The Yankee 2016 hope: Somebody Darwins up from the ooze

In lieu of signing a stud free agent, the Yankees have assembled a handful of unfulfilled former future stars, ex-can't-miss prospects, hoping to snag another Amos Otis.

Yes, Amos Otis. The Elevator.

Sherman, set the Wayback to 1969. Otis was the future of the Mets, a 22-year-old CF who had failed in his first incarnation, at 20. He comes up, hits below .200, and is dealt to Kansas City for the great Joe Foy. As a Royal, Otis blossoms, epitomizing a common event in the 1970s and 1980s - the former hot prospect who is a bust with the first team, then explodes in another setting. Randy Johnson, for example. The decades were full of them, and the Yankees - think Doug Drabek, Jay Buhner, et al - led the way in giving them away.

But then GM's began to wise-up. Nobody wanted to be the guy who traded Jeff Bagwell for Larry Andersen, a player whose name in Boston remains synonymous with a bucket of fried chicken. But the trades still happen. And Cashman is sifting for his Amos Otis.

Last year, he pried loose Didi Gregorius from Arizona. Gregorius started horribly, then did very well. If he further evolves, he could be a star.

Here are the Yankee Darwinian Hopes for 2016:

1. Aaron Hicks, former Twins first-round pick. He's 25, hits both ways, is solid defensively, and has Paul Molitor as a fan. To get him, we gave up John Ryan Murphy - who could turn out to be the one that got-away. If Hicks evolves...

2. Michael Pineda, Nathan Eovaldi. We all know them by now. They should be hitting their peak years. They've both flashed signs. Maybe we've already seen all there is to see. If either evolves...

3. Dustin Ackley, former Mariners' first-rounder. We got him at the trade deadline. This is the guy who disappeared when Robbie Cano came to town. He was supposed to be the next Dustin Pedroia. He is NOT the next Pedroia. But if he evolves...

4. Slade Heathcott, Mason Williams, former top Yankee prospects. Basically, they are the same player - (25 and 24, respectively) - fast, injury-prone, LH bats who play good defense, might hit .280 and maybe 15 HRs. For either to evolve, somebody has to get hurt. What are the chances of that happening...?

5. Luis Severino. Saved the best for last. Practically every hopeful 2016 projection involves this guy evolving into a top starter. He's 22. Two weeks ago, we were stunned by the news that Greg Bird will miss the season. The only thing more disheartening would be an injury to Severino. If he evolves...

I'd say for the Yankees to win the division, three of the above seven names has to make that step. Of course, there are many other factors. But if someone evolves... the elevator will be going up.

For CC Sabathia, the great optimism of February can only be one-day-at-a-time

CC Sabathia says he feels great.

The knees: Great! The elbow, great, the shoulder, great, everything, great. He's thinking clearly, and smiling. We should all feel great - for now.

Sabathia is a great Yankee. Six years ago, he pitched us to a World Series. Thus, he has a leg up on Beltran, Ellsbury, McCann et al, - and frankly, that might never change. Right now, he seems to have kicked his alcoholism. But warm days and meaningless games in February will be easy. It will be the grind of July and August that brings the test. It will be the night after he's knocked out in the third. It will be the morning when his arm hurts. It won't happen in the sunshine of Tampa. But in a rain delay in Boston... well, let's keep our fingers crossed.

One thing Sabathia has been saying - and it's good to hear - is that he recognizes the battle ahead: He will be fighting this war for the rest of his life.

I can't remember the last time a Yankee star came to camp so nakedly with a substance abuse problem. Well - actually - I can: I just wanted to block it out.

It was Steve Howe. The late Steve Howe. One of the great could-have-beens of his generation.

Over 17 years in baseball, Howe was suspended seven times for drug violations. But his teammates loved him. The Yankees stood by him, again and again - even when his recurring suspensions became an unfunny joke - that is, when it became clear he was not going to win the fight. Howe retired in 1997, leaving the Sioux Falls Canaries in an indie league. Nine years later, he rolled his truck - he worked in construction - and died. An autopsy showed meth in his blood. Gone at age 48.

