Game over for the NFL

If this holds, and medical science has finally discovered a way to detect chronic traumatic encephalopathy—or CTE—in living patients, then I hereby wish NFL owners and administrators a fond farewell to their global ATM. 

Because once a player is presented with a diagnosis that suggests permanent brain damage, I sincerely believe he will seek other lines of work... or be forced by the league to do so.

This will also effect baseball. Remember how Jacoby Ellsbury's season turned on a dime this year, after he ran into a wall and suffered a concussion. When he returned, he was terrible for six weeks - something the Yankees now say is a normal phenomenon. Could it have lasting damage? Do we want to know?

Obviously, baseball offers nothing like the constant brutality of football. I don't even think boxing compares to the NFL. But if a scan shows a player faces the risk early dementia - a future I would not wish upon anyone, even Redsocks - would it be worth the money? 

If it's true, NFL owners are about to suffer a concussion.

Scott Boras on the Yankees: “The fact that their payroll is going to be under what it was 10 or 15 years ago is something that everyone in the game has to look at... What are their goals? What’s their principle?.. When you have a choice, what do you do with your success? What do you do with the greatness of your business operation? And how do you reward the fans that allowed that to happen?”

First, let's take a shower. Let's rinse off the cooties of craven self-interest. Let's recognize that Scott Boras is not exactly Abe Lincoln under a facial hair ban. He's a few gold chains removed from Tony Soprano, in that he long ago helped turn the sports agents' profession into a protection racket, greased with the kind of hype that Hulk Hogan and Randy Roddy would admire. The mere notion of a star player signing with Scott Boras sent shivers through an MLB front office, which had traditionally held all the cards in contract negotiations. For more than two decades now, Boras has been depicted as the supervillain in contract disputes, the barbarian who ruined a perfectly delightful gentleman's game, and always, always, always the reason why a beloved player just bolted from the town that raised him. He became baseball's Babadook, the demon that turns youngsters against their parent club. If not for that damned Boras, Alex woulda stayed in Seattle...

But listen: That quote upstairs? He's fucking right, and I can't let it wash over us, unnoticed. Yesterday, Boras touched upon one of the critical questions within the Yankiverse, one that we too often ignore. We bemoan the huge pots of money being wasted on a Jacoby Ellsbury or an A-Rod, and we think, If not for those damn contracts... as if our front office had been hypnotized by Boras' shiny watch.

As the Yankees head into 2018, once again Food Stamps Hal Steinbrenner is vowing to shrink payroll below the luxury tax threshold. That will mean - the Gammonites constantly assure us - the Yankees can bid next year on the likes of Bryce Harper, Manny Machado and/or Clayton Kershaw. This is the carrot cake being dangled in front of us: If we cut payroll now, we can spend big next year. But it begs the question: If Hal balks now, why won't he balk then? Harper may demand $40 million a year. Do any of us expect Hal to bite? Cheap is cheap, and the Yankee owner is not acting like a Yankee owner.

According to Forbes, the Yankees are worth $3.4 billion. That's more than three times what the Florida Marlins recently sold for, and it's not counting the Steinbrenners' minority ownership of the YES Network, which has been valued at more than the Yankees. Prince Hal has too much money to count. Whatever he saves this year in luxury taxes will be pocket change. In playing an austerity card, he is merely enjoying a parlor game: Let's have fun, Bootsie, and see how cheaply we can win the world series! 

Yesterday, shortly after Boras erupted, reporters approached Hal and recited the above quote. Hal's response was to smile and say, "I can see Scott saying that." And - yes - he's right. We must all consider the source and then take a shower. But here's the deal, folks:

THE ENTIRE YANKIVERSE NEEDS TO BE SAYING THAT, TOO. 

This season, the Yankees will be chasing the World Series. We're not fantasizing another one-game Wild Card. And it will probably require Food Stamps Hal to reach deeper into his platinum purse than he wants. Right now, it means eating Ellsbury's contract until he becomes a trade chip commodity. It means shelling out for CC Sabathia on a one or two-year deal. It means finding and buying a lights-out bullpen lefty and, for God's sake, it means springing whatever it takes for the Japanese Babe Ruth. And if Babe-San is not available, it means going after a solid starting pitcher - and, yes, overpaying in almost every case.

Of course, the parlor game here is Hal trying to finagle all this while staying below his self-imposed fun payroll. That's where the Yankee fan-base needs to start asking questions. Boras is right: The team's payroll is shaping up to be less than it was a decade ago. That begs an honest question: What exactly are the goals of this team?

There are no takeaways from Cashman's comments yesterday, and that's fine

Yesterday, to an assembled gaggle of Gammonites, Brian "Cooperstown" Cashman gave a brief "state of the Yankees" roundup. In a few short tongue-strokes he suggested that:

1. Jacoby Ellsbury will be our $21 million fourth OF

2. Starlin Castro is set as Yankee 2B.

3. Chase Headley is the leading candidate to play 3B, though Glyber Torres might compete in Tampa.

4. CC Sabathia might be replaced in the rotation, if the Yankees sign the Japanese Babe Ruth - aka the "Japanbino."

All of this should be absorbed through one critical filter:

Cashman never reveals his plans in public. Never.

(By the way, that's not a knock. Though this will disappoint many of you, I am hereby on the Cashman Is Doing Fine bandwagon. How can this be? 

Well, we took the World Champs to the mat, we have a young team, our farm system is popping, and we might even ditch that hated luxury tax in time to buy Manny Machado next year. Listen: If we are going to scream at Cashman when times are bad, we must give credit when the Yankees are going well. Let's also praise Cash for doing the right thing and firing Joe Girardi - a tough move that simply needed to happen. 

Note: I will still mock him as "Cooperstown," because I don't believe executives and owners belong in the Hall. It's a sacred place for players, those rawboned idiots who crash into walls and drink themselves silly - all for us. Pencil-pushers have no place there. Besides, they get to honor themselves, and if you look around, there is no shortage of statues and street names for those who never once took a fastball to the ribs.) 

It's that simple. Brian Cashman never tells us his plans. Clearly, he sees no gain in it. Talks with reporters don't matter. We must simply try to go about our daily lives, clinging to the hope that Ellsbury will be traded, that Starlin Castro isn't the long-term solution at 2B, and that Miguel Andujar will not rot in Scranton. Cooperstown is courting the Japanbino. Let's hope he learned how NOT to do the Asian peace handshake.

