Panic Spreads As We Score A Week's Worth Of Runs to Eke Out Win

I sensed trouble when our 4 run opening burst wasn't quite enough.  It is as though we built a wall, but it wasn't high enough.  Not sturdy enough.  Like the little pig who built his house, not of brick, but of stick.

Guns were firing.  McCann with a two out blow that set us on the way, dangerously dancing around the 18 wheeler headed our way had we left Jacoby and Gardy on base without advancing, or scoring, either one of them.

Drew was a monster.  Best game of his Yankee career.  Maybe he was responding to the Chase Utley "footsteps" rumor.  He may even have notched .200 this morning.

But we are not out of the swamp.  The muck of Chris Capuano still sucks us down.  I find his presence unfathomable.  And Joe is considering a two-header for an upcoming game; Cappy and Warren.  We'll lose by 10 and use up the bullpen.  Just concede that one.

Nice to see our young first baseman crush a couple of pitches for outs.  Then, he fell into the latest A-Rod syndrome, watching and or flailing at third strikes.

Bad night for his family.  No one like to see their child fail in public.  At least he played OK defence.

The bus is warming, though.

These are the days of miracle and wonder... or else we're chasing the wild card

In her clubhouse report Wednesday night, Suzyn Waldman was ranting like Yosemite Sam about how Yankee hitters had turned Cleveland's rancid rotation into Maddox-Glavine-Smoltz. "It's getting tiresome, tipping our caps every night to the opposing pitcher," she snarled, between spits of imaginary tobacco. You sensed she was ready to go back to the hotel room and beat-up a hooker. This is no time for an Eighth Inning Little Debbie Snack Cake Scoring Report. Another shutout, and she might have gone Billy on a marshmallow salesman.

But she's right. Until last night, this team would make Betty White look good. Moreover, what Suzyn didn't say is what was makes every Yankee fan reach from the Bromo Seltzer: We're sick of watching our "sluggers" pile onto some hapless, Triple A innings-eater, who's doing mop-up in a 10-run blowout. It's great to score the 15th through 21st runs, but if you go 1-for-20 afterwards, there's a special dung heap in hell that is awaiting your Cooperstown plaque.

We play three in Toronto this weekend- with seven more against them in September (plus home and away series against Tampa, Baltimore and Boston.) There's a lot of cricket yet to play. So here are the match-ups.

Tonight: NOVA v PRICE...

I wonder if Joe has learned his Nova lesson: With a game on the line, Ivan magically turns into Javier Vazquez throwing to Johnny Damon. This is a microcosm of Super Nova's super career, which is to say he's Sandy Koufax in the first three innings, and Sandy Duncan in the last three. Clearly, Nova is why we have brought back the Babadook - otherwise known Chris Capuano. Our YES men constantly gin up hope about the new Yankee farm system, but you have to wonder: Was there nobody in Scranton better than Capuano?

As for David Price, well, the Yankees can reaffirm all the ESPN drama jockeys who believe the Jays stole the pennant at the trade deadline - or we can stab Team Canada directly in its Keystone pipeline. There is no reason for a team that has always hit Price so well to suddenly be so utterly dominated by the guy - other than to say he was pitching last weekend on spite and adrenaline. Is it too much to ask the Yankees show a little of both?

Tomorrow: TANAKA v. ESTRADA...

I still wonder how Estrada shut us out for nearly seven innings. If he's that good, well, nothing matters: Toronto is out of our league, and we're chasing a wild card. If he's that good...

As for Tanaka, I'm starting to wonder if in November, we shouldn't send him to Dr. Andrews. Is he tired? (He's never pitched so deep into the well of a season.) Is it the elbow? Over his last three starts (1-2, 4.50), he's been - well - fraying. I always figured the season would end with him clutching his wrist and walking off a mound. Now, not so sure. He's going to keep throwing, because that's what gamers do. But I'm wondering...

Sunday: SEVERINO v. DREW HUTCHINSON...