So this year it's Sabathia, and nobody needs me to tell them what it could mean to the Yankees if he returned to 2009 form. He's 36. Today, everything feels great. The skies are sunny, and the outlook is for seventies and soda. This time of year, the world always looks great in Florida. Let's just hope...

With a two-year deal, will The Master announce lazy?

You see it with some "star" players. They reach a certain level of fame and self-delusion, and then decide not to run out grounders, or to show loyalty to their home city. They square a 10-year, gazillion dollar deal on the other side of the country, just to please Beyonce, and if there is a God in heaven, they'll never be never heard from again, and yes, Smiley, you know who you are.

Well... ahem...

John Sterling and Suzyn Waldman have been calling Yankee games since anyone can remember, and they've been doing it on a year-to-year basis. Every season, never knowing whether it would be their last, they went out day to day, laced up their cleats and talked.

This time, they somehow managed to score a two-year deal, which means - what? - complacency? It better not, because they're taking the hard-earned dimes straight from Hal Steinbrenner's pocket... at a time when the plucky owner can't even afford one free agent.

A two-year deal? They better talk their A-game.

If you're riding on a two-year cream puff, the WinWarbles need to hit 7.00 seconds. No more 6:20 second Sterl Hurls. You gotta be like that Latino soccer announcer, the one who goes Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooahl.

If you're sitting pretty on a two-year pact, the Homer Hollers need to be crisper than "Gardy goes Yardy." I still can't even remember Beltran's call, though that's probably due to Beltran not hitting enough HRs to deserve one.

If you're in this for two years, that law firm that does the work on asbestos victims had better get a busload of viably sick clients, and the Little Debbie Snack Cakes will have to fly off the shelves.

Two years? Fine. But we cannot accept complacency from our tethers to the Yankiverse.

The pre-season NothingSpeak begins: Cashman says Yanks will contend... if nothing bad happens

Yesterday, Brian Cashman told reporters the key to 2016 is the Yankee rotation staying healthy.

He added that the sun is warm, 2+2=4, and he hoped that we still feel small when we stand beside the ocean, that whenever one door closes, we'll see one door open, that we'll promise to give faith a fighting chance, and if we get a choice to sit it out or dance... he hoped we'll dance.

Write this down: The key to 2016? No injuries. Got it?

If nobody gets hurt, everything A-OK!

“Our starting rotation’s health is really the keys to the kingdom for us,” Cashman said. “It normally is for anybody, but I believe when we’re able to run out our healthy starting rotation that we have on paper, we can match up with anybody.”

In other words... GOD HELP US! MAYDAY! WHO'S GOT THE SHOE POLISH, 'CAUSE THE BATHROOM CLEANER ISN'T STRONG ENOUGH.

Okay. Get a grip. Take a pill. It's just the NothingSpeak that comes every February. It's just Cashman saying things to say things so the things that get said say nothing.

But... for the sake of saying things... let's play out this baby: Tell me a Yankee starter whom we should expect to go the season. CC? Uh-huh. He'll be 35. Last year, he crumbled like a chunk of bleu cheese. Pineda? Tanaka? Eovaldi? Granted, they're young. Each missed time last year. Severino, at 22, gives hope. He threw 62 MLB innings. How far do they stretch him? Above 150? If this guy ends up in TJ surgery... I cannot be held accountable...

Bullpen? That's our wheelhouse. But both Miller and Betances missed time last year, and whenever a guy throws 100 mph - as Chapman does - you wonder how long? (He's only 28.) After those three, it's all scrap-heapers and kids. Bob Shirley, you jest.