Envisioning the long-overdue John Sterling National Monument

Now that the fund-raising effort is underway, it's time to conceptualize the Monument. I'm setting $100 million as baseline budget, and I'm thinking it needs to be outside the bustling NYC corridor, so visitors can experience a more personal and Zen-like event. Proposals are already arriving each day. Some of the leading contenders:

The 100 Mile-Wide Sterling Sand Sculpture

(can be viewed from outer space)

Visitors can hike, bike or ride golf carts
across 250 square miles of desert sand,
which has been spray-freshened and sculpted
into The Master's profile. Don't want to walk?
See it in your own rented gondola! 
You'll be high, you'll be far,

You'll be... Sterlinged! 

Young Mount Sterling

Carved into a mystical Catskill mountainside,
the young Master and his friends,
George "Steinbrenner" Washington,
Ted "Lilly" Roosevelt, and Abraham Almonte,
watch over Grossingers. 

Ol' Mount Sterling

Between George and Teddy, The Master
seems to be warbling a great win,
while Abe looks on solemnly,
unable to process the "Yankee victory."

The Sterling Monument

This roadside attraction, describing a false
Confederate background for the Master, 
will delight white-supremacists and neo-Nazis galore!
Take that, snowflakes!

Sterling World
 Museum, Hotel & Convention Center
Syracuse, NY

Shop in the mall, luxuriate in the healing waters
of Onondaga Lake (burn unit 2 miles away)
and glimpse the magical majesty of Syracuse, NY,
birthplace of the ATM!

Sterling World is also the headquarters
of IT IS HIGH!

Long Overdue -- John Sterling National Memorial

To date, we have raised $1.29, principally through the wonderful in-kind donation of a candy bar by a lady on the street.

Please give what you can.

Here We Go Again -- Radio Silence?

7 years later, we face the same situation.

NY Post prints headline from The Onion

It's a bit off-topic - the horrible Giants - but it made me laugh.

Prepare for the Yankees to get raided in the Rule 5 draft, as tanking teams seek to become the next Astros

Last December, when the San Diego Patsies selected 20-year-old Yankee catcher Luis Torrens in the Rule 5 draft, you could hear the caw-caw sounds of blogs snickering. No way was Torrens ready for the majors. He wasn't even ready for Double A. It was borderline cruel to make a prospect sit out a year when his testicles have barely dropped, and - worse - Torrens had already missed a season due to shoulder problems. Two lost years? Horrible thing to do to a kid.

But they did it anyway. The reason? San Diego was following baseball's new building model: The Philadelphia 76ers. It's simple. You just tank. Just field a team so bad it will be lucky to win 60. Then do it again. You'll keep drafting No. 1 until you hit the jackpot. And if you're too cheap to sign that top pick, don't worry. Your fellow owners rigged the system so you'll receive a compensation top pick next year! You literally cannot lose. You can get sandwich round picks, and trade veterans for prospects, and play minimum wage rookies - and who cares? Finish last for three or four years, and when the Bryces and Stephens finally reach their peak, you'll win the pennant... and then, why, you can demand the city builds you a new stadium, or you'll walk to Winston-Salem! Perfect. Bravo!

Actually, tanking is hardly new. It's been played since the days when Judge Roy Moore and Luis Polonia were double-dating. But it reached a crescendo this year with the Houston Astros, a franchise so craven in its pursuit of the tank that Sport Illustrated predicted its eventual rise. For the three years between 2011-13, the Astros averaged 54 wins. They tanked, and tanked, and then tanked again, and now they are World Champions, with their front office hailed for its genius. Bravo!

The 2018 Tankathon begins next month with the Rule 5 draft. That's when the Yankees farm system will get picked clean by teams who barely plan to show up next season. Thus, they can draft young, high-ceiling prospects and stash them on the roster all season - because they don't care about winning. In fact, a good team will only mess up their tanking strategy. 

Look at San Diego. When your city just lost its NFL team, the last thing you need to fear is a fan uprising. The Padres could send out a lineup of cosplayers from the ComicCon, and nobody will complain. Last year, holding Torrens the entire season, they effectively competed with a 24-man roster. Torrens came to bat 123 times. He hit .163 with no HRs. In the entire year, he had 25 total bases. He just watched.

For years, the Yankees were one of the few proud franchises that refused to tank, because Hal Steinbrenner famously proclaimed his Empire could build and contend. Yeah, right. Two summers ago, everything began to turn when we ditched Wild Card hopes and dealt Aroldis Chapman, Andrew Miller and Carlos Beltran for prospects. Yep, we tanked. And frankly, we came late to the party. For years, we pissed away prospects for the likes of Alphonso Soriano and Lance Berkman, propping up last-ditch playoff runs until the cupboard was bare. Now, we're flush with prospects - so strong that Brian Cashman will probably trade a few this week, rather than subject them to the Rule 5.

Then there is Torrens. I don't want to root against him. It wasn't his fault. The kid signed with the Yankees and surely dreamed of playing in New York. But I sort of hope he tanks, so the Padres don't get rewarded for screwing both their youngsters and their fans. Either way, it won't matter. They'll rise from all the draft picks, and they'll horde all their prospects, and the front office eventually will be hailed for its brilliance. After all, you can't lose them all.  

Just tank, folks. Finish last. Remember: If at first you don't succeed... fail, fail again.

Latest Poll.......

Which will occur first?

1.  The Yankees identify their new manager, or

2.  You will be sitting down to eat this?


 

Would Jete trade Giancarlo Stanton to Redsocks?

Et tu, Jeetus? The annual GM meetings - baseball's version of college break at Daytona - begin today at DisneyWorld, and amid the Jello shots and hazing porn, there is talk that the Miami Marlins, or the Florida Marlins - whatever, Derek Jeter's new acquisition - is parading around Giancarlo Stanton on an elevated silken pillow, like pubescent Brooke Shields in the 1978 movie, Pretty Baby, which might have given us a clue about Hollywood's sensibilities towards pedophilia, if anybody back then had wanted to know. 

One key to these five days of debauchery is whether the Martians will trade Giancarlo Stanton - MLB's greatest slugger outside of the Home Run Derby - for an Andy Phillips and two Domingo Jeans, plus a dump truck full of money, because Stanton's contract is the biggest pro sports boondoggle since Vince McMahon launched the XFL. Hence, Redsock fans - who know a thing or two about boondoggles, 'cause they've seen a thing or two about boondoggles - are giddy with hope.