Hate to have Severino surfing with the sharks, but it's too late now to pull him out of the water. I'm just glad he's not throwing for Philadelphia. Because in case you missed it, Cole Hamels tweaked his gonad the other day, and he's going to miss at least one start. (And when does a veteran pitcher with a bad groin miss just ONE start?) For all those who wanted the Yankees to empty their system for Hamels - (Severino and Greg Bird would probably both have gone) - chew on that news for a moment: Hamels is out with a barking groin. If we'd traded for him, we'd be starting Chris Capuano this weekend anyway.

As for Hutchinson, he's one of the reasons why Toronto was in second place, despite the scariest hitting lineup in baseball. Let's just pray Suzyn isn't tipping her cap to him Sunday night - or some lippy airline stewardess might end up talking like Geno Smith.

Full Fathom Five.....

Nothing s working.  Four hits is a flood of offense now.

One hit every other inning...almost.  None timely.

Is A-Rod just burning out in the August heat?  We all thought that would happen, even as a full time DH.  The more he gets on base, the longer he has to stand up and the more he has to run and slide.  He is forty.  Only knuckleball pitchers can be effective, for a full season, at that age.

Jacoby is 4-45?  Gardy , for some reason, is as slow as Beltran when he is on first and tries to steal second.  Does he have a running form of the "yips?"  One of the fastest guys in the league cannot steal a base?

Stephen Drew is much too much the power hitter wanna be, and not enough the baseball player.  It is unacceptable that he won't even attempt a bunt with no out , the tying run on first, and 75% of the left-side of the infield unoccupied by the enemy.

And is he doesn't have the brain to try, Joe Girardi must force him to.  And if the manager won't insist, then he should go.  We have horrible hitters acting like prima donnas, and a manager who is lying in the post game conferences.

Chase Utley is having no better a year than Stephen Drew, only for 3 times the millions, and future year options to saddle us with.  If they trade for him on his final lap at age 36, and give up any player for him, there is evidence of true insanity in the Yankee front offices.

Which desperation can invoke.

The Yankees are acting like refugees, mindlessly overcrowding already  non sea worthy boats, and heading into the ocean waters. 

We should have known.

We did know.

We were simply duped.

Something's happening here; what it is aint exactly clear: The Yankees are bringing up Greg Bird

The Yankees today did what they never do: Brought up a position prospect before the age of 24. Moreover, they did something that should scare the bejeezus out of any Yankee fan who still has a working bejeezus. (Mine is shot.)

They are bringing up 22-year-old 1B Greg Bird from Scranton.

We should be excited about this. The Yankiverse has heard the drum beat mythos of Bird since last summer, when he belted a mammoth home run in a Single A All-Star game. He made it to Double A this year, fell into a slump and got hurt. He was starting to conjure doubters and trolls, when about six weeks ago he returned from the DL and started hitting. He was promoted to Scranton and has been a terror ever since, hitting over .300 with power. Cashman refused to trade him, citing him as one of four prospects the Yankees would not deal.

The question is, why bring up a kid clearly in need of ABs, when he is destined to play 1B or DH, the two most critical positions on the big team. The answer that nobody wants to suggest is that A-Rod or Tex could be harboring an injury of sorts, which would explain their recent crapping of the beds.

The Evils' official word is that they have a pile of games coming up, and Bird is the best available hitter, which isn't exactly a high bar, considering they just jettisoned Garrett Jones for the second time in two weeks. I dunno, but Bird will be exciting to watch. We're unwrapping the future on this guy. But something's going on.

The Yankees are having an off-millennium, and - lo and behold! - the 2015 team might be the sorriest yet

Last night, John Sterling watched his home burn to the ground for the second time this year. No hitting, no hope, no nothing: It's Yogi Vu, all over again. When the smoke cleared, The Master droned, "BallgameoverClevelandwins" in a robot voice that sounded like a talking doll left for a month on an Arizona driveway. All he could say was, "Isn't it amazing? It's... amazing... amazing... amazing!" Hell with that. It's not amazing. It's pathetic.