The OF? Gimme a break. Neither Ellsbury nor Gardner can be counted to play 140. Beltran at 39? Tex at 36? On any swing, poof. A-Rod's hips and knees belong in a freak museum (along with Cashman's mustache.) Didi and Castro could go the season. Headley looked older than 31 last year. McCann will be 32. He's a work horse, but we're already thinking about Gary Sanchez...

Conclusion: I agree with Cashman. If nobody gets hurt, we'll be okay. And if you get a chance to sit it out or dance... um... keep it in your pants.

The annual debunking of the myth

You know, the myth that the NFL is more competitive than baseball. 

From The ESPN Article About Sabathia And The Yankees' Rotation

 "From what we know of Cashman, it seems likely that the best five starting pitchers to come out of training camp are the ones he will take to Yankee Stadium, regardless of resume, length of service, or size of paycheck."

While fans zone-out on long-range strategies to land Bryce Harper, Yankees penny-pinching extends all the way to the bargain basement

Yesterday, the Atlanta Braves outbid the Retrieval Empire for a flea-market, spare-tire ex-Met named Carlos Torres, proving that when the Yankees go cheap, they go cheap from the top of the penthouse all the way down to the bodies in the bottom of the sinkhole.

This happened as River Ave, the pre-eminent Yankee interweb lug nut, fulminated at length on whether the top brass has committed the Empire to some secret Blofeld-level scheme to obtain Bryce Harper three years from now. This is the new parlor game for Yankee fans who see little hope for 2016.

The notion goes this way: Three years from now, Harper will be a free agent, so the secretly smart Yank brain trust is sitting on its cards, letting fat contracts die, so we can make Harper a $500 million Yankee. That's where the dream sequence ends, because it's hard to decide whether investing so much money into one player is a winning strategy. But - hey - when your team can't outbid the Atlanta Braves for Carlos Torres, you need something stronger than mouthwash to get through the slush of February. You need shoe polish, if not LSD.

Yesterday, Mike Axisa devoted about 1,200 words to the Harper "Endgame," eventually reaching one point: It's pointless. If the Yankees do have a secret Harper strategy, it will be irrelevant, if not incoherent, by 2019. In three years, Harper could be injured. Or a head case. Or a lifetime Nat. The most likely scenario: Washington trades him in his final year for a mountain of prospects that wrecks a team's farm system for a decade. He's being represented by Scott Boras. Do we need to think any more? Between now and then, there's a lot of bones to be put into the sinkhole.

So yesterday, the Yankees missed out on Carlos Torres. I won't pretend to care. The guy is 33, was ditched by the Mets, and got cuffed around pretty badly last year. He's no Justin Wilson. He might not even be Nick Rumbelow. If anything, it's sort of nice to think Cashman was even involved in a bidding party. The free agents still out there seem almost as pointless as pondering Harper, yet one could be the next Yangervis Solarte - the poster child for Cashman's scrap heaping.

We're a week away from the annual avalanche of crapola about players who have worked harder than ever before, found God, grown up, gone gluten free, whatever - the annual glut of gobbling. Bring it on. Anything beats this cheapo winter, when we couldn't even outbid the Braves.

Donald Trump's victory speech last night, refitted to the Yankees

Let's face it: Donald Trump should own the Yankees. 

These are his closing words from last night's victory speech in New Hampshire. My edits, of course, are in blue.

We are going to start winning again.
We don't win anymore.
As a country  team, we don't win on trades,
we don't win with the military bullpen,
we can't beat ISIS Boston.
We don't win with anything.
We are going to start winning again
and we're going to win so much,
you are going to be so happy,
we are going to make America the Yankees so great again,
maybe greater than ever before. 

In exchange for doing everything the Yankees want, gracious Andrew Miller might still get traded

Yesterday, Andrew Miller once again said he's fine, just fine, with being moved from the closer role, where last year he was the best in baseball. He told the Murdoch Mud:

“I will show up and be ready to pitch in whatever role they ask.”

