Adolescent humor alert:

 Last night - heh heh - the Yankees scored on - heh heh - Dick Lovelady. 

Our new Ryan McBroom?

Which is crazier? That the Yankees are MLB's hottest team, or that Tyler Wade last night was their best player?

In a sane Yankiverse - (no such thing?) - last night's victory over Tomato Kansas City should terrify us, down to our sagging and shriveled Colter Beans.

Our bullpen cannot hold leads. Our big hitters cannot drive in runs. Our umpires cannot even do video reviews. And we lost yet another player - Gio Urshela - whose tweaked gonad will set him back another week. 

Terrifying, Midsommar, all around. I shiver over the outcome, had we faced a contender instead of a stretch of potholed pavement, 15 games below .500.

But but BUT... we should enjoy this moment. Despite losing 15 players to injuries or plague, the Death Barge possesses MLB's best record - (16-7) - since the All-Star break. 

The team seems revitalized since trading 10 minor league prospects for four veterans, a ballsy - if not desperate - move by GM Brian Cashman. Some bloggers and cheerleading outlets have already proclaimed the Yankees "winners" in the Aug. 1 trade deadline. Me, I dunno. Time will tell. If this team reaches the World Series, we'll launch the conga lines. But one hallmark of the 2021 Yankees has been that hot stretches turn into cold ones. Whenever you proclaim victory, the juju gods take note. And they are not our friends. 

Still, something needs to be noted here: 

Last night, the regularly maligned Tyler Wade was - gulp - our MVP.

Wade reached base four times, two with hits, one with a walk, and one with a nifty flick of the bat on an 0-2 count, which slapped the catcher's mitt for interference. (He should perfect that swing and make it is signature move.) Wade is now hitting .247, which is the new .277. This puts him in the upper tier on these Yankees, who probably won't finish with anybody batting .300. He plays fine defense - better SS than Gleyber? - and last night stole his 8th base, a speed steal that beat the throw, making him our best baserunning threat short of Greg Allen, who is mired in Scranton, due to inscrutable GM roster moves.

I've always liked Wade, who is only 26, even though it seems like he's been here 20 years. He hit well in the minors, batting .310 at Scranton in 2017 - a season that with most teams would have ensured a starting shot. (But not with the Yankees; they sent him back down the following spring.) Two years ago, before the pandemic mini-season, Wade delivered some key hits in the pennant stretch. He seemed to have figured it out. But the following spring, he disappeared.

In his career, he has stolen 21 out of 26 bases, and I believe if he ever gets a chance with a team, he will prove to be a serviceable MLB shortstop, maybe even with an Urshela-like transformation. But it will not happen in New York. 

So, here we go. Wade gets at least another week to show his stuff. Is there something there? Dare we believe?

HoraceClarke66: “I’m Not There.” Or here. Or anywhere, really.

 From the tortured homelife of HoraceClark66...

With apologies to Bob Dylan.

 Yesterday’s defeat at the hands of the Mariners was more than just another, numbing loss to a fellow contender in what has become the eternal Yankees race for a Wild-Card Play-In spot. 

 It was lost because the two men who were supposed to be the pillars of the next Yankees dynasty played as though there was somewhere else they would rather be and something else they would rather be doing.

 First there was Gleyber Torres, injuring himself—perhaps badly—by sliding into second base, hand-first, in the fourth inning. This was despite the fact that there was no throw on the play. And despite the fact that The Gleyber has already hurt himself, badly, by sliding headfirst, delaying his entrance to the majors by a year and perhaps costing us the 2017 World Series.

Next came Aaron Judge, taking the scenic country route to a flyball that Lou Piniella would’ve put in his pocket, and letting it fall for what proved to be the game-winning hit. 

 Judge ensured it would be so an inning later when, as the tying run at the plate, he calmly regarded a ball right down the pike to end the game.

 There were plenty of other contributors to yesterday’s loss on this thoroughly unmotivated Yankees team, including Rougned Odor dropping a one-hop grounder to his glove, and Lucas the Lassitudinous Lugnut turning in his usual, sterling performance.

