Tuesday, January 6, 2026

While we await something, anything, here are 10 (relatively) fun facts about new Yankee Paul DeJong.

In case you missed it, due to the delightful global events or the seemingly endless, two-hour Stranger Things finale, the Yanks on Friday signed veteran infielder Paul DeJong.

Ten fun - (sorta fun, anyway) - facts:

1. His middle name is Sterling!

2. In 2015, he graduated from Illinois State University with a degree in biochemistry.

3. In 2017, in his first-ever MLB at bat, on his first-ever MLB swing, he homered. 

4. Later that year, he became the first-ever rookie in MLB history to record seven extra-base hits in a three-game series.

5. That season, for St. Louis, he hit 25 HRs and batted .285.

6. It's all downhill from there.

7. He's played for the Cards, Blue Jays, Giants, White Sox, Royals and Nationals.

8. His highest BA with any team was .233. In several cases, he hit below .200.

9. Tough injuries - a broken hand, a broken rib, a broken cheekbone - derailed his career. 

10. At 32, he'll compete at SS with Jose Caballero, 29, until Anthony Volpe returns, sometime around May. (Pardon me if I weep. They are not tears of joy.)

Monday, January 5, 2026

If the Marquis de Sade came back as a football team, he could not torture fans more than the Giants have done

Let us tip our hats to the finalists in this year's IT IS HIGH Worst Organization on Earth award: 

1. Association for the Advancement of Industrial Microplastics.

2. Guns for Toddlers LLC

3. Save the Roaches!

4. The New York Football Giants.

Of course, we're here to honor the Giants, whose win yesterday eliminated their shot at the 2nd pick in next spring's NFL draft. The Giants beat fellow tomato can Dallas, who sat their starting QB, Dak Prescott, in the second half. This came one week after Las Vegas mysteriously deactivated its best player, Maxx Crosby, ensuring a loss to the Giants. 

After going 2-13 through the first 16 weeks - staking their claim as the NFL's worst team - the Giants won their final two, achieving nothing. 

I'm sorry, people, but this is Nobel Prize for Incontinence territory. We can rail against the Yankees and ridicule the Mets. We can chuckle at the Jets and await the looming Knicks' self-demolition. But nothing compares to the humiliation that the Giants regularly inflict upon fans, a loyalty that is best explained via the Stockholm Syndrome.  

Folks, this is genius. The '25 Giants have been a disaster since Week III, when they went 0-3. They won two - inexplicably beating Philadelphia - then rattled off nine straight losses, including five games where they led in the 4th quarter. Entering the season's final weeks, they held the 1st draft pick, allowing their fans to imagine a new front office with a bundle of young players. Nope. They won their final two, beating cupcakes who were determined to tank, while the network TV announcers bloviated about the momentum of a two-game winning streak, entering next season. What bullshit! What unbelievable, uncompromising, bullshit. 

Let's hope that, instead of invading Greenland, Donald Trump sends his Delta Force to the Meadowlands and extracts Giants owner John Mara to a rightful perch in Riker's Island. I'm sorry if that sounds cruel - the guy has cancer, which we can agree is a tough ride - but that's sorta what the NFL did long ago, replacing the Maras with GM George Young. Back then, it saved the team from another generation of disgrace.

So, hats off to the Gints! They have destroyed a once-great name brand. They have gifted NYC to the Jets. They have become irrelevant. Are you watching, Hal Steinbrenner? Do you think it cannot happen in the Bronx? Do you think the fan base will automatically follow whatever you do, wherever you lead? 

Sunday, January 4, 2026

Syracuse, the LA Dodgers of the Golden Snowball, has built a huge lead in the Golden Snowball

 

Read it and weep, Buffaloans... er, Buffalinos... Buffalites... wha'ever.

The packed and powdered city of Syracuse won last year's Golden Snowball by a healthy blizzard. But they have not rested on their laurels. This winter, they have already notched 81 inches, nearly double that of Rochester, the current runner-up.

Let us take a moment to ponder the Syracuse Snowball dynasty. 

Aside from a recent three year blip - Binghamton won two years ago; Rochester and Buffalo before that - Syracuse has dominated the annual upstate snowfall contest in the manner of the great Yankee teams. 

Since 1940, when the records began, Syracuse has won 50 Snowballs, including nine straight in the 60s-70s, and eight straight in the 70s-80s. 

Over the first 20 years of this century, Syracuse won 15. 

Listen: It's not close. Syracuse is a city of roof-rakes, winter rats and a giant dome. They claim the Eskimos have 50 words for snow. On the Tughill Plateau north of Syracuse - a place that barely exists between November and April - I once counted 51. And this could be the snowiest on record. (Though late this week, it's supposed to hit 40 degrees! Shorts and sandals!)

On a Yankee note, Toronto just signed the Japanese 3B slugger, Kazuma Okamoto. If he's any good - (and if they keep Bo Bichette) - you could argue that the Jays just bought the AL East. 