So here is Miller - who kept alive the last great Yankee tradition: closer - saying and doing all the right things, while the franchise 1) Replaces him with a volatile, NL-tested, potential whack-job, who might be suspended for the first month, 2) Traded a valuable innings-eating chess piece, Justin Wilson, for two potential fifth starters in 2017, 3) Continues to eye potential deals for him.

We know why the Yankees must shop Miller. The owner, Food Stamps Steinbrenner, nixed spending on any of the big free agent pitchers, who didn't carry a draft pick price tag, and the Yankees (wisely) won't sign anybody who costs them a first-rounder. The franchise is playing Moneyball, not Yankee ball. Thus, to get a good starting pitcher, they must trade something of high value, and Miller is baseball's best closer, even though he won't be closing for us.

Some of you (rightfully) are shaking your head right now, thinking that spoiled Yankee fans squawk when they don't sign every free agent on the market. And you're right: In my perfect world, we would sign every player, and then cut the ones who don't measure up. Once upon a time, the Yankees were unique among American pro sports teams, and for reasons that might involve genetics as much as socialization, we are hopelessly drawn to the team.

Those of you who vow to not watch YES next year, or to boycott games, I say this: Don't kid yourselves. You're one five-game win streak from vaulting back onto the liquor wagon, just as the wheels tumble off. If you think you can walk away from a lifetime habit, you must be taking advice from Girardi's binder.

The 2016 Yankees, as they straggle into Tampa, look like a potential Wild Card team. They are one solid pitcher shy of winning the AL East, and the pathway to that one pitcher was simple: It required an owner who would to step to the plate. Instead, we have Food Stamps, who banks his money and talks long term strategy, like a 14-year-old with a pack of Strat-O-Matic cards.

As a result, Andrew Miller - the best closer in baseball - may still only know one year in pinstripes. Cities can trade players, but not owners. That's a shame, because Tampa would be a perfect fit for the one we have.

When good news goes bad: Cuba's best remaining player has defected and wants to be a Yankee.

Yulieski Gourriel, viewed by some as the last great player in Cuba, has defected with his younger brother, Lourdes. The guy is just 31, plays 3B and 2B, hits for average and power, and he wants to be a teammate of Alex Rodriguez. Yeah, his longtime dream has been to play for the New York Yankees.

This should be great news. This should have our owner donning his kinky boots.

So why do we all feel sick?

Feisty Food Stamps Steinbrenner has Yankees tweeting like it's October

You'll be excited to know that the Yankees traded snarky Twitter barbs yesterday with the Redsocks and Cubs.

Some websites say we got the best of them in the tweetwar. I cannot verify this, mostly because I could not bring myself to read the reports. I tried. I clicked on the site, but after reading the opening paragraph, I felt chest pains. When I clicked away, the diminished. I was afraid to go back.

This is a lost time of winter... a lost time of a lost, lost winter. The big baseball news yesterday - aside from the Yankees' great triumph on Twitter - was that two Cuban stars have run northward to play in America. This was the kind of news that used to excite Yankee fans, because the ownership was always interested in international talent. But yesterday's news simply meant that two other teams - possibly in our division - will sign players, while Food Stamps sits on the sidelines, counting his money.

But chin up, everybody. We won the day. Twitter War over. Yankees tweeted. Thuuuuuuuh Yankees tweeted.

Could the Redsocks be stuck with a puny Big Papi?

Two years ago, Yankee fans were offered one basic reason to root for their team: The farewell season for Mr. Derek Jeter. We got to thank and bestow gifts upon the man who led us back from nearly 20 years wandering the desert - (a lost exile we may only now be revisiting.) Our month of September became a Seinfeld nostaligia marathon on ME-TV. The last day in Boston, instead of two rivals playing for a pennant, is remembered for Bernie Williams' mournful guitar rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." Jeter never got a shot at the World Series.

