Tinkers, Evers and No Chance: The top three Yankee hitters this spring represent the Legion of the Lost

Of course these "games" don't matter. They are TV illusions, like Duck Dynasty or the political "debates." Think of this as Survivor: Tampa, except instead of eating salamanders, the contestants must avoid the trans-fats of the clubhouse bang bang shrimp buffet. So all spring stats, however conveniently they are presented to us, carry the weight of Absolute Zero. Nada. Nothing.

Still, more than any other sport, baseball is numbers, and we are inexorably drawn to study them. And what do they show us?

Well, we have three tongue-clogging names leading the Yankee hitters this spring: Yangervris Solarte, Francisco Cervelli, and Zolio Almonte - 18 syllables, if you're scoring at home. And each, sadly, is the odd man out.

Solarte has been unstoppable this spring, batting over .500. He's a 27-year-old switch hitting infielder, supposedly can play anywhere. (He made an error yesterday, for whatever it's worth.) Last year - a repeat season in the Pacific Coast League - he hit .278 with 12 HR. We picked him off the scrap heap. And though Joe Girardi extolls the virtues of spring competition, it's been clear lately that Brian Roberts is the starting 2B, that Kelly Johnson will play 3B, and unless Brendan Ryan is seriously hurt - (he's swinging a broomstick these days) - Solarte could hit .800, and it won't matter. So long, Yangveris. If he's lucky, he'll win that Dawson Watch, the doomsday gift for players destined for Scranton on the Yankees/Malaysian Flight 370 shuttle.

Cervelli - whom we've discussed in the past - just keeps hitting. At this point, the chess match between Cashman and the White Sox/Diamondbacks/Mariners et al is more a game of chicken. Those teams need catching, and the Yankees need to deal a catcher, and Cervelli looks like the answer to everybody's problem. Cashman's dilemma is that the more Frankie hits, the more Yankee fans will expect to get for him in a deal, and unless Brian concocts some huge three-team package of prospects and hangers-on, we probably won't receive much for our receiver.

Almonte, 26, is another switch hitter, who played well for us last year, had a breakout winter in Venezuela, now is crushing the ball in Tampa, and he's destined for Scranton, because Ichiro (who got two hits yesterday) cannot be moved. Zolio looks like everything we would need in a backup OF - speed, glove, pop in the bat - while Ichiro will have to adjust to playing sporadically. (Note: Ichiro is a consumate pro, and I'm not suggesting he won't do fine as a backup; it'll just be tough for him.)  Also, Ichiro is way past his sell date. So we're stuck with him, I guess. Too bad, Zolio.

In the last few years, the Yankees have had a tendency to sign the stars of 2005 and play them - regardless of their current abilities. The worst was Andruw Jones, who was excruciatingly woeful for nearly two seasons. There was Travis Hafner, who played hurt and absolutely killed us last July, batting cleanup. There was Vernon Wells and Kevin Youkilis and - oh, God, let's not do this, let's just try to forget - and though Brian Roberts was a great 2B in 2007, there is a real possiblity that he is just the latest incarnation of a Scooter Store Star of Yesteryear - that is, a guy we will play until he's killing us, and by then, we will have squandered a month, maybe two - and I'm not sure this team can squander a month, or maybe two, and still make the post-season.

Roberts has two weeks to show up. He's batting .217, but - hey - nothing matters, right? It's all an illusion. Poof.

Searching for meaning, where meaning is meaningless

Searching for meaning where there is none

Bracing ourselves for Teixeira's inevitable terrible start

It used to be the migraine rite of April: Mark Teixeira, looking awful. He'd go 0 for twentysomething, and as Yankee fans tasted the loaded Luger, the coaches winked and said, "No problem." They'd be right. We'd be wrong. Come September, he'd have his 35 HRs, give or take 40 digits on an ever-dwindling batting average. Mark Teixeira would suck in the spring, get hot in the summer.

That was then. This is now. These days, April could make us feel like passengers on Air Malaysia. Tex is still wrestling his wrist into shape, and the season opener looms like an iceberg on the horizon. The truth is, we will never feel secure about that wrist - not in April, not in October - ever again. It tweaked once, and it can go again. And if it does, dear God, Option B is named Russ Canzler.

So beware, folks: The looming month of April, where Tex traditionally sucks - healthy or not. He is a notoriously slow starter, the kind who needs four weeks to tune his swing. This year, those four weeks could become six. Considering that Tex is still behind other hitters, it could take him late May. But it won't be like past Aprils, when we're sure he'll start hitting. This year, all bets are off.

I'm just saying it, so it's out there. We will have to keep faith in Tex through a tough month of April. Frankly, we have no choice.

The Yankees need a good start to the 2014 season. McCann, Ellsbury and Beltran are all new to the NYC buzzsaw, and that's another ugly spring tradition: Slow starts for big name Yankee free agents. Two years ago, a horrible spring doomed the mighty Redsocks, the team that was comparing itself to the 1927 Yankees. Girardi has more going for him than Bobby Valentine. But our pitchers may have to carry us for the first five weeks. And the most important man in the lineup - the one who is not Russ Canzler - will probably be cold as ice.

We had better be careful before we peddle a Phelps, a Warren or a Vidal. They might be our best hope to avoid a Bobby V month of April. 

Searching for meaning in a meaningless embarrassment

Are you kidding me? A no-hitter? Against the Marlins? In Panama? In front of Mariano? In front of all those fans? After all this hype? No hits? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I'm sorry, folks. There is no meaning in this meaningless universe. But a no-hitter in Panama is one butt-ugly canker sore of juju. Adjust hopes accordingly.

 This is the first time since the exhibition season began that I'm actually glad it's not April.

Great news for Redsock fans: Dynamic Pricing has arrived!

And for fans of Dynamic Pricing: The Redsocks are here!

But we all know the Redsocks are an entirely different organization than the Yankees. Didn't Lucky Lucciano just tell us that, recently?

Searching for meaning in a meaningless universe

VICTORY!

Scientific pie chart showing topics of discussion today in Syracuse, N.Y.

And you thought that missing jet is a thorny delimna?

From the Daily News:

Derek Jeter's upcoming farewell tour already has Twins' manager Ron Gardenhire thinking of ways to top the goodbye gift his club gave Mariano Rivera last year.
But Gardenhire, who came up with the idea for "The Chair of Broken Dreams" - a rocking chair made of broken bats - for Rivera, knows it won't be easy.
"How the hell are we going to do that?" Gardenhire said. "I've been thinking about that a lot." At one point, Gardenire mused, "Gold Glove rocking chair? I don't know if our organization is going to go that deep, OK?

How about a chair made of gift baskets?

Searching for meaning in a meaningless game

10 theories about that jet

1. Time Travel. Right now (actually, a long time ago) those poor people are fighting off dinosaurs.

2. UFOs. Meh. Obvious. Pttuui.

3. Bond Super-Villain. Check  hollowed-out volcanoes.

4. Zombie Apocalypse.  Trouble starts when we find them.

5. Inter-Dimensional Stargate Wormhole. Hopefully, it only flows in their direction. 

6. God. This means: a) Rapture, b) Wrath, c) He's just shaking the ant farm, messing with us.

7. Publicity Stunt. For new Veronica Mars movie? David Blaine? What's the next Bond film?

8. Obamacare. Fox News is on this.

9. Snakes. On the plane. Anything could happen.

10. Rift in Matrix. Software malfunctioned, and computer overlords have rebooted system. Say, does CC Sabathia look different?

