Last night's tough loss reminds us of the need for a long term plan

I thought we would win - didn't everyone? - when Gary Sanchez' single rolled into left field last night. And then - poof - all the 2017 juju magnetism seemed to switch polarity. But in fact, the grid didn't shift in that moment. It's been building for a week...

I believe it began last weekend, when the Yankees captured the spotlight on two nationally televised games. Suddenly, network announcers went into Defcon-4 Babble Mode about the Yankee resurgence.  

On Fox Sports and ESPN, the sideline "experts" devoted considerable time into speculating that the Yankees will be "buyers" at the July 31 trade deadline. A few Gammonites have even proposed we trade Greg Bird for some veteran fleabag. They say this, I believe, because that is what the Yankees are traditionally supposed to do... trade young players for old slobs.

Now... if you think about it, what a sad state for the game of baseball: It's not even mid-May, and already the barristers of the booth are picking which teams should cut bait on the season. The all-star break is two months away, and they are scanning the rosters of Milwaukee and Tampa like vultures hovering over a dead raccoon. Whenever they smell a hot microphone, the MLB brass will boast about the health of the sport, (thanks to them), yet you have teams like San Diego, already hording Rule 5 minor leaguers with an eye for 2019. When the suits talk about the sport's popularity, while seats behind home plate sit empty, I wonder what planet these Bozos live on? 

Second... the sages of ESPN and Fox always celebrate a rising Yankee team for one reason: It gets ratings. People love or hate the Yankees, so more tune in. (We're on network TV again this weekend; get used to it.) But when ESPN pundits make suggestions, we must remind ourselves that they are not necessarily friends of the franchise. Generally, they want to help the Yankees in the same way the Russians seek to upgrade American democracy. 

So... we will be "buyers" at the deadline? Should we trade our long term future for a veteran first-baseman, which would then relegate Bird to Scranton - if not send him out the door? Hell, no! Dear God, save us from these microphone meat puppets. The Yankees' 2017 success has been based on pundit advice that was ignored. Anybody who wants to deal Clint Frazier or Gleyber Torres for a quickie weekend in August is betraying the most important ingredient in this year's team: Patience.

Consider the players that we could have peddled, but who are critical to the 2017 resurgence.

Aaron Hicks. Last year, to put it bluntly, he sucketh. Brian Cashman surely could have dumped him last winter for two Aaron Smalls and an Aaron Burr. He didn't. This year, Hicks is playing like an all-star, and what's crazy about that is that he is our fourth outfielder.

Michael Pineda. Dylan said, "There are folks among us who think that life is but a joke." I say, "There are folks among us who think that Pineda is but a ticking bomb." We could have dumped him over the winter. But what would we have gotten? Jesus Montero? We held him, and who knows? He might be an all-star. 

Gary Sanchez. He was a fixture in our farm system for years, decades, centuries - for so long that at one point, he developed a smart-mouth and did time in the penalty box. We could have dealt him for a handful of magic beans. We didn't. (And whenever some idiot talks about trading Jorge Mateo, who also seems like a thousand-year prospect, please remember Sanchez.) The best trade is sometimes the one you didn't make.

Chase Headley. Fingers crossed here, but he's been an uplifting, Disney story this spring. He runs out grounders, gets an occasional big hit, and he's beaten the over-shift with bunts. A little worry about those yips throwing to first. But what would we have gotten in a trade? Yangervis? Adonis? Eduardo? We all want a young, rising third-baseman. But the last great 3B from the Yankee system was Mike Lowell, nearly 20 years ago. And right now, the Triple A cupboard looks bare.

Aaron Judge. After his disastrous September - striking out nearly in half his at bats - there were voices calling for his ticket to Chicago in exchange for Jose Quintana. If we had made that trade, wouldn't we would look like fools?

These days, when toddlers with microphones call for the Yankees to "buy" at the deadline, I shudder. Truth be told, I'd rather we hold another garage sale this July, if it meant we could obtain another Gleyber or Clint. To build a dynasty, a team must constantly be getting younger, not collecting bad contracts for last-ditch shots at the wild card.  

The New England Patriots dominate the NFL because they always have an extra draft pick, and they cut ties with players before their sell dates. The Yankees need to do the same, even if it ruffles feathers and defies the conventional wisdom. 

Listen: If we're chasing a division championship in late August, maybe we can swing a deal for cheap spare parts. But trading prospects for a wild card race? The pundits want it, because they want higher ratings. I say, fuck'em. Patience, my friends... patience.

Official "Three-cheers-for-the-juju-gods! Hip-hip, hooray, hip-hip, hooray, hip-hip, hooray" IT IS HIGH Game Thread

This is a great time to be a Yankee fan. (Aside from the fact that there is NO way we can win tonight.)

The great unraveling has begun

Something has torn open the fabric of our reality.

Dial hate-hate-hate-hate, hate-hate-hate-hate?

The Giovanni Gallegos Era is about to begin

I never claim to be a scout. You'll never catch me fulminating about "bat speed," or "ball rotation," or "tit amplitude." What do I know about tit amplitude? Back in high school, I couldn't a hit a 60 mph beach ball, and my greatest moment in organized sport came in Little League - (an opening day, two-run HR off Bill Holiday, the league's toughest pitcher.) It's been all downhill from there. My obsession with the Yankees stems from watching and/or listening to countless games, and pouring over endless box scores, and thereby somehow imagining a psychic link to the team. This allows me to live the delusion that, by rooting for the Yankees - even in my obscure, dingy molecule of the universe - I actually matter. 

In other words, I'm a fan. 

Listen: This is why we vote. This is why we argue politics. It is why we get up in the morning, put on our stupid shirts and pantaloons, and go about another day in our ridiculous lives, thinking that - maybe this time, even though it's never happened before, we will change the world. We are ants on a log rolling down a river, and somehow, we convince ourselves that we are steering the log. This is the goddamm truth: I know turdysquat about baseball. 

That said, GIOVANNI FUCKIN' GALLEGOS! 

That's right: I said it last year! I said it in spring training! 

GIOVANNI FUCKIN' GALLEGOS! 

Who's yer daddy! huh? huh? Who's yer daddy! Woo-woo! Forget McMurphy. I'm the bull-goose looney around here, hah? hah! Who's yer daddy!
Today, Internet outlets - assuming they are not fake news from those pesky kids in Macedonia - say the Yankees have called up Gio Gallegos for this weekend's series against Houston. The fact that he is from Mexico could make him a magnet for attention, but it has nothing to do with my interest.