The record shows Jeet hit .256 with 4 HRs, 50 RBIs and 10 stolen bases. He didn't cover ground but didn't flub easy grounders, either. As the season withered, and we fell out of contention for even the one-game Wild Card, Joe Girardi never once moved Jeter from his perch atop the batting order. The team never considered a replacement SS. They honored him all the way to the final game, even though - who knows? - a lineup with him batting eighth might have scored more runs. It was a respect thing, and now that it's over, I'm glad we did it. But at the time, we were not so happy. Jeter grounded into 15 double plays that year, and every one of them was a kick in the nuts. What were you going to do, boo?

Which brings us to the 2016 Boston Pre-Dynasty Superteam, which will spend the season honoring its gaptoothed, smiling World Ambassor of Peace and Love, David Ortiz. On opening day, Big Papi will bat third or fourth, and receive the loudest applause that Redsock fans can make with their piglike voiceboxes. And, as we are learning from the Boston media, this will be the year the Redsocks win the AL East and prove once and for all how smart the city is. (Thank you, Food Stamps Steinbrenner, for letting them get Yoan Moncada.) This is also the year they will say give Papi a proper goodbye.

Speaking on behalf of the Yankiverse, I say this:

Good luck with that, Boston. And welcome to our world.

Remember: If you're going to honor such a fine chap as Big Papi, he needs to be in the lineup every day. And an all-time beloved DH cannot bat seventh, eighth, or ninth. He needs to be in the middle of the action, up there with the Panda and Hanley Ramerez, who I hear is the new reincarnation of Lou Gehrig.

Last year, Papi - at age 39 - hit .273 with 37 HRs. He also hit into 16 DPs. I'm sure Boston would love such numbers to be repeated. We'll see.

Farewell seasons are great for ticket sales and memories and mournful tunes on a classical guitar. But the trouble with farewell seasons is that they last the whole season. Welcome to New York, Boston.

At last: Cause for Yankee hope... the Gammonites are declaring Boston's victory

Yankeewise, it's been a crapola winter. We churned up a few trades, hoping to win on dice rolls (Hicks, Castro) and dealt four kids for a scary closer (El Chapo) who might also be a trainwreck. Before we got to watch him throw a pitch, we lost our best hitting prospect for the year. I'd call that a crapola winter, and when I say such things, I'm being polite to crap and his sister, Crapola.

But today - Super Dumbday - let's cling to one floating crudlump of hope: The Redsockian propanganda mill is printing playoff tickets, declaring victory in the winter of '15-'16. That's always a good sign.

In today's Boston Herald - the equivalent of our NY Post - in between the pop-up ads, a Gammonite named Michael Silverman says of the steroidal Goodbye Papies...

They’ve added a true, legitimate ace in David Price, and the same two adjectives apply to closer Craig Kimbrel. They can contend once more.

That's from his diagnosis of "winners" and "losers," which declares Boston as the former, and us as the later.

[W]hatever happened to boosting a rotation that features two time-bombs in CC Sabathia and Masahiro Tanaka, and promising but far from sure things in Michael Pineda and Nate Eovaldi?

Of course, he's right. They added David Price, and we countered with Lane Adams. Clearly, Boston has improved, while we are in danger of missing yet another year of the watered-down playoffs. (I do not consider losing the one-game Wild Card as having played in the post-season.) But when things go south, we still have Boston to watch. And whenever their expectations shoot sky-high, they become Bible-thumping Donald Trump in Iowa. They declared victory under Bobby Valentine, and they did it last year. They're declaring victory today? Best news I've heard since December 1.

Let's hope we don't have to watch them win another World Series, while Food Stamps Steinbrenner is still hording his money, waiting to give the all-clear sign on the last free agent contract. We are going to need somebody to break out this season - to give us something nobody anticipated. And we have to hope Boston continues to be Boston. At least the Gammonites are still Gammonites.

The Master's contract negotiations "... somewhat acrimonious...?"

Quote the Raissman:

While the road to Waldman’s apparent deal appears to be smooth, sources said WFAN’s negotiations with Sterling were “somewhat acrimonious.”