Last night, Suzyn - Lady McDeath - raged through the Clubhouse Report, openly questioning how Joe Girardi could actually claim Yankee hitters were snapping out of their funks. "IT BETTER START TOMORROW!" she growled. When Sweeney Murti wondered how Joe could seem so upbeat, she had an answer: "THIS LOSS DIDN'T TAKE 15 INNINGS!" He noted that, at least, Brett Gardner had tried to steal a base. "OUT BY TWENTY FEET!" Suzyn yelped. That's her version of, "Isn't it amazing?"

Last night, as everyone knows by now, we fell into second, where the chase is for the miserable one-game, away field Wild Card - that diseased marketing concept, fostered by Yankee killer Bud Selig, to gin up interest in teams that deserve to be stuffed in empty jars of vaginal cream and set out with the North Korean tide. Teams like - well, it's sure looking this way - the 2015 Yankee house of cards.

Should this be my new image?

We have lost five in a row. We will lose tonight. Is there any doubt? Soon, we will go to Toronto, where the spanking could be permanent. Of course, our hitters eventually will snap out of it. They can't suck forever. Trouble is, that's when our pitching will collapse, because that's how things work on ghost ship cruises to Hell. One leak here, another leak there. This week, we even tried home juju, but all we saw is what happens when you run electricity through a dead frog. It leaps off the table, but it doesn't croak. It's already croaked.

Right now, I'm wondering if the most humane outcome would be for Toronto to dispatch the Yankees quickly, rather than stretch things out, like a cat playing with its food. Just beat us hard, beat us early, beat us by six to eight runs, and free us - the working fans - from trying to swim through life with this anvil of a team on our backs. There are better things to do in September than to be sitting on a couch, pulling this deer tick of a franchise off our butts.

In Seattle, Jesus Montero is tearing the cover off the ball. In Pittsburgh, Francisco Cervelli is still hitting .300. In Toronto, Russell Martin - Hal's original sin - is a team leader. We have the twins of collapse - Ellsbury and Gardner - delivering 10 outs per game. And Rob Refsnyder - lost in the shadow of the great Stephen Drew - sits in Scranton, another demoralized soul in a crap-filled millennium. Wow. The Master's house is burning down. Anybody bring hot dogs?

It's not getting better

The only thing worse than keeping your prospects, not trading for that all-important ace pitcher, and then going into a complete collapse...

... Would be to keep your prospects, not trade for that all-important ace pitcher, fall into a complete collapse... and then trade the guys you kept for Chase Utley.

Miller and Tex (Apologies to Robert Frost)

Some say the team will end with Miller,

Some say with Tex.

From what I’ve seen of bullpen filler

I'd much prefer a quicker killer.

But if we're bound to perish next,

I think I know enough of fate

To say that for destruction, Tex

Is not as great

As oral sex.

Juju gods to IIH: Drop Dead

Well, I guess that didn't work...

On behalf of the Yankiverse, I would hereby like to thank the space-time continuum, the cosmic Infundibulum, all pertinent god particles, and the ironies/vagaries of random numerical sequence - (in other words, "the Fates") - for delivering the most excruciating, boot-stomping loss of the season - if not the decade - on the one effing night we bothered to make fools of ourselves by attempting to believe.

Message received.

Rest assured, we won't try that again. You win, God, Allah, Buddha, Satan, or None-of-the-Above - whatever you are. You go Yahweh, we'll go ours. It's not that the universe is dead. It's just that the 2015 Yankees are... staggering, limping, reeling to fall over the finish line, only to find there are still seven laps left. We're a half-game up on Toronto, sinking without a bubble. At this rate, we won't even make it to Hope Week.

Insert sigh here.

