and throws like Miss Marple, but he will pitch in Pinstripes. 

Tomorrow night, Kevin Millwood pitches against us. We Scrantoned him last year, while we were drunk on the success of Bartolo and Freddy. He turned into Sidney Ponson. Frankly, I'm surprised he didn't get traded last week. But here he is. And when Andy Pettitte returned this spring, it was Millwood who outpitched him. Ouch.

How about DJ Mitchell? Been watching him for years in the vast Disappearance Machine known as the Yankee farm system. At last, we'll get to see whether our prospects have any future in the majors.

And Chone Figgins. Not a Yankee, but he was a Yankee-killer for all those years in California. Good to see him languish.

Meanwhile, half our outfield is from Seattle: Ichiro and Raul. We've got their old closer, Dave Aardsma, somewhere in rehab. (Healing slowly, I might add.) Freddy, of course. Raphael Soriano started in Seattle. And Tino Martinez - the ultimate connection - could be in the YES booth. 

Wait... isn't there somebody else? Some guy who played third? Alex somethingorother? Yeesh. This is creeping me out.

Order in the Bleachers

Three cheers for Justice Sotomayor!
The “wise Latina” knows what summer break’s for.

She’s not with Dick Cheney, slaughtering birds,
Or at a think-tank retreat with blue-suited nerds.

Sonia got the hell out of Washington quickly
Went up to the Bronx and, not being picky,

Bought a ticket and dog, and hunkered down grinning
In the right field bleachers with a guy named “Bald Vinnie”

She cheered while her Bombers flattened the O’s,
Heckled Zach Britton and lauded Cano.

While it’s doubtful this impacts much of her work,
I think she should hire Bald Vinnie as clerk.

 

Dewayne Wise waived: Has the Curse of the IIH/Lunchables Yankee Employee of the Month returned?

 Yesterday brought sad news. The Yankees jettisoned Dewayne Wise, tossing him back into the sea.

Listen: This was no Darnell McDonald situation. Dewayne hit big home runs for us. He stole bases, ran down flies, pitched, and starred in one of the most memorable moments of the season - the great non-catch in left field.

Gone. Ichiroed. Trade deadline roster move.

Cursed? 

Later today, according to the ancient rules of Yankeedom, we must begin electing Mr. July. But after the fate of Mr. June, should we fear the results? 

Yankee Ship Gets Righted !

Save for a frantic call to the Coast Guard, the Yankee ship would have sunk.

We let the big, expensive one find its way to the bottom of the sea but, thanks to a good hearted and forward thinking owner, we salvaged a floater.

It may take a while to reach shore now, but with light winds and a favorable sea, we can make progress and stay afloat.

As you can see, the margin for error remains small and the risk factors remain high.

Bon voyage.

                                                                            

Yankeetorial: Why is it that the only teams that dealt with us at the trading deadlines are the ones that robbed us last winter?

It's gotta be coincidence. Surely, the Seattle Mariners and Pittsburgh Pirates last week weren't shamed into making deals with the Yankees, considering what happened last winter.

Obviously, other teams will deal with the Yankees. The good people of Toronto and Cleveland always seek to help New York in a pennant race.

Well, at least Brian Cashman knew Seattle would answer the phone. Last winter, he gave them Jesus Montero and Hector Noesi for Michael Pineda, the Venus de Milo of pitchers. When the Mayans wrote their calendar, they were predicting Pineda. He is to Yankee fans as Chick-Fill-A is to Elton John. And when the Mariner secretary says, "Brian Cashman on line one," he won't be sitting on hold for long.

So were the Mariners shamed into intercourse? Is that why they cut loose Ichiro? (Or is he really that bad?)

And what of the Pirates giving us Umphreys McGee? A guilty conscience, perhaps?

Last winter, we gifted AJ Burnett to them. Wrapped him in a bow, left him on the doorstep and rang the bell. Oh, they gave us two low-level munchkins, so low-level you'd need the Hadron Collider to detect them. It was like one of those $1 deals that depressed cities do on vacant housing. Two nights ago - while Ivan Nova was exploding into a million pieces of cotton - AJ threw a one-hitter. We're still paying part of his salary. So when Brian calls, what happens?

Here's a thought:

Brian Cashman: "Hey, Neal, olbuddyolpal! It's Bri. Say, remember that Valentines gift I gave you last winter, and how you said you could never thank me enough for giving you AJ Burnett for a box of Kleenex? Well, I was thinking, maybe there is a way to thank me. Do you guys still have Roberto Clemente? No? How about Xavier Nady? No? Well... how about Umphreys McGee?"

Would Cash say that? Hell, I would. You would, too. It's human nature. And Neal Huntington, the Pittsbugh GM, if he's got any conscience, has to think, "Dammit, Bri needs me! He came through last winter. I can't let him die. We'll give him that Umphreys McGee guy - I can't spell his name anyways. Why not?"

