The All-Time Opposition Shortstop conundrum

The other day, HoraceClarke66 offered an interesting take on our IT IS HIGH ALL-TIME YANKEE OPPONENT SHORTSTOP POLL: 

No-Mah and A-Rod were both juicers. End of story... Kim Jong Un has crapped the bed... Dick Groat was a National Leaguer who hit .214 in his one World Series against us... Luis Aparicio and Rick Burleson were great glovemen, but popgun hitters who were below their average against us (especially Burleson)... Ripken's stats against the Yanks were considerably below his normal... Kim Jong Un has crapped the bed... That leaves Yount and Trammell, who were ALSO slight below normal against our guys. Young hit a little better, and for a little more power. He's my pick. And Kim Jong Un has crapped the bed...

As always, Hoss makes perfect sense. But I raise a caveat on Robin Yount: He played 11 seasons at SS and 10 in the OF, and we must not confuse the two. Over his career, Yount hit .284 as SS and .287 in the OF (with roughly the same number of HRs.) Against the Yankees, he hit .282 overall. (I did not do a breakdown of SS-v-CF against the Yankees; not enough cocktail napkins.)

Over his career, Ripken hit .266 against the Yankees - 10 points below his overall average. (He hit 33 HR in over 200 games.) He didn't kill us. But he broke one of our sacred records - Lou Gehrig's streak - in memorable fashion against us. He gets points for that.

A lifetime .285 hitter, Alan Trammell batted .275 against the Yankees (with 14 home runs.) This too doesn't jump out.

A confession: When I put up this poll, I went with memory. As a kid, I remember Luis Aparicio killing us, and as a young adult, I recall Rick Burleson delivering in the clutch. Dick Groat played on two teams that beat us in the world series. And then there were Nomar and A-Rod, whom I added as jokes. I thought they'd give us a smile. 

Here, I slightly disagree with Hoss. I don't believe we should ban players who juiced during eras when it was basically ubiquitous and legal. Also, shortstop was a hard position to be bulking up on steroids. I don't believe they should face automatic elimination, but you may feel differently, and that's fine.

Garciaparra played 11 seasons at SS. (He tried 1B at the grim end.) A career .313 hitter, he batted .326 against the Yankees (with 14 homers.) In other words, he hurt us. I hated the guy, but give him credit: He rose to the challenge.

Then there is A-Rod - a .295 hitter over his 22-year career. Against the Yankees, in times when he played SS, his career average is - gulp - .334. That's not a misprint. Three thirty four. Moreover, in 82 games - about half a regular season - he hit 28 home runs against us. That would project Ruthian numbers. The guy killed us.  

Now, I'm still not sure who is the greatest SS against us. But I've sort of decided it comes down to who is the greatest shortstop of all-time: Ripken or A-Rod?

One is the tireless god of virtue. The other is - well, Alex is still writing the story, I guess. (And Robin Yount could play on my team, any  time.) A conundrum, no?

Pssst. Pass the word: Kim Jong un has crapped the bed.

Virtual Baseball: Yanks Send Napoleons to Their Waterloo. Concern Grows Over Sterling.

The Virtual New York Yankees handed the Cleveland Napoleons a walk-off Waterloo, as Clint Frazier's three-run homer in the bottom of the ninth abruptly seized defeat and reversed it to be a 7-6 victory.

Yankees starter Mike King had the worst start of his surprising rookie season, but as usual the legion of New York relievers bailed the team out, with Chad Green getting the win and Zach(k) Britton picking up the save.

Meanwhile, concern continued to grow over the state of John Sterling's health.  The much-adored broadcaster told friends today that he had managed to find a portal in time where he is staying at Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital.

Sterling said that he had been able to go back to the 1904 season that had concluded at Hilltop Park, on the site of where the hospital stands today.  He claimed that he had been able to reverse the outcome of the doubleheader on the final day of the season, so that the Highlanders defeated the Boston Pilgrims instead of the other way around.

He further claimed that he was able to reverse the cancellation of the World Series that year, and help the proto-Yankees to defeat the Giants, 5 games to 4, in the new, first-ever Subway Series.

These claims by Sterling greatly disturbed his doctors.

The story of how Happy Jack Chesbro bested Boston for his record 42nd victory to take the pennant, and then defeated Christy Mathewson, 1-0, in 12 inning of the decisive ninth game of the World Series is, of course, a well-known piece of New York baseball lore, one that used to be known by every schoolboy, back when there were still schoolboys.

"The fact that Mr. Sterling could really think he made this happen is very concernful," remarked Dr. Jack Finney.  "It may indicate that a neurological event has rendered him prone to illusions."

Pressed for more details on what this could mean, Dr. Finney conceded: "It could be he will never warble again."



 

Plague Theater: Ron Guidry with... DAVID NAUGHTON!

 American Werewolf in London, this is not.

Are these the Yankee statistical leaders for 2020?

Damn, do you feel it? Time itself has stopped. Every week is a month. Every month - yeesh, I can't think that far. This is nuts. 

Right now, in a Yankiverse far, far away... you commentators are talking me off the ledge, reminding me that it's only April, that Judge and Stanton will soon return, and that a three-game losing streak before May 1 means nothing, zilch, prompting me to get indignant, because - after all - "A loss is April is the same as a loss in..." oh, fukkit. 

Wait. How much time just elapsed? Thirty seconds? That's not fair! It felt like 10 minutes. 

Listen: In case you're missing it, I direct your attention to the brilliant novel that HoraceClarke66 is writing on a daily basis about the 2020 Yankee season. Read and savor. It's a far more enjoyable Yankiverse than this.

Today - it's Saturday, right? do weekends even matter? - here is all I got:  Yankee stat leaders for 2020. If the season never happens, our 2020 HR leader is - gulp - Higgy.

 As for RBIs, it's a tie between Gleyber and a farmhand OF named Trey Amburgey. 

And the hitting leaders are two roster-invitees, including Rosell Herrera, the 27-year-old, switch-hitting IF-OF, who looked like the Second Coming of Never Nervous Yangervis Solarte. Congrats to all. Ah, but that was so long ago. 

Virtual Baseball: Yanks Outslug Naps. Strange Disturbance at Border.

The Virtual Yankees managed to outslug Cleveland in its first visit to the Stadium this year, while strange doings at the border led to speculation that absent slugger Giancarlo Stanton destroyed the wall with Mexico.

The pitching-short Yanks started yet another pitcher of the future—perhaps—and Deivi Garcia was beaten like a drum, putting New York into an early, 8-2 hole.  But as usual, the Bombers were able to slug their way back on a cold, wet night in the Bronx, taking a 15-10 decision in the end.

Kyle Holder hit his first-ever home run in the majors, while Gio Urshela, Mike "Walkie" Tauchman, Luke Voit, and Kyle Higashioka added roundtrippers of their own.  It was the first double-Kyle home run day in Yankees history.

Yankees fans got to see for the first time the former Indians in their new uniforms, after Cleveland abruptly changed its name following a public outcry over "Indians" this past year.