Last summer, I watched Gio throw an inning in Syracuse - striking out the side on maybe five pitches - the most the dominant performance I'd witnessed since - and Alphonso will back me on this - I claimed in 2002 that Randy Choate had developed an "unhittable pitch." (At the time, Choate was Triple A Kleenex, fresh from being butchered by the Diamondbacks in the 2001 World Series. The guy ended up pitching for 15 years.) Gallegos came in and crushed the Syracuse Chiefs, prompting everyone in the Syracuse crowd to break the solid ice veneer and exclaim, "W.T.F?" 

So... who is Giovanni Fuckin' Gallegos? He's a 6'2", 210-pound, 25-year-old right-handed bullpen lug nut, who's been in our system for five years. In 2015, he leaped from Tampa to Trenton and then to Scranton. Last winter, he made the jump to our 40-man roster after ruling at Trenton (1.09 ERA) and then Scranton (1.40.) This week, his ERA at Scranton stood at 3.86, because of two HRs in 10 appearances. Other than those blips - which I am noting, as a way of covering my ass - the guy has struck out 26 batters in 14 innings. His name, translated to American, should be Filthy McNasty.

Again, I'm a Sgt. Schultz here: I... know... nothing. But mark my words: Gallegos is a gritty, hard-throwing grunt who will help Yankees over the next three to five years. He won't replace El Chapo. But every great team had a Jeff Nelson, a Ramiro Mendoza or Mike Stanton. Take this for whatever it's worth. I say Gio Gallegos is going to make a difference to this team. And it has nothing to do with his fine tit amplitude. 

And now for something different...

My sons, Hart and Kyle, are in a rock'n'roll band called Sheer Mag. Visitors to this site already know them from long ago - mangy adolescents - as "The Deadly Spinners," creators of "The WinWarble Song."  

Their music has been described as "eighties power-pop garage punk skuzz," though some people like to call it "Dad Rock." (I prefer that, as well.) 

Today - on strategic off-day from the Yankees - they have released a single. Take a listen.  

Jinx!

Daily News: A look at the victims of the Sports Illustrated cover jinx

Wikipedia: The Sports Illustrated cover jinx

On the other hand: Sports Illustrated cover declares Cubs 2016 World Series champs

We need to talk about Carsten Charles

One of the exquisite joys of young players is that, if they stink, you can disappear them. No muss, no fuss. Nobody gets a farewell tour. If Zolio doesn't hit, he goes to Scranton faster than you can say "Jim Comey." Last year, it practically took an act of Congress to jettison A-Rod and Tex, and by the time their parting tributes were proffered, the season was basically in ruins.

Which brings us to CC Sabathia, and you all know where I'm going here. Lately, he's been the kind of disaster worthy of being linked to climate change. Here are his last four starts.

Pittsburgh: 5 innings, 4 earned runs.
Baltimore: 5.2 innings, 7 earned runs.  
Toronto: 4 innings, 6 earned runs. 
Last night, Cincinnati: 6 innings, 5 earned runs. 

Somehow, the Yankees won two of those four games, both in ridiculous shootouts, the kind that are unsustainable over the season. (Let's recognize that Starling Castro won't win the batting crown, and the two Aarons won't finish one-two in the MVP vote.) If Jordan Montgomery had been greeted the way CC has been, he'd be in Coal Country by now, working on his stamp collection. But Sabathia, a borderline Hall of Famer, has earned himself a long, retractable leash. For better or worse, we are tethered to him like Ahab to the leviathan. 

Last night, in a blowout second inning that basically killed us, CC coaxed two middling grounders - both possible inning-ending DPs - that rolled into the outfield... and the Reds carousel kept turning. Girardi stayed with him - (a microcosm, by the way, of how Joe will deal with CC over the season) - and he somehow toiled six innings - a human rain forest of sweat that was difficult to watch. (YES directors, can we get a wider lens?) The Yanks are now back in second place, and Baltimore is starting to resemble those trackers in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, who keep inspiring the question, "Who are those guys?" Yeesh. Who are those guys?

Well, they are us: A mix of disposable youth and resurgent veterans, who are enjoying career springs. I hate to say this, but it's still Boston that we must watch from behind the couch. Our six-game winning streak, which was snapped last night, has opened a five-game lead over the Redsocks. Nice, but it can vanish in a week. (For now, they have their own CC: Mr. Drew Pomeranz, who went four and gave up six earned runs last night, against Milwaukee. Way to go, Drew!) 

So... what to do about CC? 

First, let's dispel this fantasy notion that he'll happily transition into a bullpen LOOGY. If that happens, then I'm the Easter Bunny. The guy turns 37 in July. He'll move to the bullpen for a Bud Selig One-Game Bullshit Playoff, but not for the final four months of his career. There is a chance he'll adjust and throw a few decent games - he's done it before. (After his first three outings this year, his ERA stood at 1.47. It's now 5.77.) And there's the chance that it's over, that he's a walking zombie and just doesn't know it. If so, the Yankees will launch their established protocol for voting tribal elders off the island.

He'll get two, maybe three, more horrendous starts. If he doesn't improve, the Yankees will find some "injury" - the mysterious tweaking of that existential gonad - that sends him to the DL. He will hang around Tampa, channeling the ghost of Billy Connors, pitch a rehab assignment in Scranton or Trenton, and then attempt a reboot. It could be a three-week turnaround. From there, he'll get another four or five starts. Our on-paper liability: Seven losses. Our psychic liability: Much worse. 

Thus far, our starting rotation has been a poker player's dream sequence. We drew three aces (Tanaka, Severino and Pineda) and a jack (Montgomery). Sabathia is the joker - our first reminder of how tenuous this Yankee resurgence can be. His next two starts should tell us whether this is just a bad blip, or we need to start planning a farewell tour. Saying goodbye is never easy. This is not a Zolio. It is a Carsten Charles, and we better be careful.

Today's IIHIIFIIc Authentic and Completely Unretouched Yankee Photo Art

Official "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter" IT IS HIGH game thread

Let's just face it: There is no way we can beat Vada Pinson and the Reds again tonight. All we can do is appreciate the fact that Cinncy is a powerhouse, unlike anything we've yet seen. If we keep it close, we should be happy and proud. I know I will be. 