As for the Death Barge, we won't do anything until Cody Bellinger signs. If he stays a Yankee, they'll shop The Martian and Spencer Jones. If Cody signs elsewhere, they'll probably see what they can get for Jazz Chisholm. 

Either way, we'll soon see movement. A warning: We might not like it.

Saturday, January 3, 2026

HIT LINE – JANUARY 3RD, 1973





IT WAS 53 YEARS AGO TODAY
GEORGE BOUGHT THE YANKEES TO PLAY
NOW THEY'VE REALLY GONE OUT OF STYLE
NEVER AGAIN TO RAISE A SMILE
SO MAY I INTRODUCE TO YOU
THE FACT YOU'VE KNOWN THESE PAST FEW YEARS
HAL STEINBRENNER DROVE US ALL TO TEARS


Are the Yankees on the verge of a blow-out winter overhaul?

In the classic westerns, after a hard day of shooting renegades, John Wayne would sit around the fire, ignoring the pungent odors presumably emanating from Slim Pickens and Gabby Hayes, mull the rustling of the wind, and whisper... 

"It's quiet... too quiet."

Right now, that's how I see the Yankees. Across a lifetime shackled to this team, I cannot recall a more suspiciously quiet December and a deeper sense of dread.

Usually, by now, the Yankees have signed somebody - done something - even if it's a fallback option, because a certain ingrate moved across town. By now, the back pages should be gurgling with rumors, leaving us to refresh our keyboards in pitched anticipation of joyous, post-holiday gifts to come. 

Instead, we doom-scroll and wonder if something is broken.  

It's quiet, all right. 

Way, way, way... too quiet. 

We watched Devin Williams and Luke Weaver - the two biggest pieces of last year's bullpen - walk to the Mets. Not a peep. Then we wouldn't lift the phone on Tatsuya Imai. One player dominates our wish list - Cody Bellinger - who would repopulate last year's 2nd place team - one year older - and push the Yankees to trade what few young players they have. 

Lately, the rumors - meager as they are - carry the distinct aroma of what we would associate with Slim and Gabby. 

Talk surrounds Jazz Chisholm, who - despite a breakout season in 2025 - apparently will not get a long-term contract. You wonder how that will affect Chisholm; the Yankees might not want to find out. If they trade him, presumably for pitching, it would open a massive hole at 2B. If you're thinking of Bo Bichette, well, it requires outbidding Toronto. In fact, the Blue Jays could chase Kyle Tucker, inspiring Scott Boras' greatest wet dream: the Dodgers and Yankees in a bidding war over Bellinger. And then there are the Mets, who, last I checked, still occupy the most monied throne in New York, if not all of baseball. 

At least four teams look ready to outspend the Yankees, and then - after everything is done - there might not be a 2027 season. What happens this winter will shape baseball - and the Yankees - for years to come.

So, are we hearing the wind, or an approaching flood?

Dunno. But something's coming.

Trump distracts from Hal, Cashman failure in offseason, bombs Caracas


 

And you thought 2025 was bad.

Friday, January 2, 2026

Winter is here.


 Great empires tend to collapse like the human body, from the extremities inward, desperately shutting off those parts of one's anatomy—the toes, the nose, the fingers—that they think can be most easily sacrificed.  

Instead, these signs of decay only seem to summon the vultures, and speed the disintegration.

Not only the Yankees' gift shop off Times Square has closed, but also the Mets' shop on 42nd Street. 

Both were once the thriving outposts of empire, raking in gold and silver hand-over-fist, in exchange for just the sort of gaudy strips of cloth and assorted gewgaws that venturesome imperialists have always tried to palm on the unsuspecting locals. But word is beginning to leak out.

Last night on SNY's SportsNite, a pair of worthy sportswriting eminences, John Jastremski and Anthony McCarron, began to sound the alarm over the Yankees' retreat from the far atolls,  questioning just what the hell the Empire is doing.

SportsNite is the lively sports news show on the Mets' channel, on which a cast of dozens—male and female, old and young people of every possible age, size, and description—show highlights and banter about our NYC teams, such as they are. They are smart, witty, knowledgeable and critical. 

There is simply no equivalent thereof on the Yankees' moribund YES Network, which led us into the New Year with an A.C. Milan match and the Nets. But then, you can't be on SNY if you're a dues-paying member of the National Brotherhood of Flunkies and Lickspittles (Looking at you, Randy, Brian, and Lonn.).

Last night, both McCarron and Jastremski expressed approval of the fact that the Yanks have "checked in" on possibly signing Bo Bichette and Cody Bellinger, but were amazed that the Bronx team has done f-all (not their words) so far. Worse still, though, they were surprised that neither the Yankees nor the Mets took a flier on Tatsuya Imai, considering how he ended up going for the baseball-owner equivalent of couch change.  

This last is the most ominous development.  

Of course we can safely conclude that the Yanks never had and never will have any interest in re-signing Bellinger, and that "checking in" on Bichette is the Yanks' version of someone checking in on his smelly, irascible, 108-year-old grandfather: an empty show of virtue concerning an individual they would as soon just went away somehow. 