Their acid-inspired fantasies go this way: The Marlins - desperate to shed a contract that runs 10 more years at $295 million - will take anything that majestic Boston offers them, as long as it comes with a nice plump check. If you look at Stanton - an injury-prone .268 career hitter, whose previous two seasons (27 HRs, twice) had made him untradable - you can understand why Miami wants out ASAP. The guy hit 59 HRs last year, and at 27, it's now or never to move him. Sluggers go south in a hurry, and Miami has seen enough to know it want to be seated comfortably in a chair before the music stops. So the question is simple: What would Jeter accept for Stanton, and would he - could he - undermine the Yankee hopes by selling the behemoth to Boston?

I hate to think of Jeter as an adversary. It's fundamentally wrong. He's still family, right? Last intro before Whitey on Old-Timers Day, right? But in recent weeks, he has raided the Yankee front office (farm system director Gary Denbo and an assistant), and the Rule 5 draft is coming fast. Surely, the Marlins know about every Yankee prospect currently stashed in some Brazilian rain forest league, and they'll pounce, once the selections begin. Okay, that's Chinatown, Jake. It's how the game is played. But here's a greater concern:

If John Henry - the Boston sugar daddy, who financed David Price ($157 million through '22), Pablo Sandoval ($42 million through '20) and Rusney Castillo ($36 million, through '20) without flinching - offers to accept the Stantonian whale, and even throw in a couple Pawtucketonians, will Jeter take the money and run... effectively stabbing his former team in the back?

All's fair in love and war. And this is war. Jeter owes us nothing, and his job is to run the Marlins. I GET that. Also, John Henry has shown no fear about running the Redsock payroll into the stratosphere. As a self-made zillionaire, he seems to realize that his money supply is closer to infinity than to zero, and that the more championships he wins, the less he will be remembered for falling on his yacht and being ambulanced to a hospital after the Popeye's fried chicken debacle of 2011.

Meanwhile, Prince Hal Steinbrenner seems to think he'll be judged in the afterlife by stockholders rather than fans. (Wait - let's stop here: I don't mean to beat on Hal; right now, things are going well.) If Hal lets Boston outspend the Yankees by a huge margin - and thus win the AL East in 2018 - the barbed wire whips will come out. And if Jeet trades Stanton to Boston, he damn well better bleed that franchise of talent, or his bronze plaque in Monument Park will grow a second skin of phlegm and mustard. Trade him to Philly or St. Louis, and noobdy will care. If Stanton goes to Boston, wow... With friends like that, who needs enemies?

Yankee Rumor : Russian Twins To Co-Manage 2018 team

The Ishtichenko twins, pictured above, are rumored to be Brian Cashman's choice to replace Joe Girardi  as NY Yankee manager (s).

This photo, where fly identification is under review, is one of the few available in the sports writers' archives.  According to rumor, Brian Cashman has many more photos, which he will maintain in secure facilities, unless compelled to use them to exercise control.

The Ishtichenko twins were born under President Putin's, " baseball is re-born in Russia " strategy, and they have been exposed to the game since the age of six.  According to a spokeswoman for the Russian leader, these two kids represent the best of Soviet baseball ( now called, Russia ).  A key double play combination in the Siberian Little League, they emigrated to America in the 1980's.

My research indicated that they were declared ineligible to play in the Little League world Series and the Olympics due to excessive use of human growth hormones.  Supposedly, however,  they can each now speak to Aaron Judge eyeball to eyeball.

 The older brother ( by 3 minutes ), is Ivan, at left.  He starred for Brighton Beach High as a right handed pitcher and short-stop, while brother Albermov, was a pinch runner.  Albermov, ( known as Movey ) led the league in stolen bases until his legs were damaged in a motorcycle accident on Coney Island.

Since then, their itineraries and experiences with the American game are a bit sketchy. According to one story, both befriended Bobby Meecham when the Yankee second baseman was sent down to Nashville by Big George Steinbrenner. Bobby recommended them to play/coach in the South Mexican Dirt Field League, where I should have come across them.

Brian Cashman, while unavailable for comment, has often indicated that a good Yankee manager needs at least two heads.  It is expected that Movey will manage the bullpen, while Ivan handles the on-field strategy and most of the media interactions.

I still think a woman is a better idea.  Maybe even a Russian.

Dead Zone holds breath over Justus's left nutsack

Greetings from the Dead Zone of sports news. How can I speak such blaspheme? Well, here's a headline about an incident in the Arizona Fall League this weekend.

Yesterday, in the Arizona Fall League, somebody whacked a come-backer at Justus Sheffield. It hit him on the left quad, inches from the Promised Land. The manager and pitching coach came out to the mound. Justus gamely threw a few warm up pitches. They took him out. He's now probably reading comic books in the hot tub.

If this had happened to CC Sabathia in a playoff game, it would be a paragraph in one of those sections that used to be headlined "Diamond Dust" or "Game Notes." But it didn't happen to CC in a playoff game. It happened to a guy most Yankee fans think is Gary Sheffield's son - that is - if they don't think it's Gary Sheffield himself, and they're wondering why Gary is pitching? Secondarily, it didn't happen in a playoff game. It happened in the Arizona dirt league, while Justus was hurling for the Scotsdale Somethingorothers. It is roughly three months before pitchers and catchers report to Tampa - the world could be in nuclear war by then - and here is a story in the Daily News about Justus Sheffield nearly tweaking his gonad and - get this - I read it in a Rod Serling narrated state of panic, fearing the worst - and that is because we are in the Dead Zone of sports news.

Today, the awful Giants play the horrible San Francisco 49ers in their quests to be the worst team in the most diseased pro sport. Dead Zone. The Knicks are currently enjoying one of their brief, early season flings with respectability, thanks to the absence of Carmelo. Dead Zone. The Mets, the Jets, the Rangers... who cares? Dead Zone. Tomorrow, maybe Chance Adams' dog will be diagnosed with ringworm. Now, that'll be news!

The Cito Culver Era may be over

Yesterday, amid the tumult over the meeting between two world leaders - Eric Wedge and Brian Cashman (pictured, right) - a seemingly minor news flash may have crawled across the flat-screen of your subconsciousness. 

Cito Culver became a minor league free agent... again.

Yes, THE Cito Culver. The former first-round pick - for years mocked as a symbol of Yankee draft ineptitude - can now sign with any major league organization, and my guess is that he will find more promising opportunities than with the Evil Emp. Culver, now 25, still has an outside shot at becoming an MLB utility lug nut, but it better happen soon. The Yankees are overstocked with IF prospects, and if he were to re-sign - as he did last year - I wouldn't bet on him. Last year, in Scranton, he hit .223 with 12 HRs and 1 SB. No, it wouldn't look good at all.

