The Yankees may collapse, but we're winning in t-shirts

Bronx Goblin T-shirts?

Of course.

A portion of each sale

goes to ALS research.

Three in a row? Can we?

TWO IN A ROW

Are we better off than we were four years ago?

In 2008, we finished third. Out of the playoffs. Dead in the water. A horrible year. We were polarized (Trade Cano? Stick with Abreu?) We faced scandal. (Sidney Ponson, really?) We were falling apart.

Have we improved?

This is the lineup from that tick-infested stable. (Note the ages.)

And the pitchers? Yeesh.

Well? Are we better off? It's the question of the year. We report, you decide.

Yankeetorial: Under MLB's playoffs formula tying Baltimore is not an option

This is a Yankee bath salts-level passion blog. Sometimes, well, we get carried away. Our motto - passed at the recent convention - is, "Anything said about the Yankees is fightin' words, and never apologize for comparing the Redsocks to rape or Hitler." (In the last draft, we deleted the section on Islam and Ed Whitson.) (Also, we removed the "dammit!" a decision I still believe makes us look like a bunch of squat-to-pees.) As far as I'm concerned, a Yankee loss is like being raped by Hitler.

Nevertheless, like the Bush administration - which only existed in legend and mythology - we prefer faith-based conclusions over anything tied to - yuecch - numbers. Dammit, the Yankees don't need policy wonks! They need a good, solid steel-toed kaboom in the caboose! Dammit!

But this is fact. I looked it up on Wikipedia. Get it? Fact.

If we end up tied with Baltimore for the AL East division, we must play them in a one-game series. Under the new, lawyer-written MLB post-season by-laws, there is no tie-breaker formula for first place in divisions. If two teams are tied, they play a one-season game. (By the way, we went 9-9 against the Showalter Shoes in the reg season, so that wouldn't kick in anyway.) Right now, Baltimore would have home field advantage in this winner-take-all monstrocity, by virture of its better record against AL teams. (We went 13-5 in interleague; they were 11-7. Of course, that was June-July, a different world. Dammit.)

So if we tie Baltimore - a very possible outcome - we must go there and beat them. If we lost that game - a very possible outcome - we then board a plane and fly to Oakland (currently the Wild Card leader) for a second one-game season.

Two win-or-die games. CC pitches one - regardless of shakiness - and Andy or Kuroda pitch the second. Girardi would mix and match, and if we are still standing, it's Phil Hughes and the unused Andy-Kuroda - who would start against the Texas Rangers.

Yeah, the Texas Rangers. Best lineup in the AL, and twice denied the championship. Yeesh. What an outlook. Face two young, rising teams, both with hatred for the Yankees, then go into Texas for a best-of-five.

About 20 years ago, American sports abandoned the "May the best team win." It is now, "May the hottest team at the end win." (See: NY Giants, 2011) But if this old and tired team has proven anything this season, it is that it is prone to run out gas, again and again. We really need to win this division.

Right now, being tied for first means we are - in fact - behind.

When you know it's going to be a long day

Two in a row... will we ever do it again?

LOOK CAREFULLY

For the first time in ninety days, at the end of this evening you will see the Yankees trailing behind.

Our fuel pump is failing and our speeding vehicle is slowing.

 Fading.  Into the horizon.

Soon we'll be a spec.  Unseen and unnoticed.

Goodbye 2012.

Goodbye the decade.

If the Yankees blow this, I have a suggestion for who we should hire as manager next year

Sign the petition.

It Will Be A Lot Easier If You Listen To Me

I have said from the outset, that this team is not a champion.

After watching a relatively together, albeit aging, Yankee team come north from Tampa, it was obvious we didn't have the bones to win it all.

The next bugaboo, of course, would be the plague of injuries ( which does correspond to the aging element ) about to beset us.

Some of us ( me ) had already written off Pineda and all of our so-called, " killer B's." As soon as Gardy tweaked his elbow, I knew he would be done for the year.  There is no need to mention the "karma" that Mariano's knee injury brought upon us.  The fantastic inventory of young catchers in the system melted into oblivion.

The parade of dismay and bad decision-making has continued up to and including the gallant ( though idiotic ) Texiera, who ran when he should have sat.  The tough guy who delivered us another 2
weeks ( I think the rest of the regular season, actually) of Spencer Pearce at first base.

Add this to the cast of clowns we often see in the line-up ( Jones, Nix, Dickerson, Nunez, Stewart, Rapada), and you have to know this is not a team that can win two in a row against anybody.

                                                                    

The red Socks sold everyone for a future and they are still better than us.

This is painful, I know.

The solution?