The Yankees and Mets passing on Imai suggests something else. It could be that Mets owner and chief executive klepto, Steve Cohen, was only in it for the casino from day one. In any case, their rush to "rebuild their core"—dumping still-productive players—while doing nothing about the pitching staff whose meltdown kept them out of the playoffs—looks more damning still.  

So what's going on?

Well, as they say in the pulps, winter is coming, there's a storm moving in, and the horror, the horror. And I don't mean all-winter-in-a-day, like what just dropped on Syracuse.

Hal and his fellow grifters are gearing up for the Big One, Billionaires versus Millionaires once more, this time for all the luxury boxes, once the basic agreement ends. They want to be stuck with as little payroll—or even as few tangible tourist traps—as possible. 

As you gentlemen have pointed out, the Yanks right now have the weakest bullpen in living memory, and a rotation where nobody knows who is going to be able to pitch Opening Day. None of the team's lineup shortcomings have been addressed—and none will be, right down to the fact that we will probably have our worst shortstop since Wayne Tolleson.

What they're planning for is a lockout that will last well into the 2027 season, and maybe into 2028, and then who knows?

There are no longer any of the checks in place that limited previous work stoppages. No Cal Ripken consecutive streak. No responsible federal judges, or a president who gives a crap about baseball or anything else. The owners and players have grown so fat on all the subsidies we have so fecklessly given them that can afford to fight on and on—and probably will.

They may be in for a surprise, though. 

Baseball is no longer our national game, and has not been for two generations. Through their algorithms and their extortionate prices, and the whole, debased ballpark experience, the owners have drained so much of the joy from the game. Players who often seem more intent on practicing their celebratory gesticulations than anything else, don't help.

If the sentiments expressed on this blog—home to as fine a set of aged, fanatical seamheads as ever existed—are any indication, not only Nepo Hal but the whole MLB apparatus has exhausted our patience.

As if they care. Already, the owners have started pulling down the flag, and heading for home. We should make sure it's the last time they do this to us.


  






   

  




Imai Blew

Imai Blew

(With apologies to Harry Akst & Grant Clarke)

Imai blew.
Imai blew.
There’s no deal. Never real.

We should sue.

Imai blew.
Astro coup.
They’ve no plan. For Japan.
I am through.


Was a time
The Yankees were number one.

It's a crime…
What they let this team become.  Lordy,

Will they pay?
Not today.
Now he's gone, our hopes too.
Imai blew.


HAL PATHETIC ! WHAT A JOKE ~ GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR !


 2 0 2 SUX

Tatsuya Imai is an Astro, and the Yankee Coupon Clipper is in charge

A dozen cruel-but-true statements about the Yankees, for now.

1. With six weeks until pitchers and catchers, the Yankee seem to be playing dead. 

2. They might not be playing.

3. Ever since Trent Grisham grabbed his $22 million qualifying offer and flew off to the Grand Caymans, Hal seems terrified of opening his wallet.

4. In every public interview, he has poor-mouthed about the payroll.

5. Cooperstown Cashman is combing the scrap piles: Paul Blackburn, Amed Rosario, Ryan Yarbrough. Not awful. But nothing to boost hope.

6. We still balance far too heavily on LH strikeout swingers - Chisholm, McMahon, Grisham, Wells, the Martian. 

7. We know Giancarlo will get hurt and miss substantial time, and one of these years, so will Judge.  

8. The current bullpen shapes up as the weakest in our lifetimes. 

9. It's foolish to bank on three starters in their 30s - Cole, Rodon, Schmidt - returning from surgery as their old selves.

10. After three tough years, we're apparently still waiting on Anthony Volpe.

11. Imai was the best starter on the market, and the Yankees didn't even make an offer.

12. Baltimore, Boston, Toronto are improving.

Are we playing dead? Or is this the new reality?

Thursday, January 1, 2026

Hey, Duque! What's the story?


 

What's the current snowfall score? Who's in first? What's in second?

It's 2026, for Yankee fans, the looming Year of Cringe

Ancient Yankee-Mayan calendars, as seen on the Bigfoot Channel, culminate in 2026, the year of "Bone and Shit," believed to be a 10,000 year-old reference to "Boone and Schlittler."

My personal predictive juices - slathered all over the Med-Bed - involve the Doomsday Glacier, World Wars 3 and 4, an alien attack from that 31:ATLAS space ship, and a big year from Anthony Volpe. (By big, I mean .230.) 

Listen: I could be wrong. 

Either way, it's 2026 and Cooperstown Cashman has not yet done anything incredibly stupid. 

Basically, he hasn't done anything. 

The merriment begins tomorrow, I suppose. Watch the skies, and happy new year. 

Wednesday, December 31, 2025

Happy Tatsuya Imai Day. Ten observations on the state of the Yankees.