Cleveland put the selection of a new name up to the fans—to a degree.  The first winner, "the Blues," referring to an old name of the AL Cleveland franchise, was vetoed by the club's Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame sponsor.

Another blast from the past from Cleveland's National League days—"the Spiders"—was defeated after a nearly rabid campaign against it by Cleveland Plain-Dealer publisher and arachniphobe, J. Jonah Jameson.

By default, then, the choice went to "the Napoleons," a nickname the club used to carry in honor of star second baseman, Napoleon Lajoie.  The term also used to indicate the very best, or nonpareil.

"I don't care man, it's fucking weird," said shortstop Francisco Lindor, who hit two home runs of his own tonight.

Nonetheless, the team wore its new road uniforms, complete with the small, bicorn details.  The home uniform will feature a silhouette of the famous French dictator.

"Napoleon conquered all of Europe.  We just want to conquer Ohio," said ancient Cleveland owner Larry Dolan, uncle of the notorious James Dolan.

"Suzyn, there's no predicting what major-league teams will do to milk even a few more dollars out of merchandise sales," tweeted voice of the Yankees John Sterling, from his hospital bed at Columbia-Prresbyterian, where he is to undergo a battery of tests.

Meanwhile, speculation revived about the whereabouts of missing slugger Giancarlo Stanton, after something or someone blasted an man-sized hole through the new border wall in New Mexico.

Local immigration officials expressed themselves as at a loss about what could have done such a thing, while the "Minutemen" patrolling the border seemed deeply shaken by the event, their bad facial hair turned a deep white overnight.

"It was El Diablo, that's for sure," said one Minuteman, referring to the strange, devilish figure that's haunted the border area in recent days, spooking the gun-happy vigilantes there.

The strange presence, wailing an unholy banshee cry, somehow burst right through the new wall—and then returned, frightening the fake soldiers all the more.  On closer inspection, though, the wall proved to be made entirely of papier-mache.

"I dunno.  There's SOMETHIN' out there," said one of the local blohards.

"Honestly, whether or not Mr. Bosch had distributed drugs to minors was not of paramount importance to me."

MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred made this remark about Tony Bosch to the disciplinary committee hearing Alex Rodriguez's appeal of his record suspension for PED use.

As detailed in Blood Sport, Tim Elfrink and Gus Garcia-Roberts' excellent account of the massive effort MLB mounted to bring A-Rod to justice, Manfred was the man ("Manfred Mann?") in charge of taking down the Yankees third-sacker.

There was a lot at stake for departing Commissioner Bud "Toupee" Selig.  He wanted to be remembered as the man who drove PEDs out of baseball—instead of the man who stood idly by while they devoured the game he claimed to love.  There was a lot at stake for Rob Manfred, too, as he would undoubtedly get to take Selig's lucrative, less-than-taxing position if he succeeded.

The result was that, according to Elfrink and Garcia-Roberts, MLB may have spent as much as $20 million running down A-Rod's pusher, the notorious Mr. Bosch.

This included unleashing a swarm of "ex-cops and former [federal] agents" on the sleazy, "anti-aging" underworld of South Florida.  These operatives behaved like something out of a Carl Hiaasen novel, impersonating police officers, intimidating witnesses, handing out de facto bribes, paying a convicted felon for stolen documents—even sleeping with a source.  Meanwhile, MLB's crack legal team filed enormous, frivolous lawsuits against anyone who had anything to do with Bosch.

MLB's ops also disrupted an active, state investigation into another line of Tony Bosch's:  peddling PEDs to underaged, high-school athletes.

When A-Rod's lawyers tried to bring that up at the hearings, Manfred brushed them off:

"Honestly, whether or not Mr. Bosch had distributed to minors was not of paramount importance to me.  Rarely do you get a witness who is prepared to testify firsthand about his distribution of drugs to professional athletes, who hasn't engaged in other conduct that's illegal."

I guess we should all be glad that Bosch hadn't murdered or raped anybody.

The reason he was "prepared to testify," incidentally, was that MLB also provided him with round-the-clock, personal protection, and free legal counsel.  In other words, a bribe.

It's impossible to feel sorry for Tony Bosch, of course, or A-Rod, who got what he had long had coming.

But selling hugely destructive drugs to minors doesn't matter?  That's not what baseball cares about, as long as they can violate every legal ethic to make themselves look better?

Why anyone should expect anything resembling justice from Rob Manfred, in this cheating scandal or anything else, is beyond me.

Plague Theater: Mariano was just a kid from somewhere

A lot of emotion for a sports drink.

A new book recalls the American tragedy of Mickey Mantle

"A Farewell to Arms, Legs and Jockstraps," former sportswriter Diane Shah's new memoir about life in testosterone-infested locker rooms, includes a tale about the cringe-worthy - (yet probably successful) - pickup moves employed by Mickey Charles Mantle. 

Considering all we know about The Mick's dark and drunken past, Shah's story isn't so horrifying: He crudely propositioned her in a greeting card. Not saying that's okay, only that I imagined worse... because, frankly, I've heard worse.

A friend once told me of the night long ago when he and his dad encountered several Yankees in a hotel corridor. His father politely asked for an autograph, but Mickey - drunk and out of control - became abusive. My friend - he must have been eight - braced himself to watch his dad get beaten up by his favorite Yankee. Somehow, Whitey Ford intervened - bless you, Whitey - and everyone cooled down. Of course, my friend never forgot that moment. For him, Mickey - and baseball - were never the same.

Another friend, a reporter, would tell of the time Mickey spoke at a youth banquet in Binghamton. The media asked for interviews, but one event official confided that Mickey might not be sober enough to make the dinner. He did, and at the end of his short speech, Mickey told all the kids wanting autographs to line up to his left, and all the women who wanted to see him later to go to his hotel room. Everyone in the crowd buried their heads. Ohh, Mickey...  

Still, I loved him as a kid, and I always will. Here's one of the best interviews ever done. It's 15 minutes, and it won't save you on car insurance. It's Bob Costas' finest hour (or quarter hour.) Have a Kleenex ready. I guarantee you will cry.

Virtual Baseball: Yanks Bag Tigers, Avert Aerial Disaster.

In Virtual Baseball today, the Yankees were winners twice over, belting the Bengals, 10-3 in their getaway game in Detroit, and narrowly avoiding a fiery death in their chartered flight back to New York.

As far as the baseball went, it was clear flying.  The Yanks got another well-pitched game from J.A. Happ, and plenty of hitting from their patchwork lineup.  Mike Ford, D.J. LeMahieu, and Thairo Estrada all homered, as did new backup catcher, Chris Iannetta.

Unfortunately for Iannetta, it was announced after the game that his trot around the bases had caused his rheumatism to act up, and he would join Gary Sanchez on the DL.

The biggest scare of the day came when the Yankees' flight back to La Guardia overshot the airport and was forced to make an emergency landing in Citi Field.