Two deadline trades. Sympathy intercourse? Guilt? Who knows? But it's not a coincidence. There is no such thing as coincidences.

Yo Yankiverse, we did it!!!

Announcing new daily prize:

Yankee Grinder of the Day

Robinson Cano: 30 pitches

What Shall We Engrave For Brandon Laird's Future With The Yankees?

With the Yankees sudden trade to the Pirates, exchanging the highly-sought after Chad (?) Quarles for the third baseman wanted by all 32 (?) mlb teams, the Yankee future for AAA ( the Scranton
 travelers ) gold-glove third baseman, Brandon Laird, is now cast in stone.

Per the usual Yankee approach to their own prospects, Brandon received no consideration once A-Rod went down with his wrist fracture.

  Rather, the Yanks brought up proven failure, Ramiro Pena.  Perfect.  Just what we needed. Another certain out.

Now that they realize Pena can no longer even hit singles, they dealt one of our bullpen aces, for an extra guy on the Pirates.   A team so over-laden with talent ( most of it ex-Yankee ), that they could not find a spot for this .213 hitter.

So let's work together on etching the stone of, " another prospect trashed " for a home grown Yankee.

What shall we put on it?

                                                                            

10, 9, 8, 7, 6.5, 5.5..........

Hey, will someone call the Coast Guard?

I think it might be time to jump ship.

MAYDAY, MAYDAY: WE ARE CALLING FOR AN INTERNATIONAL JUJU INTERVENTION.... TODAY, TODAY, TODAY

ALERT THE MEDIA. (Ok, this is the media,) CALL YOUR FRIENDS. WAKE UP YOUR PARENTS. DRIVE THE STREETS. UNVEIL THE SOUND TRUCK. TELL EVERYBODY YOU GODDAMM KNOW...

IT IS TIME FOR AN INTERNATIONAL JUJU INTERVENTION.

TODAY. THIS AFTERNOON. BOTTOM OF THE SECOND INNING OF THE GAME AGAINST BALTIMORE. (Approximately: 1:35 P.M. E.S.T.)

IN THAT MOMENT, WE MUST CHARGE THE MOUND. MILLIONS OF US. BILLIONS OF US. TRILLIONS OF US. (Hello, China:

费芒德 费芒德)

IN THE SECOND INNING, GO TO THE NEAREST  TV SET, RADIO, CELLPHONE OR ELECTRONIC DEVICE - (In rare cases, people have been known to receive radio transmissions through dental work; in such instances, just stand there and tune into the Yankee game.) CONCENTRATE ALL YOUR LIFE FORCE INTO A WORMHOLE TRANSMISSION FLOWING DIRECTLY TO THE YANKEES.

HELL, YOU'RE NOT GONNA NEED THAT LIFE FORCE. WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO WITH IT, INVENT A CURE FOR THE GOUT? GIVE IT UP, DAMMIT.

WE DID THIS ONCE BEFORE. ON MAY 21, AN INTERNATIONAL JUJU INTERVENTION TURNED AROUND THE YANKEE SEASON. THE TEAM WENT ON A 20-4 STREAK. (Note: But there was a delayed reaction; it didn't take full impact until the following game; it's possible that we won't feel the impact until Friday.) THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT ACTION YOU WILL TAKE AS A YANKEE FAN THIS YEAR, OR MAYBE FOR THE REST OF YOUR MISERABLE, FACELESS YANKEEFAN LIFE. BUT IF YOU DO NOT TAKE PART IN THIS JUJU INTERVENTION, THE YANKEE TEAM WILL CONTINUE TO LOSE, AND YOU WILL HAVE NO RIGHT TO COMPLAIN.

THIS IS NOT AN OPTION. THIS IS REAL. THIS IS SOLID ANECDOTAL SCIENCE. THOSE WHO DISAGREE ALSO SAID THERE WAS NO SUCH THING AS THE HIGGS BOSON. THEY ARE CUBS FANS. THEY ARE FOOLS.

TODAY, WE MAKE HISTORY.

TAKE TO THE STREETS. TAKE TO THE LIVING ROOMS. TAKE TO THE BARS. MEET US IN THE ASTRAL PLANE.

TODAY IS THE DAY WE SAVE THE YANKEES, SAVE THE SEASON, SAVE THE WORLD, SAVE OUR MISERABLE BUTTS.

TODAY. SECOND INNING. BE THERE.

OR BE PREPARED TO SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE ASKING YOURSELF, WTF? HOW COULD I HAVE LET MY TEAM DOWN?

The Grandy Man fans, o, the Grandy Man fans...

127 strikeouts. I love the guy, but damn... he's killing us batting second.

Another Day Dawns For The Yankees

At least it is sunny and warm.

Calling all ships at sea: A loss tonight, and we go to Juju Defcon 5, with an International Juju Intervention imminent

The last International Juju Intervention - conducted May 21 - launched a 20-4 streak that catapulted the Yankees into first. We had hoped to use the force sparingly - in essence, to save it for the playoffs.