1. Tatsuya Imai has until Friday to sign. 

2. The Yankees really, really, really need another starter. 

3. Imai is the best available, unless they work a trade. 

4. Their farm system is drained from last August deadline deals.

5. Compared to other farm systems, they cannot compete in trades.

6. They seem to be trying to re-create last year's team.

7. Last year's team finished second in the AL East.

8. Their anchors - Judge, Stanton, Cole, Rodon, et al - are aging.

9. Toronto, Boston and Baltimore have all made recent upgrades.

10. In public statements, Hal Steinbrenner shows no willingness to increase spending.

Thus, by Friday, we should know where this team is going in 2026.

So, happy friggin new year. 

Tuesday, December 30, 2025

Hey, Hal: Tatsuya Imai is waiting for you. It's time to make your move!

Hello, Mr. Steinbrenner, 

A few words, please...? 

(Clears throat. Deep breath. Wipes sweat.) 

JEEZE KRICE, MAN! WAKE UP AND GET IN THE GAME!

By Friday, Tatsuya Imai - the best free agent pitcher on the market - either signs with an MLB team or returns to Japan in 2026.

Dear God, he's standing there, RIGHT THERE!  You can't miss him. He's bobbing his head to the music, tapping his toes, trying to look cool. He's waiting for somebody - HE'S WAITING FOR YOU, DAMMIT - to walk up and say those simple but magical words that have conjured generations of human history... 

"Hey, ya wanna dance?"

THAT'S IT! That's all it will take! Just buck up! Comb your hair. Tuck in your shirt. Swallow your gum. Take one step, then another. Pretend to be confident, even though you're terrified. Just go to him, now!

Listen: He won't bite. He's as frightened as you are. Make an offer. Twenty-five a year. You've got the money, dammit. What else will you buy? Another Mexican League MVP? The Cy Young winner of Madagascar? 

Come on, man. YOU CAN DO THIS! You've waited all winter. You stood in the corner, watching other owners do it. The O's signed Pete Alonso, the Blue Jays got Dylan Cease, the Redsocks, Sonny Gray. You just watched. 

COME ON, MAN! GET IN THE GAME! 

As Katy Perry says... 

You got the eye of the tiger, a fighter
Dancing through the fire, 'cause you're a champion,
And we're gonna hear you ROARRRRR!

Listen: You won't be 56 forever. Time's a movin'. This is it, your golden peak, your last great youthful fling in the garden of erect nipples. Make your move, lad. He's waiting for you. IT'S TIME TO ROARRRR!

Monday, December 29, 2025

Who is Nick Torres, and why should we - (or Ben Rice) - care?

Over Christmas, the Yankees announced the signing of Nick Torres, a 32-year-old, right-handed 1B/OF, and the reigning Mexican League MVP.

On behalf of the Yankiverse, I would like to say the following: 

Huh? 

Is this a thing? Mexican League? Could it matter? Is this a breakthrough, or something we'll laugh about in June? Is Nicholas Torres the next "Never Nervous" Yangervis, or the new Zolio Almonte? Isn't this just the kind of signing that Cooperstown Cashman loves - high intrigue, low cost? Could Nick Torres fill a RH void at 1B and/or LF?

Ten potentially fun facts about Nick Torres.

1. He is the first Torres to play for the Yankees since Gleyber. 

2. He's a native of Long Beach, California, drafted out of college at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo.  

3. Last year, in Mexico, he hit .347 with 27 HRs and 79 RBIs, in only 86 games.

4. He's been mashing in the Mexican League for the last five seasons.

5. He'll be earmarked for Scranton. But if he hits in spring training, Torres could work himself into a platoon at 1B or LF. 

6. He is 6'1" and 220. (By comparison, Ben Rice is 6'2", 228.)

7. His potential MLB career fizzled out in 2019, at Triple A.  

8. That year, he batted a meager .195 and then jumped to Mexico. (That year, the league was considered Triple A. It now has no designation.)

9. He's been a Mexican League all-star the last two years.

10. Upon his signing, Union Laguna - his former team - released the following statement: 

“Your time with the Revolución leaves a mark on the diamond, in the stands, and in the hearts of our people. Today it’s your turn to keep growing and fulfill one more dream, now with the Yankees organization. It fills us with pride to see you take this step and take your talent to a new stage. La Laguna and Algodoneros will always be your home. Thank you, Nick.”

Sunday, December 28, 2025

It is with a Heaney Heart that I announce right here, in this very blog that ~


Brian Cashman will no longer be looking to bring back Andrew Heaney to the shore/sure up Aaron Boone's 2026 starting rotation because the former Yankees hurler has officially announced his retirement from baseball.
  
When reached for a comment, Sonny Gray yelled out,
" LET GO YANKEES – 2 0 2 6 !"



America, Worst. Clutch time for the Jersey Gints

To dream the impossible dream,
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow,
To blame everything on Daboll. 

Today, the New York Effing Football Giants chase their rightful place in history.  

They play the Raiders, a team so woeful that old-time fans still can't remember the city they represent. 

They face the ultimate quest: To lose to the losingest losers - the lost loss leaders - on their righteous path to the first pick in next spring's NFL draft.