 But Gleyber and Judge were supposed to be the next superstars, the guys who carried this Yankees team to glory.

 It’s becoming clear that’s never going to happen. Torres is simply terrible, his mysterious decline stretching to almost two seasons now. Judge, by contrast, has proved to be a good, all-around ballplayer (when he can stay on the field).

 But it’s hard to believe that either one of them will ever carry this team—that they will ever give us those big Babe/ Lou/ Joe/ Yogi/ Mickey/ Reggie/ Jeter moments needed to take these Yankees to the next level.

 Sure, time and legend exaggerate, and there were plenty of games in which Reg or The Mick or even The Bambino went for the big, game-winning homer and ended up fanning the air.

 But they were in there swinging. They had their heads in the game, instead of…wherever. They didn’t lead a disinterested, distracted, disengaged team that only seemed to reflect their own inattention.

 Maybe it will turn out that both The Gleyber and Judge have some terrible things going on in their private lives that keep them from paying much attention to their day jobs. If so, I will feel terrible (I won’t, really, but I’d like to think I would.).

 But our attempt to import leadership in the form of Anthony Rizzo has already failed. It’s past time for one of our supposed superstars to step up and play like they really mean it.

For the Yankees, will the positive Covid tests deliver the final knockout?

A while back, I quit hoping for the return of normalcy. 

WTF is it, anyway? Certainly, no thinking Yank fan should desire it. Not in this millennium. For us, normalcy is an endless circus of injuries, most of which hit our players just as they get hot, and which returns them a month later, swinging the bat like Betty White. 

This year, added to this so-called normalcy, we've faced a new ailment, the new tweaked gonad... the positive Covid test.

So here we are, back to normal. We lose a player every day. Last week, it was Gary. Then Cole. Then Monty. Then Aroldis. Then Rizzo. Now, et tu, Gleyber? Doesn't matter. Rest assured, tomorrow, it'll be somebody new. Every day... 

This we know: Injuries are not fairly dolled out by the juju gods. For reasons I cannot fathom - but which might predate the beginning of time - the Yankees cannot protect their soldiers from muscle pulls, twisted wrists or things that go bump in the anus. Why do so many Yankees test positive? Why do so many get hurt? Is this some ancient curse? And if so, why aren't we marketing it?  

What did we do to piss off the juju gods?

Part of this may be the age of our lineups. Generally, the Yankees obtain players three or four years after their peak foliage. Old guys are more susceptible to tweaks, and they take longer to heal. Also, there is the Gotham factor: New York City poses more distractions than any other town - even LA. In a pandemic, this is especially serious: Players take the subway, sit in cabs, ride in elevators. If a guy doesn't get vaccinated - well, if you sleep with dogs, you catch fleas. So here we are.

For the Yankees, the Covid surges have been killers. The first wave hit in the spring, as the team was forming. The second came as the Yankees faced a grueling schedule against Boston and Tampa. The third wave is here, just as the calendar is turning.  

In upstate New York, where the difference between summer and winter is akin to that of heaven and hell, I believe everyone has an internal switch that portends the changing of seasons. In June and July, you think summer will last forever, as the days seem to do. Then, one cruel night in early August, you see a leaf fall, or a feel a chilling wind, and you instantly know that summer is doomed, that you better make the most of every sunset, that time is running out.

Yesterday, watching the Yankees flounder against Seattle, the switch flicked.  The YES announcers were watching the scoreboard, telling us what Boston and Toronto were doing. I felt like Jim Carrey watching the Oscar nominations. 

Comrades, time is running out. 

Same as it ever was. (Palm to head.) Same as it ever was. (Palm to head.)

 

Rizzo examines vaccine data

 

Now I Get It

 

The Cubs traded Rizzo to the Yankees because he is a :

SUPERSPREADER EVENT.

And now we know why so many Yankees are testing positive for Covid.

I thought it was the Russians.  

But it was the Cubs.

Who knew?

They did. 

Today? Finally?