Why Yankee fans should root for Carolina in the Super Bowl

1. If Peyton fails, Eli will still have more Super Bowl victories.

2. Cam Newton TD dance reminscent of A-Rod bat flip after fanning.

3. Carolina has never hurt us in baseball.

4. Carolina gave us Catfish Hunter.

5. Denver stole John Elway, elminating potential Yankee career as utility OF.

6. Carolina Super Bowl celebration will be wilder, due to less pot smoked.

7. Can't stand any more Peyton Manning "Poppa John" ads.

Down at the Columbus of Pennsylvania, Greg Bird's replacement is the Human Cannonball

The Scranton Railriders - aka the Traveling Wilkes Barres - have released their 2016 promotional schedule, and it's a reason to move to Tonga. The big event, by far, takes place June 17:

Human Cannonball/Man Vs. Marathon Night.

A long-distance marathon will coincide with the game, answering the age-old question of which takes longer to complete? (This ignores the question of which seems longer. Because few people run marathons, and even fewer watch an entire minor league game.) Then Dave "The Bullet" Smith - aka "the Human Cannonball" - will blast off from the outfield before the firework displays. Reserving you room now at the Airport Ramada.

There are other events: Bobblehead nights, Dollar Nights, an All-You-Can-Eat Buffet night, a Glow in the Dark Wrist Thingy night; you name it, there is a night for it. Let's face it: The modern minor league baseball product has little to do with the outcome of a game and everything to do with freak show carnival barking. Cities build expensive stadiums for teams. Nobody wants an empty park. In a perfect world, Greg Bird would be the reason to see a Scranton game, but it's not as if he'd be shot from a cannon.

As a Triple A resident - the Syracuse Chiefs are technically my team - I can tell you there is a Grand Canyon-sized disconnect between the parent club and the city that hosts its 26th man. MLB teams use their Triple A roster like a brain dead clone that is being harvested for body parts. They move players with such lack of concern for the Triple A team that you feel like a dupe for caring. Now and then, I will drive 45 minutes to the city of Auburn, which has an NYP League franchise. There, you see 18 year olds in their first professional incarnation. They still care about winning. They actually want to be there.

At Triple A, players generally look as if they rather be anywhere else in the world than Syracuse. Or Scranton. Or Tidewater, or anyplace but here.

So the teams spend eight months conjuring up the Human Cannonball and the All-You-Can-Eat Buffet night, seeking to create enough distractions, so the fans won't notice the lack of soul in the game. Because - and I really hate to say this - Triple A doesn't have any.

I write this today because, believe it or not, Greg Bird's injury may just have saved his career.

The Yankees were going to send Bird back to Scranton, where he would get depressed and go into a slump. From there, they would question whether he really was that good. The Yankees do this to too many of their young players. One year, they brutally cut Francisco Cervelli at the last minute and sent him to Scranton. It's a wonder he turned it around. Last year, they did it to Rob Refsnyder - they'll probably do it to him again. Slade Heathcott? Mason Williams? Ben Gamel? Odds are, at least two of them will be back in Scranton come April, staring at a summer when the Human Cannonball is the most exciting thing on the docket. I really hope that - for their sake - (and for that of the fans in Scranton,) the Yankees don't send them back. Because they will really envy Greg Bird.

Did I Hear This Right?

So I am sitting at this bar, in a marina in Florida, wolfing down Bloody Marys and onion rings fried in truffle oil, and sprinkled with parmesan cheese, when I see Brian Cashman's face appear on the screen.

I start choking immediately, chugged my drink to quell the choking , and fixed my eyers and ears on what the wizard was saying.

In full Yankee speak, I swear I heard him say, " …we are going to be all right if Texiera and Beltran can stay healthy…".

Isn't that like when someone said, " …they will passing out flowers to us when we walk into Bagdad?"