Or they can win an utterly meaningless game, costing them the first pick, and - frankly - condemning both them and their horrified fans to suffer for the rest of our meager, unfulfilled lives.

Lose two more games - just two - and the Giants can draft first. They can either select a QB (because they managed to ruin Jaxson Dart in barely one-half season) or trade their top pick for a bundle of other choices. 

There is one impossible dream.

And the world will be better for this.
That one team, weak and covered with scars
Still strove with its last ounce of hubris
To draft an un-draftable star!


Saturday, December 27, 2025

Pondering the Three True Outcomes of the Yankee winter.

By this time next Friday, Tatsuya Imai will have signed with somebody.  

Let us ponder the Three True Outcomes of the Yankee Distress Continuum.

1. Yanks sign him. Their recent poor-mouthing was fakery. They'll have addressed their greatest need. They'll have spent money and secured a solid starter. This will likely end their heavy winter spending. Cory Bellinger signs elsewhere, and LF goes to the Martian or Spencer Jones.

2. He signs with a team from Nowhere. Seattle, Atlanta, Philly - some backwater junction we visit every three years. He cannot hurt us. (In the bidding war, the Yanks, of course, will come in second.) Cashman will peruse the recycling bins and give a false chase to Bellinger. The Martian/Jones still have a chance. 

3. He signs with a rival. The Mets, Boston, Toronto, even Baltimore? Sirens will blare! Flashers will flash! Dogs and cats, living together!  Cashman, in distress, might go all-in on Bellinger. The OF becomes a logjam, and Martian/Jones become chips. Cashman remakes the team with trades. 

One week...

Friday, December 26, 2025

A Little Poetry On A Bleak Rainy Day

Off-Seasonal Affective Disorder

The cold wind of a swinging strike three,

in the bottom of the ninth of that playoff game they should have won.

But didn’t.


The days grow shorter now. Or is it longer?

The three-hour escape…

No longer there.

 

Instead, the “Hot Stove”…

Empty talk of Free Agents and trades that never happen.

Poor kindling at best.


I suppose it’s better now. With blogs and such.

Then when I waited  for that first true sign of spring.

Street and Smith.

 

Three words

Telling me the world begins anew.

Then the most important three words of all…


Pitchers and Catchers. 

With 12 back pages left in 2025, the Knicks are in command, while the Yankees hibernate

Well, we knew this day would come...

Generally, the Yankees have ruled NYC sports since the mid-1990s, when Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera led the team to four world championships. The Mets were snake-bitten, and the Giants/Jets - (except for two Super Bowl miracles) - long ago became embarrassments. The Knicks, Nets, Rangers, Islanders, Devils - you just had to walk away. 

How could New York sports be so sad, so underwhelming? There was something in the water, or maybe the culture or - most likely - the poor-mouthing, billionaire nepo babies who owned NY's professional teams.

So, here we are... 

For six years, every day, we've counted back pages, seeking to gauge the zeitgeist of Gotham by one obvious indicator: the wild burst of free publicity found in tabloid back pages.

For six years, the Yankees always prevailed. 

Clearly, they represented the pride of NYC. They were the New York fucking Yankees, the team of Ruth, Gehrig, Joltin' Joe, the Mick, Yogi, Reggie, et al. They stood for money, for political power, for status quo, for America, and for 27 world championships - more than twice that of their nearest competitor, the St. Louis Cardinals, (with 11.) They were the Bombers, the apex predator of Gotham, and when it came to tabloid back pages, they always led. Of course, they did!

Until now. 

With one week left, they appear to be going down.

Barring a massive trade or free agent signing - (and, to be honest, either could happen) - the Yankees will be dethroned for the first time. The Knicks hold a 3.5 cover lead.  

The reason is simple. The Yankees have no bluster. When owner Hal Steinbrenner speaks, he whines about paying the bills. Several teams - most notably, the Mets - spend far more on payroll, and you never see the owners carping. They see big payrolls as the price of winning. Hal seems tired of running the Yankees, and the people of New York City can sense it. 

Well, maybe he'll surprise us. I'm the kid who, finding shit under the Christmas tree, runs to the back yard, shouting, "There must be a pony!" More likely, though, something incredibly sad has just happened. 

The Yankees are losing New York City. 

If they do, they might not get it back in our lifetimes. 

Thursday, December 25, 2025

Cashman Plays Santa


Cashman has decided the Yankees have enough toys.  Let the other teams sign the stars from Japan, the Dominican and from free agency.  

We don't even need most of our own guys who have proven themselves in the test of not coming in first. 

Add old vets who were, at best mediocre. 

Win 82 games with a hot streak at the end in games that matter not. 

The Yankees have gotten weaker.

Thanks, Santa.

The year before the strike can't end soon enough.  

There will be World Cup soccer. 

An Above Average Christmas Day Wish to All of You Who May Still Care out There . . .

With Special Thanks to Bitty for his inspired Jack Torrance input

and assistance . . . 