You know, I thought it would be the injuries that killed us. I never saw Ellsbury and Gardner turning into pumpkins, right before our eyes. I figured that, at some point, Miller would blow a save, but not in Cleveland, not after a comeback, not in a game we desperately needed. And we haven't begun to fall apart. Let's face it: The injuries will come. They just won't hurt so much. I mean - when your 1-5 hitters go 2-66 (with 23 strikeouts), should you really fear a tweaked ball sack?

Back in February, I dreaded this season. I thought we'd be lucky to make it to July. In many ways, the Yankees have outlasted expectations. We should feel good about what's happened. But after last night, I'm sorry, folks. In rooting for this team, we've hooked a ride on Malaysian Flight 370.

Well, we called upon the universe for help, and nobody answered the phone. Let the record show that on Aug. 11, 2015, an emergency Juju Intervention was attempted, after the patient had reported chest pains and shortness of breath. CPR and a full cardio fibrillation was attempted. The patient was unresponsive. At approximately 12:25, E.S.T., he was declared dead.

And that's the deal, folks.

Mrs. Peel, we're dead.

Ghuh.

Across the globe, Yankee fans are now staring into their TVs, spewing juju and changing the course of baseball history

The Juju Intervention has begun...

Godspeed

O's won last night, leaving Yanks five up in Wild Card race

Like the sound of that? Rattle your cage a bit?

Sorry to be this way, but today - Aug. 11 - if the Yankees are destined to lose the AL East, I'd just as soon have them miss the post-season entirely - rather than get in via the stupid, one-game Bud Selig Wild Card.

Of course, if they make it, why kid ourselves? We'll all get suckered into it.

So I post these words as a time capsule:

On Aug. 11, 2015 - regardless of how the 2015 Yankees eventually finish - the notion of this team winning a Wild Card birth leaves me nauseous.

JUJU, TONIGHT.

AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE! Juju Intervention set for tonight, top of the second in Cleveland

Fellow IT IS HIbreds...

Let's face it. There is no juju. No magic, no Bigfoot, no wood nymphs, not even a Chuckie or a Batman. It is a dead universe for magic. When the Yankees play, fan lives don't matter. Deal with it. The juju gods have.

And yet... 

What if someday you end up drinking in some eternal, afterlife bar with Jean Paul Sarte, Howard Cosell and Mickey Dolenz - the Ringo of the Monkees - and Sarte says, "EEDIOT! LIFE WAS A FOOKING DREAM! YOU COULD HAVE WON EVERY SEASON, EVERY WORLD SERIES, IF ONLY YOU HAD BELIEVED! THOSE TEACHERS, THOSE BASTARDS, THEY RUINED YOU WITH THEIR FOOKING LOGIC. EEEMBICLE!" Then Humble Howard runs off to smoke in the bathroom, and Mickey - (who isn't dead yet, but might be by then) - sings an entire rendition of "I'm a Believer." Trust me. You'll feel pretty crappy... and for all of eternity. Do you want that?

No. And that, my friends, is why we do what we do. That's why we invoke juju and charge the mound. Some fans stand up and yell, "AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE!" I'd rather be the Avenger who simply says, "Mrs. Peel, we're needed." And so...

It is time to release the Kraken.

Tonight... Second Inning... Cleveland... Juju...

The first International Juju Intervention (IJI) of 2015.

IT IS TIME TO CHARGE THE MOUND.

Tonight, by the Hoary Hosts of Hal, I summon all couch-born disgruntleds of the Yankiverse to rise from their Lazy-Boys, and their bean chairs and - Lo! from their knees of hopelessness... STAND UP, RISE UP, FIRM UP AND EXPEL JUJU INTO THE FERTILE LOVE BUCKET OF YOUR TELEVISIONS.

As the second inning begins, Yankee fans everywhere must confront their TVs, radios or electronic baby sitters and discharge high-grade, invisible Rizzutonic particles - (death rays, to the layperson) - in the general direction of Ohio. 

We shall will the Yankees to win!

Why do this? Why make oafs of ourselves? We know juju is impossible. It's crazy. But as Superman once said, "Darn it, Lois, it's so crazy it might just work!