More than just a handshake: 10 ways in which Brian McCann has "already earned the respect and trust of Yankee pitchers"

1. Carries bottle-opener key chain.
2. Knows how to fold sheet of newspaper into cool hat.
3. Has cousin who once dated an Olsen twin.
4. Can crush a windpipe in one super-fast motion.
5. Subscribes to Swagger Magazine.
6. Wears homemade Iron Man suit to ComicCon.
7. Doesn't talk "unless got's somepin ta say!"
8. Once ate 50 hard-boiled eggs in 30 minutes. 
9. Can perform entire Monty Python lumberjack skit.
10. Owns unparalleled collection of Elvis movies on VHS.

I Think The Safest Thing To Do Is….

1.  Think that Derek retired last year, and departed with Mariano.

 I watched him yesterday get thrown out by the Oriole third baseman, on a ground ball that he backhanded while sprinting up the left-field foul line onto the outfield grass.  The announcers talked about how Derek was busting it up the first base line ( and he was ), but his foot speed reflected recent leg injuries, ankle injuries and 40 years of hard work.

I think the third baseman was ready to tuck the ball in his glove, walk to the mound with it, and
say to himself," well, at least I saved a double."

But when he looked over, Derek was still moving like a freighter recently released from tugboat support, trying to reach "tide speed" leaving the channel, away from port.

We love Derek and will bear considerable agony watching him try to be 22 again.

2.  Understand that the Montero trade was, is and remains a bust.  Pineda is finished.  He is lucky he even started.  I hope he invested those early paychecks wisely.

3.  Not believe the hype of a Yankee, "stockpile of great, young catchers. " None of them will be great.  Likely, none of them will be Yankees.

4.  Accept the failure of Dellin Bettances, when the real games begin.  He has a great record of one inning outings this spring, usually coming into a game with no one on base, and most of the batters familiar to him from the dregs of minor league teams.  But put him into a crucial 8th inning situation, in Boston, trying to protect a 2-1 Yankee lead and he'll walk the first batter he sees.  You know the rest.

5. Believe, now, that none of last year's draft picks will have a break-out year this season.  And by season's end, none of them will be in the "top 100 prospects" by Baseball United, or whatever flak organization makes up those lists.

6.  Send letters of employment opportunities ( if you know of any) to Tyler Austin and Slade Heathcott, as it will become clear that baseball is just not good for them.

7.  Have no uplifting thoughts about the Yankees this season, which begin with the word,
"If.." As In:

 If CC can find his fastball;  If Roberts can play 120 games; If Tex 's wrist holds up; If Robertson can come in and throw strikes; If Jacoby has a healthy year….

GET IT?

Why is it that whenever I hear the phrase "possible catastrophic event," I think not of Flight 370 but of the Yankee pitching rotation?

Lately, like all of you, I've been working to solve the mystery of Flight 370. (Right now, I'm thinking "self-replicating human clone spores;" that's all I'm allowed to say.) Of course, a few big-mouth know-it-alls still cling to the non-supernatural explanations. Pheh. If this isn't a Bond Super-villain, I haven't been watching TV for 50 years. Still, let's consider the reality that every Yankee fan knows:

There ARE such things as unexplained catastophic explosions. They are unexplained. They are catastrophic. And they go... poof.

Right now, I'm looking at the Yankee rotation and thinking "Yep, it's Flight 370!" Of course, this is pure fan pessimism. Could be, everything will turn out fine. Maybe Adam Warren and Vidal Nuno will save the day, the way that fat guy, Hurley, did in Lost. It's spring, and every team in baseball is still the 1927 Yankees, every rookie is still Bryce Harper, and every returning vet is still Derek Jeter - including Derek Jeter!

But what happens, my friends, if our pitching staff is taken over by self-replicating human clone spores?

1. CC Sabotage. Unless he starts eating small children, CC will pitch this season looking like an Alvin Ailey dancer. We used to have a barge. Now we have a canoe. We are watching a grand experiment: Sabathia has dramatically altered his physique, slimmed down, and we shall see what happens. Feel free to roll your eyes. Listen: He's a smart guy, an experienced pitcher. Maybe he can get by on guile and control. But there is also the chance that he is done... poof... as a Number One. If so, our left wing just fell off.

2. Hiroki Corroded. The other day, he was pounded. Unmercifully. Last September, he was pounded. Unmercifully. He is one year older, and I'm not sure there is much more wisdom to be gained at age 38. Of course, we must not stress out over spring bombings. Nope, I am NOT stressing out over spring bombings. But until Kuroda throws well, he's still the pitcher from last fall, not last May. And if he's not a solid Number Two, OMG, we're heading for the Indian Ocean.

3. Masahiro Tanker. A third starter? Who's kidding whom? This guy has already become our de facto ace, our shining hope, and the write-ups have been relentlessly, almost excruciatingly positive (as they were in the first spring of Kei Igawa.) River Ave recently asked if he will be the next great Yankee? Come on, folks: This is how you kill a guy! Why not enshrine him in the Hall and work backwards? If Tanaka is the Second Coming of Yu Darvish - and that's a big if - expect major problems this spring adjusting to MLB. If we expect him to be our ace, that's like asking a stewardess to come up front and pilot the plane.

4. Ivan Supernova. He was cuffed around yesterday, reminding us once again what it means to have Ivan Nova in your rotation: It's a roll of the dice. He throws a shutout, then a clunker. We told ourselves that his emergence at the end of last season was a coming of age, his evolution into a higher strata of starter. But did we really believe it? Did he? When it comes to full disclosure, the Malasian authorities seem more forthcoming than the Yankees.

5. Michael Pineda. Well, here we go again - riding the Good Ship Hope. Nobody knows what to think. There is now talk of having him start the season in Scranton, so the Yankees can limit his innings; they don't want him to throw 200 this year. They're still treating him as a future ace, which is fine, I guess. But that's basically Cashman clinging to a frayed strand of his trading legacy. All I know is that I cannot shake the fear that if Pineda goes to Scranton, he will never escape that toddling town. A few Triple A hitters will cuff him around, and that will be that. His outings have been great in the Sim League. How much can we realistically hope this year?

David Phelps. Pitched a solid six innings this week. He's the blue collar guy, the Ted Lilly, the one nobody ever thinks beyond fifth starter. A couple malfunctions, and he's our Number Three. (This is not exactly Lester/Lackey/Buchholtz...)

Vidal Nuno. As big a mystery as Flight 370. Last year, one day, he was dueling David Price. The next, he was going to Scranton for a few days, then a week, then a month, then poof. He was somewhere over India.

A couple tweaks, folks, and those self-replicating human clone spores could have us in the same place. At the bottom of the sea.

An idea worthy of Bud Selig

How about having the two top teams from the Cactus and Grapefruit leagues play a Spring Championship Game, which will determine home field advantage for the All-Star Game?