Just turn off the dials, email your friends, and check-out.  This Yankee season is over.  Watch football, or the US Men's Soccer team trying to qualify for the next world cup.  Soon, there will be colorful leaves in New england, and apples to be picked.

From a Yankee baseball perspective,  tonight begins a decade of misery.

Yankeetorial: We did the impossible last night. We gave Boston cause to celebrate

Last night, to the children of Boston, we were Santa Claus. They went to bed thinking their team couldn't beat a throw rug, and they wake up today with video of Redsocks exploding from the dugout, partying at pitchers' mound - with the Christmasy prospect of facing David Phelps tonight. We brought Boston the rarest of gifts: a 2012 moment to treasure.

This Yankee team is descending into the realm of 2004 - of Javier Lopezes, Horace Clarkes and Ed Whitsons.

Losing a must-game to a last-place team is nothing to us. We're the mighty Yankees who fell at home by Toronto two weeks ago, when the Blue Jays hadn't won in seven games. To losing franchises, we bring more creative gifts than Martha Stewart made in her lifetime. We lose in a shootout, then we lose in a shutout. We leave enough runners on base to win five pennants, and we've done it all season. When a leadoff man gets on, is there any reason to think he will score. Nope. We might hit a home run. That's about it.

And then there is Jeter. God bless him. Lately, writers have begun suggesting that he deserves to be MVP. Because he does. But the theory always runs along these lines: He deserves to be MVP because the Yankees won the division. Put them in third, and the award should go to someone else. Thus, while we face this epic disgrace, we are screwing the Captain at the same time.

But this crash won't end Oct. 4. Take a good look at the 2012 Redsocks. Because that's us next year in the post-apocalypse. We gave them a reason to celebrate last night. And tonight, they get David Phelps. Merry Christmas, Boston.

Yankees poetry: Stopping by third on an #RISPfail evening

What base this is, I'm sure I know;
My journey often ends here, though;
I shall not make the short trip home,
Back to the dugout I must go

We have a man on third once more,
The fans, they sense a chance to score;
Alas, their hopes again are dashed
Just like so many times before

Our OBP is out of sight!
But I shant score a run tonight,
As Swish and Grand hit lazy flies
and A-Rod takes a called third strike

A 10-game lead we couldn't keep,
and lo, we're now in trouble deep.
A season poised to go to sleep,
A season poised to go to sleep.



*- Note: #RISPfail is Twitter-speak for "Can't anyone here drive in a freakin' run??"

Once again, we can't win two in a row

We may be watching the worst Yankee meltdown since 2004. At least that monstrosity happened fast.

This has been a two-month root canal, and now - are you kidding me? We're about to fall apart in Boston? Are you kidding me?

OK. Fine. But I gotta tell you: If it happens, I'm all for the Steinboys cutting payroll next winter. If we're going to collapse like this, if we're going to disgrace the Yankee name, we can surely do it less expensively.

Will anybody on this team step up? Are the Redsocks, as an organization, simply six months ahead of us?

Tonight, Suzyn Dressed For America

Three men, one bench, one thread

Take two and hit to right.

Also, never fall in love with your curveball.

Yankeetorial: Could Teixeira's courageous dive turn this race?

It was the Bruce Willis moment. He needed to beat the throw, and he did, dammot, he did! He ran so hard he ripped up his leg, and then he flat-out dove into first - gutsiest act of the season - he beat it, goddamot! - and the ump was watching some skirted blonde in Row 3. So Bruce Willis gets the shaft.

The game ended in fury, outrage, disgrace. If it happened in the NFL Sunday, the owners would have settled with the refs' union by now.

But lo and behold, we mauled Baltimore for nine innings on Sunday. We took a 5-0 lead, survived Freddy Garcia, then tacked on what in the hell nights of August would have been a week's worth of runs. Tonight, we see if this team -without Teix for two weeks, assuming the Yankees are telling the truth - can find what we haven't seen since July.

Momentum.

The Wretchedsocks will be lurking like Bond supervillains with one final trick up their sleeves. Ever since Boston punted the Father, Son and Holy Ghost to LA, the frathouses have circled this series as the final games of interest. This could salvage the memory of Bobby V's last days. If they sweep us, or take two of three, we again become the listing, dead-in-the-water tanker -- and they'll laugh at us all winter, as we did them last year.

I don't know what galvanizes a team. I recall Phil Linz tossing a harmonica at Yogi, or Jeet's dive into the stands, or the Gerbil charging Pedro from the dugout. Right now, the injustice of Teixeira's magnificent effort - and the price he paid - could put that moment up there in the pantheon of Yankee memories. If we survive this race, it could top his walkoff playoff HR as Teix's greatest Yankee moment.