But it can't work. Right? Why think otherwise? Well, folks... this is fact: 

On May 21, 2012, IT IS HIGH conducted the first International Juju Intervention (IJI). Over the next three weeks, the Yankees went 20-4. Goddammit. Look.  It.   Up.  That same year, on Aug. 31, we launched a second IJI. Gyadammot, I am not lying: The Yankees promptly went 10-3.

Since then - in 2013 and 2014 -  I'm not gonna sugarcoat it: Our Juju Interventions did nothing. Not one stinking win. The reason? Those crapola Yankee teams were beyond our help. 

So... here we are... 2015...  Whaddawegot? It's time to find out.

INTERNATIONAL JUJU INTERVENTION... TONIGHT... SECOND INNING... STAND AND DELIVER, OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE.

AVENGERS! MRS. PEEL! WE'RE ASSEMBLING! WE'RE NEEDED!

The Staten Island Yankees Spent the Anniversary of Michael Brown's Death Reminding Us Whose Lives Matter.

The Yankees' love of militarism finds a bold new expression, and The Root explains why this is such a terrible idea:

This kind of psychological violence is par for the course, an attempt to gaslight black America into believing that we’re making it all up—the racism, the bigotry, the injustice. The refrain “Blue Lives Matter,” just like “All Lives Matter,” is a pathetic silencing tactic meant to minimize the pervasiveness of police brutality and amplify the need that too many white Americans have to vilify African Americans in this country—even in the grave. 

While the Staten Island Yankees are slinging peanuts and Cracker Jacks, we’re trying to stay alive and they couldn’t give a damn about it.

Dear Mr. Trump, here's how you win the Presidency: THE JETER-KOBAYASHI MARU

Dear President Trump,

Hey, you like the sound of that? Parrrrrezzzzzzzident Tarrrrrrrump-p-p!

Well, aint gonna happen. Not now, anyway. They say you're dead as a GOP candidate, for suggesting that Meghan Kelly menstruates. Big muck-up. They chuckled when you mentioned Rosie O'Donnell, but there's one big difference, pally: Meghan is on the team. You don't dis a teammate.

Nevertheless, it aint over. Here's how you win the Presidency.

First, the alternatives have to be Hillary and Jeb!, which nobody in America really wants, not even their spouses. To most voters, a Clinton-Bush race will be the ultimate proof that democracy is dead. Good grief, did the Bushes have such great runs that they deserve a White House trifecta? Let's put it NY sports terms: Jeb is Fred Wilpon, born rich in a stupid family, and he's done nothing in 10 years. Hillary is Tom Coughlin, coach-for-life of the Giants: If he'd retire, we'd love him forever. But he won't quit, and we're going to go 2-14.

So, if it's Clinton v. Bush, the U.S. electorate will say, GIVE US SOMEBODY, ANYBODY...

But not you. Nope, they still won't vote for you... unless... UNLESS...

You offer America the Jeter-Kobayashi Maru - named for the seemingly unbeatable no-win scenario from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, where Spock dies at the end, giving the Vulcan salute from his glassed-in death chamber. Simply put: The Clinton v. Bush election is the Kobayashi Maru - the scenario from which no survives... unless... UNLESS...

Here's the solution: You announce that, if elected, you will serve only a figurehead post in the White House. Hell, you don't know dick about Tunisia, bombs and glaciers. Why lie? As president, you'll simply be putting on an entertaining show. But you would turn the day to day decisions to the perfect person - someone who has the respect of Republicans and Democrats, Conservatives and Liberals, whose leadership and greatness cannot be questioned.

Who is this great person? Stephen Hawking? Bill Gates? Tom Hanks? Springsteen? Meryl Streep? Warren Buffet? Jimmy Buffet? Me? (Well, yes, me. But I'm not in this for personal gain.)

No. They all have baggage. No sir, here's your VEEP IN CHIEF:

Derek Jeter.