If the exhibition season ended today, the Yankees would play Baltimore in a dramatic single-game wild card playoff

We'd have to play them in Sarasota.

Surely, our grapefruit season ace, David Phelps, would pitch the first three, followed by MasahiroTanaka and Michael Pineda. Dellin Betances would pitch the eighth. Houdini would take us home.

Obviously, Yangeris Solarte would DH and bat third. Batting cleanup: The Yankees' new star catcher, Francisco Cervelli.

Hitting in the clutch: Frankie Cervelli has his first 2-HR game, and it might mean his ticket out of Yankee Hell

I like Francisco Cervelli. Always have. Twice, he's been rushed to hospitals in ambulances, still wearing his NY jersey. He's a homegrown Yank, a fighter - albeit a snake-bitten one - who somehow managed to stay positive during some of the most depressing scenarios any player could imagine. (How about an entire season on a bus, traveling the New York State Thruway?) And now, he's about to go. But not without rendering one last gift unto his underserving corporate owners.

Yesterday, he hit two HRs against the Tigers. First time he'd ever done it. They came as Brian Cashman was mixing and matching, wheedling and braying, trying to include Cervelli in a trade package for an infielder - preferably under 35 - who can bring balance to an out-of-whack Yankee roster. The White Sox want Cervelli; they currently have Barney Fife battling with Mr. Bean for their starting catcher slot. The Mariners, Brewers and Diamondbacks would also like to possess Cervelli. (The Mariners have Jesus Montero, mwah-hahaha.) That puts Cashman in a rare trading position: He has what other teams want.

But here's the rub: Those teams also know the Yankees have too many catchers at the upper end of their system. If they keep Cervelli, they send Austin Romine back to Scranton, which clobbers the playing time for JR Murphy, who then would ruin that advancement of Gary Sanchez. The best scenario is to trade Cervelli for some 25-year-old infielder, some former hot prospect who might blossom on a new team. (The way many of us expect Joba and Hughes to do, away from NY.) But who is this mystery infielder? Does he really exist? And can the Yankees outwait their opponents, who want to take Cervelli off our hands for nothing?

Every day counts. So what does Cervelli do? What he always has done for the Yankees: Hit surprisingly well in the clutch. Two HRs should whet the whistle of the White Sox, the loathsome abomination of an organization, which once unboweled itself on us with the likes of Steve Trout and Ron Kittle. Frankly, the White Sox have no one we want. They never did. But Cashman must work that old black magic of his and find a third team... yes, a mystery third team.

And just in case nobody noticed, another ingredient in that mythical trade also came through for us yesterday. Zolio Almonte hit a home run. He is exactly what we need: a switch-hitting outfielder with speed and power. Unfortunately, he's dead to us. Instead, we have the international tap-dancing sensation, Ichiro.

Can Cashman get a decent deal? Ronald Reagan found that it's tough finding bargains, when you're trading hostages. But at least the hostages are doing their best.

Yankee lineup of aliases

SS Mr. Ryan
2B Mr. Roberts
3B Mr. Johnson
CF Mr. Williams
LF Mr. Gardner
C Mr. Murphy
RF Mr. Garcia
1B Mr. Wheeler
DH Mr. O'Brien

P. Mr. Phelps

Yankee fans can be lost trying to contemplate the magnitude of this

I would buy this, but I would need a glass casing to frame it, an underground bunker to house it, armed police to guard it, and a giant magnet to deflect the gamma rays that might cause it to decay over the next million years. Plus tasteful backlighting.

Backstory... and we need to check this out: According to a source, WFAN is using the lyrics to the Yankee lead-in song. The lyrics, people. Because, dammit, words do count.

Derek Jeter: The last great transitional career in Yankee/human history

When Derek Jeter joined the Yankees, we were a Windows '95 nation. There was no Twitter, no Facebook, no YouTube, no iPhone, no iPod, no blogs... no OMG! no WTF? Yes... no River Ave, no Lohud, not even an It Is High! The stars of baseball - Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens and Mark McGwire - were icons worthy of a Disney movie. Barack Obama was the recent editor of the Harvard Law Review. To "surf" the Internet, you dialed a phone. To navigate a city, you unfurled a road map. To get a box score, you read the newspaper. And The Master, John Sterling, had never even fathomed "an A-Bomb from A-Rod."

We were in the BJ period of Yankee/human history: Before Jeter.

Jeter's recent retirement announcement has provoked an avalanche of crapola, so many wooden paragraphs that I still hesitate to toss mine into the fire. But after contemplating the depths of this change, I am unable to ponder what kind of Yankee future lies ahead in the AJ period - After Jeter. Because, my friends, this is bigger than we think. All those words we've blathered - they're nothing compared with what's coming.

I believe the reason Jeter resonates with so many fans - beyond his greatness, of course - is that his career connects the period of old TV America and whatever the hell we are in now. It's still America, of course - but one that in 1995, when Jeter came forth, you could not recognize. Over the years, cultural change has accelerated. But Jeter remained shortstop for the Yankees.

Yes, there are other societal consistencies. Aside from going deaf for a while due to drug use, Rush Limbaugh never stopped screaming about Democrats. Politicians still use trumped up hot buttons - and there's Donald Trump himself, and TV news is still worthless, and racism is still common, and Hollywood is still full of self-promoting phonies. In 1995, America was trying to figure out who to back in the Middle East. Guess what? We still are.

But Derek Jeter hustled then, and he hustles now. He will leave baseball running with all his might on his last at bat, even if it is an infield pop. Nobody will ever replace him in the Yankiverse. I think Robbie Cano understood this, when he jogged off to Seattle.

Beloit College annually writes a mindset index about the incoming freshman class, sort of a reset button for geezers to try and understand the world of young people. The index for the incoming class of 2011, which puts them born around the time of Jeter's arrival, includes these notions:

The freshman class 1) Never “rolled down” a car window; 2) Grew up with bottled water; 3) Always viewed Nelson Mandela has the leader of South Africa; 4) Always saw rap music as mainstream; 5) Has known Russia to have a multi-party political system; 6) Viewed sports stadiums and rock tours as commonly named for corporations; 7) Have never seen MTV feature music videos; 8) Never saw Johnny Carson live on TV.

When Jeter leaves, the changes are going to be greater than we think.

When Jeter leaves, Yogi Berra will be a collection of quotes, Magic Johnson will be a baseball owner, and Don Shula will just be a steakhouse.

When Jeter leaves, folks, a part of our lives will end. I'm not even sure how to describe it, other than to say the Yankees will not be the same for a long, long time - probably in our lifetimes. This is huge, folks. This is Roy Scheider having seen the shark. People, when Jeter leaves, to fathom it, we are going to need a bigger boat.

Waiting for the Yankees to visit the flea market

Ahhhh, Florida... The Beaches! The leaf blowers! The Stand Your Ground shootings! And most of all... yes, snowbirds...  the flea markets!

Oh, yes. Wouldn't you like some knock-off Tervis Tumblers? Or glass-etching decals of Jesus? Beyond your first trip to the Hooters, no image will explode into the area behind your sinus like that entrance to the flea market. Last week, in a giant ants-on-popsickle swarm near Bradenton, my first moment was to see a man demonstrating home personal tasers to a crowd of Stage Four Alzheimer candidates wearing string ties and Romney buttons. With one of those babies, rather than shoot the back-talking teen dead -  you can just explode his testicles with 10,000 volts. Yep, this is Florida, land of the flea... where the Yankees always, always, always, visit the swap meet.