Fortunately, the fourth-place Mets' game against the high-flying, division-leading Miami Marlins had been called off due to rain—but not the team's auditions for a new Mr. and Mrs. Met.

As the airliner skidded across the wet grass at Citi Field, hundreds of would-be mascots scrambled for cover, screaming mutedly into their giant, baseball heads.

"Inside Mr. Met, no one can hear you scream," said Marlins' co-owner Derek Jeter, observing the scene.

The only damage caused in the end, though, was to the Mets' trademark, "home run apple," which was sheared in half by a wing on the descent.  Afterwards, MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred ruled that the Mets would not be allowed to homer again until it was repaired.

Pilots Nielsen and Hays, and chief stewardess Hagerty were detained by the FAA for questioning.  But reporters wondered why it was that the Yankees were flying the small charter airline, Fly Me to the Moon!, in the first place.

"I know it's a small airline, you don't have to tell me it's a small airline," shot back Yankees' road p.r. spokesman Nathan Thurm.  "I suppose you'd rather have a little more leg room, and not have Gerrit Cole.  Oh, give me some free peanuts, but let's dump Gardy, I guess that's what you'd prefer, huh?"

"Suzyn, there's no predicting wind velocity vectors on the approach to Flushing Bay," tweeted Yankees broadcaster John Sterling, still undergoing a battery of tests at Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital.

The win left the Yankees at 17-8, still three games behind the Tampa Bay en fuego Rays

"It's been an interesting year," remarked Manager Ma Boone, as the orange emergency ramps deployed for exit.

Boom!

Plague Theater: Catfish sells cars for - gulp - Harrelson Ford

Harrelson Ford?

In deference to pandemic, MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred washes his hands of Redsock cheating scandal

I keep re-reading the "punishment" handed down yesterday by MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred, and keep reaching the same conclusion: 

What a joke.

What a fucking, fucking, fucking joke.

For this, we waited three months? They crack down on some middle-management schlunk, a sacrificial lackey for the entire organization. They suspend a manager who is already gone, and if the 2020 season is canceled, he won't miss one game, not one. And they take away a second-round draft pick. (Keep in mind that, in baseball, second-round picks are often lesser prospects, selected so the team can keep within mandatory signing caps.) They did nothing, nothing... 

Boston cheats and wins a championship, and this is supposed to teach a lesson? 

Well, it does teach a lesson: 

Go for it!

Do you realize that the young Yankee pitcher, Domingo German, will miss half the 2021 season due his punishment on a domestic violence dispute that a) never resulted in a police report, and that b) he confessed to and then sought counselling. Not to minimize German's actions, but he'll be still serving his suspension in mid-2021, while the instigators of the worst cheating scandal in modern sports history - Houston's and Boston's GM and managers - will be back in good standing. 

I know, I know... we're a Yankee fan site, by nature, hating of all things Bostonian. Thus, our opinions will never matter to the great and majestic Lords of the Game. But this deal amazes me. They whack a cameraman, a flunky, as if he did this on his own - while players, management and the franchise won't even feel a mosquito bite. 

It's like the giant corporation that pours millions of barrels of poison into the ocean... to get fined $100. 

Yep, the lesson here is clear. When baseball finally resumes, the Yankees should set up a secret centerfield camera, run the images through code-breaker software and cheat like hell. Every pitch. Let the batters wear buzzers. Why not? If you're not cheating, you're not trying. 

Message received.

In spirited balloting, Rod Carew voted IT IS HIGH all-time Yankee Opponent at 2B

Hall of Famer Rod Carew has been elected IIHIIFIIc All-Time Opposition Second-baseman. Like all recipients - (thus far, Eddie Murray at first-base) - Carew receives the "Sterling Silver Steak Knife" for torturing IT IS HIGH readers throughout their lives. He won despite a spirited, well-rounded vote, which included five Hall of Famers, two HOF candidates, and a great cheater.

The results (from 326 votes):

Rod Carew (61 votes): 19%
Dustin Pedroia (55): 17%
Frank White (42): 13%
Robbie Alomar (39): 12%
Bill Mazeroski (39): 12%
Joe Morgan (27): 8%
Lou Whitaker (24): 7%
Carlos Baerga (22): 7%
Jose Altuve (17): 5%

In 184 games against the Yankees, Carew hit .331 with 11 HRs and 70 RBIs. (In Yankee Stadium, he hit .336.) I think the fans recognized Carew as one of the greatest hitters in history, and they are rewarding him for it.  

Of course, he should have been a Yankee. Carew was born on a moving train in Panama, in a coach car required for black people. In 1962, to escape her abusive, alcoholic husband, his mom took the family to New York City. Carew couldn't play baseball at George Washington High School, because he had to work nights as a stock clerk. While playing for a sandlot team called the Cavaliers, he was discovered by a Twins scout, a transit system cop. He tried out at Yankee Stadium, then signed with Minnesota for $5,000 and $400 a month.

After his rookie league season, he served a year with the Marines to fulfill his obligations. (Though not yet a U.S. citizen, he was listed as a permanent U.S. resident.) He debuted in 1967 against Dave McNally of Baltimore and singled in his first at-bat. 

He is now 74. His number has been retired by both the Twins and Angels. 

There might be second-basemen with better career stats against the Yankees. But I doubt there was ever a better one to take the field against us.

Virtual Baseball: Yanks Outslug Detroit; No One Killed. Sanchez to DL.

The Virtual New York Yankees bounced back from a literal mauling last night, to outlast the Detroit Tigers at EComCon Park, 9-7.

Due to their injury-riddled starting staff, the Yanks threw yet another of their "Kiddie Korps" last night, Johnny Loaisiga, a.k.a, "Johnny Lasagna."  Lasagna looked more like meat loaf, however, as the Bengals batted him about mercilessly, running up an early 5-1 lead.

Strong hitting by the Yankees brought the club back as it has so often this season, with Miguel Andujar clubbing two home runs and a double, Clint Frazier adding another round-tripper, and Gio Urshela slicing a game-tying triple.  It was no hit at all, however, but a simple walk by Mike Ford—his fourth free pass of the evening—that forced in what proved to be the winning run.

The baseball world was still abuzz with word of the wild, human-feline brawl that had gone on the night before, in which controversial Medal of Freedom winner Joe Exotic was eaten alive by Medal of Freedom winner Leatrice the Lyger.  Historians agreed that this marked the first time in U.S. history that one Medal of Freedom recipient had devoured another.

No word on where the medal in question is now lodged.

Many fans left early, repelled by the stench of human blood that hung over the entire ballpark today.  But Yankees second baseman D.J. LeMahieu was unfazed, saying how much it reminded him of the photo safaris he has taken into the Bengali wilderness.

Detroit management thanked LeMahieu for his invaluable work in showing the Tigers grounds crew how to make the non-lethal fabric traps that eventually recaptured all of the beasts.

"It was no big deal," LeMahieu said afterwards with typical modesty.  "I mean, by then they were pretty groggy, having stuffed themselves on Tiger dogs and, well, other stuff..."