All because the ump was checking out that hussy. Bruce Willis survives. Go figure.

Two in row, goddammot. Tonight. Close your eyes. Think two in a row.

Links

NFL replacement referee throws pants
Bobby V loses it on radio
Ump Jerry Meals looks at butterfly

Who Am I?

One game up on September 10?

I'll take that anytime.

In a minute.

I would soil my pants for that.

It is my dream.

I don't care how i got there or who I had with me.

I'll take it and have a cigar!

Who am I?

Have a look.

                                                                                                

Yankeetorial: In another era, the Nats would be saving Stephen Strasburg's arm for us

The regular season has ended in Joba-like fashion for former future Yankee Stephen Strasburg, who pitches for the Washington Nats, the NL's version of the Tampa Rays. (By that, I mean their success stems from finishing last for a decade and always draftng first. Eventually, you score some players.)

Ten years ago, Yankee fans would watch each Strasburg pitch with a torrent of drool strong enough to douse a BP oil rig gas fire. We'd rejoice hearing that Washington is protecting our investment. In 2017, when Stasburg sheds his chains and becomes a free man, old George would snap him up like a pretzel - that is, if he hadn't already drained the system for him in a trade.

Now, though, meh. When Strasburg reaches his Scott Boras moment, he'll probably wind up in Texas, the new Yankees. Or the Dodgers, the future new Yankees. Hell, by then, who knows - the Redsocks might have gone full loop and aim to be the new Yankees redeaux.

What's happening? Why are other teams turning into the Yankees. I believe we're seeing baseball's version of the political super Pac. Today's new owners are so incredibly rich that spreadsheets no longer matter. We're seeing assholes with the resources of the Koch brothers or Sheldon Adelson or George Soros, people with practically infinite amounts of money. Remember when Ross Perot ran for President in 1992, and how so much was made about the fact that he was a billionaire? Good grief, the Kochs could buy and sell him 50 times over.

The Dodgers absorbed Boston's Big Three contracts without flinching, the same way Texas overwhelmed Yu Darvish with cash. Soon, every team will own its own TV network too. (One could argue that the Yankee dynasty of the late 1990s was a result of their advantage from YES money.)

Meanwhile, the Yankees look tired of big contracts, tired of injury-prone oldsters, weary from the bloat of superstars who play beyond their years. We are run by old money, third generation heirs. They laid down their money in 2008, when their dad was dying. Ever since, neither has wanted to spend like their father.

This is not to knock them. Remember: Old George sank us into some hellishly deep pits. From 1983 to 1994, the Yankees we were the worst team money could buy, poster child for American incompetence. The Steinboys surely remember those years. Spending big does not ensure winning.

But it's hard to imagine the Yankees doing it by the methods of Washington and Tampa. (Keep in mind, though, that we stank so badly in 1990 and 1991 that we selected the first high schooler in the draft; his name was Derek Jeter.) The key is our farm system. And this was not a good year for it.

Our top-rated prospects fizzled. Even though some others rose - hell, that's the natural churn within a system. Baltimore has two of the three best prospects in baseball, according to MLB. All the teams we must beat have more highly regarded prospects than we do. This year will be remembered as the season the Yankees received absolutely no injection of youth, (beyond David Phelps.) He isn't enough. Check the roster at Scranton, and we might get zilch next year, too. (Hello, Adam Warren.) 

So Strasburg is saving his arm for someone. Not us.

Then again, Bryce Harper grew up a diehard blotto Yankee fan. He's signed through 2015. Will we be ready? Will we be willing?

Congratulations, Michael Pineda: Lunchables Yankee Employee of the Wonderful Month of August

Congratulations, Michael.

Only six months left to Yankee debut!

Two in a row?

Dare we dream?

The Pattern For Playoff Success Emerges

Good morning.

It is now clear to me what MUST happen if the Yankees are going to have any success in the post-season.

I know.  We are not likely to get there.

Nonetheless, there is only one thing the Yankees can and MUST do, if they do reach post season play.

Simply put; they have to win the first game every time.

This team has proven, time and time again, that it can no longer win back to back games in series that matters.

In a five game series, if we win game one and every other game, we win.  Same for a seven game series.

If we lose game one, we are done.  Gone.  Finished.

You can mark us down as, " unable to compete."

It is as simple as that.

Yankeetorial: We're overdue, all right. But for what?

Last night, it was all the ump's fault. That mean old umpire! Blaming them is always fun. It simply requires you to suspend reality and assume Arod would hit a HR, and that our bullpen, which has given back more than Mother Theresa, would do its job. Oh well. Those dirty umps did it. Not us.