So begins our great 2014 spring parlor game: Who goes? Francisco Cervelli or Austin Romine, David Phelps or Adam Warren, Ichiro or some low-level prospect? Somebody, anybody, is going to leave us and we will bring home... what?

Last year, we picked up the ghost of Vernon Wells, plus the scrap heap plug-ins, Lyle Overbay and Brennan Bosch. We selected them after picking through vast piles of 1990s name brand electronics - good stuff from Atari and Sega - only to find that Windows '95-compatable systems didn't work in today's home entertainment center.

Oh, well. Not sure Ichiro will work either. But he'll be somebody else's problem, soon. Something is coming, folks. The rumors are everywhere: Ichi to the Phillies. Cervelli to the White Sox. And everybody wants a David Phelps. Or bullpen lugnuts. They're like bar coasters. Fifty cents apiece, three for a dollar.

For the last two months, we've heard the steady dial tone about how the Yankees are quite comfortable, thankyou, with Kelly Johnson and Brian Roberts anchoring their infield, and without a back-up closer to David Robertson. Guess what? They were lying! It was just Florida swap meet talk! Soon, the Yankees will make a trade to fill some weakness that we claimed didn't exist. Hey, that's China Town, Jake. This is Florida. What? You say something? Maybe I oughta introduce you to Mr. Tazie...

Will this be the year the Yankees learn to beat the overshifts?

Last year, I regularly went mad - slamming my head against the wall and eating lead-based paint chips - while watching Curtis Granderson try to hit through the defensive overshift. God, it was hell. Instead of adjusting his swing, the Grandyman doubled-down, trying to kill the ball, whacking it through the stacked infield. Here was a guy with NFL wide receiver speed, but he couldn't lay down a bunt and beat out an infield single. The Grandyman fell from .280 to .230, and became a 200-whiff-per-season dud. It wrecked his game. It wrecked my games. Listen: Granderson was a great guy, a class act. Damn... I'm glad he's a Met.

Wait a minute, I know what you're thinking: Here's another drunk rant saying that players should magically adjust their swings and hit to the oppositive field. Give this guy his meds. If adjusting swings were easy, everybody would do it. OK, OK, turn off the italics, Mr. Inner Thought. Listen: I do understand that trying to change a successful major league hitter's stance can do more harm than good.

But I don't buy it that these sluggers can't learn to bunt.

Sorry, folks. I. Do. Not. Accept. It. Bunting is not redirecting your swing. Bunting means having to put in extra time with a coach. It means honing the skill in March, taking 50 bunts every day in the cage. I do not want Yankees to change their swings. But if the defense intends to give Mark Teixeira the entire left side of the infield, I cannot understand why he does not accept this bountiful gift. I've seen David Ortiz lay down bunts, especially when he leads of an inning in a wide-margin game. It does not require a guy to change his entire style. (Take that, Mr. Thought Process.)

Which brings us to Teixeira... the most important Yankee in 2014. If Tex comes back, we have a chance. If he doesn't, forget it. We're more likely to finish last. But Tex will once again face heavy overshifts, the ones that dramatically reduced his value as a hitter. He went from a near .300 hitter to a near .220. If Tex can drop down - say - 20 bunt-singles this year, he could not only raise his average to respectability, but he might force those overshifts to soften. (And he might lead off an inning with a pitcher stewing over the fact that the overshift allowed Tex to take an easy base.)

The problem might not reside in our players. It might be Yankee Stadium, where the right field porch has a strange effect on some LH hitters. They start trying to pull every ball, to hit 60 HRs. It destroyed Jason Giambi. It destroyed Granderson. I worry about what it might do to Brian McCann and maybe even Carlos Beltran, when he bats LH. We have a team of big sluggers. We could hit a lot of HRs. But will they come with people on base?

Expect to see huge overshifts on Yankee batters all year.

So... will our sluggers this spring show the commitment needed to learn the art of bunting?

And will Mr. Girardi demand it?

Jesus hits two

Jesus Montero hit two HRs yesterday for Seattle. Not that it matters.

"Kelly killed it?" The Master needs to rethink his Kelly Johnson HR call

Yesterday, one of our fine color commentatorizers - Manx - broke the news:

"Kelly killed it" A two run home run for Kelly Johnson and the Yankees take a 4-3 lead on Sports Radio 66 and 101.9 FM WFAN!
Yes, we must never forget that this is merely spring training. The home run calls don't count. Nobody will remember John Sterling's joyful cry in Tampa, long after its been fine tuned or replaced in New York City. Like Joe Girardi, The Master is moving chess pieces, trying various lineups, studying his binder... looking for what works - and what doesn't.

Kelly killed it... no. NO.

Unless I'm missing something - a Broadway show tune from 1935? - there is no musical, literary, societal, political, theological, spiritual or emotional application for "Kelly killed it." It's alliteration. That's all. In fact, if you're doing alliteration, a simple trip to Roget's will bring forth better chances. Kelly crushes it, Kelly clobbers it, Kelly canes it, Kelly creams it, Kelly cleans it, Kelly caps it, Kelly catapults it, Kelly castigates it, Kelly caluminates it, Kelly castrates it...

Let's remember: It's early. Kelly Johnson might not make the Yankee starting lineup. Right now, The Master is working himself into playing shape.

Let's hope Kelly hits a few more this month, just to give John a second shot at the binder.

Enjoy it while it lasts: Yankee catchers and 2B are crushing the ball

Yes, the first weeks of spring training are jokes. But it's nice to see what competition fosters on a roster.

Five of the Yankee top 11 hitters thus far are catchers, which means they got off to a good start - and maybre - just maybe - it is because somebody is about to be traded. It would make no sense for Austin Romine or Francisco Cervelli to catch for Scranton - especially considering that JR Murphy - hitting .154, but with a HR - needs to play there.

Then there are the no-name middle infielders: Solarte (who appeared out of nowhere) Sizemore, Anna, Johnson and Pirela - all chasing two slots. (BTW, Nuni is hitting .235.) Without a doubt, this is the greatest opportunity in their baseball careers. The next three weeks will determine everything. But let's at least give them credit: They came charging out of the blocks.

Pineda on Pineda: "I showed Michael Pineda."

It's rare to hear a ballplayer use the Third Person to describe himself. It's as if ol' Bob Dole grabbed ol' Bob Dole's mitt and ran out onto the field, to be ol' Bob Dole.

Last night, after pitching a solid two innings, Michael Pineda said he "showed Michael Pineda." A little weird, maybe. We've never heard Jeter or A-Rod go there, and they are practically multinational corporations. Still, no complaints.

In fact, if he wants, Michael Pineda can call himself "Minnie Pearl." No problemo. All he needs to do is win, say,15 games. He doesn't need to take the Cy Young Award. He doesn't need to start the All-Star game. Just throw 140 innings, win 15, and be a fourth starter. If he can do that... Michael  can refer to himself like that fat gangster, "Reemus," in Boardwalk Empire, and Brian Cashman can call himself "Whitey Herzog."