 

Today and Vegas

 The lousy new guy has to go nine innings today.

I refer to the guy who, were he not lefty, would be paving driveways in Irish neighborhoods.

By my calculation, based upon his Yankee debut, he will give up 12 solo homers. 

He doesn't even have the support of the ferocious bat of the other lousy new guy, someone named Davis.  Oh wait...am I thinking of "Crash Davis" from the movie?

But you know, the mystery CF who hits .127 ( but zero as a Yankee ), and who someone said came from Toronto.  He replaced Greg Allen ( not to even mention Florial ) who was hitting .275 and a catalyst for several wins. 

He replaced Greg for no known reason, other than allegations that Boone "has no fucking idea what he is doing." 

Vegas has the Yankees losing by 4.3 runs today ( the decimal is a WAR factor ) and the odds are 833 -1. 

Take the fucking over, boys.

There is no chance and no point. 

Will Covid be the wild card in the wild card race? The Yankees already know the answer is yes.

Last night, the Yankees enjoyed their largest crowd of the season, by far. 

Forty-three thousand! Packed stands! Constant crowd roar! (Imagine what it must have been like for Joey Gallo, escaping deathly disinterested Texas.) Glorious night! Walk-off win! Gardy, Gardy, Gardy! Perfect in every way!

So... do we dare look under the rock? Was this our Sturgis? A week from now, will NYC pay the price with a spike of Covid cases?  

Okay, bear with me here, because as obnoxious Yankee blog posts go, this one is a doozy. It will look as though I'm sidestepping the deaths and human suffering from Covid in order to ponder - gasp - the virus' potential impact on the AL East wild card race. To anyone who has suffered from Covid - or worse, lost a loved one - I apologize. But this is a Yankee blog - and Yankee fans, by definition, are patently insufferable. We know no better.  

And here's the thing: Thus far, Covid has been out of whack. Maybe it's the cosmos, maybe it's random chance, or maybe it's something else... But the Yankees have been the hardest hit team by Covid, and it's worth wondering why? And what might it mean down the road?  

If the pandemic surge continues - as practically everybody expects - will it hit other cities and franchises? Could it upend the pennant races?

Look: We're not rooting for this. I hope every team studies the Yankees and shores up safety protocols with masks, social distancing and - God, help them if they haven't already done this - vaccinations. But right now, it's a fair estimate that things will worsen before they improve. And that means rivals could face outbreaks that the Yankees have already suffered. 

This season, the Yankees have lost to Covid, at times, the following players: Gleyber Torres, Jonathan Loaisiga, Gio Urshela, Aaron Judge, Gary Sanchez, Gerrit Cole, Jordan Montgomery and Kyle Higashioka. This is their third outbreak in 2021, and the entire organization should be wondering... WTK?

How bad is it across MLB? Surprisingly, there isn't much information out there. This we know:  

A July 28 game between the Nationals and Phillies was postponed because the Nats had 12 players and personnel test positive. 

Following the All-Star game, 14 players or people tested positive. The event seems to have seeded an outbreak in Colorado, and it may have spread it throughout the game. 

The Yankees suffered their first outbreak in May - with nine cases, including Gleyber Torres (the lone player) and 3B coach Phil Nevin (who had a seriously rough time.) Their second outbreak came after the All-Star game. This one came - whether relevant or not - after they played in the hot spot of Miami. 

Will Covid be the wild card in the wild card race? 

Yeah. Damn right, it will. Bet on it. The Yankees already have practically an entire lineup of injuries. Consider this batting order of the missing. 

Aaron Hicks CF
Luke Voit 1B
Gary Sanchez C
Gio Urshela 3B
Clint Frazier LF
Miguel Andujar DH
Tim Locastro RF
Future injury SS
Future injury 2B
Gerrit Cole P
Cory Kluber P
Luis Severino P
Domingo German P

The usual tsunami of injuries, mixed with Covid, has put the Yankees on the ropes - ironically, a situation that often finds them playing their best. And between now and October, I doubt they'll be the only team so heavily stricken.