Curtis Granderson had nothing to do with it. The Grandyman has been a fine Yankee, a good person and credit to the franchise. Great role model. Bright future after baseball. And right now, I can't stomach the sight of him twinkle-toeing to the plate. Last night, he came up twice with critical runners on base. He struck out. He popped up. When I see him, the year becomes 1985, and we are playing Danny Tartabull. Today, the only upside I can think of to missing the playoffs is the hope that this guy can take his knee-socks and 200 strikeouts to another city.

Then there is CC Sabathia, our "ace." He might be hurt. I hope he's hurt. Isn't that horrible to say? But if he's hurt, he has an excuse. If not, he's done. In the season's most important games - games we must win - he has turned into Freddy Garcia Jr. No team wins with two Freddy Garcias in its rotation.

The Polliannas out there keep saying Grandy and CC are "overdue." They say that about Swisher, Raul, Andruw and Russell Martin. Trouble is, this isn't random sequencing in a card game. This is pressure baseball, the end of a pennant race, and players who have either forgotten how to adjust or who physically cannot do it. Redsock fans spent the month of September 2011 waiting for Carl Crawford and John Lackey to get hot. Overdue? Gimmie a break.

So today, guess who's pitching? Freddy. Seriously, does anyone reading this blog right now think we have a chance? At best, Freddy will go five and give up three. It's possible he will go two and give up seven and counting. Maybe our batting order - without Teixeira, who re-injured himself yesterday - will sputter and groan, and maybe score some runs. But this game has all the markings of the 10-9 shoot-out that we lose on a walk-off.

We haven't lost on a walk-off lately, have we? Yep. We're overdue.

Another loss

Teixeira to umps: Vai tomar no cu.

(ADVERTISEMENT)

Yankeetorial: Girardi and Showalter sealed their teams' fates long ago by deciding to live or die with the home run

One of the strangest elements of the last week has been the revelation that Baltimore is a homer-happy team that wins by the bash instead of the bunt. I thought we were the only team that did this, and thus were the only team to be doomed in October, when quality pitching rules.

Watching the O's clobber the unfortunately high-socked David Robertson Friday was like watching the U.S. bomb Libya last year. Boom boom boom. They scored with homers, and not by moving base to base (as Tampa did last Sunday.)

I guess this reflects what AL East baseball has become: A HR-or-K paradise, where small ball gets farmed out to Triple A. And it's sad, because I think it represents the end of the AL East as baseball's best division.

For most of 15 years, we stood head and shoulders above the rest - so much better that it was valid to say a star in the NL Central simply couldn't cut it in Toronto or Baltimore. Now, with the exception of pitchers who are prone to HRs, I don't think there is a difference. And it certainly has shrunken with the collapse of the Redsocks (and potential collapse of the Yankees.)

Most of all, it's lame when the only way you can score is home runs. Yeah, it's a hoot when you hit five in a night. But it's hell to watch your team silenced by mediocre pitchers - we're talking the Kevin Millwood variety - on a day when they simply pitch to the corners. And it hurts to keep leaving runners on base, simply because nobody can move them.

I wish we could get back to fundamentals, but Girardi never pushed them this year. Even now, he jokes about the "Bronx Bunters." I think he made a mistake by not demanding more plate discipline, by not pursuing small ball - and by letting Granderson and Teixeira off the hook, when they started slow. Kevin Long never got a chance to help this team. Now, it's too late. We win by the HR, and we lose by it.

If we make the playoffs - nothing is guaranteed - New Yorkers know what happens to homer-happy teams. You can win if your starters dominate - but that's about it. And we don't have those kinds of starters.

Maybe Baltimore does, but I'm not sure sure. Too bad about the O's and the HRs. They're going to face a tough ride, if they get there.

The best thing about Bobby Valentine's Sports Illustrated Cover...

... Is that it's only a regional shot for the Northeast edition.

Ha. 

They couldn't get national placement.

When Yankees collapse, we get national placement.

Could the Yankees win two in a row?

Probably, no.

Happy Birthday Dear Suzyn

Suzyn contemplates mortality. John's head blocks the cake.

John's Call: "PEARCE IS FIERCE!"

BAD JUJU: Did 'Rob Sox' Beat Himself?

Moments ago, commenter Roger B. Calistro hit upon the culprit in the Yankees' Juju stumble:

Let us paraphrase Ronald Reagan: Mr. Robertson, roll down those pants. 

UPDATE, 9:31 PM:

UPDATE: D-Rob's juju works! Yankees win!