Plea from a Yankee fan overseas

This from Dutchfan... longtime commentator...

"This is totally off topic, but I have no place else to go:

When it come to JuJu there is only one place to go. So maybe this braintrust can help me out here.

My favorite Dutch soccer team is Feyenoord. This club has the best stadium, the best fans, the best city (Rotterdam) and the best hooligans. Hands down. We are great. 14 national titles. European champions. World champions. No club deserves titles more than we. We belong in first place. God given right.

Being the best means that everybody else is against you. Especially the dishonest media that drool over our archrivals (we refer to them by area code, which is 020 - Amsterdam, you go figure it out) and the national soccer association that appoints only 020 people to governing bodies and the national team.

We have the best logo.

Thanks to all the dishonest opposition and biased media our last national title was 18 years ago. All that time we have been humiliated, manipulated and ridiculed.
On top of that we have been subjected to the worst boards possible. Financial ruin, bad player development.

Then came 2016/2017 and from day 1 (a 5-0 victory somewhere in Groningen) we are in 1st place. Best team, best goal difference.

We also have the best shirts.

And last sunday we were going to finish it. We had a 4 point margin and played the number 15 in their tiny stadium, that happens to be only 3 miles from our grounds.

About 100.000 people were in the streets as of 10am. At game time (2.30pm) 50.000 more were in our own stadium watching the game on giant screens.
Authorities in the city expected at least 300.000 people to come to Monday's honoring at City Hall (Rotterdam has a 620.000 population).

We lost 3-0.
The 020 team won and trails us by 1 point.

We have one game left. This sunday, at home.

You have the experience, you are the thinktank and you can relate to our misery and all the dishonesty and treachery that we have endured over the past 18 years.

What to do? How do we become champions?

How to please the JuJu Gods now.

What can I do?

First off, this is a terrifying situation, an international crisis, and I don't see how we - as righteous Americans - can avert our eyes from the ongoing carnage. We cannot just go about our regular lives and pretend it is not happening. 

That said, should we get involved jujuistically? Do we put juju boots on the sofa? Keep in mind: Once we inject ourselves into a foreign conflict, it's hard to get out. There is a little thing called "mission creep," and if we beat back those miserable 020's on Sunday, will we then be expected to heal the goalie whenever he scores a neck hickey? 

I cannot in good faith simply commit our vast juju arsenal into a world hotspot in a nip-and-tuck, willy-nilly, higgetty-piggety, devil-may-care, tough-titty-said-the-kitty-with-the-milk-so-warm manner. 

But we have to do something. 

I am hereby calling for a debate. What should we do?

Keep in mind: This is a Yankee website. We root against Boston in all forms, and we live to mock Mets and Metlike appendages. We keep personal vendettas against people who sign 10-year deals and yet don't even jog out ground balls, and I am currently down on a particular west coast franchise which is trying to steal one of our rightful catching prospects. Aside from that, and maybe a few other disputes, I am known worldwide as a peace-loving, humble and all-caring fan, who wishes happiness for all. 

What should we do? 

The disgraceful San Diego Padres rule today's personal shitlist

Too bad about San Diego. After 56 years of hosting and supporting the Chargers, the city is losing its NFL franchise. It really sucks. And I planned to intervene on behalf of the city - I won't say how because, like Trump, that would give away valuable strategy to the enemy - but let me assure you: It was going to stop the Chargers' move to Los Angeles cold - (snaps fingers) - Just. Like. That.

But now? Sorry, San Diego. I'm letting the move go forward: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome the California Chargers of Los Angeles... with its grand legacy of Dan Fouts, Junior Seau and that beloved mascot, the LA Chicken.

The reason behind this sudden spasm of bile? (Note: Even in grand Yankee winning streaks, our responsibility is to alert the juju gods to gonads that need tweaking.) It is Luis Torrens, a 21-year-old catcher whom we lost - apparently for good - in last December's Rule 5 draft. In order to keep him, the Padres must stash Torrens on their 25-man roster for all of 2017, even though the kid has never flushed a toilet above Single A. He is one of three Rule 5 pickups San Diego will put on ice for the entire season. Also, he's the most vulnerable. Torrens already missed one year with a shoulder injury, and now - in need of game experience - he will sit out another season, basically rotting on the bench.
(Note: My guess is that sometime this summer, San Diego will try to offer the Yankees some overpriced bullpen clod in exchange for Torrens, so they can send him to the minors; I'm not sure how I feel about that. I don't wish ill upon Torrens, but I'd just as soon see San Diego stew in its own grease. If they want to keep him an entire season, hurting his viability, let them. Let's not enable this crap.)

The Rule 5 draft is supposed to give veteran minor leaguers, who are blocked on deep rosters, a crack at the majors. It's not supposed to be used by teams to stock their farm system at the cost of the present season. But that's what San Diego is doing. 

Think about it: This is the most cynical strategy in all of baseball, a franchise openly pissing on competitive balance and - most of all - their loyal fans. The Padres will basically play a 22-man roster all season - (imagine the Yankees doing that in the aftermath of this week's grueling games) - and they'll contend for nothing more than next year's first draft pick. It's a sickening, desperate way to build. And of course, it's being done to a city that is losing its NFL team and, thus, has no recourse but to bend over and enjoy the pineapple.

And where is the Commissioner of Baseball on this? Good question. Not many people know it, but Rob Manfred is currently in a state of cryogenic suspension, en route to Europa, the mysterious moon of Jupiter. Once there, the plucky commissioner will awaken and drill below the moon's vast frozen surface in search of what MLB radar has detected: A stack of dimes. Because that's the job of MLB commissioners, right? Find new revenue sources and alert the lawyers? Best of all, by traveling into outer space, Manfred can avoid having to question the sincerity of an MLB owner, because - as everyone knows - the owners are the real stars of the game. 

(NOTE: This would normally be where we discuss Mr. Harold Zieg "Hal" Steinbrenner, owner of the Yankees. Until further notice: IT IS HIGH is suspending all criticism of Mr. Steinbrenner. Right now, Hal is doing an excellent job. Keep it up, sir!)