Forty-three thousand. Damn, it was beautiful. I hope we don't come to rue it.

HoraceClarke66: O Olympians!

 Warning: He might digress...

As we prepare for the gold medal, Olympics baseball finale between the United States and Japan, I can’t help noticing that such former Yanks as David Robertson, Tyler Austin, and yes, Masahiro Tanaka, are killing it—even as Cooperstown Cashman scurries to find replacement bodies for our merry band of disease mongers.

 But I come not to bury Coops, but to ignore him. What I want to point out is that baseball is appearing in the Olympics this year only by command request of the host country. Our beloved game will vanish again in Paris, site of the 2024 Olympiad—though like Brigadoon Refsnyder, it will miraculously reappear when the Games are in L.A. and then Down Under, in the following two Olympiads.

 Does this make any sense? Of course not! 

 The International Olympic Committee (IOC) is probably the one sporting body on this planet that could make MLB look good by comparison. Along with maybe FIFA. And the NCAA. 

But I digress!

The problem the IOC has with baseball is that MLB won’t stop the season every four years so that the very best players in the world can compete in the Games. For this, they are penalizing our national pastime by refusing to make it a permanent part of the Olympics.

 To which our general response would normally be a resounding, “Blow it out your collective ears, you world-class collection of venal idiots!”

 Professional baseball, lest we forget, started the first sporting leagues anywhere ever on the planet, some 25 years before the modern Olympics were revived. 

 In that time, among other things, baseball and its fans learned that our game is so complex, so immensely difficult and close and interesting, that it’s utterly ridiculous to think a tournament decided in one-game matches means anything at all. Even the playoffs and World Series don’t necessarily tell you who really has the best team.

 Why would nonsense like the Olympic baseball competition, or equally silly spectacles such as the World Baseball Classic, decide anything?

 The only trouble is that the IOC—nobody’s fools when it comes to a shakedown—have made women’s softball a permanent hostage to baseball. If the men don’t show up, the women don’t get to play.

 This “rule” seems particularly silly when it comes to an international committee that can and does make up any rules it wants, all the time. But there it is.

 The hypocrisy of the greedy gods on our modern Mount Olympus knows no bounds. Has the NBA sent its best players on any consistent basis since the Dream Team smote all before it? Does that exhausted clump of players who can’t beat France remind you of the very best in the world?

 Or take soccer. Please.

 Are the very best soccer players in the world at the Olympics? Ever? Are Ronaldo or Messi tearing up the pitch in Tokyo?

 No, they are not—because the IOC has an agreement with FIFA wherein the latter will not send any players over the age of 23, so as not to spoil the soccer World Cup.

 But even then, FIFA does not consider the Olympics to be “a full soccer tournament,” and so will not compel any players to go to the Games.

 Cute, huh? 

 As it is, competitions in this year’s Olympics included indoor (plastic) rock climbing, three-on-three basketball, and karate kata—as well as the usual, enjoyable nonsense such as team handball, walking races, and the human steeplechase.

 What is karate kata? I hear you ask.

The official definition is, “a set sequence of karate moves organized into a pre-arranged fight against imaginary opponents.” After which the kata fighter puts on a fearsome frown.

 

I’m not making this up. “Imaginary opponents.”

What’s next? A pump-fake competition? A speed-bag event? The warm-up swing contest? (Looking at you, future gold medalist Giancarlo Stanton!)

 Apparently Indians lament that the Olympics have not included their national sport, which is kabaddi, described in the Times yesterday as a sort of massive tag game in which the person who is “it” has to keep repeating, “kabaddi” over and over.

 

Again: not making this up.

 Enough already. Baseball is widely played around the globe. Put it in and keep it in. And stop threatening softball like you’re putting a gun to some dog’s head: “Play or the pooch gets it!”

 Once that’s settled…I wouldn’t mind seeing a good kabaddi match.

The one that got away?

 

Gary Sanchez tests positive for Covid.

 P.S. That's what happens on trips to Miami. 