Perhaps the best summary of the night was provided by recuperating Yankees broadcaster John Sterling in a surprise call to the broadcast booth and his old partner, Suzyn Waldman.

"There's no predicting 400-pound predators interbred in a private zoo, Suzyn," said Sterling.

Meanwhile, with Gary Sanchez gone to the DL until surgeons can grow enough tissue to replace the divot in his leg, GM Brian Cashman called up Chris Iannetta, one of the 57 tottering back-up catchers Cashman signed last February.

"He's almost been good at times," Manager Ma Boone said in welcoming the new addition.

Pick the Image You Think Best Captures the Red Sox' Punishment

To help pass the time while we're all quarantined, let's play a fun new IIHIIFIIc game!

Pick the image(s) you think best capture the "punishment" handed down by the MLB today to the Boston Red Sox.

Did they get a...

....or one of these kinds of punishment?

Did they get 50 lashes with one of these?

or is it none of the above and they just went....

Maybe, in the words of El Duque, they just....

Be sure to tune tomorrow for an extra special IIHIIFIIc Brain Puzzler:

Is it an actual punishment to suspend a cheating manager
who's currently employed by no team
for an entire season that wasn't going to be played anyway?

Plague Theater: Willie, Nolan and Steve sing for Gillette

 With a twist of Yogi.

Whoosh. That's the sound of the Redsocks skating

MLB hands down a nothing-burger punishment for Boston's cheating.

BOOM! BAM! POW. Trending on Twitter... 

Facing shame offensive, Yankees do the right thing with employees

According to the Internet, the all-merciful benefactor, Hal Steinbrenner, has decided to pay Yankee employees and serfs through the month of May. The most-generous decision came yesterday, after the billionaire owner drew some tracer fire by delaying a move most franchises had already made. Tardy or not, let's give Hal a round of applause for doing the right thing. Okay, that's enough.

Obviously, one month won't be enough. If baseball is to be played in 2020, it certainly won't launch before Memorial Day, and gate revenues - with or without "Count Orlok" Giuliani and "Hydroxycholoquine" Hannity - will vanish like Dr. Tony Fauci. The owner of America's richest professional sports team will either support his people or throw them overboard. Right now, he's doing the Lord's work. Forhe'sajollygoodfellow, whichnobodycandeny.

Meanwhile, the toothless leadership of Minor League Baseball apparently has caved in to plans to shrink the number of farm clubs across America. In November, MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred unveiled a scheme to eliminate 42 franchises - a scathingly cruel betrayal of small cities that bankrolled stadiums in the face of extortion by the wealthiest of the wealthy. Taxpayers ponied up to support franchises that, in general, didn't give a whit about the towns they were representing. Now, they'll be cut loose.

Nobody knows which cities will be disappeared, but upstate New York - heart of the Rust Belt - probably sits in the crosshairs. There are rumblings that the Binghamton Rumbleponies - a Double A franchise in a small city with a giant heart - could go. Baseball in Binghamton goes back to Joe Pepitone, Whitey Ford and Thurman Munson. Gone? Say it aint so.

These are dark days, my friends. 

Virtual Baseball: Yanks, Sanchez Mauled by Tigers, Suzyn Breaks Down.

It was a troubled virtual night for Yankees baseball in the Motor City, as the team not only dropped a 7-3 decision to the South Asian Quadrupeds, but also saw their starting catcher involved in a terrible brawl with the actual beasts themselves, while their sole remaining radio broadcaster broke down in tears.

It started out as a festive evening at EComCon Park, as the Tigers honored new Presidential Medal of Freedom winner Johnny Exotic from the hit cable TV series, Tiger King, accompanied by Donald Trump, Jr.  Mr. Exotic and Mr. Trump were escorted to the ballpark by a retinue of wildlife from Mr. Exotic's private zoo, including several tigers and a crossbred lion-tiger, or "lyger," named Leatrice.

All would figure heavily in the startling incidents to come.

The game began well for the Yankees, who got off to a 2-1 lead in the third inning behind Jordan Montgomery, when Luke Voit and Gary Sanchez hit consecutive home runs.

Suzyn Waldman tried to honor the occasion with partner John Sterling's trademark call on such occasions, but was only able to whimper, "Back-to-back.  Belly-to-belly...and heart-to-heart!  I miss you, John!"

Ms. Waldman then made the startling accusation that, "It's not just bad crab meat!  John's worse off than they're letting on, I just know it!  And I can't keep doing both jobs like this!"

Waldman wept intermittently through the rest of the game, but as the Yanks have made numerous "austerity moves" in the broadcast booth this year, there was no one to relieve her.  Paul O'Neill was the only YES broadcaster who made the trip with the team, and he had already broken his mic and stormed out of the TV booth in a fit of rage over mispronouncing "lyger."

Things were even more volatile down on the field, where Sanchez, after swatting his third home run in two days at EComCon once against spat at the Tigers' dugout afterwards.  Several of the Bengals then charged out of the dugout at him, resulting in a huge brawl near home plate.

Things got truly out of hand, however, when an excited Joe Exotic urged his charges to join the fray.  As the players screamed and the tigers swarmed, one 400-pound beast turned instead toward Donald Trump, Jr.'s box, causing the Secret Service agents surrounding the presidential zygote to unholster their weapons.

On seeing this, an enraged Joe Exotic drew down and seemed about to set off a gunfight.  Leatrice, noticing the agents in danger, swiftly made a daring leap and brought down her master.  As Joe wept and shrieked for mercy, Leatrice dragged him into the Tigers' clubhouse, where judging by the sounds emanating therefrom, he was probably eaten alive, although no club employee was willing to check.

Later, the White House announced that Leatrice the Lyger would receive the Presidential Medal of Freedom for her swift and courageous action—assuming, at least, that she had not already ingested Mr. Exotic's medal, in which case no new decoration would be required.

After the brawl, Donald Trump, Jr. left the park, along with almost all the fans.  The grounds crew was put in charge of rounding up the stray lions and tigers, but seemed noticeably less than committed to performing this duty.

Instead, the great beasts could be seen padding about the warning track and occasionally attacking a hot dog vendor for the rest of the night, while their ungodly roars echoed through the chilly but pleasant Michigan night.

Sanchez was seen limping away from the brawl with a tiger-sized divot clearly removed from one leg.  Asked about his condition afterwards, manager Ma Boone replied, "Well, he's day-to-day."

Detroit proceeded to tattoo Montgomery, who did pitch his first-ever complete game in the major leagues, when no Yankees reliever would take the mound.

Questioned about his performance, Montgomery snapped, "What the hell do you want from me?  I didn't have my starting catcher!"

Most of the team hurried to leave the clubhouse without changing or showering, unnerved by noises from the home team locker room that they swore sounded like bones snapping.  D.J. LeMahieu, however, following a three-hit night, stayed on to instruct the grounds crew in making East African Big Cat traps from strips of tarpaulin and pitchers' jackets.