The Padres are owned by Mr. Ronald Fowler, the CEO of Liquid Investments Incorporated, an aptly named San Diego beer distributorship. He cut his sporting teeth by owning the famous San Diego Sockers, the indoor soccer dynasty in the National Indoor World American Soccer Whatever Who Gives a Shit League. Fowler's opening day Padres' payroll stood at $73 million - third lowest in baseball, behind Milwaukee and Tampa - for a team recently valued by Forbes Magazine at $1.3 billion.

If all works according to plan, the Padres will finish dead last this year. They'll draft first next June and stock their system from the bottom up. Torrens and their best prospects are probably two to three years away. Thus, maybe they'll need to finish last again in 2018. Oh well. No problem. It's not as if San Diego can shift its loyalty to the Chargers, right? Besides, finish last enough times and - boom! - you're a baseball genius! You've built a powerhouse on the cheap.

And here's the real fun:

When the Padres finally do start winning - let's say, sometime around 2020 - just watch how they make it up to the good fans of San Diego, who stayed with this beer distributorship/baseball franchise through the long lean years. Anybody want to bet the Padres won't demand a brand new stadium, courtesy of the locals? Because that's how billionaires are made. 

Let's wish Commissioner Manfred sweet dreams on his journey. If he sleeps long enough, maybe he can be a billionaire, too! 

The official "We Can't Stop Now Because the Juju Gods are Great!" IT IS HIGH Game Thread

This is for tonight's game, which we will not win. Good god, the Reds are leading the National League Central! Considering the fatigue factor, we'll be lucky to score a run. Let's just thank the juju gods for allowing us to play. By the way, have you noticed how good they're looking lately? They've lost weight. Wow. They're like rock stars. I'd like to give each of them a foot massage. Let's not be afraid to tell them how much we care.

The game we won by bunting...

Let's all take a deep breath, contemplate the cooing of the pigeons, and let one momentary spring muse bewitch and betweak the curds of our existential gonads. 

The Yankees won a game by bunting.

We didn't bludgeon the Cubs with homers. We struck out 22 times - Hicks and Headley, four apiece! - and tried desperately to give away a game that Chicago sought to win with the long ball. Thus, in the end - as it was in the beginning - the Yankees won by... bunting. 

For eight years, we watched big name, big-money sluggers being regularly neutered by defensive over-shifts that they refused to acknowledge. Instead of adjusting, they just swung harder. Their averages plummeted into the .210 zone, but nobody lost his job, because they were being paid too much money to ride the bench or get banished to Scranton. In the end, a few retired before their times - talking to you, Tex - because they couldn't, or wouldn't, lay down a bunt. 

Thus far this season, we have seen Chase Headley, Aaron Hicks, Jacoby Ellsbury, Brett Gardner and - last night's co-hero, Ronald Torreyes - change the course of games with simple bunts. We have watched major league infields disassemble while trying to field them. What's most astonishing is that it has taken eight years for some players to figure out what we dumb-as-rocks bleacher fans - (along with John and Suzyn, by the way) - have steadfastly called for: The need to adjust to over-shifts and put balls into play.

It's a long year, and some players will surely get homeritis, forget the lessons of April and May, and turn into Chris Carter (who went 2 for 2 last night in strikeouts.) But I know what I have learned: 

To win in baseball, you need a blend of young and old players who constantly remind each other of the need for adjustments. If you present an inscribed-in-concrete lineup of aging veterans, you put forth a team that is incapable of change. In this day and age, that's mediocrity. 

Here's Hoping

I'd love to see " Chance Adams" included in today's call-up from Scranton.

First, were I still young and playing baseball, I would change my name to " Chance."  If I failed at baseball ( which, eventually, I did ), I could become a cowboy.

Since those were my two dreams as a kid, I couldn't lose.

Second, I think he is pretty good and would love to see him on the hill.

I need a beer.

We Roll Into Cincy

But this team is a bit like the walking dead, right now.

A great win.  More proof of resilience.  Even with an imperfect " closer."

The Cubs are getting close to regaining their mojo.  A win for them last night, in the 18th ( pick an inning ), might just have launched them onto a win streak.

Now they have to keep scuffling. Despite the game announcers declaring; " we are likely watching game one of this year's world series, right now!"

Meanwhile, Cincinnati is playing championship baseball.  They are young and hungry.  Full of enthusiasm and optimism.  The New York Times featured the Reds in the sports section yesterday.  Slow news day in NYC?

In any case, they are licking their Cincinnati chops, ready to welcome a highly spirited, but physically exhausted, Yankee team.

I called John & Suzyn in their hotel bar this morning, and John promised his opening broadcast line today will be:  " the Yankees are going to need length out of their starting pitcher today."  He will then go on to list those bullpen members unavailable ( per Joe ) for tonight's game.

He made no mention of his , " It is high, it is far, it is...caught ," flub last night.

It was, after all, a long game.

The Cubbies don't wanna play us no more

I can't lie - (the juju gods have tapped my phone, anyway) - last night, I went to bed after the Yankees went down like slaughtered lambs in the eleventh. I'm not proud of the things I said. If there were racial slurs for pillows, I would today face a lifetime ban from my bed. This is some of what I said. Most is unworthy of this virtuous and respected Internet...

"How $%$# stupid were we! We're %^$# Met fans! Jet fans! Knick fans! We're $#%@ Bonehead Merkel Knick fans! It's the juju gods' oldest trick in the book: Heal the rotation, then collapse the bullpen! Get you hooked on Downton Abbey, then replace it with the fund-raiser. That's it. I'm subscribing to Hulu!"

This morning... I am speechless... humbled... numb following a six-hour erection (which, according to commercials, should have prompted me to seek medical attention)... capable of only scattered thoughts...

1. Every time he plays, Aaron Hicks makes a difference. Thank God he was still in the game last night. The guy can bunt .400. (Also, it's amazing how inept MLB defenses are in dealing with bunts.) 

2. For all their heroism, Jonathan Holder and Chasen Shreve will be rewarded with tickets to Moosic. Somehow, MLB must address this Triple A shuttle system, which churns after any extra inning game. I realize that arms must be protected, but the mass replacement of pitchers is dizzying, tiresome and sad. 

(2a) I hate the proposal to start extra innings with runners already on base. It's an affront to the history of the game. A 154-game regular season would create a few extra off-days and maybe save a few arms. But it won't cure the 18-inning game. Here's a suggestion (albeit a bad one): After the 12th, require position players to pitch. Would that be crazy or what?