For Yankee fans, the eighth and ninth innings have become a torture chamber

Last night, the Death Barge entered the eighth with a two-run lead and its two bullpen superstars - the great Zack Britton and the immortal Aroldis Chapman - vaxxed and rested. In a normal Yankiverse, you could go to bed and romp through dream fields of erect nipples, secure in the knowledge that this game was safely in tow. 

Not anymore. 

In fact, the eighth and ninth have become houses of horror - when the dread of yet another excruciating "worst loss of the season" takes hold. Frankly, I can't take many more like last night.

What has developed is a regular mating dance with terror, when Aaron "Boonie" Boone breaks out his two 33-year-old warhorses - Britton (153 career saves, 11 seasons, $8.1 million per season) and El Chapo (299 saves, 12 years, $16 million.)  

Both of these guys will someday be considered for the Hall. They've had great careers, built fine reputations. But let me pose a simple question: 

Do we really see these guys holding a one-run lead in Fenway or Houston, or wherever the Yankees would play, in the post-season? I mean, shoot me. I can't take it.  

Last night, both came within an eyelash of blowing a two-run lead from Joey Gallo's first big night as a Yankee. It's not that they lost the game. They held it together. Bravo. But these guys have turned into heart attacks, waiting to happen. 

Last night, first came Britton, who has struggled since returning from injury. He gives up a leadoff double down the RF line, then goes to 3-2 count with Kyle Seager, who lunges at a ball slightly out of the strike zone. One out. But yikes, so close... 

At that point, Britton gets a lousy break - a nubber down the third base line, which the speedy Abraham Toro beats out. Two men on. Then he catches a lucky break - a DP bouncer, straight  back to Britton, who makes the flawless play. Inning over. But the process was harrowing. At Fenway, stress levels will rise 100 percent. And the batters might not swing at ball four. 

Britton's outing barely compares to the ringer Chapman put us through - which is business as usual. 

In the ninth, the leadoff man hits a roller to third that Rougned Odor (a 2B by trade) snares and bounces his throw to first. Anthony Rizzo makes a great scoop, saving the out. Looking back, if Rizzo misses that ball, the Yankees today are mourning a brand new "worst loss of 2021." 

One out. Chapman walks the next batter on a 3-2 pitch well out of the  zone. Tying run at the plate. The YES team notes that his fastballs are not hitting 100 mph, and they're not close to the plate. Yikes. Chapman strikes out the next batter, a pinch hitter, on a 3-2 count - again, a pitch that looked like ball four. 

Two outs. The next guy hits a grounder that Gleyber Torres flubs. The YES announcers make an excuse - his view was obscured by the base runner - but yeesh, with the game on the line, a SS must make that play. Gleyber didn't. Tying runs on base.

Now, the YES booth is scared. Up steps Mitch Haniger, who has 25 HRs. Buckets of sweat are flowing off El Chapo's chin. He looks terrified. Jonathan Loaisiga is warming in the pen. On a 3-1 count, Haniger drives a ball to left. Gallo catches it at the wall. Ten more feet, and it's out. 

It shows up as a save. The Yankees celebrate. 

Listen: This is not how you build confidence in a bullpen. The eighth and ninth are becoming paths to horror.  A one-two-three inning sure would be nice. Until we start seeing some, it's hard to dream about this team. 

Unlikely sweep ahead

I know what you're thinking. No way we sweep Seattle. They're too good, our starting pitching is going to be Nestor, Who the Hell Knows, The Lousy New Guy, and Gil. Maybe two out of four. Maybe.

We could really use three out of four, but the reason it's unlikely--as is a sweep--has nothing to do with the above. 

It's simple, and it's something I didn't realize until Big Head Kay pointed it out during a recent game: we kind of suck at day games.

If we had won just half of the day games so far, we'd be ahead of Boston and maybe even Tampa. We'd definitely be ahead of where we are, and by a lot. Our W-L in day games is 14-25. At night, we're 44-24. If we could play during the day like we do at night, we'd be leading the pack. Easily. But it doesn't seem we can.