There is a running gag in the Yankiverse. It's called comparing Pineda and Jesus Montero. By now, it's been done so often that it's like a catchphrase in a bad TV sitcom. But here goes anyway:

Thus far, this spring, in the Seattle side of the Michael Pineda universe, Jesus is 5 for 16 with two doubles and two RBIs. He's playing firstbase and hitting .313. Much has been written about Montero coming to camp 40 pounds overweight - which is impressive, from a consumption standpoint - but if Jesus hits .313 this year, the Mariners will supply all the loaves and fishes he wants. As long as he's not eating small children, nobody will complain.

(For the hell of it: Hector Noesi, the other failure in the Pineda trade, has thrown 3.2 scoreless innings this spring. For now, maybe that stat puts Pineda's outing in the best perspective.)

It's been a long, depressing haul, dealing with Pineda and his injury, he DUI, his slow comeback, and now the beginnings of - well - the End. Yes, for better or worse, his Yankee plot arc is coming to a conclusion. If he pitches well, all will be forgiven. Injuries are injuries. But if he cannot hold down a slot in the rotation, Scranton will be an unforgiving place for Micheal Pineda. Because at that point, he will hear a lot of Third Person perspectives, as in, "We sure as hell don't need another Micheal Pineda." Let's hope it doesn't come to that. We need a third starter, not a third person.

A sentence that, until today, has never been written before, and now will never be written again

The Yankees beat the Tigers on a game-ending balk by Luis Marte, scoring Zelous Wheeler in the bottom of the ninth.

Sorry Bernie and Donnie, but the Gammonites of Gotham are ready to vote Tanaka into Cooperstown right now

Yesterday, a light-hitting Phillies shortstop named Freddy Galvis wallopped a long home run against the Yankees. Or maybe not. Maybe we dreamed it.

 

If Freddy Galvis had gone downtown against CC Sabathia, we would face concerns today about CC's diminished fastball. If Mr. Fred had hit it against David Phelps, questions would circulate about Phelps' standing as fifth starter. If the Big G had hit it off Michael Pineda, Brian Cashman would have swam home to Tampa from Clearwater. 

Fortunately, he hit it off Masahiro Tanaka, whom the New York sportswriters have been trained to praise in a pitch-perfect chorus. Nobody saw it. Nobody cared. Not only did they praise Tanaka, but they went to the opposing team to garner more accolades. (Last time I looked, there are seldom more generous critics than players who just faced off against an opponent. Do you ever see them knock a guy?) Oh well...

Newsday: "... impressed both teams and the scouts..."

Times: "... another strong outing..."

Daily News John Harper: "...is already offering reason to believe he’ll live up to the hype that follows him from Japan, not to mention his $155 million contract.

Star-Ledger: "... he was terrific."

Marlon Byrd: "His fastball is explosive."

Ryan Howard: "He has control of the fastball."

Mark Teixeira: "He looked great."

Freddy Galvis: "He's got really good stuff."

Larry Rothschild: "I am not worried."

No. Yankee pitching coach Larry Rotchschild is not worried. Nor should he be.

Of course, nothing can be gleaned from the second outing of spring training. Nothing either way. It's just a hoop that Tanaka must jump through. Still, it's troubling when the entirity of the NY sports media is sure of something. That's what bothers me.

They were sure the Knicks would improve with Carmelo.

They were sure the Jets were rising under Rex Ryan.

They were sure about Granderson, Pavano, Randy Johnson and all the rest.

This we know: Fate is a maniac.

In 2014, nothing is certain about the Yankees. If we're lucky, Tanaka could be the Second Coming of Yu Darvish. And if so, that means some tough outings in the early summer. Freddy Galvis is the first guy to wallop a home run off him. He won't be the last. Let's not enshrine Tanaka too soon. Let's not even write him into the rotation just yet. He has a long way to go. He doesn't need hollow accolades.

The world recently dodged a bullet: Chelsea Handler met A-Rod, and they didn’t reproduce

According to HSN, (the Howard Stern News network), late night pin-up gorgon Chelsea Handler recently encountered Alex Rodriguez at a party, when he approached her and asked - quoting now: “Chelsea, why do you have to make fun of me all the time?”

I can picture A-Rod doing that. He’s wearing that droopy, sad puppy smile, the look when he’s going to strike out, but he hasn’t done it yet. His hands are clasped. He's whining again. He’s staring at the pitcher, King Felix, while all hope has drained from his once-mighty bat. He's not with Kate Hudson anymore. He's in the big leagues. This is Chelsea Handler.

According to Chelsea, Chelsea then said, “Get away from me, you’re disgusting. You’re gross.” She called him a “buffoon” and a “f—king a-hole.” (I’m not sure if a-hole was a humorous play on words, because she is a comedienne.) If she had a phone, or rolled-up newspaper, she would have beaten him with it. It’s not certain how A-Rod reacted to this complete humliation, but I think we've all an image in our minds: As he walks back to the dugout, carrying his bat, he glances back once, to gaze at her. Then he takes his spot on the pine with all the other rejected suitors, and a long line it is, because after all, this is not Cameron Diaz or Madonna. This is Chelsea Handler. 

Speaking on behalf of humanity, I hereby applaud Chelsea Handler for showing the discipline to turn her back on a 6’3,” genetically honed, super-athletic, billionaire stud muffin, who may or may not have had other notions on that night - ideas he would have gleaned from Chelsea Handler’s memoirs or her show. Nevertheless, she “came through" in the clutch.

A one-night "Chelsea moment" for A-Rod could have been the worst thing, not only for civilization, but for the Yankees. Remember: We still have the bum under contract through 2016. Unless Kelly Johnson turns into Brooks Robinson, we’re still keeping third base open for A-Rod. The last thing Alex needed was Chelsea Ballhandler looking increasingly pregnant - and angry about it - while he hikes the comeback trail. And who knows? Maybe his stunning humiliation will cause him to push harder during workouts. Maybe a year from now, when he comes to bat in Tampa, he’ll look into the crowd and think, “OK, Chelsea, handle THIS.”

Now, philosophical question: What happens if A-Rod propositions Ellen Degeneres?

Happy Tex Day, Yankiverse

Today, Mark Teixteira will spit into his mitt, run out to first-base, and for the first time in a long time, add his voice to the  emerging chorus of Yankee infield chatter. Of course, it will be led by Captain Jeter, who relentlessly encourages his troops to achieve. At third, Kelly Johnson will be shouting nonstop messages of hope, perhaps in Japanese, to starting pitcher Masahiro Tanaka. At second, Dean Anna or Brian Roberts will be sounding forth. (Obviously, Robbie Cano never chattered; if he didn’t run out grounders, he certainly didn’t do infield chatter.) And now Tex will fill the air with bawdy sonnets and limericks, like a veteran rapper, in a bullfrog voice, happy in his Gilligans Island-like lagoon.

Why did I waste your time with that long, laborious opening paragraph? Because it’s Tex Day in the Yankiverse, the first game Mark Teixeira has started in a long, long time. It seems like a million years. On this august occasion, Yankee fans everywhere can gaze at Tex on first base and think of the deep, bottomless hole shall open there if Tex cannot play.