 








Also, my most sincere apologies to JM and others that use their cell

phone to view these posts on.  You will need to make it BIGGER to

enjoy everything it has to offer.

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MEMORY, KNICKS TAKE DECEMBER LEAD IN TABLOID COVERS RACE

 

Since we launched the count in 2019, the Yankees have always ruled NYC's tabloid back pages. It has never even been close. 

With one week left in 2025, the Knicks now hold the lead. (See the standings, at left.)

This week, unless the Yankees do something, they will no longer be New York's team. 

Wednesday, December 24, 2025

The Ghosts of Christmas Always.

Hal was just finishing his Christmas Eve gruel, sitting with his kinky boots up in the luxury suite of his yacht, Golden Boy IV, when he heard the chains drag across the keel.

 

“Oh, hell!” he exclaimed, dropping his spoon. “Here?”

 

There was no denying it. He could hear the chains as they continued, dragging across the length of the hull and up the stairs of the multi-storied vessel. Then the door to the cabin burst open, and there in the doorway stood an awful, spectral figure. 

 

Hal sighed.

 

“WTF, Dad?  I just had the hinges on that regilded.”

 

George Steinbrenner shuffled across cabin and seated himself next to the AC, leaving a swath of puddles behind him. Hal’s nose turned up.

 

“And the carpet! Do you know much that cost?”

 

“As much as a third baseman who can’t hit his weight?”

 

“Fuck you, too, Dad. How’d even get up here, anyway? I figured if I was on the yacht, there’s be no way you could do your chain-dragging thing up from hell.”

 

“Oh, you’d be surprised, son. The devil and the deep blue sea are like that.

 

George tries to hold his ghostly fingers close together. They go through each other.

 

“Oh, well. Actually, the swim was pretty refreshing. It gets a little…close down in hell, if you know what I mean.”

 

Why are you here? Oh, wait, I know: you’ve come up to tell me everything I’m doing wrong running ‘your’ team.”

 

Are you running it, son?  I thought you left everything to that snotty little kid whose daddy used to sell me horseflesh.” George chuckles evilly. “Oh, how I loved to beat on that little jerk when things went wrong, just to see him squirm. ‘The playoffs are a crapshoot.’ Oh, that one made me laugh for days.”

 

“Brian Cashman is an invaluable asset to my ballclub, Dad.”

 

“Invaluable ass, you mean. He sits up there like a ventriloquist’s puppet and mouths everything you want him to say, while you run the team I built into the ground.”

 

“Oh, now you built the New York Yankees, Dad? And my team runs very well, thank you. Our profit margins put yours to shame.”

 

George stood up, shaking off some seaweed and indignantly pulling a mollusk out of his ear.

 

“It’s not about the money, son! How could you not have money? You inherited a goddamned fortune and the all-time greatest franchise in history, a veritable money machine! Aside from that ass in the White House, who could not make money with that—”

 

“Let’s not get into the inheritance bit, Dad!”snapped Hal, wobbling to a standing position in his thigh-high glitter boots with the six-inch heels. “You know as well as I do that we all inherited a fortune! The Steinbrenner money comes from a summer squall on Lake Erie—and nobody looked too closely at the hull of that boat when they dredged it up.”

 

George looked a little abashed, even with his baked-red face from the fires of hell.

 

“Yeah, well, shit happens. Boats sink sometimes. Look at the Edmund Fitzgerald.

 

Hal sighed.

 

“Well, shall we say what we do every year, Dad? ‘See you in hell’?”

 

George Steinbrenner shook his head sadly as he shuffled his chains toward the door.

 

“No, son. You’re not going to hell.”

 

A gleam came into Hal’s eye.

 

“Heaven, then? I knew it—”

 

“Not heaven, either.” George shook his head. “You see, son, both heaven and hell are for those who believe deeply. Who try to do something or build something, or just take something as far as it will go, for better or worse. Me? I’m right at home in hell, with all the bunco artists and the double-dealers, and the grifters and the hustlers. The sore losers, who don’t see why they have to lose at all.”

 

He started back down the gold-plated steps to the hull, still rambling on.

 

“The other place? Well, they have all their saints, who are just as single-minded in their own way. Or all the good folk who just love people and things for what they are. Not you, son. No, son, no heaven and no hell for you—no place that’s ever too hot or too cold. You’re headed for some kind of purgatory, where you can just sit about forever and pile up coins—the golden, shining symbols of things, instead of what those things really are.”

 

He waved a briny hand in farewell. 

 

“Hope you never get tired of it. Because it's forever.”


And with that: Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! From the whole family (Grandad the kid on the left, with the big head.).


Hal - a - Looyah. Celebrate the holiest of nights with John Sterling and the Choir


 

ROSARIO! YARBOROUGH! BLACKBURN! Big Yankee acquisitions make every day feel like Christmas

Hard to fathom a better year than 2025 - when our collective juju won a silver medal in the AL East, but with Amed Rosario, Ryan Yarborough and Paul Blackburn returning - and the Ghost of Christmas Past (Brigadoon Refsnyder) reappearing, this looks like the greatest upcoming season since Lyle Overbay clocked in. 