Yankeetorial: Let them lose

This recent collapse has been as torturous as anything the CIA ever devised to deal with hippies. The Yankees have completely beaten down the spirit of their fan base. Lately, when Granderson or Swisher or Ibanez or Jones strike out, I rejoice in the thought that they will be gone soon, and I will never have to root for them again. It's gotten that bad.

In 2004, it happened in the span of only four games. This is worse. This has been drawn out over six weeks. This gives time to reflect on how truly bad this team is, and to compare it with the self-congratulatory victory laps that players and management have taken all season. In their minds, they won the World Series in July.

To accomplish this awesome feat of wretchedness, the Yankees have lived by simple rules:

1. Get behind early. A quick deficit puts your losing claim on the game, letting fans know that you have no plan to win, and that you seek to be kind and not hurt them later.

2. Give back the lead. Quickly. Efficiently. Never let a rare Yankee rally inning go unanswered. Whenever the Yankees score, the opposition must get at least one run back.

3. Leave runners on base. They used to say, "Leadoff walks score." But with the Yankees, "Leadoff walks snore."

4. Share the incompetence baton. No reason why the hitters should lose every game. Now and then, the starting pitchers or the bullpen chip in. We're a finely tuned Microsoft product, which always malfunctions somewhere.

5. When in doubt, pull off a bad managerial move. Let Phil Hughes go for a personal longevity record. Can Freddy Garcia try for six? Jason Nix, a good-field-no-hit utility infielder throughout his career, makes a fine DH.

6. Deny. Pretend it's not happening - that you just woke up tied for first, and now the season starts.

Last night, when the Baltimore crowd chanted "YANKEES SUCK," it made me feel better.

It's embarrassing, that's all. Just embarrassing

Step One: Locate The Pigeon's Ear

It doesn't even look like he has any ears.

 I see his eye, his beak, something I take for his nose, and feet.

Where the frig are the ears?

How can I whisper in a pigeon's ear if I can't find the ear?

Maybe that is the trick.  You can get your wish if you whisper in a pigeon's ear, only to find out it doesn't have any ears.  Maybe that's why Ivory Coast Soccer teams aren't doing so well these days.

The Yankees are tied for first and it is September 6th.  Are we happy?

What, exactly, is our wish anyway?

Here's one:  I wish we could hold a lead.

New Ju-Ju ritual

OK, folks.

The Yankees are back in first for the next 6 hours at least.

How to keep this powerhouse of .168 averages on top?  Our normal rituals have topped out so I have done some research in the hopes of discovering greater Ju-Ju efficacy.

My proposition is to borrow a JU-JU ritual from the national soccer ( futbol ) team of the Ivory Coast.

To wit:

Each Yankee fan must find a way to stay in the same hotel as the Yankees before any " crunch" game, take a bath treated with various potions and then make a wish in the ear of a pigeon.

Luckily, pigeons are abundant in all AL East cities.

Well, you can't lose them all

Moments after the final fly died at the CF wall last night, Raffy "Not Mariano" Soriano launched his signature party pose: Pull out the shirt and stand here looking like a happy pumpkin in a moo-moo. The team jogged in and formed a high-five conga line. We celebrated our fifth win this season over Tampa. We have lost nine times.

Somehow, this wretched, godforsaken team - old, hurt and its shirt tales out - is back in first.

OK, fine, who knows? But a turnaround? Did you see one? I didn't. I saw Tampa blow a game on a routine grounder that should have meant an out at home. The YES post-game spin - that Ichiro "forced" the throwing error by running - is sort of like saying that poor guy Dick Cheney once shot in the face "forced" the act by standing there dumbly in the field.

Our two recent victories came gift-wrapped. (Remember the critical grounder the O's shortstop Hardy booted?) It's not as if we have hit with runners in scoring position. The Orioles and Rays simply made brutal, loss-defining errors.

I say this not to ruin hope, but because the Yankiverse is still playing a tape loop from 2006. It goes this way: The AL East is the toughest division, and its champion is forged from super-hard steel. Yeah, right. We've been troweling out that line whenever somebody we traded - Ian Kennedy, Austin Jackson, Tyler Clippard, et al. - turns into a star. The fact is, Baltimore is not the streaking superteam of 2012. The O's would probably be four games out in the AL West. And despite the way they beat, the Rays don't scare anybody with their hitting.

OK, we won last night. The team whose bottom five batters are Martin, Jones, Pearce, Nix and the body double for Curtis Granderson. We're back in first. Soriano can untuck his shirt. Girardi can breathe. But we now face four in Baltimore against a team that long ago should have become a speck in our rearview. Let's face the truth:

We're lucky to be playing in a weak division. And one win is not a comeback.