Of all the doomsday scenarios surrounding the 2014 season, an injury to Teixeira would be the most devastating. It would not only wipe out 20 to 30 home runs, but it would kill a gold glove at first base, the glove that presumably will hold together a major league infield.  

Last year, Lyle Overbay slowly captured our hearts, by over-achieving and hustling. But it was for nothing. We missed the playoffs. It wasn’t Lyle’s fault. He just wasn’t Tex. This year, it might be Russ Canzler, or probably somebody fresh from the scrapheap. But if Tex cannot play, the Yankees will be hard-pressed to win 85 games. In fact, they would be far more likely to suffer a complete, Met-like meltdown than to see a resurgence in the AL East.

So bring your juju to the radio or TV. It’s Tex Day, everybody. And from now on, every day is Tex Day. Until the day it’s not. And then we are screwed.

Little To Bank ON

It is really cool that YES is broadcasting games from Tampa.  I can sit at a bar in my basement, suck down crown royals, snarf jalepena pickled eggs and cram popcorn into my mouth, without getting pissed off at a single fan.

I loved watching that AAA pick-up, Dean Anna, with the .410 on-base percentage strike out twice in a row.  Guess he left some of the magic back on the coast.

Also, who is that guy Yangurla, and what if he goes 28-30? Does he get a shot?  Sure he does;  at Scranton.  We would rather keep Ichiro to kill rallies.

I still like the Murphy kid, whatever he wants to call himself.  And Almonte should be considered seriously for a spot.

Anyone want to comment on LaRoux?  He has been lights out in the two outings I watched.

No shot.  I know.  Scranton or Trenton to wither.

I am starting an amber alert on Tyler Austin and Slade Heathcott.

Gary Sanchez can also strike out with the best of them.

Lucky we got the bald guy.

Things I intend to teach the young Yankees

1.       Always check the feet. Shoes are the giveaway to what she’s thinking. If the shoes are caked with mud, and the toes are dirty, well, she just came in from a wet field. You gotta ask yourself, what the hell was she doing in a muddy field? Be careful.  

2.       No peeing in the bushes. I don’t care how bad you have to go. I don’t care how long you’ve held it. I don’t care if the beer is coming out of your ears. Mets pee in bushes. Redsocks pee in the bushes. Yankees find a restroom.

3.       Don’t get hung up about which one is “the right fork.” The waiter will try to intimidate you by handing you several. Lift them, work them, study them – and select the fork that feels right… for you. You’re the one who’s going to use it. And don’t be one of those pansy-asses who eat pizza with a fork. Pick it up, fold it, and eat it like a man…

What am I missing? So much to tell them, so little time...

Meaningless fact that I hesitate to mention: Derek Jeter is 0-for-9 with three groundball double plays.

It’s impossible to imagine Derek Jeter being bad at anything. If he played the Sandra Bullock role in Gravity, he would have won the Oscar. If he came to my back yard and started shooting lawn darts, he would win. If he takes up curling, he will win an Olympic medal in 2018. Anything he does next year – writing ad copy, weekend news anchor, real estate sales – he will excel.

So there is NO REASON we should worry about the fact that he is 0-for-9 on the season with three double plays. NONE, WHATSOEFFINGEVER. Frankly, we should NOT EVEN MENTION IT, much less dwell upon it. He is ridding excess DP grounders from his system, exorcizing unwanted demons from his bat. DO NOT WORRY. Everything will be fine. OK? This is Derek Jeter we are talking about. THIS IS NOT DEAN ANNA. If it were Dean Anna, I would say, “Buy this man a ticket to Scranton, so we shall never have to see his pinstriped plumage again.” But the name is Jeter. Got that? J-E-T-E-R. He’ll be fine. Clip this and save it. HE. WILL. BE. FINE.

Did you hear me? I said he will be fine. So stop reading. There is nothing here to read. There is nothing here to see. I SAID HE WILL BE FINE. DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND ENGLISH? ARE YOU SIMPLY SITTING ON THIS WEBSITE, LOOKING AT THE PICTURES? THERE IS NOTHING TO SEE HERE. DEREK JETER WILL BE FINE.

Oh, I get it. You’re being stubborn? You’re wondering if I’m going to mention the fact that utility infielder Yangeroo Solartullah (or something like that, I could look it up, but out of principle, I won’t) is now 7 for 9. What if Yangerula was bitten by a radioactive spider and now has spider strength and agility? What if he was shaking hands with Jeter at the precise moment that lightning flashed, and all of Jeter’s superpowers were transferred into his body? Well, it didn’t happen. Understand? It’s the first five games of spring training. If in July, Derek Jeter is 0-for-145 with 60 ground ball double plays, come and talk to me then. At that point, maybe we’ll start worrying. Maybe. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT NOW.

A big one-for-three will clear up everything. Besides, 0-for-nine is just an abstraction, a number analysis that does not characterize the quality of at-bats and placement of the ball. If those double play balls had hit a pebble and bounced into the outfield, he would now be 3 for 9, and we’d be talking about how hot he is. Oh for nine? Three groundball double plays. Big deal. Pass the meat loaf.

What does it mean?

Nothing!

What should we do?

Not worry!

Whose name should we not even mention?

Nobody!

When should we never not stop worrying?

Always!

What the heck? Pope says "Farnsworth?"

IN Simulated Battle, Pineda Neutralizes Tex

Neither of the above-named superstars has managed to log an actual pitch, swing, at bat or throw and catch at George Steinbrenners' Yankee stadium in Tampa.

Both are coming off what seems a lifetime of injuries, delayed recoveries and surgeries.

Yesterday, finally, they went mano a mano.

Tex hit sharp grounders to an imaginary second baseman, playing in short right field.  Each grounder turned into a double play, as the simulation involved moving a runner over from first and busting it, in an imaginary sense, down the ninety feet to first.

Pineda showed a quirky, slow pitch curve and a high fastball in the mid-seventies on the radar gun.

His command and control were decent, as Tex only drew one walk per inning.

Limited to 35 pretend pitches, Pineda claims that his arm is feeling good.

At the buffet table later, both were seen snarfing down seared tuna sandwiches, fried beet chips, and a ding dong.

Open letter to the people of Seattle: Ichiro wants to play “many more seasons.” He’s all yours!

Ah, greetings, dearest Seattle, (aka: "Sleepless In..."), and congrats again on winning the 2014 Super Bowl. May your concussions go away in time for training camp.

When I think of you, I think of Bill and Melinda Gates' continuing campaigns on behalf of humanity, the cool, Emerald City that gave us Windows ’95 and Courtney Love… the town that will get to watch Robbie Cano run to first and say, “WTF? He’s… jogging?” and the once-domed baseball fan base that still has one remaining obligation to the world.

Yes, Chiptown, you are the ones who must retire Ichiro.

You brought him, you enjoyed him, and soon, you gotta be the ones to change his bedpan.

