Yankee opening day roster... if nothing changes (though, of course, everything will)

Sometimes, to assure yourself that you actually have enough pennies to buy the pony, you must empty the piggy bank and count the coins. On that note, let's look at where the Yankees stand - right now, today - before trades, before injuries, before free agent reinforcements. Here's a proposed opening day lineup.

2b DJ LeMahieu
rf Aaron Judge
ss Gleyber Torres
dh Giancarlo Stanton
lf Miguel Andujar
c Gary Sanchez
1b Luke Voit/Mike Ford
3b Gio Urshela
cf Brett Gardner

(Note: This lineup wins the AL East. But it also tilts hard right. Against dominant righties, Mike Tauchman might play LF, and Gardy would probably move up. Not sure about Gleyber hitting third and playing SS; that's a lot of pressure. He might need to work his way into that role. By July, we should have Aaron Hicks, whatever that means.)

Bench

Tauchman
Ford
Kyle Higashioka
Tyler Wade 
Thairo Estrada 

(Note: In case you didn't notice, there is no spot for Clint Frazier. If he is sent back to Scranton - again - the poor guy will be a basket case. The big question is whether Andujar can play LF. If not, Frazier has a foot in the door (assuming he can play LF). As it stands today, either Andujar or Frazier needs to be traded. Andujar would bring more, but he's a great young bat. Do they really want to let him go?

This should be Tyler Wade's year. With a 26-man roster - the new normal - Wade looks perfect. Not only does he bat LH, but he can play the OF and he is the fastest player on the team. 

Finally, before Gerrit Cole, our big winter acquisition was scrubino OF Zack Granite. To save Gardy's legs, Granite might be a late-inning replacement.)

Rotation

Gerrit Cole
Luis Severino
Masahiro Tanaka
James Paxton
J.A. Happ

(Note: This rotation wins the AL East. But Happ will almost certainly be traded, leaving an opening for Jordan Montgomery, Jonathan Loaisiga, Luis Cessa or Deivi Garcia. Trouble is: No one on that list is a sure thing. So who pitches fifth?

This is why Gammonites keep postulating trades of Happ, Andujar/Frazier and a young arm... for a solid pitcher. But for whom? That's a substantial package. Cashman better not blow it. 

Finally, for a team of china dolls - Hicks, Stanton, Severino, Judge - is it wise to cut ourselves thin?)

Bullpen 

Aroldis Chapman
Zack Britton
Adam Ottavino
Tommy Kahnle
Chad Green
Jonathan Holder/Ben Heller/Stephen Tarpley/ Cessa/Loaisiga
Whomever stands out in Tampa

(Note: This bullpen wins the AL East. The Yankee surplus is why we keep hearing rumors about Milwaukee's Josh Hader. He would certainly buttress our late innings, especially if Smiley Chapman goes down.  

(In a perfect world, we would wait until March - see who looks good - before doing a major deal. Trouble is, other teams won't wait on Happ. Something will have to Happen. We are clear front-runners in our division. But there is a lot of winter yet to play.

(Am I wrong to suspect that some of you have different opinions?)

Hark, Bitches!

MLB ALL-HEAVENLY-HOST TEAM  

1B   Ángel Echevarria
2B   Ángel Santos
SS   Ángel Berroa
3B   Ángel Sánchez

LF   Ángel Mangual
CF   Ángel Pagan
RF   Rubén Ángel Sierra

C     Ángel Peña

PH  "Pearly" Gates Brown

RHP   Ángel Sanchez, Ángel Castro, Ángel Nesbitt, Ángel Guzman
LHP   Ángel Miranda, Miguel Ángel Cuellar, Ángel Moreno

MGR   Felipe Alou-lujah

Yankee fans now face Cole cuts

Yesterday's unveiling of a clean-shaven, loyal-since-birth Gerrit Cole brought joy to Yankiverse, and today, nobody wants to Grinch the vibe. 

With Cole - like us, a lifelong Yankee fan - we have become faves to win the 2020 AL East, and with an ace who can lead us through October. Deal with it, pessimists. If you're thinking about coming into this website and whining, well, there's the door.

That said, we must brace ourselves for Hal's morning-after reversion into a dickering, money-grubbing Scrooge. He's not "Food Stamps" anymore. But he won't like paying the massive luxury taxes that are sure to come, and we should expect cost-cutting. 

We needn't condone them: The Steinbrenners have more money than they can spend in the next three lifetimes, and to think of Hal squeezing a payroll is akin to fighting over nickel bottle deposits. But this is what he does: Fish gonna swim/ bird gonna fly / Hal gonna always say / "My, my, my!" So be it. 

Keep in mind that, a) He'll be running the biggest payroll in baseball, b) He'll be paying huge luxury taxes and forfeiting draft picks, and c) He's never going to sell the team. (The Cole signing is his personal crossing of the Rubicon; he's in this for life.) For now - and I am choosing my words carefully - Hal has earned our grudging appreciation. 