Truth be told, I always felt bad about Culver, who became a whipping boy for angry Yankee fans through no fault of his own. In 2010, the Yankees drafted him with their first pick because they were playing a strategy - they would go cheap in the first round and spend more later (Mason Williams, also a free agent.) Culver signed immediately, as they knew he would, and when he didn't hit, it left him forever to be held up as a Yankee disappointment, a failed first-rounder.

That he played SS didn't help. Cito was expected to replace Jeter. Being a switch-hitter didn't help. He eventually gave up and batted solely from the right. Being a potential pitching prospect probably didn't help. There were always people suggesting he scrap SS and move to the bullpen. And maybe they were right. In his six-year minor league career, Culver has hit .231 with little power. 

Here's hoping he finds the right place, and if he does come back to the Yankees - it will be because they see him as a person younger players should emulate. Maybe he'll be another Rex Hudler - a first-rounder held up for scorn - but who actually built a career out of hustling. They say the draft is a lottery. Hey, you never know...

The Japanese Babe Ruth could mean a godsend: The six-man Yankee rotation

The Yankiverse is so hot for Shohei Otani that John Sterling is surely, as we speak, auditioning homer-hollers in his shower. "Oh my, Shohei! Otani's uncanny!" Imagine this: In one swoop, we add a shutdown pitcher/solid DH to the Judge/Didi/Sanchez/Bird lineup and win the AL East by - NO, NO, NO! I CAN'T DO THIS. My brain just went Aaron Hernandez. Too good to be true. Won't happen. He'll tweak a gonad. He'll sign elsewhere. His boat will sink. He'll get bitten by a raccoon. FORGET THIS, EVERYBODY, NOW... FOR YOUR OWN GOOD! 

Remember Yoan Moncada? Sure you do. HE was going to sign with us, wasn't he? Everybody said so. Done deal. Then, one day, Boston outbid us - that's when we started calling Hal "Food Stamps" - while we talked of Zolio Almonte. Later, they converted him into Chris Sale. Remember how the Yankees later blamed Felix "the Gardner" Lopez, Jessica's ex? It didn't matter. We blew it then, we'll blow it now. Somebody will use the wrong fork, offend him, and he'll run to Milwaukee. Don't get your hopes up, just because Cooperstown Cashman friended him on Facebook. Think of Yoan Moncada and steel yourself for the oncoming pain. DO NOT FALL INTO THE TRAP OF HOPE! SHOW DISCIPLINE, DAMMIT! UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD WE - IN ANY WAY - IMAGINE ONE SCINTILLA OF THIS FELLOW - THE JAPANESE BABE RUTH - EVER APPEARING IN PINSTRIPES. 

IT. WON'T. HAPPEN! 

But - then again, Gee Willikers, Mr. Wizard! - what if it does! Think this...

If we sign this guy, we could implement the kind of generational breakthrough that alters the future of the game. Yes, I'm talking about the six-man rotation. Stay with me here, because this require deep thought. In Japan, pitchers go roughly once a week. When they come to America, they must change their routines. Sometimes, it works; sometimes, no. But Otani will be an outlier: He'd DH for us on selected off-days. Thus, we could run him ragged by cramming into the regular five-man rotation. 

The answer: Go six. First, it would help Masahiro Tanaka, who has done better with extra rest. (In 2016, the difference at one stretch was dramatic: a 5.33 ERA on four days rest, and a 1.70 ERA on five or more.) 

Severino? He's a bulldog, for sure, but the guy just threw 193 innings - one year after throwing 71. We need to safeguard our investment. We cannot afford to run him up to 220 next year. 

CC? Well, assuming he returns, he must change his ways. He's used to four days, and it might be a problem. But at his age, a reduced load has to help. It's not as if the guy has made it through a full season recently without hitting the DL. It makes sense.

Jordan Montgomery is too young to be defined by a four-day routine. 

Sonny Gray? He might see conniptions. My earnest response: Who gives a lick? Chance Adams and Justin Sheffield - or some looming Trentonian - could take his slot anyway.

And baby makes six! Moreover, it would give Otani more at bats between starts. I figure he can rest on days after starts, or maybe before. It's a crap shoot, depending on how he does. 

Listen: Otani could save our young arms through an extended season - hell, through the wonder years of their careers. It can set us up for the post-season that ends on Halloween rather than October 4. The Yankees could find themselves with a huge elemental advantage, and serve as the vanguard of a fundamental change in modern baseball. 

Unless we blow it. Which, of course, will happen. YOANNNN MONNNNCADA! SLOOOOOWLY I TURN... STEP BY STEP, I CREPT UP TO HIM...

What's the real reason for this drawn out process of naming the next Yankee manager?

Over the last 48 hours, the list of candidates to be Next Yankee whipping mule Manager supposedly has expanded by three - David Cone, John Flaherty and Aaron Boone - with each offering one key talent: The ability to seamlessly take over and rebrand The Joe Girardi Show, in much the way that Dick Sargent replaced Dick York on Bewitched... that is, Samantha (aka Meredith Marakovits) will pretend to not even notice! (But we will.)

And let's not kid ourselves: The Aaron Boone Show - or The Coney Show! - is no small potatoes. In fact, it's worth wondering how much actual weight it will carry in the managerial search.

Let me put it this way: Will anyone watch The Al Pedrique Show?

In the upside-down world of sports culture, the YES Network - built around the airing of Yankee games - is worth more than the team itself. How can I speak such blasphemy? In 2014, Rupert Murdoch bought 80 percent of YES for $3.9 billion. Last May, Forbes estimated the worth of the Yankees at $3.4 billion - yep - a half-billion less, two years later. (Once again, let these numbers remind us of the ridiculously unfathomable wealth of the Steinbrenner family, next time Hal poor-mouths about luxury taxes.)

Hence, I'm wondering how critical it will be for the next Yankee whipping mule manager to be an experienced media phony, who can woo Suzyn in the Managers Show and survive 30 excruciating minutes with Ms. Meredith once a week. (By the way, it's not her fault; watching managers visit pizza shops and petting zoos isn't exactly talk show gold.) The World Series managers over the last three years - Ned Yost, Terry Collins, Terry Francona, Joe Maddon, AJ Hinch and Dave Roberts - made their bones as managers, not baseball versions of Ryan Seacrest. (And Roberts works in LA, where blowing kisses on camera is paramount.) 