The Captain.

Yes, announce the Trump-Jeter ticket, the bold thinking that will capture 35 percent of the vote and, thus, win the election. Screw the Clinton-Bush dynasties. The only dynasty that matters took place between 1996 and 2000, and it was Jeter's. And if the Captain can't handle some complex issue, he'll appoint a special czar named Mariano.

There you have it - best political advice you'll ever get. Please send $100,000, immediately, and I will tell you more ideas, as they come in.

Funny how those 21-run Yankee blowouts work, eh? The veteran adds 14 points to his batting average, padding his numbers for posterity, smacking that critical 3-run-HR in the eighth to make it a 17-run lead! Then, when an actual game situation matters, here he comes, with his newly inflated OBP or BABIP or, whatever, and he's the same human pop-up that he always was.

"WELL, I NEVAH!"

Imagine the Yankees as a 90-year-old, blue-haired, spinster debutante, sitting in the Hamptons with her Jagameister, Kindle porn, and string of pearls the size of Floyd Mayweather's testicles. That's what they'd be saying today, following last week's Yankee dizzy spell. It's not fair! No one should have to put up with such tomfoolery... Two knuckleballers in a week? The idea! Cheeves, download another Rex Tripod story.

Ah, it's great when your chosen team serves up the ready-made excuse straight from the bag, like a month-old grocery salad. Two knuckleballers in a week! Why, it's inhuman! It's wrong! It throws off the hitter's delicate timing, which leaves him susceptible to a hard-thrower, and that's why you see one stinking run in 28 innings - (which was a disputed HR that, frankly, I wish had not gone our way, because it merely lengthened the time I spent watching us crap the lounge chair) - as we sidle from a division race to our annual chasing of the coveted one-game, away field Wild Card. From there, it's all about settling into another open October.

Ah, but it's not their fault. Two knuckleballers in a week! It's not right. Why don't the other teams play fair?

JUJU INTERVENTION TOMORROW. 
DETAILS TO COME.

Yanks keep solid 4 game lead for second Wild Card birth

Four games in the loss column - depending on what the Los Angeles, California, Angels of Anaheim do tonight, though frankly, the way we are playing-

THIS IS AN EMERGENCY MESSAGE FROM THE IT IS HIGH YANKEE EMERGENCY INFORMATION CENTER:


AN INTERNATIONAL JUJU INTERVENTION HAS BEEN DECLARED FOR TOMORROW NIGHT.


READERS ARE URGED TO STAY AT THEIR COMPUTERS AND TO AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. 

REPEATING: AN INTERNATIONAL JUJU INTERVENTION HAS BEEN DECLARED FOR TOMORROW NIGHT. 

AT A TO-BE-SPECIFIED TIME, YANKEE FANS WILL BE INSTRUCTED TO PHYSICALLY CONFRONT THEIR ELECTRONIC YANKEE LISTENING OR WATCHING DELIVERY DEVICES... AND EXPEL JUJU ON BEHALF OF THEIR TEAM.

THIS IS NOT A TEST. THIS IS AN ACTUAL EMERGENCY BROADCAST ADVISORY, FROM THE IT IS HIGH EMERGENCY CENTER. WE NOW RETURN YOU TO OUR REGULAR POSTING...

... ich is why I wish the umps Friday night ruled against Tex's HR. We didn't even deserve the one run! Gaahahhh.

Are There Any Statistics on the Misuse or Misinterpretation of Statistics?

The other day, Duque bemoaned the fact that Drew was hitting away into the shift with a man on first, when a bunt may obviously have been called for (Drew being Drew).