Paul O'Neill mumbled an excuse about veteran teams not doing as well in the daytime. Which is exactly the opposite of what I'd expect. I mean, the light's better. You see better. You should play better.

But no. Day/night BA, .211/.250. Day/night slugging, .333/.427. OPS? .635/.763.

I can't explain it. Are our old eyes too weak to handle the full force of the sun? Even on a cloudy day? Or are we channeling Bela Lugosi (who's dead, according to Bauhaus)?

Just plain weird. But with day games on Saturday and Sunday, we'll be lucky to win one. Probably when Gil is pitching. Or, of course, maybe neither. So we better have our act together tonight and tomorrow night.

Neither tomato can nor contender, Seattle's arrival gives the Yanks a chance to widen their path to the wild card

Okay, we've said this before - proclaiming ridiculously that the next few days will define the 2021 Yankee season. That's not only adolescent-level naivety, but it's patently absurd: a 162-game season has ample room for streaks and slumps.

That said, the next four games against Seattle could define the 2021 Yankee season. 

(Ahh, I remember youth! )

Last time we pressed the Forbin Project (scary movie!) panic button, it was in anticipation of the Midsommar (scarier movie!) mini-gauntlet of Boston and Tampa, whom we played shorthanded due to the Outbreak (scariest movie!) From our Google-search crow's nest, it looked like a make-or-break iceberg, dead ahead. Who anticipated the giant "meh" - that is, a split, which is what happened. We went in seven games down, we came out seven games down. (Thanks to Miami and Baltimore, our tomatocan pals, we have closed the gap.) 

Now comes Seattle, a franchise that in recent years has functioned as sort of a halfway house for ex-Yankee refugees - Joggy Cano, Ben Gamel, Justus "Is Not Equal" Sheffield and the last desperate gasps of Ichiro - but which now presents itself as a challenge to our wild card final berth wet dream. 

T'wuz a fortnight, not long ago 'neath the twain, when the Mar'ners were one of the few teams who would trade with the unscrupulous Yankees (Pittsburgh being another astral partner.) These days, everybody wants in on the Death Barge farm, and Seattle's ex-Yank influences boil down to only Sheffield, Shed Long (a 2B who was a Yankee for only a few hours) and Luis Torrens, a serviceable catcher, whom the Padres took from us in the 2017 Rule 5 draft - a move so unsettling to Brian Cashman that he now trades minor league depth pieces rather than potentially lose them. Hence, Joey Gallo, Andrew Rizzo, Clay Holmes, Andrew Heaney - the New Mutants, as seen on TV.

This weekend, we could conceivably knock Seattle out of our field of wild card fantasies. A sweep could leave them looking up at the Angels, and - dear God - nobody ever wants to be doing that. 

Meanwhile, the Death Barge barely goes 24-hours without a wave of roster changes, which seem to go from confusion to chaos. Forget the bullpen, where a cast of faceless characters resembles the doomed extras in a Star Trek expedition. Now, it's the outfield. Last night, they unveiled Jonathan Davis, a 29-year-old castoff from Toronto, who replaced Luis Gil, who replaced Nestor Cortez, who replaced - um - forget it.

Long gone are Clint Frazier, Miguel Andujar and Aaron Hicks - so far from the current orbit that they strain our memories: Were they real or were they Memorex? 

Soon, the roster musical chairs will involve Luke Voit. Then, kaboom, we'll see how gutsy Cashman wants to be. Could the Yankees move Joey Gallo into CF, play Giancarlo in LF, and let Luke DH? I'd say, fuck yeah. Desperate times mean desperate measures. And let's face it, Cashman runs this team, and he's got his own reality. These next four games won't make or break the Yankees. But a sweep would be nice, and anything less than a split will have the jackals - of which I am one - howling for blood.

Could Luis Gil be the Yankee rookie of 2021?

Last night, the so-deep-it's-practically-bottomless Yankee farm system - which Brian Cashman maintains is NOT run by number-crunchers - produced a fantastical rarity, akin to finding an obelisk on Mars. 