So, I ask: Are the stories true or fake news? Are the Yankees really pondering Coney, Flash and Booney? We'll soon know - maybe, anyway - if they receive invitations for sit-down interviews with Cooperstown Cashman. This week, Rob Thomson - odds on fave in Las Vegas on Oct. 27, when the above chart was published - endured a five-hour tribunal, describing what he'll do when Aaron Judge has his bad month, or Dellin Betances goes Todd Proctor. How much was Thomson explaining his philosophy, and how much was he auditioning for CenterStage with Michael Kay?

Clearly, the Yankees have one key advantage: Even though he's joined at the hip with the reanimated corpse of Rupert Murdoch, Prince Hal doesn't have to give a shit about the zombified, feces-faced cadaver and his army of the dead. The Yankees will enter 2018 with a young, emerging lineup and sky-high expectations, pulling solid ratings no matter who stands grimacing in the dugout. YES viewership will shoot through the roof, especially if the team signs the Japanese Babe Ruth. Thus, I wonder if  the real reason for this lengthy trial is something else, entirely.

Could the process less related to bullpens and more to Harvey Feinstein and Bill O'Reilly?

Yep. Bingo. I'm betting the Evil Empire is vetting every candidate on the chances of a New York Times front page expose on April 1, where a dozen women share dick pix or lurid stories from hotel rooms in the Catskills. If a Yankee manager were thus charged - even if happened in 1992 - imagine how ESPN - (think: Boston) - would explode with indignation. I'm betting that Cash is waiting for the Steele dossiers to be finished. It's a new world, folks. You can call it the upside-down, but I'd call it the new due diligence and - frankly - overdue-due. Which means no doo-doo, right?

The Official IIHIIFIIc Coiffure?

As my Dad would have said, "I'm thinking not."

Meanwhile, we still don't have a manager....

A Trip Down Memory Lane

While the debate continues as to whether Brian Cashman has, or has not, already identified the next Yankee manager, I have another item to occupy some space.

I was among a few volunteers who won the lottery to read this new book, by Kevin Cook.  It features the 1947 World Series ( Yankees vs. Brooklyn Dodgers ), and focuses on six men who played key roles in that classic match-up.  Truth be told, hundreds of baseball characters ( I didn't count, but it was a lot ) make their appearances in this tale revisited.

As a peek back into history, I was right at home with this book and I flew through the pages.  This book, this era, replayed the beginning of my Yankee commitment.  And it filled in so many memories that were fuzzy, or un-noticed, by the 6 year old Yankee wannabe  that I was at the time.

The key names were players I both adored and hated.  The Yankees got my adoration and the Dodgers my un-ending malice.  In 1947, many of the players mentioned were young, but blossomed through the 1940's and 1950's.  The Duke Snyders and Gil Hodges of Hall of Fame mention.  Lawerence Peter Berra, Allie Reynolds, and Joe Page.  And the great Jackie Robinson, who debuted in this World Series, as a first baseman.

The book focuses on four players ( Bill Bevens, Al Gionfriddo, Cookie Lavagetto and Snuffy Sternweiss, and two managers; Bucky Harris and Burt Shotton.  We learn what made each of these characters special, in addition to the brief ( for some )  moments of fame on the highlight reels
(e.g. Gionfriddo's catch; Cookie's hit off Bevens, etc ).

There is great depth provided on many well known baseball characters.  Insights most people never know or knew.  Some people were odious ( I put Lee Mc Phail in that category) ; and others were heroic and noble ( Branch Rickey fits here ).

When I first started collecting Yankee baseball cards , I was always disappointed when I kept getting George  "Snuffy" Sternweiss  ( wanting Mantle and Joe D ).  Now, I again wish my mother hadn't thrown out my tins of cards when I went to college ( don't we all?).  Who knew how good Snuffy was, how solid a person, how great a friend?  And who remembered that he died, tragically, when his commuter train from Red Bank, New Jersey, went off a bridge into the Newark River?

I always thought the Washington Senators came in last all the time, despite having a few good players like Eddie Yost.  But manager Bucky Harris had guided them to two world championships in 1924 and 1925 as a player /manager.  Bucky was a tough kid out of the Pennsylvania coal mines.  Ty Cobb tried to intimidate him on the base paths and couldn't do it.  Ty was just a tough, mean person but, in the end, showed heart for this young man nicknamed " Bucky."

I am tempted to repeat every insight and piece of history from the book.  But I know that is not my role.  I will tell you a few shocks;  Sherman Lollar caught for the Yankees ( I recall him as a .300 hitting all star for the White Sox ) and Charlie Dressen coached third for the Yankees in the '47 series.  I always loathed him as the effective Dodgers' manager.

Needless to say, I couldn't put the book down.  It was my childhood, retraced.  It fit " right in my wheelhouse," as the saying goes.   I "knew" all of these players ( truthfully, I didn't pay attention to managers until Casey arrived), and listened to and ( when we got a TV)  watched the world series's games portrayed in the book.

Every Yankee fan of that era " hated" Cookie and Al Gionfriddo and, mostly, we still do.  They made world class plays at key moments that burned the Yankees ( made the stoic Joe D kick the dirt in frustration ) , and were forever honored and remembered for those plays.  Though, in truth, both were " bit" players in the history of the game.  After learning more about them, I have given up my enmity.  They are good guys.  Baseball players.

This is one of the things that makes baseball great.  One key play at a crucial moment.  That dream we all had in the backyard with a bat in hand, or glove at the ready.  One chance.  Fame and memories forever.

A final word for two other characters;  Bill Bevens.  This was one of the strongest humans on the planet, developed from hard work, as a kid,  in Oregon.  He got screwed out of one world series win and lost the other, after throwing a 1 hitter.  But he was a fine human being. More importantly, I learned that his son played American Legion ball, as did I. Finally, I have isolated my kinship with Yankee greatness!

The other tidbit goes to Dr. Bobby Brown a journeyman third baseman ( I always loved those guys....my position ).  Bobby had an amazing record as a world series pinch hitter and was a graduate of Stanford.  Aside from Lou Gehrig ( Columbia University ), most ballplayers were hardscrabble kids, signed after throwing rocks against bottles on a farm fence.  If I only knew.

I am done now, though I could talk about this book and its insights for hours.  If it fits your time period, and your team loyalty, you will particularly love this book.  If you are a baseball fan, and enjoy the history of the game, you will love this book.

I am sending it to my friend in Virginia.  We grew up as Yankee fans in Yonkers, New York.  He has been my historian from our earliest days ( teachers, classmates and baseball)..  Anytime I can't quite remember something, or someone, I call ( or text ) him and he knows.