3. I'm not ready to clutch my pearls over El Chapo. I will leave the worrying to every LH batter in baseball, who watched that poor guy, Rizzo get plunked on the forearm last night. (It'll be interesting to see what the MRI's say today.) The last thing opposing hitters needed was the notion that Aroldis Chapman - the man with the 100-mph fastball - is having control issues. Rhyne Duren, anyone?

4. Today, the Yankees possess baseball's best record. Over the weekend, the announcing teams of both Fox Sports and ESPN anointed us as a bona fide AL East contender and the next version of the Chicago Cubs. 

Only one problem: It's May 8. Comparatively speaking, we're still in the first season of Downton Abbey. And the fund-raisers are just beginning.

Official IT IS HIGH "We love you, juju gods" Sunday night game thread

Why do we bother? Jon Lester is pitching. He always kills us. The only question is whether he'll throw a perfect game, a mere no-hitter or maybe have an off-night and pitch just a shutout. Maybe we should change this to an NCIS: Los Angeles thread? Any bets that the cops will lose?

Just Saying.....

It was hardly noticed.

Except by me, of course.

And Mustang, if he had his thinking cap on.

Another of my pre-season  predictions came true.

It pertains to Kyle Higashioka.

Who has now been sent down to AAA Scranton.

Anyone remember?

Have we been celebrating the wrong Aaron?

Quick, now: Who's better? Aaron 1 or Aaron 2?

Keep in mind, Aaron Hicks (Aaron 1, based on longevity) is the Yank version of Jackie Bradely Jr. - (who, by the way, is now batting .175 with 1 HR, after slumping late last season). He's the quintessential late-blooming, five-tool OF, whose ceiling remains undefined. Last night, Aaron 1 laid to rest any concerns that Jacoby Ellsbury's recuperation will take a while. Hell, Ells could go on a healing cruise to Tahiti, and we might not skip a beat. 

For now, Aaron Judge, (Aaron 2) remains the shiny new blend of Kevin Maas, Greg Bird and Gary Sanchez - the abrupt super nova, whose ceiling also remains undefined. He probably won't hit like this forever, which means we don't know where his true north numbers will settle. My guess is around .260 and 30 HR - (and I'd be happy with that) - though that would mean far less output over the next five months. 

Considering that nobody aside from ISIS would take Brett Gardner or Ellsbury in a trade, RF might yet again become a competition between Aaron 1 v. Aaron 2.

Crazy, eh? That Aaron Judge could still have to worry about keeping his job? But for now, that's our rich team's problem. Assuming that Matt Holliday has a glove, we have five outfielders, with two more in the Scranton coal yard: Clint Frazier (now up to .269; below .200 two weeks ago) and Dustin Fowler (.302 with 5 triples, five!) are hot in Moosic. Adding to it - and yes, he looked awful last night - is Brigadoon Refsnyder. I still believe the guy can hit .300 with plate discipline. But he's not a 2B, which is fine, because we have Torreyes, (who should have been in there last night. WTF, Joe?) Something must give in the overcrowded outfield, and I greatly fear we will trade Frazier and/or Fowler, at the expense of Ellsbury or Hicks, reverting back to the bloated, contract-first policies that dug us into this crapola decade.

Finally, I direct your attention to Mr. Chris Carter, the killer of rallies. Actually, he hasn't been that bad - .229, and better than advertised in the field. But Carter has now fanned 18 times in 48 at bats - a 36 percent rate. Worse, you get the feeling that any time a pitcher bears down, he can strike out Carter. Maybe the guy will go on a bender and hit 30 HRs in a week, but then he'll strike out 200 times in a month. He remains the mismatched socks in the Yankee drawer, and I'd rather see Refsnyder coming up with a rally in progress.  

Tyler Austin, now taking batting practice in Tampa, is three weeks away, and even then, we don't know what we've got. As long as we're winning, we can absorb zero output from 1B, and, of course, Greg Bird will need 200 at bats before we call in the punting team. But it will hurt if one of the Aarons is riding the bench, while our first baseman strikes out four times in every 10 at bats.

Oh, the problems of winning teams!

Game thread again tonight, though why bother? We can't beat Lester. Impossible.

Official IT IS HIGH Yankee In-Game Juju Gods Love Thread

For the record: There is no way we can win tonight. (Game time: 7:09 p.m.)
Look at that power-packed Cubs lineup. We don't belong on the same field. Forget it. We're done. It's over. Let us simply try to help each other.

Lest You Think Brian Has Been Sleeping.....

In a little remembered " deal," utilized to clear space on the 40 man roster for Chapman's return, Brian Cashman traded Nick Goody to Cleveland for, " future considerations."

Well the future, apparently, is now.

In most cases, deals like this result in some "cash" being passed back and forth, with everyone taking a piece, until Hal is left with enough for his latest red silk tie and haircut.

In this instance, however, the Yankees picked up a 21 year old pitcher who, while waiting for his Tommy John surgery, was managing a T-Strap shoe concession in a subway station of the DC metro link line.  He also carried, "Prada" bags, made in Nigeria.  Or so I'm told.

His first name is Yoiber  ( probably, Joe Girardi will call him, " Yoibsy".  He used to be a catcher, but he couldn't hit, and he threw better than he could catch.  So, now, he pitches ( not just shoes and bags).

In the Hospital for Special Surgery, he is listed as" Marquina, Yoiber."

Let's try something radical here.  There is nothing to lose.  Obviously, this guy will never be as good on the mound as he is in that concession stand.

However;

This may be our best chance to create the next Tim Wakefield.  Convert him now to a knuckle ball pitcher, and he can give up hawking knock-off women's wear forever.  And, it will be something new for us to " follow," as we peruse the performance of our future prospects.

Fear not, fans.  Cashman is on the job.  We need more pitching, and he is delivering.

When is game time today?

We are finally being rewarded for the juju pain unfairly inflicted over the last six years

Apparently, the juju gods have come around. 

Yesterday's win - down to a final strike, down by two runs, against the mighty World Champions, in their windy little bandbox, with Eddie Vedder and the ghost of Gene Siskel rooting for them - suggests that somewhere in the great, vast infuckdickulum, the shaved juju dice are finally rolling our way.