A rookie who might actually affect the 2021 season. 

His name, of course, is Luis Gil, and you know by now that he masterfully shut down the mighty Orioles for six innings on a night when we led by nine in the fourth... so, yeah, there's that. Down by nine, Baltimore's heart might not have been in it. But hey, no complaints. The Death Barge actually unveiled a rookie - a first-year player, who is not touching 30 - and he actually performed. 

This season, while the rest of baseball celebrated the concept of "rookies," the Yankees have maintained a lineup of craggy millionaires. The only thing that looks young about the Yankees is their shaven chins, mandated by a front office that apparently does not mandate vaccinations or the practicing of bunts. The sign on the clubhouse door should say, "NO ROOKIES ALLOWED."

Our Class of '21 delegation has been this:

Brooks "The Amazing" Kriske." His historical contribution - after throwing four wild pitches in a loss to Boston - is his inspiration for nicknames, which include "Officer Kriske" and "Kriske Kreme." 

Broedy Koerner. Pitched last night. Okay, nicknamers, have at it. "Kiddie Koerner?" "Koerner Drug Store?" He's 27.

Steve Ridings. Dazzled the YES booth last night with his radar readings, tipping 100 mph and raising the question: Why were they sitting on this guy in Scranton? Age 25.

Estevan Florial. The long-heralded prospect. He's played eight games, gone 6-for-20 and played CF rather scarily. Maybe next year, if he's not traded or crowded out by money.

Chris Gittens. "Hard-hittin' Gittens." (Are we sensing a pattern here?) Played in 16 games, hitting .111. Unlucky. His first MLB hit - a HR - was called back by a replay challenge. He's 27. 

Trey Amburgey. Two games. Strained a hammy. Had been tearing it up in Scranton. Sad. He's 26. (Are we sensing a pattern here?)

Hoy Park. Breakout year in Scranton. Came to bat in one key situation against Boston, a horrible situation for any rookie. He grounded out on the first pitch. Traded to Pittsburgh for the bullpen guy, Clay Holmes.

That's it? Yeesh. I don't think I've missed anybody. Did Dopey Dildox pitch an inning for us? That's the Yankee Class of '21, everybody. And coupled with the recent exodus of 10 prospects - which the Yankees say won't matter - it's why some of us view the future rather darkly. The 2021 Yankees have been a team without rookies. Mr. Gil, it's up to you.

 

Covid Strikes again

 Jordan Montgomery.

We are now down Kluber, German, Monty and Cole.

And Clarke Schmidt.

Er....and Deivi ( who isn't sick or injured...he is simply a bit flawed. A tiny bit flawed ).

But Jessica Dominguez is hitting .200.He went  0-4 yesterday. He plays in the " pre-real" miniature Tarpon  baseball league  ( Florida C++).  

In other words;  High school level without classes. 

Is he really better than....me, for example ( at that age, I mean?).

Gil starts tonight; Gio to 10 day; German rotator cuff gets him ILed

Just shoot the usual suspects already.

From the desk of HoraceClarke66

I had to turn off Ma Boone’s postgame press conference last night midway through his first sentence. Asked what went wrong in that colossal stinker your New York Yankees laid on the hometown fans, Manager Boone started to reply:

 

“First, I think Lopez pitched very well tonight—”

 

No, Ma, he didn’t. It would be impossible for Orioles’ starter Jorge Lopez to pitch well. He never has, not in the major leagues. 

 

Last night’s scintillating, six-innings of one-hit, one-run ball against the Yanks dropped not only Lopez’s season ERA but also his lifetime ERA just below 6 runs a game—a neat statistical feat! Going into last night’s game, the Orioles hurler was leading the AL in one category:  most losses. At age 28, and with six years in the majors, he has never so much as completed a major-league game.

 

None of the usual excuses apply. Lopez is not a stranger to the Yankees, who have battered him in the past to the tune of a 1-3 record and a 7.23 ERA. Sure, the Yanks’ own, newly acquired lugnut stunk up the joint. But he could have pitched like Bob Gibson in 1968 and still not won last night.