Walter, an astute commenter, replied thusly:

duque--read the relevant literature on this. It's well established by now that even when a sacrifice bunt succeeds, the likelihood of scoring a run is REDUCED. Yes--the chances of scoring a run become SMALLER WHEN THE SACRIFICE SUCCEEDS AND YOU HAVE ADVANCED THE RUNNER because the additional out decreases scoring chances more than the advancing of the runners increases it. This may seem counterintuitive, but the result is based on a computer analysis of gazillions of baseball games since the beginning of recorded time. The first such run expectancy chart appeared in The Hidden Game of Baseball in 1984 and has been reconfirmed by every statistical analysis since then. It might be useful for the presiding minds of this blog to acquaint themselves with the rudiments of advanced analysis to avoid sounding just like the daily sportswriting dolts they so acridly condescend to.

August 9, 2015 at 1:15 AM

And this brings up an amazingly overlooked point about the increased use of statistics in the analysis of baseball, and how they can easily be misused, misconstrued and otherwise mishandled if not in the hands of somebody mathematical who really knows what they're doing. (Not a comment on Walter, but on his sources.)

There is a reason that there is an old saying that there are three kinds of lies--lies, damned lies, and statistics. Statistics are easily misinterpreted and manipulated (I've been in advertising and marketing for almost 40 years, trust me on that last one). Statistics also are not always right because they are not always measuring the specifics of a particular situation. 

Consider the most basic stat: the batting average. If Drew is hitting .190 and is facing a shift because he consistently pulls the ball even with outside pitches, statistically he likely has a less than 19 out of 100 chance of getting a hit. This means that he could not only make an out that leaves the runner at first, but that he could hit into a double play and erase the runner. Whereas, if he can successfully bunt in the opposite direction of the shift, he not only moves the runner into scoring position but has a better than 19/100 chance of reaching base himself. Statistics show that he should bunt in that situation.

With runners on first and second, or even with a runner on second with the out, the batter becomes Ellsbury, who has a 28/100 chance of getting a hit overall (although his more recent performance statistics have been worse), which is better than Drew's chances if he does not bunt.

To say that, statistically, the numbers prove that bunting the runner over actually decreases the chance of scoring is not necessarily competent analysis of the statistics, because all situations involving all batters who have sacrifice bunted since the dawn of time contain a variety of irrelevant situations -- including a number of cases where competent hitters bunted and were followed by less competent hitters, a situation that would happen in the old days when bunting the runner over was a chore that fell to some players we would never dream of using for that purpose today. There are other situational considerations that a mathematician baseball fan might be able to point out.

This is the problem with the blanket use of statistics in baseball as "proof" of many things. The best use of statistics is when they are winnowed down to very specific situational subsets that take into account as many details and variables as possible, which, correct me if I'm mistaken, is not the case in the stats Walter is pointing to.


If there is a subset of the bunting stats that's a breakout of sub-.200 pull hitters facing a shift who bunt the other way, and the resulting chances of scoring a run if that bunt is successful when the following hitter(s) is averaging a statistically meaningful number of hits more per at-bats (preferably against the type of pitcher being faced or even against the particular pitcher if there are enough occurrences to be statistically meaningful)...then I think we've really got something.

The ancient Yankee prophesies have arrived, and it is time to contemplate the ultimate response

Obviously, it's crapola to think one game makes a season. Certainly, the Yankees could lose today - be drubbed, molested, played with - and they'll still hold first. There's 7.33333 weeks left to play in the season. Between now and Oct. 5, elbows will snap, walk-offs will unfold and waiver deals will be consummated. No matter what happens today, the Yankee season - thus far, a bountiful buffett of fresh eggs and crispy bacon - will not end!

Ah, but who are we kidding? Everybody can sense it: The Collapse. She's here, she's undressing, she's unhooking her bra and leaning to kiss us on the mouth. Oh, the humanity. The ancient prophesies are coming true. We face the Four Secondbasemen of the Apocalypse: Drew, Ackley, Ryan and Pirella. The Beastmaster has arrived, and she looks like the offspring of Jose Batista and Meghan Kelly. Her skirt is rising, like those recent floodwaters in Anaheim, and our esteemed manager has countered with - huh? - Branden Pinder. Uh-oh. She's reaching down, she's unholstering our Yankeehood and - dear God, people, DEAR GOD, four runs in four games - so do the only thing we can do: Close your eyes and think about Yogi!