Suddenly, our Cashmanic, Steinbrennerian, Girardian team - once the olden, bloated chasers of wild cards - can do no wrong. Today, I (I) consider (sider) ourselves (selves) the luckiest (kiest) fans (ans) on the face (face) of the earth (erth.) 

So... we face a spiritual dilemma: How do we - as self-righteous, cynical, caustic, angry, bombastic, raging, bile-sputtering Yankee fans - cope with - gulp - a winning team?

I'll tell you how: BY LOVING IT, BABY! BY LOVING IT!

Over the last week, I've been exchanging in-game phone text messages with Alphonso and Mustang, working the juju gods like Pat Riley at mid-court. As a result, Aaron Judge is the new Trump Tower, Gary Sanchez has returned, and Gardy has become our de facto captain. (And nobody gives up on Greg Bird, you hear me? Nobody.) We could be seeing the birth of a great Yankee run. At my age, it may never again be a more promising time to root for the Yankees. 

So... how should we ride this juju pony? 

I am hereby proposing a regular OPEN GAME JUJU THREAD, into which we can sound off during actual Yankee games, pushing and prodding the juju gods to do the right thing. I will be among you, screaming making suggestions for these middle managemet excellent, all-knowing tacticians, via the comments section. If we're losing, we'll rip the bastards. If we're winning, we'll brown-nose them like Michael Kay interviewing Baron Trump's nanny on Center Stage. If you can, join us.

Note: This is an experiment. If the Yankees lose, we'll drop this like a cryogenically frozen gall bladder from Dorothy Kilgallen. We will take nothing for granted. In two weeks, this team could be a punch line, and we could be hanging Chase Headley's scrotum from the Governor's Cup in Scranton. But today, we are the golden haired boys of juju, and dammit, let's enjoy it. 

I invite you to sound off in the comments section during games. I will be there with you (unless the gods keep me from my computer.) Whatever the case, let's be smart. Let's be wise enough to enjoy this streak, while it lasts. We beat Boston in Boston. And yesterday, Gene Siskel gave the outcome two thumbs down. The Yankee moon is rising. Godot could be coming. IT MAY NEVER GET BETTER THAN THIS.

(Unless we lose today. If we lose today, fukkitall.)

John: "That was fabulous... just fabulous."

Ninth, two outs, two strikes, two runs down, two men on... Gardner plants one, Gardy goes yardy...

Fabulous.

Status Quo 1, Fantasy Past (with Jeb!) 0

Yet another thought about - what else? - MOAB...

For months now, we've heard about Food Stamps Hal Steinbrenner's secret plan: Get the payroll under the luxury tax limit, then go for broke in 2018-2019 by signing Bryce Harper and/or Manny Machado. From there, coupled with the youngins, we will launch the 1,000-year dynasty. Simple.

But in that beloved scenario, we never foresaw the kind of impact player that Aaron Judge might become. (He isn't there yet.) If Judge becomes an all-star right fielder, a question arises: Do we still chase Harper, the predestined Yankee? Both would play RF. Harper bats left, Judge right - a helluva one-two. But what about Clint Frazier, Blake Rutherford or other emerging OF prospects? Would there be room for Harper?

Likewise, if Gleyber Torres continues to evolve - along with Didi Gregorius - what happens to Machado? Braced by the successes of Judge, Gary Sanchez and (fingers crossed, Greg Bird) would we need another hitter?

Obviously, there's a Johnstown flood of water yet to flow before any decisions get made. But here's a thought. Instead of chasing Harper and Machado, the Yankees might use all their 2019 movie money to sign Kershaws and Baumgarners. 

No complaints, but that long-held fantasy of Bryce Harper in our outfield might be vanishing with every MOAB dinger. And the real moral of the story is that every aspect of the Yankees future changes, depending on how real this guy is. 

Days Without Baseball

I have good times drinking when the Yankees are on.

Even if they suck.  Almost even if we fans have to endure a "pineapple" of a loss.

Drinking on a day when the Yankees are not playing, can be a different story.  On those days, I hear too much about the lunacy at the top of our government.  And I mean not just the very top, but of traitors like Paul Ryan, who sits there nodding his agreement with whatever irrational, disconnected nonsense Trump is saying.

These representatives of our in Congress, those not resisting the psychotic blatherings, are basically saying;  " It's all politics and money.  the Country be damned. "

And so I drink.  And keep drinking.

Waiting for a better day.

Waiting for a yankee game.

Reacting to recent racial incidents, Redsocks issue lifetime ban of their team's history

BREAKING _ Following of several racist incidents, the Boston Redsocks have issued a lifetime ban on their franchise history.

From now on, Redsock history will no longer be allowed in Fenway Park.

"This history is not who we were," a team spokesman said. "And by banning it, we will not be who we are."

This includes future references to the dreaded "H" word - Tommy Harper - and recollections by Gary Matthews, Barry Bonds, Carl Crawford, CC Sabathia and others, players who were all so welcomed by the Boston fan base that they received special nicknames. 

Behold....

What hath you done, IT IS HIGH voters...

This from Honey Barnes...

Nine thoughts about - well - what else? MOAB

1. Apparently, MOAB - aka Aaron Judge - broke Joe Girardi's binders. (Normally, Joe benches anyone who gets this hot. Under the rules of Joe's calculations, MOAB should have been sent to Scranton by now.)

2. In the same way that Mike Ditka changed the NFL - a big, fast, brutal tight end - and Magic Johnson the NBA - a point guard the size of a center, MOAB could become the future prototype for baseball position players. Originally, scouts said his size would kill him: MLB pitchers would exploit holes in his huge strike zone. That may still happen. But don't be surprised if 10 years from now, outfields are commonly patrolled by guys the size of Jeeps.

3. Giving MOAB number 99 - the largest available - was a stroke of genius.

4. MOAB is entering the second phase of Elizabeth Kubler-Zadora's Five Stages of Media Hype: Arrival, Hyperbole, Ubiquity, Overkill, Date J-Lo. 

5. The greatest advantage to having Matt Holliday is that Girardi does not need to bat MOAB third. No need for extra pressure. (But that will soon come.)

6. If Sanchez and Bird emerge - no guarantees - we must guard from pretending to be the Yankee '17 Hall of Fame Superteam of Destiny (TM). 