The Yankee PR machine has already dismissed the disaster of Greg Bird's injury ( "he wasn't going to play for us in 2016, anyway" ), and they have no understanding that Yankee fans would rather see a rookie play than any other Yankee currently in uniform in 2016.

Let's take a poll:   Who wouldn't rather see Heathcott in CF, rather than Jacoby?  How about Aaron Judge rather than Beltran, in right field? Or let's try Sanchez vs. Brian McMann?

The Yankees still think we want to see a mis-shapen, hopeless team of blundering rich guys strive to make the play-in game.  Note to management;  you guys are just idiots!

What we want is a team to like and be interested in.  We know the 2016 Yankee team can't win dick with McMann, Tex, Beltran, Jacoby and Headley playing. We would far prefer to lose with young talent on the field.  Young, untested players at least give us some reason for watching or listening to games. When any of the current Yankees come to the plate, I go to the kitchen.

Cashman is so distorted in his expectations for the two walking injury cases mentioned above that it boggles the mind he has any sort of employment.  I know plenty of roofers and shopping center baggers, whose thinking is far more acute when it comes to the Yankees.  Or anything, for that matter.

When the TV flashed away from Brian and onto the latest virus coming into Florida from Brazil, I switched to shots of tequila and Stella drafts.

Jesus.

What a year we are in for.

It could be worse. We could have signed Yoenis Cespedes with an opt-out clause

Yesterday - in this Yankee winter where Christmas never came - the lowly, miserly, forever hapless Mets unleashed the Elvis-riding-on-an-elephant spectacle of their newest re-aquisition, the streak/slump machine whom I like to think of as Humanis Centepedes.

If you imagine Alfonso Soriano times Andruw Jones, (the 35-year-old versions), with a sprinkle of Ruben Rivera's uncapped potential, and have him smoke a Cuban cigar, you've got Yoenis Cespedes. I don't mean to bash the guy, because he did help lead the Mets' post-season drive for a month last summer... but of all the free agents we didn't chase this winter - which is all the free agents in baseball - Cespedes is the one I'm most thankful didn't come our way.

Listen: When a guy bounces around from four teams in two years, there's a reason for the game of hot-potato. It has to do with seeing the player up close. When hot, Cespedes can carry the team. When cold, he leaves the population of mainland China in scoring position. And if for some reason he explodes, has the year of his life, then Met fans can watch him break their hearts. He has a one-year opt-out clause - the new reality of baseball - and it's a lose-lose proposition for any team that's willing to sign away its management capability.

Isn't fate amazing? Fate, and its brother, hubris?

If you look at U.S. presidential politics, the Republicans figured to have a cakewalk of money, after the Supreme Court eliminated donation restrictions for rich candidates. But instead of streamlining the system, the new rules allow extremist candidates to stay in the race forever, backed by a billionaire, and gum up the party machinery. It's the same in baseball, where the owners instituted a de facto salary cap, via luxury taxes, to defang big market teams like the Yankees. So what happens? The players and agents start writing in opt-out clauses, basically eliminating the long-term tie to any team.

Come 2017, when Food Stamps Steinbrenner ventures back into the free agent market, will all our acquisitions be one year opt-outs? Could be.

What bothers me this winter is a sense that the Yankees themselves waived their big market advantage - which included, I believe, the most loyal and ardent fan base in American sports. Cespedes wanted to play in NYC. So could have others - like David Price or Zach Greinke. Not long ago, it was assumed that the Yankees always make the playoffs. Now, it's assumed they will always try to make the playoffs. If a couple unlucky injuries happen this summer, we could see a Boston-like meltdown. It could have been averted. But we sat out the auctions.

Well, at least we didn't sign Cespedes, a round peg for the big square hole in our lineup. We are team of elderly statesmen and low-price trade aquisitions, every one of them flawed in some way or another.  (Chapman has his domestic abuse, Hicks was a disappointment in Minnesota, Castro had worn out his welcome in Chicago, etc.) But at least we don't face any opt-out clauses. Good for us, I guess. Right?