Time To Go Back To Work

The fun part of the season has reached an end.  We've consumed all the beer and hot dogs we can eat, we've stayed up 'til dawn, drinking and laughing in the hot tub.

It is time to get back to work.  Labor Day has come and gone.  Time to grind again.

When the season started, we all said we'd be happy to be right in the thick of the race, come Labor Day.

And we got our wish.  We are tied for first and the bell is ringing.

Time for Jason Nix, Andruw Jones, Chris Dickerson and that Stewart kid we have catching for us to explode on the scene.  Let's translate those .168 averages into a power surge.

 Start scoring runs by the dozen.

We've got Russell Martin on the bench, not to mention Raulo and Ichiro.

And A-Rod is bound to get more infield singles, even if Grandy can only strike out.

We'll have to gut it out, but this is the pennant race we wanted.  This is when we show the world what Cashman and the Steinbrenner sons have put together.

Fasten your seat belts.

Look out Boston, here we come.

CODE RED: The rapidly collapsing Yankiverse is turning to juju

The Master tells us, you cannot predict baseball. But you can see a pile of crap before you step in it. Today, we stand knee-deep. Tomorrow, we will disappear. And it could be a long time before we slog out the other side. Think: 2017.

Throughout the known Yankiverse, from the swaggering billionaires of the upstate hamlets to the selfless workers of Wall Street, fans are whipping out their long-forgotten juju icons and strumming furiously in the hope of snapping out relief.

These post-game comments came last night at River Ave:

Kramerica Industries says: The day after the regular season ended last year, I recorded Gary Thorne’s call of Robert Andino’s walk-off hit that knocked the Red Sox out of the playoff race on the final day of the season. I listened to that thing all the time... Tonight I made my sacrifice to the baseball gods. I erased my cherished sound bite. I was obviously turning karma against me with that thing.

Danny says: OK, I vote we sacrifice a chicken. Jobu needs some help here. i’ll get a bucket and do a ritual tomorrow.

Brian S. says: I’m getting rid of the meme in my handle in an attempt to bring back our winning ways.

Andy Pettitte's Fibula says: This is what we get for revelling in the Red Sox collapse last year.

 

Raul Ibanez AKA Tom Marvolo Riddle says: Right around the all-star break I cut my hair for the first time in about six months (maybe longer) so I stopped wearing my Yankee cap... Since then we’ve all seen what’s happened. I cannot believe that I didn’t draw this parallel before. Starting tomorrow I break out the cap again.

 

Listen: This is no time to hit the streets with beebee guns and silverware. We must be wise. We must channel our juju into one massive, overwhelming surge that causes Buck Showalter to puke the live horse heart he devoured last week. It must happen soon. We are knee-deep in Big Muddy. 

 

Burn the loser cap. Pull out that $59 limited edition, collector's grade decanter of Yankee Stadium topsoil and throw it into the wind. Stand before your TV set or radio, call the juju hotline and ask for the juju god on duty. Let him or her know how angry you are about the current situation. Demand a retraction. Demand a correction. Tell them you're writing a letter to the editor. Tell them you intend to go directly to the top - the Capital Letter God who runs hurricanes and earthquakes. Tell them you'll have their job. IT IS TIME TO WHINE, EVERYBODY.

 

 

 

SCREAM, YANKIVERSE, SCREAM. NOW. WHINE. LOUD. TELL THE JUJU GODS THAT IT THIS TEAM GOES SOUTH, THEY WILL NEVER HEAR THE END OF OUR COMPLAINTS. WE WILL WRITE DOWN THEIR LICENSE PLATES, AND WE WILL SEND THEM DIRTY MAGAZINES AND FRIED CHICKEN FROM POPEYES. THEY WILL HEAR THE DOORBELL RING, AND THEY WILL FIND FLAMING BAGS OF POO ON THEIR FRONT PORCHES. LET THEM KNOW WE WILL NOT TAKE THIS LYING DOWN.

 

JUJU. NOW. JUJU. NOW!

A new Yankee era beckoning?

"I do think I’m me. Very much." The Bergen Record profiles John Sterling

"You know what I have to do? I go on the air and I have to entertain," Sterling said. "That’s why I’m different."

Yankeetorial: All day, all game, all the time... playing to lose

Yesterday, Alphonso and I listened to a nine-inning cascade of unrelenting Sterlingtonian dread. Every batter, every pitch, you heard pure terror in John's voice.