Well, comrades, there might not be any playoffs.

We are stuck in a jujuless pit. Every week, somebody gets hurt. Cano looks lost. Granderson can't even catch flies. Nobody moves runners. We make late comebacks, then lose. Our defense is horrible. The bottom third of our order looks anemic. Our bullpen can't hold anybody. Andy isn't even healing. We are lost in a freefall. We are down to watching Donald Trump and Bill O'Reilly sit in the stands like lumps of coal.

Keep your ears to the radio. Listen for a coded cue. The Master will tell us -- in his own way - that the Yankee lead is no longer safe and secure. This covert message - which may or may not be heard on public radio band frequencies - will trigger a secret call for an

INTERNATIONAL JUJU INTERVENTION.

Across the planet, thousands, millions, hundreds of millions of Yankee fans will take part in a mass juju action known as "charging the mound." The move requires hand-eye coordination, near superhuman agility, Yankee broadcast hookup and - most of all - a dynamic sense of purpose.



Listen: This is based on solid anecdotal science. We're not boiling up dead chipmunks here. We're not waving magnets at the moon. This stuff works. And if any of you think we should hold our cards until October - well, Neville Chamberlain - you might as well sit on your crapper and watch beach volleyball. We cannot wait anymore.

A loss tonight, and we must take action.

Keep your eyes to the TV and glue your ears to the AM radio band, secret juju commandos. Keep alert to this blog. We are at Juju Defcom 5. If we lose tonight, an International Juju Intervention could be called at any time. We are under attack. But we will not lie down.

THE MASTER'S CALL

"ICHIRO, THE YANKEES' RISING SON, SAYS SAYONARA."

(Hat tip to Anonymous.)

What was the Ichiro home run call?

I was watching TV.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. HOW COULD I BE SO BLIND?

What was the call?

What? Was? The? Call?

Yankee Bridge To Playoffs Collapses

The Yankees are playing like bent, old structures.

With no hope for fiscal stimulus, the strained facilities begin to break.

A-Rod was broken by Seattle, and we did not even retaliate.

The recent collapse against the red socks proves that our line-up is not able to compete, even against the downtrodden and horrible.

We are, at best, shaking in the wind.

 At worst, we are simply broken and slowly drowning.

John Sterling's Takeaway Points from the Weekend

1.      The Yankees – winners of three out of their last 10 – are still 19 games over .500 and lead the AL East by eight games in that all-important loss column. But it’s a long season, and nobody knows this more than Joe Girardi. He will be looking to the team back on track with the big series against Baltimore.

2.      We’ve said it many times. You just can't walk the leadoff man. Of course, it’s easy to say. Certainly, no pitcher wants to walk the leadoff man, but it happens, time and again. David Robertson has been great for the Yankees, but he walked the leadoff man, and you always get into trouble by walking the leadoff man. I don’t know what Joe Girardi can do about that. But it’s never a good thing to walk the leadoff batter, and the Yankees certainly paid the price.

3.      The Yankees have no kick about losing these last two games. It’s no “co-ink-a-dink” that they lost games in which they consistently failed to hit with runners in scoring position. That’s the big bugaboo for this Yankee team: It scores a lot of runs, but it leaves a lot of runners on base. They need some big hits. I don’t what Joe Girardi can do about that.

4.      It’s great to see Russell Martin back on track. He homered and drove in the tying run. His big bat means a lot to this Yankee lineup. Joe Girardi has to be feeling good about Russell Martin starting to hit.

5.      The Yankees miss Arod. It’s impossible not to miss him. It’s not that Eric Chavez and Jason Nix don’t do a fine job, but Arod’s big bat was important to this team. Joe Girardi certainly wishes he had Arod back, but injuries are a part of baseball, and Joe Girardi would be the first person to tell you that.

6.      The Redsocks are right back in this wildcard race. It’s a long season – and the teams will play several more times. Joe Girardi has to be looking to get his team back on track to their winning ways. If anybody can do it, Joe Girardi can.

7.      Hiroki Kuroda pitched a great game, despite giving up those two runs in the first. He kept the Yankees in the game, which is all you can ask of your starting pitcher. And nobody knows this more than Joe Girardi.

"What's growin' on the Farm Report:" Only Action Saxon, the Staten Island Ferocity

His name is Saxon Butler - Babe, to you - and he leads the NYP-League with 10 home runs, almost nearly twice as many as the runner-up. He also leads the league in RBIs. He's the most dangerous butler since Alfred.
He's 22, a recent 33rd round draftee from Alabama, David Robertson country, and the Joy of Sax is a linebackerish 6'2", 240-pound bear from the Joba Chamberlain/Fred Flinstone School of Male Modeling. He's listed as a LH-hitting firstbaseman, though his best defensive position is probably DH. He went to Samford University, which is not a typo for a more prestigious place. He's hitting a crisp .308, still looking for his first stolen base. (That's a joke.) He's on course to eclipse last year's NYP League HR leader, Jeff Malm, who belted 12, and who knows, maybe he can chase the Marcel Ozuna's 21 dingers in 2010!