Yes, Yogi. The greatest Yankee legacy of hope, of trust, of honor, of everything good. In times like this, it's important to have a sacred rock that you long ago stashed in a shoebox deep in the closet. You take it out and hold it, and you think about Yogi.

Yes, today, the prophesy arrived. Bill Madden wrote his column saying the Yankees should have traded for David Price. As sure as the east sets in the west, the NY writers were eventually going to attack Cashman for not trading away the farm. It's called "pronouncing Aaron Judgement." I don't even blame Madden. You can't blame the alligator for eating the elk. There's a million years of evolution involved. When the Yankees lose, the teeth come out. Close your eyes and think about Yogi.

Today's game is everything. Win, and we staunch the bleeding. Win, and we go to Cleveland on a one-game winning streak. Lose, and we were swept at home in the first critical series of the season. Lose and... well...

IF WE LOSE TODAY, GIRD YOUR LOINS, BECAUSE IT WILL BE TIME FOR A JUJU INTERVENTION, THE FIRST OF 2015.

Leadfooted Yankees have stopped running, even against knuckleballers, and they might just strand the season at first

There's losing, and then there is - as Donald Trump would say - losing stupid.

Last night, the Yankees lost stupid, supendously.

Seventh inning. Tie game. One out. Didi Gregorius on first with an infield hit. It's clear to anybody with an eye or seeing-eye dog that Stephen Drew can't touch R.A. Dickey's knucker with a clown show tennis racket. After one pitch, the Jays call time out. The defense re-alligns. Toronto sends its 3B into RF, overshifting against the pull-hitting Drew.

So here it is: Drew, batting .190 over the 18 months, with a speedy baserunner and the game on the line, staring at a leftside void roughly the size of Andrew Cuomo's ego. We need the runner to advance. All Drew needs to do is lay down a bunt. On YES, they're marveling at how the Jays are daring Drew to bunt. It's practically a gift. I'm screaming at the TV.

So what does Drew do? What he always does. He hacks, swings away, from his pink-painted toes, and - as usual - fails. Foul pop. Out. Threat over. Didi stranded. Yanks do nothing. If the game went 100 innings, we's still have one run, still have guys standing on first, contemplating the universe, waiting for Godot, or the Great Pumpkin, or something.

Stupid.

For some unexplained reason, the Yankees have forgotten they were born with feet. They haven't attempted a stolen base since June 12. This, from a team with Brett Gardner and Jacoby Ellsbury. How do you take speed out of that equation, especially against knuckleballers, and especially when nobody on the team shows any ability to hit such a pitch? Every other team in baseball runs on knuckleballers. Not us. We've lost twice in a week to knucklers, and never even tried running.

Gardner last night had two singles. In the fifth, he was on with two outs. Perfect opportunity. He stayed put. A-Rod popped up. In the eighth, it was worse. Gardner led off with a single. A-Rod hit into a double play. Stupid, stupid, STUPID.

Of course, railing against Stephen Drew - or in this case, Joe Girardi - is like yelling at the sharknado: People laugh at you, just for caring. Dellin Betances is being used like a rented mule, the Scott Proctoring of an all-star talent. He'll probably be the next cog to break. Drew is barely hitting his weight, yet he cannot - or simply refuses to - adjust. Well, next winter, the game will adjust, and Drew will disappear. The Yankees this year never gave Jose Pirela or Rob Refsnyder the light of day at 2B. They've been willing to overlook Drew's miniscule output for a steady glove. OK, I get that. But folks, the lead is shrinking, and every time we lose stupid - like the loss we conjured last night, you can hear the fingernails digging into the chalkboard, as we sink to the floor.

Today, the Yankees play David Price, a pitcher they have owned in recent years. Why am I expecting the worst? Well, the answer is easy. We are playing stupid.