HAPPY IT IS HIGH HOLIDAYS to all.


 

Tuesday, December 23, 2025

And now, an IT IS HIGH holiday card... for you, and you, and YOU!


 

Yanks' pursuit of Tatsuya Imai neatly coincides with the 2025 Back Page Race conclusion

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. 

If you look out to the right side of the plane, some of you can see flames spewing from the Number One engine. Not to worry. Everything is fine. Still, to ensure your maximum comfort, we will be turning on the emergency BRACE FOR IMPACT sirens. On behalf of the crew, I'd like to take this occasion to thank you for choosing the Yankees and suggest we all assume the fetal position and kiss our asses goodbye...

Folks, it's coming to a head.

The Yankees' longtime hold on New York City. 

Everything depends on Tatsuya Imai. 

By 5 p.m. E.S.T. on Jan 2, Imai - the Japanese starter and best free agent pitcher on the market - either signs with a MLB team or stays in Japan another year.

If the Yankees sign Imai, they will win at least four tabloid covers and almost certainly clinch the 2025 IT IS HIGH TABLOIDS BACK PAGE RACE. 

If they fail, they might still win a cover or two - out of tabloid frustration - but the Knicks could overtake them at the December 31 buzzer. 

If they sign Imai, the Yankees will enter 2026 with yet another year of dominance on the city's tabloids - a streak they have held since we began counting covers in 2019. 

This is the closest race on record. And it will coincide with the destiny of Imai. 

Brace for impact.

Brigadoon is a Mariner now


 He's 35 and will make 6.5 million. During his time with the Red Sox, he had an OPS of .830-something.

May he cavort with Van Johnson and Gene Kelly in his dreams.

Monday, December 22, 2025

The IT IS HIGH files, released and redacted

 dudhd oudl s[ll                                             manager Aaron Boone and                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   My                                                                                                                                with a lobster.                                                                                                                                                                   commonly referred to as "a Jabrony"                                                                     large pulsating carbunkel                                                                                             a bag of entrails                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  S                            Gerrit Cole                                                                                                            "Cut me!           

And now, an IT IS HIGH classic: T'WUZ THE NIGHT BEFORE STERLING


 

It's slowly becoming clear: Whatever the Yankees do this winter, it won't be enough

In his 1977 masterpiece, Annie Hall, Woodie Allen dredged up an old joke...

Guy walks into a psychiatrist's office and says, 'hey doc, my brother's crazy! He thinks he's a chicken.' The doc says, why don't you turn him in? The guy says, I would but I need the eggs.'

At least for another few days, loyal Yank fans can still dream of waking Xmas morn to find the Japanese hurler, Tatsuya Imai, nestled under the Douglas fur. If that happens, the Gammonites of Gotham will ejaculate blow-hole blasts of praise upon Hal Steinbrenner, as they always do when he pries open his PayPal account. It never matters if they'll hit opening day with a Yangervis and a Zolio, or a Jorbit and a Josh - still absent that one big acquisition that would make a difference. The courtiers will proclaim the Yankees as the AL team to beat, because - well - they need the eggs.

We can wait for Imai to chose his destination. And if it's the Yankees, yeah, let's lift a glass. But here's the dirty little truth: 

If the Yankees do sign Imai, Hal will then close his checkbook and go into hibernation until next August. 

It's the game Hal's played since 2014, when he signed Jacoby Ellsbury, Carlos Beltran and Brian McCann - and still finished second. 

Ever since, he's only been in this for the eggs. 

The winter of 2014 was the last time Hal launched a spending spree worthy of the family name. Five years earlier - about 10 months before his dad's death - Hal signed Mark Teixeira, AJ Burnett and CC Sabathia, and the Yankees won their last world championship of this millennium. Unfortunately, the 2014 surge went sideways. Beltran hit the wall - literally. Ellsbury turned into a wad of Kleenex, and McCann lay dormant until 2017, when as a cheating Astro, he ambushed us in the postseason. 

Mark my words: The Yankees will soon sign someone. But he won't be enough. 

That's because Hal does not need the Yankees to win. He just likes the eggs.

Sunday, December 21, 2025

John Mellencamp and John Sterling report a bizarre Christmas infidelity


 

Five ponderings re: the Yankees' signing of Paul Blackman, Blackburn, whatever.

1. The Blue Jays, having signed Dylan Cease, are said to be pursuing Alex Bregman. The Yankees have Paul Blackman, Blackburn, whatever.

2. The O's, having signed Pete Alonso, just traded for Shane Baz. The Yankees have Paul Blackman, Blackburn, whatever.

3. The Mets have signed Luke Weaver. The Yankees have Paul Blackman, Blackburn, whatever.

4. USA is bombing boats in the Caribbean. The Yankees have Paul Blackman, Blackburn, whatever.

5. It's the shortest day of the year. And the Yankees have... whatever.

Saturday, December 20, 2025

It's Official: The Yankees Are A Small-Market Team.