Don't believe me? Here are the facts.

ALL RIGHT, IF ANYBODY HERE THINKS WE CAN'T LOSE THIS THING, GET OUT NOW! GO! LEAVE THIS BLOG! WALK OUT THE DOOR AND NEVER COME BACK! YOU'RE NOT WELCOME HERE!

LISTENUP! EVERY DAMN ONE OF YOU.

I DON'T WANT TO SEE ANYBODY HERE SMILING!

IF I SEE ANYBODY SMILING, HE'LL BE GONE BEFORE ANYBODY CAN SAY, "SCOTT PROCTOR SAW THE DOCTOR."

EIGHT YEARS AGO, WHEN WE THREE GAMES UP IN OCTOBER, I REMEMBER SEEING SOME PEOPLE SMILING.

REMEMBER EIGHT YEARS AGO, CHILDREN? THREE UP IN OCTOBER? OR HAS THAT MEMORY BEEN BLISSFULLY ERASED FROM YOUR PLAYPEN CHALKBOARDS?

EIGHT YEARS AGO, SOME OF YOU PUT AWAY YOUR FURRY TOYS, PUT ON YOUR STAR WARS PAJAMAS AND TRUNDLED OFF TO BEDDYBIE, AND WE SUFFERED THE WORST COLLAPSE IN HISTORY.

THE. WORST. COLLAPSE. IN. HISTORY.

SO IF ANY OF YOU WIDDLE-BITTY BABIES THINK IT CAN'T HAPPEN AGAIN, THAT MOMMY AND DADDY WILL WIN THE PENNANT FOR YOU, THAT MEAN OLD MR. WORLD OF WARCRAFT SCHILLING IS IN THE POORHOUSE AND CAN'T HURT US... GO! RIGHT NOW!

GO SKIP DOWN CANDY LAND LANE, LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE! GO ROOT FOR THE METS, OR THE TRAVELING WILKES BERRIES, OR THE LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, ANGELS OF ANAHEIM. I DON'T GIVE A RAT'S PATOOTY. JUST TAKE YOUR HUGHIE LEWIS AND THE NEWS MOCASSIN SLIPPERS AND YOUR LARGEST CITIES OF OKLAHOMA LIGHT UP PLACEMAT OUT OF MY SIGHT. NOW.

ANYBODY GOT ANYTHING TO SAY?

YEAH. I DIDN'T THINK SO.

SOME OF US HAVE ALREADY STARTED GROWING THEIR PLAYOFF BEARDS. THAT'S RIDICULOUS. LISTEN, LADIES, WHEN YOU'RE DONE MAKING OUT WITH EACH OTHER IN THE SHOWER, SHAVE THOSE DAMN PLAYOFF BEARDS. YOU HAVEN'T EARNED THE RIGHT TO WEAR SALT-STREAKED UNDERGARMENTS. NOT AFTER LAST NIGHT.

LAST NIGHT. I ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT LAST NIGHT. HELL, I WAS READING HOW EVERYBODY SAYS LAST NIGHT'S LOSS DOESN'T MATTER, THAT BOSTON IS TOO FAR BEHIND, THAT THEY'RE OUT OF THE RACE, SO WE SHOULDN'T WORRY.

LISTENUP: TODAY, WE STAND ON THE CROSSROADS OF A SLUMP. DO YOU HEAR ME, CHILDREN? THE CROSSROADS OF A SLUMP.

LOSE TODAY, AND WE WILL HAVE LOST SEVEN OUT OF OUR LAST 10 GAMES - THE ONLY VICTORIES COMING OVER SEATTLE.

THAT'S A SLUMP, MY LITTLE BREAKFAST CHICADEES.

THAT'S A COLLAPSE, ALL YOU FUTURE DOCTOR PILLINGTON D. DOLITTLES.

THAT'S A DISASTER, YOU PROFESSOR BLUE NOSE IGLOOS OF THE NORTHERN WOODS.

SOME OF YOU WANNA THINK THE REDSOCKS NECKS HAVE BEEN COOKED, AND LAST NIGHT'S LOSS MEANT NOTHING TO THEM.

LOSE TODAY, GIRLIES, AND WATCH WHAT HAPPENS.

LOSE TODAY, LAVERNS AND SHIRLEYS, AND WATCH WHAT IT DOES TO THEM.

ANYBODY DISAGREES, HERE'S THE DOOR. GO. GO, DAMMIT, GO!

YOU. MAKE. ME. SICK.

Redsock Nation rejoices: WALLY IS SAFE

Last night's victory over Boston rang hollow, shadowed by the stark reality that no Redsock could be expected to hit with his eyes full of tears.