The last 10 dark years didn't just disappear. But if we can win a few rings and restore the Yankees to their late nineties greatness, make no mistake: This site could become a Hal's Pals hotbed. Amazing, eh? But I have always maintained that we at IT IS HIGH mourn a Yankee loss more than anywhere else on the web - and the flipside is that will celebrate Yankee successes in that same way. Let's hope for the latter.

But here's a sliver of morning-after reality. I direct your attention to a story by Ronald Blum of the Associated Press. (Yes, Virginia, there still is an Associated Press.) The Yankees last year finished second in payroll spending (at $226 million), behind the Redsocks (at $228 million.) The Cubs finished third, at $220 million. Cole adds another $36 million to the books. But lately, we've been whittling down the numbers.

Using cocktail napkin calculations: We dropped $10 million from CC's retirement, another $11 mill by letting Didi walk, and we'll save $7 mill when Dellin goes. (As he will.) Overall, with Cole on board, the 2020 payroll rises by about $8 million - give or take - though arbitration will inflate the numbers further. We will surely vault past Boston in payroll. We could be near $240 million, way over the taxing limit. So... the question is, what other cuts are coming?

Yesterday, lost in the Gerrit joy, the Yankees discarded the disappointing former hot starter prospect, Chance Adams. I believe they have a few days to trade Adams, maybe for some dirt league arms. Either way, they'll get next to nothing for a guy who could still evolve into a valuable lug nut. He's only 25. Hate to see him go, but... hey, you can only keep 40.

Next comes the seemingly inevitable trade of J.A. Happ, with a wide landscape of possibilities. If Hal simply wants to save money, they will trade Happ and prospects - maybe Clint Frazier? - seeking to ditch the entire $17 million contract. That would piss off Yankee fans, but virtually set the Yankees back to pre-Cole budget austerity. 

My guess - which, of course, doesn't matter: They'll split the difference and pay off part of Happ's salary, so they don't look so much like chumps in the deal. If we add money, we can probably receive some other team's salary dump. That begs another question: What do we seek? A LH hitter? A glove SS? A bullpen arm? This is Cashman's job. He'll be at center stage for this.

Brace yourselves for a seemingly lopsided trade that sends Happ to an NL team, where he might pull a Sonny Gray, win 15 games and have us pulling out our hair. But let's face the reality: Hal just didn't change his ways overnight. He's still the penny-pincher, right? Unless... unless he stared into Gerrit Cole's Yankees-loving puppy eyes, saw the sign that said "Yankee fan forever"... and something happened? The Grinch's heart grew several sizes. Could Hal's wallet have done the same?

OH MY GOD... I LOVE THIS GUY

He kept the sign. HE KEPT THE SIGN! HE KEPT THE SIGN!

Things that had a worse decade than the Yankees

Merry Colemas! And a Happ-less new year!

Yep, it's Gerrit Cole Day in the Yankiverse - the beardless photo opp. And as Cooperstown Cashman does his shopping - (of J.A. Happ) - let's ponder the last 10 years, a lost and miserable decade for our heroes. The hope brought by Cole - via Hal's Scrooge-like conversion - is that the Roaring Twenties will restore luster, and a few rings, to the Yankees. 

But the Yankees weren't alone in slogging through the 2010s. Here's my list of things that suffered over the last 10 years.

Star Wars. Sorry, but once upon a time, in a universe far far away, this was THE gold standard for American cinema and story telling. Now, it's just another soul-less Disney money machine, right up there with the Twilight saga or the Hunger Games. Yeah, they'll spend a billion and probably bank two. But the more the story goes on, the more dreary it becomes. 

Newspapers. Okay, I'm biased. For 30 years, I worked for them. For all the warts and typos, they were a true daily miracle; putting it out was like running a war. Now, they're dead or dying - in the case of my town, by owner-heirs who surrendered without even firing a shot. Today, politicians pick the districts they'll represent, and people pick the facts they'll believe. Historians will look back and say it was no coincidence that when the print media died, clowns took over the world.  

Rock 'n Roll. I listen to a local "rock" station. What a joke. Most of the actual rock stems from the nineties, as the reliance on oldies has choked off new bands and actually what we consider to be rock music. Springsteen is singing cowboy ditties. Okay, I'm biased, but there is only one great actual rock 'n roll band in America. Wanna hear some rock? Listen...

New York pro sports. How did the greatest city in America turn into such a runt? Of course, it's the owners, none of whom built their fortunes. They are second or third generation billionaires who face no financial consequences for the mediocrity of their products. Small market franchises battle just to survive. In NY, the owners cannot be touched. Dare we truly believe that Hal Steinbrenner has changed?  