 







 

Plague Theater: "Can we call you Catfish Chapstick?"

What hath God wrought?

“From here to that couch — I never saw it after that,” he said, pointing to a sofa in the Yankees clubhouse. “All I felt was impact, and then falling on the ground. The whole side of my face was gone — I felt sharp pieces in my mouth. I was trying to be soft with them because I didn’t want to choke, but the pain was excruciating.”

Why we should cut Giancarlo Stanton some slack.

Will Hal Steinbrenner really clip his hired help during the shutdown?

Well, now I've heard everything... According to the internet, 18 of the 30 MLB owners plan to pay their staffs in full during this ridiculous, overly-hyped, fake news, virus shutdown. For what? So their employees can stay at home, drink sanitizers and watch Netflix while lounging in their milk baths? Once these obese freeloaders acquire the taste of money-for-nothing, they'll never again be worth one lick of doorknob spittle. As for this rinky-dink flu - from what I hear, more people die each year in their swimming pools (thank you, Dr. Phil) - but you don't hear us torching the Constitution over that, do you? How does anyone expect an honest MLB owner to feed his family? Down in Florida, some do-gooder wannabe named Jeter even says he'll forego his $5 million salary, and put the money toward needy people. Who elected him Pope? Once these basket cases get money for free, they'll never want to work again for the minimum wage, which some people want to be more than $5 per hour! Jesus fukinay Christ, when I started, two bucks an hour was damn good pay!

Fortunately, one hero owner is holding the line against giveaways: "Hand Me Down Hal" Steinbrenner! If his Yankee staffers don't pick cotton, let them eat cake. Let's see if watching Tiger King pays the mortgage. In an act of courage, Hal thus far has refused to pay the tab for laid off scouts, managers, cabana boys and whatever - and in this "flatten the curve" world, let's be thankful that somebody still appreciates frugality. It's bad enough that they've closed the bars just because some NPR bed-wetter caught the sniffles and called a news conference to demand a free ventilator. So we bought everyone on the East Coast their own ventilator, yet they're still whining? Now, they want cotton swabs? Tomorrow, it'll be vibrating beds. Good grief, people, rise up! Money doesn't grow on trees. Look at Greece! Do we want to be Greece? If we start paying everybody for not working, we'll turn into Greece. Three times a day, Souvlaki! You'll be tending to sheep. Greece! 

And now, to top everything off, we're supposed to sit back and watch Chinese baseball? Wait a minute. Chinese flu... Chinese baseball? CONNECT THE DOTS, PEOPLE! DO I HAVE TO SPELL IT OUT? The Rakuten Monkeys are trying to steal our Yankee thunder, even our Red Thunder. We've got to turn this around, and thank God there are still owners out there who, in a pinch, refuse to pay their staff. Surely, it will mean lower ticket prices for all of us, when the boys of summer return - any day now. 

Virtual Baseball: Historic Win for Yanks, Holder. Suzyn Warbles Wanly.

The Virtual Yankees played a game for the ages tonight in Detroit's EConcom Stadium, hanging on for a 12-inning, 7-6 win over the Tigers.

Rallying from an early, 5-0 deficit, the Yanks moved into the lead thanks to two long home runs by Gary Sanchez, who signaled his overall disdain for all things Bengal by openly spitting at the Detroit dugout as he came around to touch home plate on his second dinger.

But the night belonged with Kyle Holder.  With the Yanks leading in the bottom of the 12th, closer "Night Sweats" Chapman entered the game and was as wild as a Tasmanian devil, walking the first two batters he saw, before facing dangerous Detroit DH, Miguel "One Big Tub-a-Juice" Cabrera.  

Chapman promptly hung a curve, which Cabrera lashed on a line up the middle, nearly decapitating the clammy hurler.  

But Kyle Holder, perfectly positioned, was able to snag Cabrera's smash just before it hit the ground. Holder then rolled over second base, retiring lead runner Dawel Lugo, popped to his feet, and ran down and tagged out Tigger backstop Grayson Greiner, who is slower than continental drift.

By so doing, Holder had not only completed the Yankees' first-ever, unassisted triple play, but also the first unassisted triple play in baseball history to end an extra-inning game.  It was the capper on what was an all-around excellent night for Kyle, who also had four singles and drove in three runs.

"Boy!" exulted manager Ma Boone.  "Why, the way he's going, he might have as high a ceiling as Estevan Florial some day!  And please excuse my language."

Detroit had mauled starter Luis "It's Nessa" Cessa, but the Yanks bounced right back behind their usual legion of relievers, to improve their record to 15-7.  The win left them still three games behind the smokin' Tampa Bay Rays.

Suzyn Waldman, alone in the Krazy-Kars-for-Kids radio broadcast booth, tried to warble the Yankees' win, but broke down in a fit of cigarette-induced coughing.  

Reached for comment where he was convalescing at Columbia-Presyterian Hospital, "former home of the New York Highlanders," Suzyn's erstwhile partner, John Sterling called it "the old college try," and marveled at the game's ending.

"I think it's safe to say:  there's no predicting baseball," The Master told reporters.

Meanwhile, the Yankees' new road spokesman, attorney Nathan Thurm, denied reports that Gerrit Cole was still not receiving proper medical attention, saying that he had gone for a CAT-scan just that morning.

Asked if that didn't really mean that he was taken to Bleecker Street to have Madame Cleo's psychic cat walk over him, Thurm replied testily, "I knew it was her cat.  I didn't say what kind of cat it was, you said it was that cat.  You're the one making all this fuss about cats and dogs."

Meanwhile, ranch hands and farm workers near the section of New Mexico where Giancarlo Stanton was last seen, reported the eerie howlings and rustlings of a strange, demonic creature, sometimes riding astride horse, in the still of the night.  The sounds made by this spectral vision spooked their cattle into stampeding and set dogs to yowling, but it vanished when they tried to approach it.

A Team for Today

MLB All-Cannabis Team

1B  Boo Powell
2B  Buzzy Wares
SS  Roxey Roach
3B  Xander (Don't) Bogaerts

LF  Ducky Hemp
CF  Chilli Davis
RF  Buzz Boyle

C  Taylor Teagarden

PH  Bert Weeden

RHP  Lil Stoner, Tobi Stoner, Herb Hash
LHP  Jung Bong, Josh Smoker

MGR  Dusty Baked

The Unnamed Temporary Sports Blog is back

That's right: The Unnamed Temporary Sports Blog, which you might recognize from a once-great website. (Hint: Deadspin.) 

Consider...

The Jameis Winston work-out video.

5 Classic Games that Remind Us of Why We Miss Sports

or my pers fave:

My God Grant Us an NFL Draft Full of Technical Disasters

Almost a feeling of normalcy.

Plague Theater: Pauly v. Gardy

I think Gardy takes it.

Is a 2020 season still possible? Here's a timeline...

It will soon be now-or-never time on baseball in 2020. I mean a made-for-TV, empty stadium, MLB mini-season with a pennant race and playoffs - rather than a "tournament" structure, with the entire year boiled down to a ridiculous handful of games.