This book brought me back to when I was flipping baseball cards, on summer afternoons,  with friends on Cassilis Avenue.  I had lots of extra " Snuffy " Sternweiss cards I could afford to lose.

Now, I want them back.

Did the Yankees really fire Girardi without a replacement in mind?

Suddenly, we're watching a reality TV show - Bachelor: Cashman Court - where beefcake suitors from the MLB old boy network vie for the affections of Brian "Cooperstown" Cashman and the title of "Mr. Yankiverse." Categories include poise, talent and swimsuit. If news accounts are to be believed - (frankly, I don't know why we'd believe anything the Empire tells us, but that's another matter) - our diligent GM is already perusing candidates like a shopper studying the live lobsters at Wegmans. 

Last night, shortly after A-Rod told a breathless world he'd rather "own" a team than manage one, the comedy duo of David Cone and John Flaherty "tossed their hats into the ring," so to speak, at a presumably well-oiled charity event. (Apparently, Stiller & Meara are retired.) What is it with announcers? They have the creamiest job in humanity - three in the YES booth, with nothing to do but yippity-yap about Pauly O'Neill's donut intake - yet they think they can solve the mystery of Dellin Betances? Crazy.

But let's return to the Central Thesis: Two weeks ago, when Cashman clipped Girardi like a sore toenail, expectations were that a replacement would be unveiled within hours, or shortly after the World Series ended. Yet here we are, nine days into a snowy November, apparently on the verse of a conga line of job interviews, like mobsters being hauled before a grand jury. Yesterday, bench coach Rob Thomson went before the secret tribunal. Good grief, is Cashman really expecting some genetically evolved Stump Merrill to "WOW" him in a one-on-one? Are they taking stool samples? Is this what Trump calls "extreme vetting?" WTF is going on? Some possibilities:

1. We had a first pick, and he said no. That could be Tim Naehring, a respected scout-turned-administrator within the franchise machine. Early on, when his name was mentioned, he said he wasn't interested. At first, I figured this was just somebody who was never going to get the job anyway saying he wasn't interested - sort of like A-Rod yesterday. Now, who knows? Or maybe it's someone on another team. Did someone scorn our advances? 

2. Cashman simply enjoys the process. Maybe it's just him having consolidated power like that Saudi oil prince, and he's now taking a victory Calgon Beauty Bath, while the "baseball men" sponge his backside and declare fealty, like Tyrion Lannister to the Mother of Dragons. Fuck if I know. I've never thought of Cashman in such terms, but after decades of getting coffee for the Stick Michaels and Bob Watsons - the ones who played - maybe he's loving the chance to see grown men grovel and peel grapes. I'd hate to think this, but his job could turn anybody crazy. Has he gone up the Hudson on us?

3. I'm completely wrong. Yes, this is hard to imagine, but I did once champion the cause of Mr. Slade Heathcott. (Listen, dammit: He's a free agent, only 27; if we trade Gardy and Ells, the Cotster could be our CF!) Maybe on Oct. 25 the Yankees understood just one thing: That warhorse Joe had become a pitcher of well-spent bong-water - not worth sipping - and that after 10 years - 10 lifetimes - he simply needed a farm on a hill with happy chickens. Hence - kaboom! - Cashman made the call before Joe's bedroom eyes talked him out of it. Once they decided Joe wasn't working, that a younger team needed a younger manager, that was that. But... if so, why the pageantry of bringing in Thomson - age 54, a year older than Joe?  

Jeez, I dunno. But something seems off. Are we really going to receive daily updates on who went before Cashman Court? And now, Coney and Flash? Are the Yankees taking slush-pile submissions? Where should I send my resume? I need to lose 20 pounds before putting on a two-piece. 

If the Yankees can't find a trading partner for Jacoby Ellsbury, gulp, they'll have to deal Gardy

For most of the last year, the strategic Yankee Marshall Plan - as outlined by the Gammonitic Army Corps of Engineers and the IT IS HIGH Comment Commandos - has been to trade Jacoby Ellsbury like a plate of fetid clams, to whomever will take him for whatever they'll give. The goal is to get him gone, and the methodology goes like this:

We continually add money to the $63 million we'll pay Ellsbury over the next three years, until a trading partner signs on. Maybe we add $30 million - reducing the next team's salary commitment to $11 million per season. Maybe we add $40 million. Either way, we simply keep carting pallets of cash onto the loading dock until someone says, "Sold!" and gives us two Single A bobbleheads, who will convey the appearance of a deal. It's a horrible transaction, not only in concept but reality, because someone - maybe hated Seattle - will get a 34-year-old, hustling veteran with a comeback year inside him, while we'll pay the bulk of his salary through Trump's entire four years. Moreover, we might face Ellsbury in the playoffs. (Can you say, "Brian McCann" three times, like "Beetlejuice?")

Nevertheless, everybody knows the Empire must unclog its pipes for the rise of young players, and Ellsbury represents a juicy adult diaper flushed down the toilet. Aaron Hicks is our CF, Clint Frazier needs to play, Jake Cave deserves a chance,  Billy McKinney waits on the cusp, and in two years, Estevan Florial could be jiggling the handle. And that's not counting Bryce Harper and the mysterious "like" of October 16, which has bewitched the conspiratorial Yankiverse like a fresh sighting of Nessie.

But, but but... what if, no matter how we grease the trade with money, nobody will give squat for Ellsbury? What if, instead of sending prospects, they demand prospects for taking Ellsbury's rancid contract off our hands? It's quite possible that not even Cooperstown Cashman can avoid the fate of having to trade a serviceable player for a warm six-pack of Iron City.

Because here's the real rub: Ellsbury is a good player. Last year, returning from a concussion - an injury we wish on nobody - he put together a solid October to finish at .264, with 7 HR and 22 stolen bases. Frankly, I thought he deserved a few more at bats in the post-season - he was our hottest hitter going in - but I don't fault Girardi. The Yankees went farther than we expected, and Aaron Hicks was our CF. Them's the breaks.

Still, Ellsbury looks like the classic veteran with one good year left in his stool sample. Next season, I can imagine him hitting .300 with 15 HR and 35 SB. He'd play LF, of course, and offer solid defense. In other words, he's Brett Gardner.

Listen: Whenever I think about trading Gardy, I hate myself. He is a lifelong Yankee, a rare beast, he reps a link to our last World Series, and he's a pitch-taking grinder. Last season, at age 34 - (same as Ellsbury) - he hit .264 - (same as Ellsbury) - with 21 HR and 23 SB. (He came to bat 594 times, far more than Ellsbury's 356; so the power numbers are higher, but the SBs shows a distinct advantage to Ellsbury.) Statistically, they are H.P. Lovecraft doppelgangers: Gardy with more power, Ellsbury with more speed.