The Master claims you cannot predict baseball. But his voice belies that statement. In his subdued, pessimistic tone, it is clear that John has seen the post-season, and it does not include the 2012 Yankees. 

Yesterday, when we fell behind early, John noted with pain that CC would not be the stopper we needed. Down by two, John declared that if Tampa scored again, the game might be over.

When we scored our three runs to take the lead - courtesy of an outfield blunder and a seeing-eye hit - John opined that it wasn't enough. And when we squandered scoring opportunities, he foresaw our fate. He just didn't want to say it aloud.

All day, waiting to lose again.

This last month has been a bad dream. Even when we win, we lose a player. Now it's Robbie Cano, whose hip went south, and who hasn't hit for weeks. Something is obviously wrong with Sabathia. And soon our middle of the order will be hitters in rehab.

But it's Ichiro these days who leaves me the most hopeless. He is turning into just another wretched trade with Seattle. Since coming to the Yankees, the man has drawn three walks - just three. A 3-ball count on Ichiro is the most meaningless statistic in the game. The guy doesn't hit, and he doesn't accept a free pass. We needed a grinder. We got a grounder. Right now, I'd have more hope in Chris Dickerson. How did we get to be so bad, so fast?

"The mic ended up on the floor."

John gets a free baseball, courtesy of Robbie Cano.

Old, slow, tired, going nowhere

Letter to the Editor: The Dodgers are smarter

Los Angeles Times
September 1, 2012 Saturday
Dear Editor,

I take exception to Bill Shaikin's depiction of the Dodgers as the West Coast version of the Yankees [Aug. 26]. The Yankees got their reputation by outbidding every other MLB team for free agents, signing them to ridiculous contracts, and essentially buying an All-Star team. The Dodgers built their team through the farm system (Kemp, Ethier, Billingsley and Kershaw) and through trades (Ramirez, Beckett, Gonzalez and Crawford). If other NL teams hate the Dodgers it's not because they're the new Yankees, it's because the Dodgers are smarter than they are.

R.J. Robinson

Hollywood

Yankeetorial: It's 1984 all over again

Well, here we go. We have squandered the midsummer lead, pissed away Derek Jeter's greatest season, and we now study the Wild Card race knowing that when Baltimore overtakes us -- they will overtake us -- Oakland will lead for home field advantage in that disasterous one-game post-season. If we are lucky enough to get there.

Not even juju can save us. This is the team of stranded opportunities.

It's time to ponder life after the collapse -- the new Yankee reality.

I cannot help but think this will signal the end of Brian Cashman. He doesn't need a life of tabloid headlines. He'll pull a Theo, fly to some foreign locale - San Diego or Kansas City - take operational control of a team and make his disasterous trades for someone else. He'll take a few lieutenants, and the Steinboys will bring in some upper management Bobby V type to crack heads and reduce payroll.

Girardi would survive. I think he's got kids in the Westchester schools, and the boys won't want to overhaul everything. Besides, he didn't strand all those baserunners.

Jeter will get a key to the city and a gold watch, inscribed with the words: "We apologize." This was his greatest season. Of course, there's no place to move him, when SS is no longer an option. If the boys are serious about a $187 million payroll - and they still intend to resign Andy Pettitte and/or Robbie Cano - we will see serious turnover.

Swisher goes. Granderson goes. Russell Martin? So long! (Who catches for us next, year, Chris Stewart?) Kuroda? Thanks for everything. We will be forced to root for Michael Pineda - but remember, folks, shoulder surgery.  This was a horrible year for our upper-minor league prospects. No help is coming.

Nope. We are collapsing... right as the new Collective Bargaining Agreement takes effect, installing a de facto salary cap and closing the loopholes that boosted our international signings (an advantage that the Angels and Rangers exploited far more than we did.)

The new rules were designed to crush the one team that had become famous for outspending all others.

But MLB didn't even need it. We did this to ourselves.

It's 1984. We may be down for a long, long time.

Letter to the Editor: Cyncial in LA

Los Angeles Times
September 1, 2012 Saturday
Dear Editor,

Don Mattingly had a dream of managing the New York Yankees. Who would have guessed it would come true in Los Angeles?

Paul Zimmelman

Marina del Rey

::

In the 7th yesterday, The Master called our name; was it the coded signal that launched the Juju Intervention?

By the hoary hosts of Hughes! By the pimply pees of Posada! Yesterday, by the tens of thousands, the twenties of millions and the ten thousands of twenty millions, which is a frickin' pile o' people, soldiers of Yankee justice around the world funneled Rizzutonic juju into the floundering fishcake that was starting to be known as the New York Redsockees. And it worked, dammot... for now.