Their Wally had been removed - stolen, excised, amputated, torn from them. And no one knew where his Wally was.

I watched in Darwinian disbelief that the game was being played. It should have postponed, or cancelled, or forfeited, as a gesture of humanity. When a team loses its Wally - as was the case, with Wally the Green Monster reported stolen - how can anyone care about the trivialities of a mere game?

I imagined Boston toddlers, for the first time unable to clutch their Wallys, holding bake sales and fund-raisers - selling their wooden toys and woolen leggings to raise money for his ransom.

I foresaw Boston police periodically receiving dismembered bits of Wally - arms, legs, eyeballs - as the kidnappers showed their craftmanship with scissors and staple guns.

I dreaded the inevitable televised video of a tattered and limp Wally, clutching the day's Shaugnessy column to prove he is still alive, begging for mercy from his captors.

No. Shame on us. With their Wallys surgically removed, the Redsocks should not have been expected to play the game. And kudos to the plucky Boston team that valiantly battled for seven innings, before Mark Melancon mercifully sent the weeping children of Beantown to bed.

Well... today, the sun is shining again on the Oldetowne Nine. According to the Internet, "Wally is safe and sound, it was all a big misunderstanding." An employee took Wally home for personal use. I'm sure Wally had a good workout. Who knows, maybe someday we'll see him in a different sort of video.

I speak for the Yankiverse in congratulating our Boston brothers and sisters. The long night is over. They can feel the pleasure and confidence of holding their Wally again. He is safe and secure. And if they want to learn how to keep their families safe and secure, they need only to listen to John Sterling call today's game.

From now on, Boston, hold tight to your Wally.

BREAKING NEWS!!!!! WALLY THE GREEN MONSTER MASCOT-NAPPED!!!!!!!

Yanktweet: This is the weekend we either end Boston's season... or give it cause to be reborn

DEFCON 4 JUJU ALERT.

ALL SYSTEMS ON DECK.

Yankeetorial: The end of our season wll look like the reunion show of a long-running sitcom

Old Detective Fish (Andy Pettitte) will be there. Crazy Latka (Pedro Feliciano) will return, along with Rev. Jim Ignatowski (Swish). The once-precocious kids - now grown and with children of their own - (Joba, Cervelli) - will get big rounds of applause from the studio audience. Thurston Howell III (Arod) will bounce in, with a new Ginger (Jack Cust) and Mary Ann (Russell Branyan). Who knows, maybe even our longtime former love-interest, Rebecca Howe (Mariano - or should he be the Fonz?) will make a walk-on cameo!

Let's all be there! Fall will resemble a Cheers-Taxi-Family Affair reunion special - Old Timers Day sans Poligrip - as idled Yankee after idled Yankee sidles from the DL or the Scranton Empire magic bus - like creaky old Batman unpacking his cape to fight Bane. Once the rosters expand, it expect a roll call of old faves and newcomers. Dewayne Wise will return! Austin Romine - the human Brigadoon - will appear. So many prodigal sons will be coming back that - who knows - maybe we'll sign wild Andrew Brackman off a scrap heap and have him toss one straight to the press box for old time sake. (Rhyne Duren... R.I.P.) Look folks, it's Michael Pineda! He does exist, afterall!

But listen: This convergence will not necessarily be harmonic. Reunion shows generally go long on crowd support and short on writing. And cramming nostagia acts onto a 25-man post-season roster could turn into a Cashmanic Apocalypse. (Before you scream that will be easy to leave off Pedro Feliciano, what if he comes back and pitches lights out for a week, and what if our other lefties are hurt or lagging?) (Note: I just spent 20 minutes lying down, trying to get over the migraine from imagining Pedro pitching for the Yankees.)

By October, our August IT GIRL - Ichiro - will either own the ladies of New York or be The Second Coming of Omar The Out-Maker Moreno. If the latter - yeesh, what do we do in the playoffs? By October, Andy Pettitte will either be Andy Pettitte - healthy and full of guile - or one of our tectonic plates just slipped... because he is not Bartolo Colon and cannot be disinvited from the prom. By then, ARod will be two weeks into spring training - and truth be told - Eric Chavez will probably be on the DL - and God knows who will replace our ultimate returning star.

I was wrong upstairs about Arod being Thurston Howell (or anybody being Rebecca Howe; is it my imagination, or has she changed over the years?) Let's face it, Alex will be none other that the ultimate TV reunion of all: The future fated return of Charlie Sheen (Yankee fan, by the way.) Supposedly, they killed him off. Hell, on TV, death means nothing. Eventually, Charlie will come home. They all do. It's the iron rule of TV, and it's the iron rule of the Yankees.

As I write this, Gilligan is clawing his way up through the earth, hoping to meet Skipper Torre one more time.

Let's hope they don't scimp on the writers.

It is time to take nominations for It is High/Lunchables July Yankee Employee of the Month.