7. MOAB is already the most electrifying Yankee hitter since early A-Rod. He could become the most dominant Yankee since the Curse ended, and Boston started winning the rivalry. (Note: This thought is categorized in Number four's "Overkill" phaze.)

8. His slow start last year could be one of the best things that happened. MOAB knows what it is like to be humbled. Yankee fans must remember this as other young players make bad first impressions. 

9. Soon, the distractions of Gotham will start intervening. It's inevitable. For now, let's just stand back and enjoy this. It can't last the whole season... right? 

This is beginning to get Serious

The Yankees are beginning to wear me down.

A nerve problem in Jacoby's elbow?  Hopefully, rest and re-hab do the trick.  Anything else, puts him in the tall grass for the season.  At least, the team has plenty of outfield depth.  Is Slade still 22?

And Austin Romine, the league's leading hitter for catchers, proving his mettle as a starter, pulls something while running.  Time and rest will help, for sure.

But that means, until Sanchez returns, you start a hitless AAA player, and have Ronald Torreyes as back-up ( just kidding, but true, until the bus from Scranton arrives ).  I know, the Yankees must have a body in catcher's gear at AAA or AA, but San Diego took your best young guy in the rule 5 draft.

( P.S. I told your mothers;  don't gamble high end prospects in the Rule 5 crap shoot).    But no one listens.  And when no one listens, someone pays the price.  In this instance, that would be you !

Be positive;  you traded your young first baseman, a .100 hitter, for a " seasoned one, a .220 hitter.  Double the value and twice the power.

But also be careful:  do not " rush" Sanchez back, despite the desperate times.

Good luck guys.  Luckily, you have Brian Cashman pulling the strings.

Cackle.  Cackle.

The people have spoken: MOAB

From now on everybody, remember: He's MOAB.

Is this real? Are the Yankees THIS good?

Didi Gregorius tweaks a wing in spring training. We go on a tear.

Gary Sanchez tweaks a wrist in the first week. We go on a tear.

Now, Greg Bird is on the DL, and Jacoby Ellsbury might follow. Last night, five home runs.

It's too early to start growing playoff beards. But great teams show a common attribute: When somebody gets hurt, their replacements shine. This spring, the Yankees lost nothing when Ronald Torreyes and Austin Romine were called upon. And last night, Chris Carter and Aaron Hicks made the losses of Bird and Ellsbury inconsequential. 

Right now, the Yankees look like a potential great team. 

Right now, Aaron Judge looks like the best player in baseball. 

Right now, the juju gods are giving us everything. 

Which leads me to one conclusion.

Bevare.

It's a trap. They are planning something horrible. I don't know what - you can't predict baseball - but I do know a cottage made of candy when I see one. The Yankees could be good this year, but this good? Hm-mm. 

Or... this may be a fantasy. It may have finally happened. You, me, one of us, all of us... we went over the edge. We're gone. We're in dreamland. Trump isn't president, the Cubs aren't reigning champions, we are in a padded room with glass tubes in our crotch, the Matrix machines are in control, and this isn't happening. 

It's time to ask some essential questions, to take stock.

Did you do a lot of drugs as a youngster? Do you talk to the TV? Do you have imaginary conversations with Suzyn Waldman? When you're in a building, does the elevator occasionally stop at a floor, and nobody gets on or off?

Is this real, or is it Memorex? I don't have the answer. If the Yankees' streak is imaginary, then so is this blog. But I do have one suggestion: If Ellsbury is hurt... Mason Williams should be ready. 

Let's ride the juju pony for as long as we can. When the dam breaks, it's not going to be pretty.

I Told You So

Word on the pond is that the Yankees have just put Greg Bird on the DL for 10 days, due to a sore ankle.

I told you, weeks, ago, that limping out ground balls ( as he tries to run 90 feet ) should be a signal to Yankee management that something is not right with this dude.  He is a ballplayer.  He would hustle.  That has been bred into him.

So Girardi isn't watching?

And it isn't just a soreness, folks.  He has some structural damage.  A micro fracture, or series of them, caused ( originally ) by the foul ball off his foot in St. Pete, and complicated by inadequate rest, a poor medical diagnosis and, likely, a lie by Greg as to how he is feeling ( these young guys don't want to admit injuries, and they hurt the team as a result).

The stress of playing games has caused those fractures not to heal and, likely, worsen.  Not being able to plant and adjust his feet on pitched balls, has thrown off his swing.  Duh!  Fucking Duh!  This is not just on Girardi.  It is also on Greg, for not being honest.

Tyler Austin has been out two months, because his fracture was diagnosed.  But when he returns, he'll be able to play, and not go 6-60...until he gets hurt again.

He is one of our favorite Yankees.  We love to call his number.

Greg Bird may need that much time as well.

So is Brian Mitchell the new back-up at first?

Cackle.

Where Is Tyler Austin ?

Remember him?

His first at bat was a homer.  He played surprisingly well at first base, for a converted outfielder.  And he hit.  He was a contributing part of the Yankee offense.

He might be a "big name" in baseball , by now, were it not for an endless string of injuries.  But he gets hurt putting on his socks.  It has been forever and a day since he went on the DL, and he has simply vanished.

Why do we care?

Because Brian Cashman and Joe Girardi will still be saying, when my ship drops me off in
Hades, " that Greg Bird is going to hit.  We are not worried about him.  He is getting close to breaking out."

As Yogi always said, " It got late early out there yesterday."

We are trending badly now.  Opponents have figured it out;  " just walk Judge and let anyone else try to beat us.  But don't give him fastballs.  Don't give him strikes."

The other day, in the Pineapple loss to the O's, he tried too hard to win the game and struck out, lunging at a breaking ball, well off the plate in the dirt.  Like he did, (but learned from) all last year.

Now, he has to remain patient.  But when everyone else is in the tank, that is really hard for a rookie hero to do.

Tyler....please get better soon.  I don't want to be shoveling coal amidst the flames by the time Greg Bird gets a hit.

Can we put a lid on this?

Seriously. It's embarrassing. Doesn't Fox Sports have anything better to do?

Adam Jones subjected to racist names and taunts at Fenway

In Boston? Who woulda thunk it?

Riding high in April, shot down in May?

Be careful what you wish for, old Vonnegut once wrote. Actually, I learned that lesson at age nine. For Christmas that year, I campaigned for an Eldon Bowl-a-Matic. I'd seen the ads with kids screaming with joy, and it looked like crack cocaine. I wanted a piece. I made it my first round draft pick, my Joe Don Looney. 