OK. I know what some of you are thinking: What a load a crap! This pie-eye thinks fan gyrations can change the outcome of a ballgame! He also probably believes in global warming! What a dork! To you, I simply say, Go. Now. Get offa my iceberg. You'll cost us games. You'll cost us the planet. This is the unvarnished truth about yesterday's game:

The key moment came in the seventh, when John and Suzyn went into their famous "bloop-and-a-blast" routine: All we need is a bloopanablast - not a blastanabloop, mind you, but a bloopanablast. A bloopanablast, and the game is tied. That's what'll happen if we get a bloopandablast. At which point Nick Swisher blooped a bloop, and Robbie Cano blasted a blast... which John called as, "It is HIGH, it is FAR, IT... IS... caught by Markakis."

At first, I was stunned. I collapsed to the floor. Then I realized The Master's plan: He was signaling to the world: SEND JUJU NOW.

At that point - with God as my witness - Alphonso arrived, sheepishly admitting that his sig uther had refused to let him listen to the Yankee game during their three hour ride to upstate - (tisch, tisch, tisch...) - and something happened to our bats. We put a man on first, which as daunting as putting one on Mars. I gave the recap. We mulled the situation. We decided to charge the mound (I had done it in the second inning, without success. But this is common in juju, where votes from the western districts often arrive late). We plunged outside, ran a vigorous loop around the perimeter of the house, and returned to confront the radio - our flushed, heart-attack red faces to the AM dial. The next two batters walked, and their otherwise plucky shortstop - lost inside a juju cloud - booted away the game.

We won. Now what? And at what cost?

Granderson? Forget him. Hasn't hit in weeks. Play Chris Dickerson. Arod? Who knows? Tex? Need his glove most of all. And we need Eduardo Nunez hitting from the right side. He's the man who gave us the timely hit yesterday. Nuni brought the juju.

Our first Juju Intervention in May saved the Yankee spring. The second IJI righted our ship in July. Now this: Is there enough in the tank? And did we use our resources too early... will there be juju in our reserves come October?

If we today - dammot, we gotta win today - yesterday's victory might just be the biggest game of the year.

Letter to the Editor: LA is on fire

Los Angeles Times
September 1, 2012 Saturday
Dear editor,

Maybe it would be easier if L.A. Yankees' ownership offered Bud Selig a sackful of cash and he can just declare them honorary champions.

Vernon Martinazzi

Huntington Beach

HIT THE ASTRAL PLANE, GATHER YOUR STONES, IT IS TIME FOR AN INTERNATIONAL JUJU INTERVENTION

Fellow soldiers of misfortune, trustees of truth, vendors of light and keepers of the watch... the time is nigh.

It was hard to imagine any lineup featuring the great Jayson Nix as DH being shut-out, but today, this is the new Yankiverse reality: Our team is officially hapless, a putrid national punch line akin to the Boston Redsocks and America's war on drugs. If this collapse continues, we will soon be begging the Dodgers to take our fallen stars. Somehow, those crazy walleyed ancient Mayans nailed it: The world will end in 2012.

As protectors of the Yankee realm, we cannot go Lazy-Boy and simply turn the channel to Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo, while our heroes - men we welcomed into our cars and parlors - are shredded like old phone books into animal bedding. No! We must act!

We must mobilize! In the second inning of today's game, charge your TV or listening device! Isolate all your anger, your hope, you juju fury, into one cataclysmic Rizzuton Wave... and we will rescue the Yankees and save ourselves! Dammot, I am not kidding!

On May 21, we conducted our first Internation Juju Intervention (IJI). The Yankees went 20-4. Goddammit. Look.  It.   Up.

On Aug. 31, we launched the second IJI. Gyadammot, by the Hoary Hosts of Hughes, I am not lying. The Yankees went 10-3. See for yourself, cynics!

Today, we must strike again. The Yankees are Timmy. They have fallen in the well. We are Lassie. We need to lower a rope with our forepaws and then pull them out with our teeth. Dammot. We need you. That's right... you! In the bottom of the second inning, attack your TV, your radio, your monitoring device, or the very cosmos in which we inhabit.



Friends... let's be real. This might not work. How many times can we go to the well? But I assure you this... IT IS OUR ONLY CHANCE. It is now or never. We, as fans, cannot go gently into this wild card race.

JUJU, TODAY. GIVE EM HELL, COMRADES.

IF WE GO DOWN, WE GO DOWN FIGHTING.

AND FANS OF OTHER UNIVERSES WILL SAY, DAMMOT, THIS WAS THEIR FINEST HOUR.

FIGHT! JUJU! O-DIINNNNNNNNN!