Listen: You should consider it an honor. Ichiro Suzuki is a great player, a Hall of Famer. If Ellen Degeneres took a selfie in spring training, he would be the one in the back, smirking like Kevin Spacey. He’s done more to unite Japanese and American baseball than any other player in history. (Godzilla, Dice K, et al – they won’t get a cup of coffee in Cooperstown.) And the Yankees – for reasons stemming to our boy owners’ love of impulse shopping  – have him for one more year. One more awful, wretched, no-good rancid year.

Awww, it won’t be a total loss. This year, Ichiro could be the calming goat who sleeps in the barn with Secretariat, (Masahiro Tanaka). He and Hiroki Kuroda can give Tanaka a social life and a pair of role models. That’s worth something. And maybe he can surprise us. But right now, he is the Yankees fifth outfielder, and – frankly – if he wasn’t Ichiro, he would be sixth. (I’m thinking Gardner, Beltran, Soriano, Ellsbury, Almonte… Ichiro.) Last year, his on-base percentage fell below .300 last year, which is god-awful. He refuses to work walks, the bread-and-butter survival tactic for most over-the-hill hitters. Last year, his greatest threat to an opposing team was the chance of beating out an infield single. It hurts most when the pitcher just walked, say, three batters in a row. No matter how wild he is, he won't walk Ichiro.

Next year, he’s all yours, Seattle. Bundle him with the 300-pound Jesus Montero, the tenth year of Robbie Cano’s contract, and we’ll maybe even throw in Michael Pineda, after he re-tweaks his shoulder.  Maybe Soundgarten will re-unite and tour with Hole. Maybe Bill and Melinda was launch an initiative and bring back domed baseball. Maybe it doesn't matter. You won the 2014 Super Bowl. The headaches should end sometime in July, when the exhibitions start. 

What I've Observed

I have now seen two complete games on the YES network.   Maybe three.

I have observed the following:

1.  Corbin Joseph has been our toughest out.  He has had good, tough at bats.  He is now playing FB in a desperate attempt to have back-up value.

2.  Austine Romine's offensive debut consisted of standing at the plate and watching three strikes go by.         Great eye there Austin.

3.  While everyone has put away any concerns about Derek's ability to run ( ankle, muscles, etc ), I have observed a pretty slow guy busting it to first base.  He may just smack into a ton of double plays.

4.  Ryan Joseph Murphy?  Ryan James Murphy?  He has been pretty good in his at bats and also looks decent catching.  His mother didn't like the handle, "RJ." No matter; if he is good will will surely trade him.  And he is in that historic photo with Mariano.  Worth a career.

5.  Francisco is, for sure, our number two catcher this year.  Until he gets injured ( let's cut him a break this year, okay baseball diety? ).

6.  I have only seen Derek and Gardy play, amongst all the " big names" ; the Beltrans, that Red Sox guy, Tex, etc. Ichiro still looks like he will never walk, and is a slap hitter whose biggest threat is the infield single.

7.  Some infielder from San Diego made a great play.  Then booted a routine grounder, just like
Nunez ( no sign of him either ).

8.  Mason Williams looks decent in CF, but he can't hit at all.  Biggest offensive punch in two games was a dribbler to the mound for a double play.

9.  Where is Tyler Austin?  Where is Slade?

10.  Finally saw what's his name ( the switch hitting OF who had a great off season in Venezuela, and hit about .275 for the Yanks for a month or so last season ) but he did dick, hitting once from the left side.

11.  Some no name has two home runs already.

12.  The Pineda thing ( pitching two innings in a SIM game ) is ominous.  I still say;  he doesn't pitch for the Yankees.

13.  Bettances has a good line, so far.  But he doesn't strike guys out.  They hit him hard.  I say he fails.

Yanks are on again today at 1pm if you get YES.

As ace of Yankee Sim Rotation, Pineda could win the Great Clunker Swap of 2012

Michael Pineda threw two solid sim innings yesterday against the 1927 Yankees, making Ruth and Gehrig look like ghosts of their former selves, while somewhere in Arizona, a secret operative of Brian Cashman was slipping Jesus Montero another malt shake and double-cheese pizza. Thus, after two years of play, the Yankees now lead Seattle in the Great Clunker Swap by a score of Zero to Negative 1. We’ve pulled ahead.

A piece in today’s NYT confirms what the Yankiverse has been gargling for weeks: That Montero may be one of the great, pajama-pissing, slobbering, fall-down leviathans in MLB history, a 5-tool disappointment. In only two years of rancidness, Jesus has: 1) Failed to hit, 2) Failed to be a catcher, 3) Proven to be injury prone, 4) Been suspended for juicing, and 5) Eaten his way off the roster. Jesus has been eating in the manner that CC Sabathia has been dieting, and it now looks as though the Great Swap, in which the Yankees and Mariners traded their lawn chairs in Hell, now is tilting toward New York, by default. 

Montero came to camp 40 pounds overweight, which is a throwback to the 1950s, when guys bagged groceries in the off-season, instead of hiring trainers. Meanwhile, Pineda came to camp at his assigned Yankee weight! Hoo-ray! That’s something he did not do two years ago, before blowing out his shoulder. But the big news of the day, if you’re scoring at home: Pineda has now pitched two Sim games in Florida.

That’s right. Sim games. “Sim,” as in “Simply Meaningless.” Or Simpathy. In other words, two years after his arm injury, the Yankees are still treating him like an ancient Chinese vase, pretending that he is the lost Koufax from Atlantis.  Good grief. What a joke.

Pineda was expected to return last August. In July, the Yankees breathlessly reported his pitching lines in Charleston and Tampa, as he rose up the system, preparing to take New York like Lady Gaga in her egg. Then in the lost mines of Scranton, he threw like Kim Novak. He suffered not only stiffness, but bombings. The Triple A hitters were not simulations.

So now, he’s back, and as long as he’s throwing against fantasy league all-stars, the Yankees have won the Great Trade, and Cashman looks like Syd Thrift, dealing with old George. And it’s part of the detritus that doubles as spring training coverage.

Listen: We all want Pineda to succeed. I will happily apologize for every snarky word ever written about the guy, if he becomes a real MLB pitcher, like the one he supposedly was in Seattle. If Pineda could be a Number One or Number Two starter, the Yankees could win the AL East this year. That’s the kind of splash he would make on this franchise.

But it seems to me that the longer the Yankees treat this guy like a china doll, the more likely he is to become one. There’s a point where we have to compare him to everybody else in baseball who is NOT Jesus Montero. I don’t care if Montero weighs 400 pounds and is accused of eating small children. If Pineda spends April in Scranton, he and Jesus ought to quit baseball and tour as a band. They could call themselves Ten Years After.

In continuing youth movement, Yankees to sign Kim Novak

All right, no more talk about shortstops who came over on the Mayflower. Not after watching Kim Novak last night on the Oscars. All Derek Jeter needs is a Lifestyle Lift – (Debbie Boone had one!) -and we’ll be fine.

I don’t know how old Kim Novak is.

I don’t want to think about how old Kim Novak is.

Let’s just say she was probably a pinup in Yogi Berra’s locker. Let's just say her promo glossies are in black and white. Last night, she looked a little electrified – (Did Matthew McConaughey have her hooked up to a stun gun?) I say, good for her! She's still out there, taking her cuts on a major league field.