On Christmas morning, when my six weeks of hard work had born fruit, I shrieked with delight. I tore off its outer wrappings and - right there on the living room floor - mounted it. I set the pins, placed my ball into the plastic bowler's hand, and shot. In that moment, a revelation came: I was... bowling? Since when did I give a crap about bowling? After knocking down the pins, I had to set them back up again. On TV, the kids never had to set them up. This fucking blew. W.T.F. had I done? I could have had a Magic 8-Ball!

So last night, in their sick way, the juju gods granted me what I'd asked for: A Yankee loss that was not akin to six hours on a torture rack, or watching the Ice-Capades. Compared to Sunday, last night was a cool Sylvia Path night in the hot tub. It was like going to bed in first and waking up in second. It was never in doubt, never worth a primal scream over something Girardi did. Down 2-0, then 5-1, then 7-1, farewell, England! Just lie down, close your eyes, let them set the ball in your plastic hand... and bowl.

For the first time since opening week, we have lost two straight. And this one came at the hands of MLB's April punch line - the hapless Jays. For a month, Toronto has been spectacularly rancid. So what happens? Of course... they roll into NYC, yank off our wrappings and bowl us under the tree. 

Another of my wishes was for Greg Bird to get 500 at bats this season. For the record, I still believe in Bird, but watching him last night, he looks like a kid who just opened the biggest box under the tree, and it's clothes. In March, he was Babe Ruth. In April, he's been Ruth Gordon. I don't know what to do. But I do know that Chris Carter isn't the answer, and that if the two guys platoon, there's a good chance neither will ever get hot. We have somehow won April without a hitting first baseman. We won't win May. 

Finally, I remain haunted by my original wish for 2017, belched forth in February, before any of this self-pleasuring began: I wanted the Yankees to use this season as a bridge to a future dynasty, and not get caught up in a Wild Card hysteria that would prompt us to trade prospects for a Jose Quintana-grade pitcher. That still remains my first round draft pick. But April made us drunk with expectations. Now, we are staring at the Bowl-a-Matic. Wanna roll?

Ooh, ooh, jumpin' Jehovessat! I got an idea!

From now on, Dustin Pedroia's nickname should be... drum roll, please...

LITTLE PAPI!

Hours dwindling down on Aaron Judge nickname poll

MOAB has taken the lead. 

Keep in mind the critical importance of this poll: Under terms of the 2015 Paris Nickname Accords, we at IT IS HIGH will be legally obligated to use this nickname for the next 20 years.

Okay, We Have A Name Now ; Pineapples

Duque's magical imagination has now given us an important, and long-lasting, new bit of baseball rhetoric;  The Pineapple.

A loss that hurts so badly, it is as if......well, he has articulated the rest.

Clearly, yesterday's failure to win was as excruciating as our comeback from down 9-1 was exhilarating.  And this has to be true for both sides;  the players; the coaches and managers; and the fans.

 The owners don't give a rat's ass about the outcomes, because the crowds were huge, the tv audience gargantuan, and the spending at the park monumental.  In other words, the money was just fine, thank you.  Just ask Hal.  He won't even recall the scores.

I blame it all on Greg Bird and, likely, his lingering injury.  If he were contributing at all, this loss doesn't happen.  He bangs out a double,  a walk, and maybe even a sacrifice fly in the 10th.  Instead of the endless strikeouts, infield pop-ups, and one hop ground balls (for easy force outs at home) provided by teammates trying to cover for him.  If Bird is doing what he is theoretically capable of, we win this game early.  Three times, maybe four, all we needed was for someone to get the ball out of the infield.   But no one could do that, yesterday.

Which brings me to an issue:  I still cannot get over the last out Greg made the day before, when he jogged/limped to first base on his ground ball to second ( fielded in the outfield, due to the shift).  Is no one watching?  People in this game are criticized for failure to hustle, and there is no criticism forthcoming.  Ergo, he is playing with an injury and he should be resting or in surgery.  What is going on?

I take some solace from Duque's cautions on perspective...the butterfly fart, and all.  But this loss will be remembered.  If we need a win in September, it will because we could not perform in this game.

A victory was virtually handed to us, at least three times, yesterday.  Three chances to destroy Baltimore and their confidence.  Three chances to make Buck take off those shades, stop chewing, and beat his head against the dugout roof.  Three chances to hold on the to the lead in the AL East.

Instead, we shoved a pineapple up our butts.

I still can't walk.

Why must Yankee losses be so excruciating?

The April Empire lost its eighth game yesterday. Eight. In the NFL, eight losses keeps you out of the playoffs. But in baseball, eight losses are a butterfly's fart. By October, we will have tasted the raunchy underwear of defeat about 70 times. We have at least 60 more to swallow. Altogether now: Gulp. 

So... W.T.F? What's with these waterboard-quality, pineapple-up-the-keister defeats? We lose because a sure-handed SS (Kozma) botches a DP grounder, or Starlin Castro flubs a pop-up, or we can't touch Ivan Fucking Nova! These are dog-life losses, seven in one. And yesterday's was the worst yet, a "10" on the hospital bed pain scale. In the end, Laurence Olivier was drilling holes in my teeth and asking, "Is he safe? Is he safe? Is he safe?" while the ump kept calling Austin Romine out at the plate. A couple more like yesterday, and I'm moving to West Virginia for the free Oxycontin. 

Listen: I think we - the priapismic Yankee fan base -must take a few deep breaths and step back from the mosh pit. We've been so hungry for a real Yankee lineup - a team that isn't merely chasing the final wild card berth - that we've begun to assign September significance to April events. 

We must keep our eyes on Scranton and Trenton - the Clints and Gleybers - and not get swept up with statistical projections of how many HRs Aaron Judge will hit - (no lie, John and Suzyn ran the numbers and came up with 72) - because we have 60 more kitchen sink losses coming, and each one will have us screaming like Dustin Hoffmann in the dentist chair. It's not just a long season. It's a dog season. If Judge finishes with 30 HR - beyond our pre-season expectations - that means he'll drop to four per month. 

But yesterday... damn, that was one flaming turd of a loss. I can handle a 15-0 blowout with maybe Ronald Torreyes pitching the ninth. But please, no more like yesterday. I'll never make it.