Obviously, I have no crystal ball. And if the virus brings a hellish second wave, the lords of the game might choose to - mixing sports here - punt. 

But as a traumatized nation contemplates reopening - its populace more than ever divided and angry - it's time to ponder potential deadlines. Here's a timeline, and I invite you all to show where I'm mistaken, because everything is changing - mixing sports here - on the fly.

Normally, it takes eight weeks for MLB grapefruit teams to launch a season. Because of the rush, teams would probably try to push it to a month. That would probably mean an expanded roster, with starting pitchers lasting three innings. It would also mean a lot more elbow and shoulder injuries. I'd hate to be the young flamethrower who tears something in such a lost season. But there will be many.

It's hard to imagine teams opening camps before mid-May, or even June 1. Both Florida and Arizona have yet to hit their viral peaks, and if the refrigerated body trucks are lined up outside hospitals, it will lessen a public clamor to add hundreds of baseball players to the quarantine. Still, let's say a consortium of owners and players push to reopen camps around Memorial Day.  

That could set opening day for around July 1. Obviously, Trump would push for July 4th, with the games garnishing his address to the world from Mar-a-Lago, or the nation's bunker inside the Rocky Mountains. He will herald a Fox Network TV league played in cavernous stadiums before tiny crowds of selected Trump supporters and Republican donors, with piped-in cheering. If teams play through September, that's about 81 games - half a regular season, with the playoffs starting in October, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

This assumes the vast logistical problems of protecting players, ancillary staffs and families can be overcome. Frankly, I doubt that can happen without an emerging drug remedy. But Trump will be pushing everybody's buttons, and the MLB owners - his billionaire brethren - will seek to oblige. 

Somewhere, somebody has a spreadsheet that shows whether the owners will make or lose money by playing a short season - compared to tossing 2020 under the bus and letting the insurance industry foot the bill. I don't have those calculations. But I assure you, somebody does. I wonder if the huge slush fund that Congress recently passed can carve out money for the owners and players - hardship cases, all. 

As a Yankee fan, I certainly hope some semblance of a season can be achieved. But even if the 2020 Yankees win a ring, it will come with an asterisk and without a parade down the Canyon of Heroes. Nothing that happens this year can ever be the same.

Since December, I have set my heart to the moment when Gerrit Cole walked to the mound at Yankee Stadium, before 55,000 people, to fulfill his lifelong dream. Until that happens, baseball won't have returned. I don't see that happening in 2020. Maybe something is better than nothing. I just donno anymore.

Virtual Baseball: Thairo a Lightning Bolt of Hope in Yanks' Darkening Skies.

In Virtual Baseball today, the New York Yankees got a much needed jolt of joy, when Thairo Estrada pinch-hit a three-run homer that thwacked off the left field foul pole, and gave the Yanks a stunning, 3-2 victory over the Cincinnati Reds at the Stadium.

Rookie Kyle Holder got the start at shortstop today and played well, making several dazzling plays in the field and laying down two successful sacrifice bunts.  In the bottom of the ninth, though, after Gio Urshela and Brett Gardner singled with two outs, Manager Ma Boone sent up Estrada to pinch-hit for Holder.

"I just had a hunch—uh, I mean, that's what the sabremetrics were telling us, all the way!"  Boone said afterwards.  "No way I would EVER depart from those."

Estrada missed the first two pitches for strikes, barely fouled off two more, and then took a ball, before getting the barrel of his bat on a fastball from Reds closer Raisel Iglesias.  He hit a high pop fly that certainly had the distance, but looked as though it might curve foul.  Instead, it thwapped off the foul pole, sending the Bronx crowd into deliriums.

"Well, of course they both did great, and I think they both have terrific futures ahead of them," Boone said about his two new shortstops after the game.  He then hooked a thumb toward Estevan Florial where he sat at his locker, although Florial had not played for the second game in a row:  "I mean, it's not like they have a ceiling as high as that guy, or anything.  But it was good to see."

Mike King pitched six strong innings in what was another encouraging start for the Yankees, although he was on the wrong end of a 2-0 score when he left the game.  Adam "Mr. Zero" Ottavino got the win for New York.

It was the welcome end to a grim day for the Bombers.

First, reports circulated that longtime radio god John Sterling was still in the hospital, and that his condition was serious.  The new Yankees' spokesman, Tommy Finagling, denied that was the case.

"Nah, there's nothing wrong with the man!" insisted Finagling.  "Why, he just had some indigestion, very natural indigestion, too!  From eating Yankee fran—uh, from eating some bad shellfish!  Yeah, that's the ticket!  Some bad crabmeat.  You know how those eccentric artistic types are!"

Finagling also denied that the Yankees were pursuing what could only be called an unorthodox regimen of treatment for Gerrit Cole's ailing right arm.

Asked about rumors that Cole had been spotted in the Village last night, Finagling told the press:

"What?  What village?  No, never—oh, you mean that one!  Sure, sure he was in the Village.  At the hospital, you know, getting the old soup bone looked after!  Yes, at St. Vincent's Hospital, that's the ticket!"

Told that St. Vincent's was made into condos years ago, Finagling finally admitted that Cole had in fact been taken for a "preliminary assessment" at Madam Cleo's Psychic Emporium, on Bleecker Street.

"Sure, sure, what's wrong with that?  Why, it's perfectly fine homeopathic medicine!"

"No it's not."

"It's crystals!  She ran crystals over his arm—that sometimes works all by itself!"

"No, it doesn't."

"Don't be so ethnocentric!  Why, this is medicine made by the music of the spheres—"

After several more hours of dodging and feinting, Mr. Finagling admitted that Cole would go for a real MRI today.

Plague Theater: Frank, Billy, Marv... what else could you want?

Cheer up, Billy...

Plague Theater: Willie Randolph sells cameras

It's a snap to use.

Reggie thinks the coronavirus is God's way of shaking the tree

Reggie Jackson has sent a text message to the people of Earth, urging us to slow down and contemplate God's wisdom - and perhaps His wrath. It pops out of a recent YES Network interview, where Reggie was compelled to read his missive aloud. Texted Mr. October of the virus: 

“Hopefully this slows us down a little bit and relationships with family and friends and God are our priority while we’re here on Earth. Let us heed of this notice so that he doesn’t have to shake the trees a little bit harder the next time he wants us to realize that we might be a little bit off track."

So, if I'm getting this right, God is - (looks around) - shaking the tree? What does that mean? Is God pruning the overripe fruits of humanity? Is that what we see in the daily death toll? Humanity went off track, and thus He is systematically culling the herd? That seems a bit - well - harsh, am I right?