 

Word came down yesterday that the Yankees had not so much as talked to Tatsuya Imai, as the window to sign the latest Japanese pitching sensation begins to close. 

Unlike seemingly every other Japanese phenom on the boats on the planes coming to America, Imai openly expressed his desire not to join the Dodgers but to beat them. 

Sounds like just the sort of fearless gamer that we could use, no? 

No. 

It seems that your New York Yankees are not even making their usual, elaborate pretense of finishing second (or third) in the contest for the biggest free agents out there. 

The news that Imai was not a person of interest capped a week in which we also learned that our gutsy relief find of 2024, Luke Weaver, joined what has become a veritable parade of pitchers from the Bronx over to Queens the last few years, including the likes of Luis Severino and Devin Williams.

It's not even clear that Stevie Cohen's Mets are in it for anything beyond the casino. But here they are, repeatedly stealing away even the sorts of key role players we would seem to need to put a roster together.

The Metsies also passed on free-agent starter Michael King...who remained in San Diego with the Padres, for a mere three-year deal. 

King, a former Yankees stalwart, would seem to have been, in today's baseball marketplace, the sort of low-risk pick-up that even nominally contending teams would rush to ink, a proven commodity who has been ready, willing, and able to pitch in almost any capacity over the years: starter, middle reliever, closer.

No.

The vast weather system that is Yankee disinterest looms over the horizon like an upstate New York snow front. 

All but taunting the Yanks, the other day Dani Wexelman, latest in the Cast of Thousands on SNY's Sportsnite—the nightly show itself a vibrant contrast to the cobwebbed YES Network, papered mostly with pink slips and Eurosoccer these days—implored the Bombers to least re-sign Cody Bellinger, saying something to the effect of:

"C'mon, don't you have to take another shot at a World Series before the window closes on Aaron Judge, on Gerrit Cole?"

No. 

The "no" team in the City of No doesn't have to do a damned thing. And they won't.

"Word" now has it that Bellinger's legendary agent is now demanding an eight-year contract for $400 million. I don't know who that word is coming from, but I'd bet my bottom dollar it sis someone whose initials are "B.C." Spreading this kind of rumor is the perfect excuse for not signing a big star. 

Remember the Mets, and A-Rod's supposed demand for a personal assistant? Or just last year, when Soto had to have a luxury box.

It's called "capitalism," guys. You think someone wants too much? You find a way to make him another offer. IF you want to sign him at all.

Not so long ago—well, all right, it is long ago, and seems like longer—Cody's Bellinger's weak-hitting dad made a spectacular, over-the-fence catch to save a World Series game we were in the midst of blowing to the Mets. 

Someone like Bellinger pere, a guy who could play anywhere, was on the roster because that was the sort of invaluable extra we could afford on a world-class team—the world-class team, probably the greatest team ever—that was the turn-of-the-century Yankees. 

The difference between then and now is that now the Yanks have decided that they are a small-market team.

Nearly every one of their moves for the last few years reflects that mentality. 

Trading four good young pitchers to acquire a rental superstar like Soto in hopes of stealing a World Series that would keep the fans pouring in for a few more years? A superstar who Hal Steinbrenner and Brian Cashman knew from the beginning was only a one-year rental? 

Yeah, that's how the likes of desperately under-capitalized teams such as the Washington Nationals and the Tampa Bay Rays operate. 

Passing on the likes of Cody back in 2023, or Pete Alonso last year, both of whom would have been cheap pick-ups who might have pushed the team to a championship? Passing on star after star after star—on the one man (times a dozen examples)—who might have turned the Yanks into the Dodgers East? 

Hey, that's Moneyball. That's the Athletics, minus Sacramento. 


I kid, I kid, of course. The Yankees aren't a small-market team. A small-market team is usually:

—Run by brilliant, crafty baseball minds who know how to maximize smaller acquisitions and build a great farm system.

—Short of cash.

Not so much the Yanks, who have kept the same incompetent in charge of the front office for a record 28 years and counting, and who have been handed billions of dollars of free stadia by the taxpayers over the last half-century. 

Not the New York Yankees who, according to the latest luxury-tax calculations, spend only around 50 percent of their stupendous revenue on payroll and tax, leaving some $350-$400 million of declared revenue (and who knows what in undeclared samoleons) to spend on...what, exactly? 

The Yanks are just lucky that their superstar of the age, Aaron Judge, is not as possessed by the same adoration of money as the Steinbrenner heirs, or he would have taken his talents to the Bay Area years ago and exposed just what a rotting hulk the Yanks have become.

It is true, of course, as a great man once said, that there's no predicting baseball. Who knows if Luke Weaver can bounce back? Michael King has an alarming history of injury, and Tatsuay Imai is awfully small, and if Cody Bellinger really wants $50 mil a year through 2033, we're better off sticking with the kids.

But taking risks and spending money is how you win championships. That, or by hiring skilled people to build a great farm system, but that would mean...

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.