It's now or never for Jacoby Ellsbury

As a Yankee fan, nothing beats stealing a Redsock player and having him do well. That's why the mere mention of Wade Boggs still provokes a smile, and it's even better with a Boston fan nearby, so you can enjoy the wince.

Ahh, imagining Boggs on the horse... nice, eh?

Which is why Jacoby Ellsbury is so frustrating...

Statistically, according to Baseball Reference, Ellsbury last year played like an unpleasant concoction of Cocco Crisp, Randy Winn and Roberto Kelly. Yes, he was Cocco Kellwinn. He hit .257 with 7 HRs and stole 21 bases, the lowest full-season SB total in his career. Worse, he was thrown out 9 times, so - basically - it wasn't even a good idea to have him trying to steal.

He melted like a popsickle, right before our eyes. He hit .318 the first half and .220 in the second. Yes, a 100-point variation. It was horrible to watch. Apparently, he was playing through an injury, though he didn't want to use that as an excuse. (Funny how, when an injury is mentioned, and the player doesn't want to use it as an excuse, because that's exactly what is happening.)

In the last three seasons, his average has fallen from .298 to .271 to .257. (He's five years away from his career season, when he was the best player in the AL.)

But here's the deal: Ellsbury is only 32. It feels like he's 38, because practically all the Yankee big names are 38. At 32, he should have a few good years left... right?

He should have at least two good years left. Maybe three.

We have him for five more.

I don't know what to expect from Ellsbury, because of the injury factor. Last year, he missed 50 games. And we'd have been better off if he missed 20 more. He is always a threat to hurt himself diving for a ball or sliding into second.

But if anybody is thinking about a Yankee resurgence in 2016, here's how it happens:

Ellsbury hits .290 with 15 HRs and 40 stolen bases. We have to see the good Ellsbury. And Boston fans have to grimace.

He is the difference between a Yankee playoff contender and - possibly - a complete 2016 collapse.

Back from Two fun Events

Hello derelicts and other friends….

I've been eating corn dogs in Iowa and caucusing in grange halls.  My favorite candidate is a scarecrow I found in a corn dog field, dressed like Ted Cruz, but listing a bit, like Chris Cristy. As an aside, I thought he would do well in Iowa because his name, strictly translated, is " Christ Christ.

Seriously, Iowa is wrong again, folks.  No one they " elected" ( there is nothing firm about the delegates, even after caucus ) is going to be President.  You can write that one down.

 Those evangelicals may know a lot about the " end of times," but they just don't have a clue about what is going on in this country, much less Nebraska.

Here's what I learned;  there are innumerable, great watering holes in Iowa.

I also timed things so that I could also attend media day at the pro bowl. Who ever imagined such a day? I heard such insights as; where the best three card monty game could be found, and turnovers often determine the outcome of a game.  You can't pay for insights such as these.  Seriously, these
player ( and coach, and GM, and owner ) interviews are like re-reading cheat sheets you used in high school, twenty years later.  Why do they bother?  Why are they permitted to speak or, in Iowa's case, why are they permitted to decide anything for anyone?

Columbus discovered America in 1492……Rivers can flood if it rains too long….You have mustard on your coveralls….

But I digress.  I have just returned to the land of the sober ( Duque and I got into it for a while in a place that shall remain unnamed ) only to discover that I have no reason, whatsoever, to watch the Yankees.

Greg Bird is already done and dusted?  And Texiera and Beltran are healthy?  I hope Greg blew out his shoulder in a fight, at least.  Does anyone have the story?  I am not caught up, due to confinement in a space without reliable WIFI, for a spell.

Can Refsnyder play first?

Seriously, WTF?  I will not watch a bunch of overweight, slow-witted, over-the-hill dummies pretending that they have a clue.

I just returned from Iowa and the pro bowl for Christ sakes.