I don't want to pick over some old guy's words for the sake of an argument. And I think Reggie's heart is in the right place, as he continues: 

“I just kind of want to say, are we grateful for our jobs? Are we grateful for our friends and family? Do we spend enough time with our kids? Do we thank our wife for a great day? These are the things that I think about. These are the things I want to see us take notice. Are we running past the people who need help while everyone’s got a job? Look how many people now are struggling already with just 30 days of no work, three weeks of no work. Let’s be conscious of others, be conscious of who are as a nation, as a group, and certainly as a Yankee fans are certainly part of that. That’s what my concern is, the people where our home is in the Bronx.”

Reggie is right to express such sentiments, and I only wish him the best. To the day I die, I'll cherish the memory of that monstrous drive landing in the centerfield bleachers, while Charlie Hough hangs his head and contemplates eternity. That night, the juju gods were kind to him. Or maybe he was simply a great hitter. 

These days, it's nice to see him pondering the plight of regular people. 
But probably no player in baseball history had a larger ego than Reggie Jackson. He inhabited a world that revolved around him. Maybe it still does. I'm not attacking him... just sayin'. Reggie is now 73 - a tribal elder, with the right to his opinions. He's also a high-risk candidate to fall from a shaken tree. My biggest hope is that he stays safe, practices social distancing, and lives to be 103. 

But I do not believe God is now confiscating souls because we weren't praising Him enough. A little buzzer goes off when I hear people describing God's will. I believe our fate is in our hands, not His.

Hang in there, old friend. See you at Old-Timers Day. And wash your hands.

Virtual Baseball: Yanks Scare Reds, 14-3. More Scares for Torres—and The Master.

Today in Virtual Baseball, the New York Yankees mercilessly pounded the Cincinnati Reds, 14-3, with the help of six solo home runs.  But the Bronx Bombers suffered scares of their own to some of their nearest and dearest personnel, on and off the field.

First, shortstop Gleyber Torres, who has once again excelled this season at hitting home runs against the Baltimore Orioles, had to come out of the game after suffering what was later described by the team as a radial pull of the mephistophelian occlusion.

The Yanks expect Torres to only be out for a game or two.  But just two innings after he was forced to leave, replacement Tyler Wade suffered a hairline fracture of his right forearm when he was hit by a pitch.

In the clubhouse afterwards, Wade paused who trying to unlace his spikes, sobbing aloud, "Why me? Why me?"  Superb Thairo Estrada finished the game at shortstop, a.k.a., the Bermuda Triangle, but the Yanks announced after the game that they would be calling up Kyle Holder, who is currently hitting .213 at Scranton-Wilkes Barre, but who has impressed onlookers with his glove work.

The injuries overshadowed another impressive hitting performance by the Yanks, who hit eight different Cincinnati pitchers with abandon.  Gio Urshela, Mike Ford, Gary Sanchez, and Brett Gardner, each homered, while Mike "Walkie" Tauchman hit two dingers.  "El Matador," Miguel Andujar, added four doubles for the Pinstripers, while J.A. Happ breezed to another victory.

But this very display of Yankees power led to further consternation late in the game, when Sanchez and Urshela hit consecutive home runs.

Longtime Yankees radio announcer and beloved personality John Sterling was so excited by the blasts that, after giving forth with his trademark, "Back to back!  Belly to belly!" he suddenly collapsed and fell over in his chair.

Sterling was revived shortly after a W.B. Mason ad and insisted that he was all right.  He was escorted to a local hospital anyway, for overnight observation.

Meanwhile, the state of New Mexico called off its search for missing slugger Giancarlo Stanton.  Lieutenant Governor Gerry Beckley told reporters, "We just don't have the money in our budget for this sort of tomfoolery."

Plague Theater: Billy sells dogs

Feeding a hungry ballclub.

Last night, Rudy Giuliani and Sean Hannity made plans for their next Yankee outing

Channel-hopping last night, I accidentally landed on Hannity... and there it was: The full moon face of Rudy Giuliani, his forehead the size of a supermodel's back, eyes ablaze, grinning like Count Orlok. Before I could click onward, the revelation struck me - Holy shit! I bolted upright, spilling Cheetos from the bowl on my chest...

He was talking about the Yankees! 

Listen: I am not making this up. What follows is my best reconstruction of the sparkling conversation between America's Mayor and Sean Hannity, the de facto White House Press Secretary. Turns out, Rudy was envisioning the crowd at Yankee Stadium sometime soon.  

Rudy: Twenty thousand people! We'll each be separated by a couple of empty seats. 

Hannity: You'll like it. That way, you won't have to hear me talk all the time!

Rudy: It'll be just like normal, except fewer people in the stands.

Hannity: You should see this guy. Mr. Mayor here always gets the best seats in the house, right next to the Yankee dugout!

Rudy: They'll space everyone out, so people can do their 'social distancing.'

Hannity: You'll love it. You won't have to hear me talk all the time!

Rudy: Maybe thirty thousand.

Hannity: When I go to games, I talk all the time. That's the way I am at games. I just talk all the time.

Rudy: Maybe sitting one seat apart.

Hannity: You'll love it. You won't have to hear me talk all the time!

Oh, the joys of confinement. Every day, we learn something new.

Virtual Baseball: Gray Just Misses No-Hitter, Tanaka Misses Start. Stanton Missing.

Virtual Sonny Gray, pitching for the Cincinnati Reds tonight, came within two outs of pitching a no-hitter versus his former team, the Virtual New York Yankees.  Instead, Gray had to settle for a one-hitter, though he went on blank the Yanks by a score of 4-0.

D.J. LeMahieu managed to thwap a ball through the Reds infield for a clean single with one out in the ninth, bringing a cheer from the 318 people who remained in attendance at Virtual Yankee Stadium.  Another 21 were treated for frostbite on this chilly April evening.

366 more were treated for food poisoning, although Yankees creature Lonn Trost described that as the  usual, early-season average.

Gray was masterful tonight, striking out 11 and walking only three.  Currently 4-0, he leads the NL with a 1.27 ERA.  Asked what made the difference between his performances in the Queen City and the Bronx, Sonny replied:

"No disrespect intended, but with the Yankees, going to the pitching coach meant having to talk to this big, fat, stubborn fuck who just wanted you to throw the pitches he liked.  I find that there is a different attitude here in Ohio."

The Yankees, at 12-7, remained in second place in the American League East, four games before the sizzling Tampa Bay Rays.  But concern continued to grow over New York's starting staff, as rumors flew that Gerrit Cole had been seen weeping at a Manhattan hospital, while Masahiro Tanaka was forced to miss his start tonight while the team's crack physicians attempted to insert "lots a stuff" back into his elbow.

In his place, prized Yankees rookie Deivi Garcia got his first start of the year and went a strong five innings, allowing just two runs and four hits.

But the real story of the game was Gray, who shut down the Yankees from wire to wire.  Particularly frustrated was rookie centerfielder Estevan Florial, who struck out all four times he faced the Reds pitcher.

"No, I don't have any worries, because someday, someday, bang-zoom, he's going to hit that high ceiling!" Manager Ma Boone told reporters afterwards.