So... let's agree on one point: The Yankees cannot keep both Gardner and Ellsbury next year. One must go. And what if they cannot unload Ellsbury?

Well, Gardy is sitting on the last year of a $13 million contract. He's a valuable commodity. I can see many teams coveting his leadership, his personality, his defense and his ability to get on base. (But wait: Last year, his OBP was .350; Ellsbury's was .348. Careerwise, Gardy is .347, and Ellsbury .342. They are the same fucking player, people.) Yes, it's blaspheme to say, but if we trade Gardner, we might get a bullpen LOOGY or a few decent prospects, with Ellsbury moving to LF, where a comeback year could boost his trade value next winter. 

Yeah, I hate myself for saying this: But the best move the Yankees might make this winter would be to hold onto Ellsbury and trade his astral twin. The new manager could mean a new lease on life for Ellsbury. And we simply cannot go to opening day with the twosome circling each other like those distant stars that recently were seen to collide, exploding into the void. 

It's going to be a tough winter. The trades that are coming - they won't all be fun and games.

The Next Yankee Manager Should Be.....A Woman

It is off season, right?

We are desperately searching for interesting subject matter.  Perhaps even to initiate a controversy or two.

So I will lead off.

Everyone really tired of Joey Binders.  A good man ( helped people in distress ), an old-line baseball guy ( played the game, was cerebral due to catching at Northwestern ), and loyal as an old hunting dog ( played the old guys with huge contracts ).

But he had a number of flaws, including the " sitting down" of every young kid who ever got called up, had a great day ( e.g. 3-4 ) and seemed set for stardom.  If Joe had been manager in 1947, Lawerence Peter Berra never would have gotten a shot.

But I hear he Jo Gerardi gone.  " Done and dusted, " as my old coach used to say.
Time to move on.

Here are my reasons for a woman manager:

1.  Cut down on the spitting of pumpkin seeds.  Players will chew on dried Kale.

2.  Own the " back-pages " of the NY media.  No need for depth on this one.

3.  Woman preserved the game for America during the WWII era, and they have earned a shot.

4.  Women can do anything ( go to space, free climb the toughest rock wall in the universe within a millisecond of the top man's time; win the NYC marathon; win ninja competitions; fly military jets; write comics; act ).

5. Will look good in pinstripes, and they like young kids ( giving hope to prospects at Scranton/ Trenton ).

6.  Will play small ball when small ball is called for.  Like women's basketball;  they stress and execute the fundamentals of the game.

7.  Umps can't win an argument with a woman.

8.  Many of the ballplayers have wives /girlfriends, who will relate.

9.  Guys want to show off for a woman ( good for cutting down on our strikeout records ).

10.  Women are better at interpersonal relations ( more effective use of bullpen ).

Now that the gender argument is over, I will leave the candidate selection to you.

WARNING: Sit down before reading this.

The Yankees did not, repeat: DID NOT, make a qualifying offer to Michael Pineda yesterday.

According to the Emerald City Swagger, "he's still got a lot left in the tank" so maybe he'll end up there.

I think I'll just eat an ice cream sandwich to celebrate Cooperstown Cashman's good judgment.

We should not expect - nor want - Aaron Judge to win MVP

Yesterday, the AL announced its three MVP "finalists:" Jose Altuve, Aaron Judge and Bob Dylan. (Hey, if he can win the Nobel Prize for literature...) The Gammonitic consensus - repeatedly driven home by Joe Buck throughout the month of October - is that Altuve should win by a flood of votes, that Judge should settle for Rookie of the Year, and that Dylan can still take the Heisman Trophy, plus a lifetime achievement Golden Globe and maybe be picked for a summer internship under Taylor Swift. Within the Yankiverse, we should lick our wounds and accept Altuve's rapid ascension to the Wheaties box and 5-Hour Energy commercial - (I'm hoping the IBS lady, Irritabelle, gets her claws in him) - to be then followed by a 2018 descent into Rougned Odor territory. 

I won't throw stats at this - they were done to death last month - but the fact is, Altuve had a great year, and he led Houston to the Series - and even though that's not supposed to count, why kid ourselves? It's like the judge instructing the jury to discount the murder confession - plus, the feel-good fix was always in: America loves "the little guy" along with the ginned-up notion that sports teams "heal" regional catastrophes. Altuve is going to win, and that's fine. Because time at the MVP summit - like Altuve himself - is short.

Here are the last 20 AL/NL MVPs: 

2016: Mike Trout/Chris Bryant
2015: Josh Donaldson/Bryce Harper
2014: Mike Trout/Clayton Kershaw
2013: Miguel Cabrera/Andrew McCutcheon
2012: Miguel Cabrera/Buster Posey
2011: Justin Verlander/Ryan Braun
2010: Josh Hamilton/Joey Votto
2009: Joe Mauer/Albert Pujols
2008: Dustin Pedroia/Albert Pujols
2007: A-Rod/Jimmy Rollins

Two names - Pedroia and Rollins - are highlighted. Over the last 10 years, they are the only middle infielders to win the MVP. Considering the constant parade of emerging stars at SS and 2B - (after all, 2B is the position of Joggie Cano) - I find this surprising. But neither has repeated an MVP-caliber season, and I hereby suggest that the season-long wear and tear on middle infielders - coupled with the celebrity fanfare of winning the MVP - makes winning multiple awards almost impossible. 

Secondly, I think we should be privately relieved if Judge does not win the MVP. He'd have nowhere to go but down. Winning ROY is nice - )he must still beat the great Babe Benintendi - who hit a monstrous .271!) but history is littered with sophomore slumps. I like the idea of Judge still having something to prove. And if you check that above list, sluggers seem to have a far better chance of repeating. 

It's been a long time since the Yankees had finalists in the MVP, the ROY and the Cy Young (Luis Severino.) Judge is 25. Sevy is 23. They could both be in the mix next season. Holy shit. They could be here a long time.  

Back From Edam.....

As many of you know, I often use biblical references in my work, hence the headline about that beautiful place where Adam and Evelyn began life together.  Amsterdam, though it did not provide the Ju-Ju I went there to find, is a modern day, " Garden of Edam."

My journey there was intended as a master stroke of International Ju-Ju, designed ( and timed ) to allow me to watch the Yankees play the Dodgers in the WS, with our Urban Dutch Farmer guy.  Had it worked, I would have broken new ground in an effort to humiliate myself and cause the Yankees to win. Instead, per usual, I accomplished nothing of value.