 

I think I wrote something the other day about these Yanks being like the Tin Man, without a heart. Well, they’re like the Scarecrow, too, without a brain, and the Cowardly Lion, without an ounce of courage. The wretched Orioles beat ’em top to bottomus, looking all of a sudden like a swarm of flying monkeys.

I had hoped that maybe, somehow, the Yanks had secured a heart transplant in Anthony Rizzo—who, of course, managed to plate the only run they scored. The Bleacher Creatures thought so, too. They were out in force last night, standing and cheering for the man who it seemed had singlehandedly breathed life into this corpse of a franchise.

 

The people in the money seats knew better—total attendance was only 28,879, as even people who had already shelled out the cash to see this profoundly depressing ballteam found other things to do with their time. 

 

I was fooled, too. I had thought, briefly, that our boys might have a shot after all. The 2021 New York Yankees are and always were wildly overrated, but my hopes were based on how clearly limited every team in the American League and even all of baseball are this year.

 

The Boston Red Sox and the Tampa Bay Devil Rays are plucky, well-run outfits, but on a talent level they would have been eaten alive by their own franchise editions earlier in this century. Truly, the Yanks were not facing any insurmountable competition this season. 

 

And then we get a game like last night’s, yet another in a series of sullen, inexplicable snorefests.

 

It probably didn’t matter. Likely, the injury to Domingo German and the positive Covid test of Gerrit Cole put paid to any remaining hopes this season in any case. They certainly reaffirmed this team’s claim to being the single most annoying and unlikable Yankees squad I have seen in 56 seasons of following the sport.

 

Other Yankees teams in that time suffered from lack of talent, or were disrupted by crazy managers or owners. This one seems to suffer from an all-enveloping ennui. There’s just not a scintilla of real effort out there from most of these ballplayers.

 

In the past, I’ve never been one to get on my high horse regarding players’ salaries. Hell, I’d take the money if it were offered. But I’m beginning to wonder if the paydays are now SO enormous that these guys just don’t give a damn.

 

All the positive Covid tests indicate a less-than-good-faith effort to avoid this pandemic. And for the rest, well, it seems that they are always more interested in putting in the time in the weight room than on the ballfield.

 

Giancarlo “The Millstone” Stanton is probably injured again; since June 10^th, in 168 plate appearances, he has 4 homers, 14 RBI, 30 walks, and 48 strikeouts, and has grounded into 5 double-plays. 

 

Gleyber Torres’ career continues in its two-year death spiral. The Hope of the Next Dynasty now has 6 homers, 14 errors, and has grounded into 10 DPs on the year. LeMahieu’s game has gone south. Sanchez remains a mediocrity. Aaron Judge is a very nice man and a well-rounded ballplayer who has proven at 29 to be no more than a slightly better—though less reliable—version of Bobby Abreu.

 

Miggy, The Red Menace, Sevvy, Voit, Hicks, and Gio are all victims of chronic injuries. Again.

 

We can go ’round and ’round about who is to blame—the trainers, the coaches, the manager, Brain, HAL—but like most things that go ’round and ’round, this team is headed for the drain. 

 

We can round up all the usual suspects we want, but it’s past time to line them up against a wall and have done with it. Sadly, that’s going to take quite a while, as Brian Cashman plays out another six years or so of endgame and Yankee Stadium comes to resemble a morgue.

 

I’m sure that Anthony Rizzo, much as he must lick his chops looking at that right field porch, is now busy studying the standings for a real team he can play for next year.

 

Me, I would love it if one of those cities from the outlands that used to tempt Mad George would materialize again and offer HAL the moon to move to Portland, Oregon, or Jacksonville, or North Carolina, or wherever. 

 

He could take the official legacy, and all the championships in the record books, and even the pinstripes. Doesn’t matter. We’d still have them in our hearts.  

 

The trade would be worth it, just to see some fresh new team, full of eager young players and led by some good baseball minds, take the field again in the Bronx.