Meanwhile, Giancarlo Stanton remained missing in the New Mexico desert today.  When the Yankees tried to give reporters a briefing on his status, they were interrupted by the dean of the press corps, Brian Harper, who told club officials:

"Frankly, we just don't give a shit.  Nobody cares that much about him."

Deputies continued to search for the slugger, but confessed that their hopes were beginning to wane.  And that they, too, were bored.

Baseball is here! WE ARE MONKEYS!

Hat tip to Doug K.

GO MONKEYS!

Hoss--also this day in 1951

Mick's first game, sporting number 6.

Shepard and Mick both started the same day? Amazing.

Plague Theater: MURCERIZED!

"MURCERIZED!"

Eddie Murray voted all-time Yankee opponent at first base

The final tally (of 234 votes):

Eddie Murray (51): 22%

Miguel Cabrera (45): 19%

Harmon Killebrew (44): 19%
Rafael Palmeiro (27): 12%
Kevin Youkilis (24): 10%

Boog Powell (21): 9%

George Scott (11): 5%

Mike Hargrove (3): 1%

Scott Spiezio (2): 1%

For whatever it's worth, Murray's career record against the Yankees isn't that incredible. 

In 192 games, he hit .270 with 28 HRs and 100 RBIs. In Yankee Stadium, over 100 games, his numbers are .269, with 14 HRs and 49 RBIs.

Still, a truly great first-baseman who terrorized us whenever coming to bat. Bill James calculated him to be the fifth best 1B of all time. Sporting News called him 77th on the top 100 of all-time. 

What if? The Orioles drafted Murray in the third round of the 1973 draft. The Yankees first round pick that year was pitcher Doug Heinold. They selected SS Mike Heath in the second round and pitcher Howard Shoff in the third.

Finally: His 19 grand slams rank fourth all time. (The leader is A-Rod with 25.) 

How Not to Learn From History.

By the by, the regular phalanx in the Yankees broadcast booth for that game was joined by Alex Rodriguez, looking splendiferous as usual in one of his sparkling new suits.

A-Rod, always excited to be accepted as a real boy, was going on and on about how wonderful Aaron Judge was, with all his skills, his splendid body, "and less than 10 percent body fat!"

He felt that MLB was foolish not to "spend tens of millions" to make Judge the face of baseball, "the face of all American sports!"  He also predicted Aaron would hit "500 or 600" home runs.

Enough.

There's been far too much pressure placed on Judge already, what with the "Judge's Chambers" section and all that.  He's handled it very, very well, and you know me, I love Aaron Judge more than the sweet, dark mystery of life its own self.

But he's only human.  We've seen the limits of Judge's splendid body, and we had already by the time A-Rod was gushing on.  We'll be very, very lucky if he gives us 5-6 good years before breaking down completely—and that should suffice.

He's not going to hit 500-600 home runs.  He's not going to be anything more—if we're lucky—than a perfectly fine outfielder who works hard at his game, has a lot of field smarts, seems to be an upstanding citizen, and maybe, in just the right year, helps his team to a world championship.

That's all ye can ask for in this game today, and all ye need to have.

Isn't it enough for Alex Rodriguez that he drove himself to distraction—and his body and reputation over the brink of destruction—in trying to live up to impossible expectations?  Why try to torment others?

Given his natural abilities and hard work, A-Rod might have spent his whole career as a Gold-Glove shortstop with a mere 300-400 home runs and a plaque already in Cooperstown.  That only thing that stopped that from coming true was his own demons.

"Less than 10 percent body fat!"  Sheesh!

Yeah, Alex, keep on fetishizing the body athletic.  Learn nothing, know nothing about what the gods, JuJu and otherwise, allow us to attain and what they do not.

History.

Courtesy of the YES broadcast of last season's 5-3 win over the Boston Red Sox on this date a year ago, April 17, 1951, marked Bob Sheppard's debut as an announcer at Yankee Stadium.

Here is the lineup he introduced, in the home opener against the 1951 Red Sox:

Jackie Jensen, LF
Phil Rizzuto, SS
Mickey Mantle, RF
Joe DiMaggio, CF
Yogi Berra, C
Johnny Mize, 1B
Billy Johnson, 3B
Jerry Coleman, 2B
Vic Raschi, P

Ho-hum, just another home opener with five future Hall of Famers in the lineup, and 11 MVPs between them.  Also, the guy who would be 1951's Rookie of the Year, Gil McDougald, was on the bench.

Yanks won, 5-0, as Raschi pitched a complete game shutout, Jensen homered and doubled, and Mantle, DiMaggio, and Berra also drove in runs.

You know, sometimes I think maybe we forget how lucky we are...

Virtual Off-Day: Injury List Grows. Stanton Still At Large.

Returning to New York after a successful first Western swing, the Virtual Yankees had to confront a problem that plagued them last year:  injuries.

Luke Voit, after one of his best games at first base yesterday, was reporting a pull in his trilateral sephardic cortex, while catcher Gary Sanchez, off to only a .176 start behind the plate, was diagnosed with a jesuitical left selenium.

"None of it looks too serious.  But they have to be watched," Manager Ma Boone said after getting the trainer's report.

Meanwhile, there was confusion over whether or not Gerrit Cole had had his right arm examined, after a plane ride back from Dallas which he reportedly spent doubled over in pain, clutching his shoulder and demanding more shots of vodka to ease the agony.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, he had an FYI," Yankees creature Randy Levine, cornered while out catching flies at lunchtime, told a reporter.

Asked if he meant to say that Cole had had an "MRI," Levine replied, "Actually, he had a MYOFB," and placed his hand over his crotch for added emphasis.

No word still on the whereabouts of slugger Giancarlo Stanton, although New Mexico authorities reported that, judging by its hoofprints, the horse he was thought to be riding had traveled past "plants and birds and rocks and things" and was approaching "sand and hills and rings."

"Well, at least in the desert there ain't no one for to give him no pain, that's for sure," New Mexico state trooper Dewey Bunnell told the press.

Before the Courthouse, Stan's, and Parking Lots

Shown below is Baseball's One True Cathedral on April 19th, 1923, the day AFTER Opening Day:

The subway was there but this is before the Bronx Courthouse was built, before any of the businesses we know today such as Stan's and the Bowling Alley, and before any attempt was made to build any ... parking lots.

I'm really not sure why the place was filled to capacity on Day 2 of the season (refrigerator magnet day?), but look at all the cars in the adjacent lots ... all of the parking towers had yet to be built to accommodate the crowds.

Please also look also at all those open, grassy spaces and just how big that outfield was.


Soon we'll be back there.

Please stay safe, everyone.

Plague Theater: The most famous Yankees commercial of all time

"Not again."

RIP Damaso Garcia

Another link to the Golden Age of Shitty Yankees Trades, gone.

"Garcia, who played for the Dominican national team, was signed by the New York Yankees as an amateur free agent in 1975 and first made it to the majors in 1978. He was traded in the 1979 offseason to Toronto along with Chris Chambliss and Paul Mirabella for Tom Underwood, Rick Cerone and Ted Wilborn."