Point of reference;  no human from our blog had ever connected, personally, with Urban Dutch Farmer.  He had simply appeared on our blog one day, about two years ago, making pithy comments and indicating a clever wit. So I was assigned to check him out.  Why our blog, why baseball, why the Yankees?

Not much of my effort bore fruit:

The Yankees got mustered out of the playoffs by umpires who squeezed us but not them.

The Gods decided that the floods favored Houston.

Our guy lives in Rotterdam.

Luckily, that country is pretty modern when it comes to transportation.  And the Dutch guy made it over to Amsterdam for a " hands across the diamond" kind of meeting.  Turns out, he can stream some yankee games and, using a still-functioning WWII underground radio, listen to John & Suzyn broadcasts at 2:00am, Holland country time.  With plenty of time left over, post-game,  to pick the Kale, harvest the beets, and prepared a tasty, vegetable slurpy for breakfast.

He took me to the oldest bar in Amsterdam where, to his credit, the owner/ bartender recognized him the second we walked in ( he had lived about 100 yards down the road a few years back).  I never really got an explanation for some of my key questions, but "the Yankees are the Yankees.  No other team exists in Europe."

 So that's why his interest in our team.  I think he found " IIHIIFIIC" by accidental surfing.  He feels we are a fountain of American and baseball culture.  He has to look up phrases and expressions each time he reads us ( as do I ).  But he appreciates how different we are from normal sports blogs, and is convinced that John & Suzyn do read us.

He also played on a Dutch league baseball team.  Not the national level team where Didi and Burt Blyleven played, but hardball in the sandlots like we did.  He knows no one with the same baseball interests as his, so leveraging our blog readership internationally bombed right away.

 As for his (formerly) home base city, I see it as a paradise because there are no rules.  Beautiful women sit in windows and beckon to anyone except those wearing Red Sox hats.  There is Johhny Walker and unlimited beer on the canal boats.  The coffee houses sell weed ( " what kind of high are you looking for, today?").   Best of all:  there are hot dog stands everywhere, with spicy brown mustard, and all the fixings ( at half the price of those fake ones at the new stadium).  It is like a perfect setting for baseball.  Only no one plays the game.

The day it became clear the Yankees didn't make the series, I was lying prostrate on restaurant settee, recovering from a sudden change in blood sugar or something, due to a cool combination of Dutch gin and weed.

So Gerardi is gone?

The question of 2018: Will Hal's plans to cut luxury taxes undermine our chances?

According to our secret master plan, two things will happen next year.

a) The Yankees finally will cut payroll to below the $189 million luxury tax threshold, allowing them - after 14 years of shelling out to support small market teams such as the earnest Pittsburgh Pirates and the ungrateful, bitter, acne-riddled Tampa Bay Rays - to avoid Bud Selig's oppressive, job-killing payroll taxes.   

b) The Yankees will win the World Series, crushing our opponents and fostering a new era of peace and prosperity for the world. The moon shall be in the Seventh House, and Jupiter aligned with Mars, so peace will guide the planets and love can steer the stars... t'will be the dawning of the age of Gregorius, the age of Gregorius, Gregorrrrrrrrius! Gregorius! 

Question for the day: Can these futures coexist?

Look, I don't want to turn this into a spreadsheet thingy. Somewhere, near Cooperstown Cashman's corner-view office sits a wing of windowless cubicles, where 340-pound math savants sit knee-deep in empty Pepsi cans and Cheeto wrappers, power-crunching free agent pap smears. Besides, we sort of did our numbers thingy the other day. The crux of the gist: Even with Masahiro Tanaka staying - (he loves us! he loves us!) - Hal still should have $75 million in bloated salaries coming off the boards, and last year's $196 million payroll wasn't too far above the threshold. 

If we re-sign CC Sabathia and cover all our arbitration raises, Hal still should have enough coin to sign a studly pitcher - (the Gammonites want "the Japanese Babe Ruth," Mr. Shohei Otani.) On paper, we might even have enough left over for a situational lefty and a LH backup catcher. 

But, but, but...

When does anything on paper ever come to pass?

Here's a better prediction, based on the science of cold, clinical cynicism:

Unless everything goes wrong - (For reference: see the 2017 NY Football Giants) - come the July 30 trade deadline, Coop Cashman will face a Sunday morning buffet of Stromans and Bumgarners, whose teams are swirling the drains, and whose prices will not only be the crown jewels of Trenton, but accepting salaries that will dropkick us back into high tax country. 

In the history of MLB luxury taxes, only seven teams have ever paid: The Angels, Tigers, Redsocks, Dodgers, Giants, Cubs and us. (Boston has done it six times, the second most. We have done it 14 - yes, fourteen.) It sure would be nice to get out from under that boulder. Also, it sure would be nice to have a billionaire owner who doesn't whine whenever the tax man comes around.

Can we have both? 

At some point in 2018, Hal will have to decide: Does he want a tax cut, or are we going for it, both balls in, on next October? Because the world needs a time of harmony and understanding, sympathy and trust abounding, no more falsehoods or derisions, golden living dreams of visions, mystic crystal revelation, and the mind's true liberation... Gregorrrrius... Gregorius!

A lot will happen between now and July 31. By then, I sincerely hope that the Yankees have figured out the futures of Miguel Andujar, Glyber Torres, Clint Frazier, Justus Sheffield, Chance Adams and Tyler Wade. Because if we haven't, and we're stuck needing to trade for another Toddfather, we could end up with neither objective accomplished - a year with nothing.

It's a tightrope, folks, and in the end, it'll all be up to Hal. Just sayin'... 

What we need this winter

1. Patience.

2. A fifth starter, preferably from Japan.

3. A DH, preferably from Japan. (See No. 2)

4. An opening on the roster where Jacoby Ellsbury used to be. It might be accompanied by an $8 to $10 million payment, which might bring the addition of two certifiable prospects at the low-single A level.

5. A LH backup catcher who specializes in defense.

6. A long, lanky bullpen southpaw who terrifies LH hitters.

7. Come to think about it, a RH version of No. 6.

8. A process that by Aug. 1 inserts either or all of Miguel Andujar, Tyler Wade, Clint Franzier and Glyber Torres into the regular lineup.

9. A contract extension for John and Suzyn.

10. That's about it. Can't think of anything else. Maybe some of the bathrooms could be painted. A few new menu items at the Steakhouse. And, well... oh, here's one: A MANAGER!