And what was the problem with Pink? She didn’t care enough about the Oscars to sing while suspended from a trapeze? Good grief. And how could the Academy overlook Grown Ups 2! I thought Adam Sandler was great. (A Yankee fan, by the way.)

Sabathmageddon: CC needs an immediate injection of an extra 5 mph and 50 pounds

It’s here. Our first September crisis. Dear God, the most  critical stretch of the season. And it's upon us: Sabathmageddon.

Dark clouds in the distance. Girardi must mess up this team, do something crazy. A Katy Perry lip-synch video? A “Welcome Back Kotter” memorabilia scavenger hunt? A hot jalapeno pepper-eating contest? Jeez, I dunno. Could we unite by betting on hobo death fights? Where could we find the hobos? Do people call hobos "hobos" anymore? Does Katy Perry? Dear God, this is getting confusing. It's more dire than we thought! 

The problem here is simple: CC Sabathia needs to eat. He needs to eat a large animal, something with a bell around its collar. He needs to eat a rural Pennsylvania town. They're called "Buroughs" in Pennsylvania. Did you know that? CC needs to add 50 pounds of pork. We need to rearrange the new, genetically modified version, who looks like CC in a thinning fun house mirror, or CC, the finalist in the “The Biggest Loser.” Yesterday, Stringbean pitched two scoreless innings against the Phillies. He never cracked 90 on the radar gun. This is scary. This is Yankee doomsday. Right now, the hardest throwing lefty starter in camp is Vida Nino.

Yes, it’s early. OK, we haven’t even yet tapped the green beer kegs. We should be more worried about Toro Tanaka throwing too hard, too soon. Nothing in these games matters. But jeez, not even 90 mph? CC can't even reach the speed of a Kennedy heir while on beta-blockers? Come on! He needs to eat a Kennedy heir.

CC says not to worry. OK, no problemo. This isn’t me, worrying. This is me, terrifying. Every hope we have for a bounce-back 2014 rests on CC Sabathia returning to form. Without him: Game over, maaaan, game over. Understand? O-ver. So should we worry? Hell no. Just be terrified.

OK, I should get a grip. Yesterday, CC pitched two scoreless innings. A scoreless inning is a scoreless inning is a scoreless inning is a scoreless inning, right? I could go on. It’s a scoreless inning, even in March. Which is what this is. We haven’t even filled out our Final Four brackets yet. Syracuse University men’s basketball hasn’t even collapsed yet. (Uh-oh. Check that: They HAVE. It's later than I thought!)

Listen: I missed yesterday’s game on YES. Friends were texting excitedly me about Tanaka. And the write-ups later described Tanaka overpowering. I didn’t learn until today that he gave up two hits. Bloop hits, the writers stressed. That’s how they phrased it when Mariano blew saves, at the end. They deconstructed each hit to make you believe it was an anomaly, as if Mariano wasn’t reaching his final outings.  Two bloop hits is still two hits. And 88 mph is not 90. It’s early. It’s way too early to be this terrified. But that’s what happens when you miss the playoffs, and your farm system ranks among the worst in baseball. We’ve got a month to figure this out. Anybody know any Katy Perry songs? You think Katy Perry could recruit some hobo boxers?

News From the Shadow of the Baseball Cathedral: BRONX BOMBSHELLS

Shuttered Bronx strip club could become church

Platinum Pleasures, the last remaining strip club in Hunts Point, has shut its doors — but in lieu of lap dances, a neighborhood pastor wants to turn the former jiggle joint into a place of worship. 

Skyrocketing rents leave more Bronx families in cold 

Skyrocketing rents are helping to push a growing number of Bronx families into homelessness, stretching resources even thinner in the borough that already counts the highest number of occupants in the city shelter system.

Developers add 1.4 million square feet of malls to the Bronx

Although the county is one of the nation's poorest, the paper reports, it's also the third-most dense, so developers see an opportunity for customers to make a lot of lower-priced purchases that still add up to big bucks.

Man dressed as woman steals iPhone at wig store

Police are now searching for the suspect, described as about 5'7" to 5'8" tall and stocky in build. He was last seen wearing a multi-colored dress with a black hooded jacket and a red hooded coat. 

Amazing autographed poster

Cool poster

He's selling it.

Has these autographs:
Berra, Yogi
Boggs, Wade
Campaneris, Bert
Cano, Robinson...  Oops, lost me there. Not interested.

And a ton of others.

The Yankees’ nuclear stockpiles at catcher must be used to handle the spent fuel-Rod at third

As The Master loves to say in the Daily News Fifth, “Hey, now, looking at this Yankee ball club…”

Few positions appear rock solid through the next millennium. But if we’re not stuffed to the wheelhouse with catchers, then take me to the train station and unhitch my red caboose, because my loco engine has run off the rails. (I have no clue what that metaphor means, but it sounded good coming off the bat.)   

Yesterday, we were visited by the Ghosts of Catchmas Present and Future. They both hit home runs. First was Brian McCann, the Catcher of Now. Then it was Gary Sanchez, the Catcher of Tomorrow. We also have Francisco Cervelli, the Catcher of Yesterday, and Austin Romine, the Catcher of Five Minutes ago and maybe Five Minutes from Now. Then there is the Catcher of the Alternative Future, J.R. Murphy and – stay with me here – the Catcher of the Distant Future, Peter O’Brien, and yet another catcher they signed from Venezuela, the Catcher of the Next Age - I’m talking Arthur Clarke stuff here – and he’s so far off that we really cannot know his name. We’ll call him Jorge 3000.

This remarkable surplus is going to come in handy, especially considering our problems at third base. Remember how the used to call Brooks Robinson “the Vacuum Cleaner?” The Yankees third base is just known as “the Vacuum.” And if catching represented our hopes and dreams, third base represents the sum of our Yankee fears.

We have the third baseman of the past and future, A-Rod, who - like those newly discovered CERN nanoparticles – can actually inhabit two locations in time. We have the third baseman of the moment, Kelly Johnson, but he is only for this precise moment; if you blink or look away, he could be gone – to second base, or nowhere. He may not exist. Then we have the third baseman who exists only in theory, Scott Sizemore, because half the fans think he’s Grady Sizemore, and the other have think he’s Scott Spiezio, and he might not hit, and he might not field. Then we have the third baseman who comes via the San Diego wormhole, Dean Anna. Last year, in the Pacific Coast League, he was Rod Carew. But that was an alternative universe, not the one we inhabit. Here, he might be Cod Rarew. Finally, we have Eduardo Nunez, who stands at the absolute nexus between science and religion, where all truth becomes fiction and reality only exists in the imagination. Chew on that for awhile, next time Nuni comes up with men on base. But here’s the deal, when he’s not playing, Nunez looks great. When he’s in there, he sucks.  

The Creator of this time and space conundrum – Brian Cashman – is waiting to trade one of our catchers – from the past, near present or future – for a third baseman who actually exists in the real, luxury-tax-paying world. Supposedly, there are excess infielders with the Diamondbacks and White Sox, two franchises that, by the way, have never been known for doing us favors. What do I know? I know this: When the Yankees signed Brett Gardner to a long-term deal, the fine print said that one of their catchers was going to be traded. Yesterday, two balls left the park, courtesy of our catchers. One of these days, a Yankee catcher will follow.