Some possibilities...

Ichiro Suzuki, Ice Age: Continental Drift

Brian Cashman, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

Robinson Cano, Rock of Ages

Joba Chamberlain, That's My Boy

Alex Rodriguez, Safety Not Guaranteed

Joe Girardi, Prometheus

Raphael Soriano, The Dark Knight Rises

John Sterling, Magic Mike

Suzyn Waldman, Snow White and the Huntsman

SEELY SHOCK: Rizzuto, Rumsfeld Two Peas In Pod

Seely: Basically, Rumsfeld and Rizzuto are the same critter: Old guys trying to tap dance. The difference is that Phil had the grace to stick with what he was meant to do: Broadcast Yankee games. He didn’t try to run wars. Rumsfeld looked out at the adoring media throngs and drank his own Kool-Aid. He saw himself as wise and whimsical. Listen, Barbash – the day you start running around, thinking yourself wise and whimsical, it’s over. Pack it in.

Rumpus: Listen Seely. I loved the Scooter. I listened to the Scooter growing up, and Donald Rumseld is no Phil Rizzutto.

Seely: They are astral twins, carbon copies, bone marrow matches. Seriously.

What outrageous thing will the author of "The Juju Rules" say next?

Yankeetorial: Should we have acquired more from our trip to Seattle?

There's nothing like a trip to Seattle. Win two of three. Visit the Space Needle. Sip some Starbucks froth. Grab a star player.

Over the years -- before the Jesus Montero debacle, that is -- trading expeditions to the Great Northwest Territory were one of the most anticipated aspects of the Yankee holiday season, which runs from July 20-31. A trip to Seattle was like a panty raid. And the good-hearted Seattilians never became bitter, like those nose-punched ingrates in Kansas City, who still whine green bile about trading us Roger Maris, Bobby Shantz, et al, for the likes of Jerry Lumpe. Seattle has stayed classy.

Ichiro is the latest boxcar in the underground freedom railroad from Seattle to New York -- acquisitions that include Arod, Tino, Rafael Soriano, Luis Sojo, Randy Johnson and countless others. (Note: Even though this blog publicly favored signing Johnny Damon for the 2012 DH - and still does, sort of - we like seeing former Mariner Raul Ibanez twirl the Pinstriped stick of vengeance. We have retroactively changed our position: We now -- all-along -- favored the Yankees signing both players. Please make the correction in your home journals.)

But this year, should we have gone further? Did we get enough? That former firstbase prospect - Justin Smoak or Smoat or Smoke, whatever -- should have demanded him, too? After all, we did trade them Jesus Montero for Venus de Milo and his pony pal Pokey. Couldn't we have demanded another throw in, maybe if we added a Cust or Branyan from the Traveling Wilkes Barres?

OK, I know what you're thinking: Good grief, el Duque, how many former Seattle Mariners can a team possibly collect? They're not Star Wars action figures. They're real people. They have wives. They have children. They live, they love, they watch shows on the television set, just like you. And besides, you can only have 25 Yankees on the roster at once.

Well, I'm not advocating greed. Long ago, we over-indulged ourselves at the $9.99 buffet table known as the Kansas City Athletics. That team has hated us ever since - as shown by our recent greeting in Oakland. (Note: Taking Catfish and Reggie off their hands didn't help matters.) I'm just wondering aloud, because Seattle stole our catcher and now has hurt our star 3B and former Mariner. If they think everything should be square simply because we took 2 out of 3 against them and received a 39-year-old Ichiro for one last pennant dance... well.. I don't see it that way. Nor should any Yankee fan. Seattle still owes us. Where's the justice? Where's the karma? Where's the $9.99 buffet? I've got a $10 bill. They can keep the change.

Yankeetorial: The Master faces his greatest challenge ever: the historic HR call for Ichiro

At some point, Ichiro Suzuki will hit a home run for the Yankees.

Odds are, he won't hit two. But let's face it, a little wind, a little momentum from a Yankee Stadium crowd, the right pitch... and Ichiro will smack one.

That gives the legendary radio voice of the New York Yankees one shot at permanently Sterlingizing the future Hall of Famer. One call. The opportunity may never come again.

One moment for the ages.

I believe as practicing denizens of the Yankiverse, having sworn to The Code of Yankee Allegiance, we must all do our best to help The Master create and engineer that call.

(Disclaimer: I am not worthy. None of us are. The fact is, no one person out there in the vast Yankiverse can truly channel John Sterling and come up with the perfect Ichiro call. But perhaps if we work as a hive, as a collective mind, similar to the alien-diseased townfolks of Haven in Stephen King's book "The Tommyknockers," we can conceive of such a call. These are my best efforts. None of them are worthy. Let it be known that the denizens of this blog, in John's greatest hour of creative need, gave all they had... even if the end result only showed our inability to produce.)

Remember, the call needs two parts. The tongue-buckler, and then the rejoicement. The tongue-buckler brings the absolute news that the ball has cleared the seats. The rejoicement applies proper context and emotional uplift to the moment. Each are critical. Oh, dammit, why am I explaining all this to you. Nobody needs to hear this analysis. What we need is a goddamm decent call!

Here are my best tongue-bucklers.

IT'S A PEACH... FROM EEECH!

IT'S A BAM, FROM THE MAN FROM JAPAN!

HOME RUN, FROM THE MIDNIGHT SUN!

Now, the rejoicements.

ICHIRO SHOWS REACH-IRO.

OHH, THAT SUZUKI IS MOTORING DOWN THE ROAD!

ICHIRO, WAY TO GO!

Alas... none of these measure up. I have failed The Master in his hour of need. But what of you, fellow Yankiversites? Does someone out there hold the Magic Key to John's salvation?

We need ideas, dammit. We need them now.

So, after two games in Seattle, it's a split for the Yankees ...

So far, we gained one old, fading but moderately useful player who once was a superstar with the Mariners.

And we lost one old, fading but moderately useful player who once was a superstar with the Mariners.

So, it's a wash. Sort of.

... Oh, and the games are all even at 1-1, too.

Yankeetorial: It's time to give Brandon Laird a chance

Last September, Brandon Laird was a shiny, happy 23-year-old Yankee prospect. He arrived with his coffee mug from Scranton after hitting .260 with 16 HRs, plus a Triple A Gold Glove at 3B. He became our best high-level position prospect after Jesus Montero, if view you view DH as a position. As a Yankee, he delivered four hits in 11 at bats and dazzled John Sterling with a few plays in the field.

This spring, though, he disappeared. I blame the late-winter signing of Eric Chavez, which ticketed Laird for another year on the farm. Because he bats RH, Laird couldn't even platoon, and was shipped out to our godforsaken, "If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Batavia" Thruway team -- to be forgotten.

He slumped, of course. Before the all-star break, Laird hit .231 with 7 HRs - practically left for dead.

Lately, Laird has been hot. He's hit .313 with 3 HR after the break. If he played the full season at Scranton, he'd probably reach last year's numbers, despite the bad start. Hopefully, he won't have to try.

Last night, Alex Rodriguez broke his hand, abruptly making Brandon Laird the most important prospect in our system. Laird's Yankee career - at age 24 - has hit a crossroads.

If the Yankees do not give him the chance, he certainly must believe that he will never get one here. Jayson Nix has been a pleasant surprise, but nobody should expect him to hold down 3B for six weeks. And we all know what the daily grind will do to Eric Chavez' body: Think of a Kleenex in a hurricane.

Some will say that Arod's injury came just at the right time: before the trade deadline. And surely, Brian Cashman has already begun scouring MLB rosters for a replacement. But in any trade for a 3B, we might as well include Brandon Laird. Because this is his time. He's earned a shot. We ought to see what he can do. It's time to believe in ourselves.

If Ted Lilly was on this team, the Mariners would fear today's game

Last night, King Felix hit three of the last five Yankees he faced, and his replacement came within a hiccup of beaning Raul Ibanez.  Hernandez broke Arod's hand, maybe ending his season and putting a huge crimp in our chances. Yet all we hear from the Yankee brain trust is that he surely was not throwing purpose pitches?

Hey, if quacks like a purpose pitch, it's a purpose pitch. 

Eleven years ago, some Angels pitcher nailed Derek Jeter with a fastball, and our own Theodore Roosevelt Lilly promptly beaned Scott Spezio. We lost the game but won the war. True to his namesake, Lilly walked tall and carried a big stick.

Last night we lost the game. The war isn't over.

Listen: I don't want anybody hurt, but I hope Ivan Nova spends his afternoon buzzing the inside of the plate like a plane zipping King Kong atop the building. There is no reason why any Mariner batter's cleats should sink into the soil of the batters' box any deeper than a coat of Windex. Let's channel the ghost of Billy Martin. This West Coast trip has been bloody hell. But we've paid. It's time for somebody to feel it.

Theme song for a Yankee

Writes a Mariners-fan friend:

Catchy tune, from Ben Gibbard of Death Cab for Cutie. Just change "M's" to "Yanks" and "Dave" to "John" and you can be singing it into November.

 I just hope he doesn't pull a hammy next week and you guys start flogging Cash again for trading with the Mariners. Come on: Freddie, A-Rod, Ichi, Rauuul...you are the Mariners.

Letter to the Editor: No peanuts at a Yankee game?

The Post Standard (Syracuse, NY)
July 19, 2012 Thursday

To the Editor:

I went to Alliance Bank Stadium on a recent Saturday evening to catch the Scranton Yankees play the Buffalo Bisons, the Mets' Triple-A farm team. It was a great night to watch the game as the weather was perfect. At the concession stand they had everything you could want to enjoy a baseball game: beer, hot dogs, hamburgers, French fries, Cracker Jacks and peanuts... Wait a minute, what no peanuts? I asked, what is a cold beer without some peanuts?

I was told by every single concession stand that there was not a nut to be found at the stadium (excluding myself, of course). According to the many people I talked to, "they had run out." I told them Wegmans has plenty of peanuts. Here is $20, go get us some. Here it was the weekend following our country's 236th birthday and I could not get a simple bag of peanuts at a baseball stadium in the good old US of A. How un-American is that?

Then I remembered who runs the baseball show at ABS and things started to make sense. As my son would say, "Dad, just drink you beer and shut up." So I did and watched the Mets beat the Evil Empire, 7-6; great game, cold beer and I was still peanut-less.

Tom Kraus

Syracuse

Ichiro is a Yankee, so here is your song of the day ...

Yankeetorial: The acquisition of Ichiro will bring us a ton of raw, unused juju

Four losses into the dark well, we pushed the big red button: We made a deal that should please Old George's ghost, when he visits Hal and Hank in their dreams.

The Boss always coveted Ichiro, as he did Sheff and the Big Unit. It was only a matter of time before Suzuki put on Pinstripes. Of course, he first needed to wither and hit a pile of pop-ups; then we would trade prospects for him.

I hate it whenever we trade youth for age. I hate how it depletes our system, how it lowers morale, and most of all, how it's always characterized in the press: That we craftily gave up nothing in return for a star. Two years later, we're watching Damaso Marte or Mike Lowell play for other teams. So today, as the NY media congratulates Brian Cashman for swindling Ichio from those stupid West Coasts, let's face up to the reality: We gave up a young DJ Mitchell, and the Mariners didn't do this out of guilt over the Pineda trade.

Still, Ichiro does fill a void on the Yankees. We finally have a guy who can bunt. We finally have a guy who hits behind runners and can hit a ground ball to score a man from third. If he has half a season left - for his first spotlight appearances in about six years - we have a spare part who could help this team. (And in September, if we bring up Fukudome from Scranton, we'll practically be a nostalgia act in Japan. Emerson, Lake and Palmer, anyone?)

Most importantly, we have just added the collective juju of a million Seattle baseball fans. (Assuming there is a million Seattle baseball fans.) As much as they boo Arod for leaving town - (and seeking what he was worth, which their billionaire ownership saw no reason to pay him) - they owe it to Ichiro to stand and cheer like hyenas when he comes to bat. Tonight, they surely will give him another huge ovation. In his at bats in Seattle occur, they will vault from their seats and cheer a Yankee.

I hate when we trade a young player. But don't underestimate juju. We just obtained the Seattle fan base in a relatively minor deal. Folks, that's raw juju coming in our direciton. Put a price on that. Old George's ghost is resting easier today.

John: "This is a very, very exciting night in Yankee history!"

Reaction from a Mariner mole in Seattle

A Mariner fan, who recently visited from Seattle, says:

I happened to see Mitchell pitch on TV last week in Syracuse and thinking, "wow, the Yankees bullpen must be really hurting to have this guy out there late in a close game." Even if neither pitcher amounts to anything, I am glad the Mariners made this deal, as he clearly had no place in their future, if indeed they have a future. 


As much of a fan of his as I am, he perpetually confounded me, even in the good times. The last two years have been painful at times. He is ALWAYS who he is, as I wrote in his rookie year, the International Man of Mystery. 


 Before this season started, I thought a perfect exit would be a trade deadline deal, but he seemed disinterested in that at first. More recently I was afraid they would resign him, clearly a blunder. This is a blessing for him and the Mariners. I hope going to a pennant race rejuvenates him, but the NY media will be sorely disappointed if they expect to get anything out of him while he's there.

The Panic Sets In - Day One

Chaos and disorder.

Madly scurrying away under the cover of darkness.

Heading anywhere.  Getting nowhere.

Shooting blindly from the center of a revolving room.

The out of control whirlwind that is Brian Cashman is working the phones.

Quick Result:  The Yankees have just acquired 45 year old, former singles slapper Ichiro Suzuki for three players;  rumored to be Banuelos, Williams and D.J. Mitchell.  Plus, Seattle agreed to take our last three number one draft picks ( actually, this is no loss as the Yankees haven't had a useful draft selection since Derek Jeter).

And even though Ichiro now runs as if he was nursing a hammy, is hitting a weak .261 and is planning shoulder replacement at season's end, this dramatic "steal" of Seattle's throw away lunch meat demonstrates the Yankee's commitment to winning ( again ).

Has anyone noticed, by the way, that as the Yankees near the opening of tonight's series with Seattle,  JESUS is hitting everything in sight? And, he is hitting with power.

But we now have another over-the-hill player after whom we have lusted for twenty seasons.  He has had his all star years.  He has been a great baseball player.  A tribute to japan.

And now he increases the average age of the Yankees' line-up.

Nice coup Brian.