The planet. Okay, no politics, right? I don't mean to start something here. As I've said other times: I was completely wrong about Jesus Montero, so I might be completely wrong again. But as one who grew up in a staunch Goldwater Republican family, I have to wonder: How did we get to the point where our leaders think there are no consequences for polluting the air and water? Come on. Look, everything else can be fixed - Republicans, Democrats, it's all just the folly of humankind - but are we really going to deny science and pretend the bees are doing fine, the coral reefs are healthy, the continent-sized zones of plastic in the oceans are no problem, and that the polar caps are not shrinking? Do we really think rolling back auto efficiency standards or pushing laws to reopen coal mines is smart policy? Come on, Trumpers. We need you. We're all in this one together.

So there you have it. I'm a tree-hugger. I'm a prospect-hugger. But at least I'm not a Disney-hugger. Here's to 2020 - the Hugh Downs Year. (Get it?) 

Kyle Schwarber? Must we go through this again?

It's that time of year: Chestnuts roasting, stockings hung, kiddies on their phones, and the Yanks and Cubs are once again stuck in the chimney, discussing Kyle Schwarber. Something about the 240 pounder known as "Hulk" continually lures Cooperstown Cashman into talks with Cubs honcho Jeffrey Theo Epstein, prompting the Gammonites of Gotham to suggest a big turkey dinner is cooking.

If you have nothing better to do on a snowy day, I suppose it's worth wondering how many HRs the lefty-hitting Schwarber might pound in Yankee Stadium. Last year he hit 38, which sounds impressive, until you realize that 57 (fifty-seven) players last year clubbed at least 30. (Good grief, Gardy hit 28.) Also, there's Schwarber's 156 strikeouts, .250 average, and statistical presence as THE worst fielding OF in the NL. Finally, let's note that the last Yankee named "Kyle" was Mr. Farnsworth himself, making the name a tradition worth ending.

Listen: I try to sit out debates on trade rumors. For starters, who cares? They're starch. They're ether. They're movies starring Pauly Shore. Secondly, any trade acquisition could be favorable, depending on what we give up. If Brigadoon Refnsyder re-emerges from the Netherworld, and we skip him like a flat stone to Brother Theo for Schwarber, I'd say, "Well played, State Farm!" (Or if the Cubs took Giancarlo, straight up? Now that would be interesting.) But these rumors - as rumored -  have Miguel "DiMaggio" Andujar heading to Chicago for a guy who, at just 28, is an injury magnet, a concrete statue in the field, and - following his breakout year - a scud cow being shopped at the market.  

Clearly, the Death Star can use a LH bat. But it's worth noting that we just jettisoned Sir Didi Gregorius and Greg Bird, both of whom fit better than a full-time DH. To trade Andujar - who can play 3B - for another homer/strikeout lug nut.. yeesh. The Yankees need a LH bat that hits .290 - not another late-stage Jason Giambi. When I think about Schwarb, I picture a hobbling, post-steroids Giambino, always gunning for the RF porch - his average plummeting to .210, his strikeouts rising to 200, and his most recognizable feature being the sad slog back to Torre's pines after leaving a runner in scoring position.

In terms of LH bats, I don't know who is out there. But Cashman does. The Yankees do need somebody more than Gardy (who will be 37) and the comedy team of Tauchman and Ford (who both remain untested.) Kyle Schwarber? Sorry. I'd bang on the chimney until someone lets me out.

Wonks endorse Yanks signing of Gerrit Cole

The political stats site Fivethirtyeight.com has weighed in on the Gerrit Cole signing, and it's like receiving a foot massage in a milk bath from Donald Trump Jr. 

Say the gentle, well-meaning, smarter-than-us nerds: 

"Of the 14 pitchers in addition to Cole who entered free agency coming off of seasons of 5.0 WAR or greater, and were younger than 30 in the previous season, seven went on to be part of World Series-winning teams with their new clubs."

You can't predict baseball, Suzyn, but damn: Respect the algorithms. The numbers give us reason to believe Hal's Heavies will win it all in 2020. That said, screw the pantywaists, with their memes and fidget-spinners. We at IT IS HIGH deal in the painstaking, exact science of anecdotal analysis, where one late-season homer by Slade Heathcott can negate the memory of 100 Zolio Almontes... whatever that means (but I suspect you know.) 

Those 14 elite free agent pitchers - who entered free agency coming off a WAR of 5.0 or more - represent a cavalcade of Yankee anecdotes and historical fist pumps. Among the included are:

CC Sabathia, whose signing directly led to our last world championship - gulp - a decade ago, in 2009.

Goose Gossage, who came to us from Pittsburgh and helped secure the 1977 World Series (before he met George Brett.)

Carl Pavano, who - gahhhhhhhh! - we signed in 2004 from Florida. Gahhhhhhh!
Sorry. Touched a nerve there. Won't happen again.

Greg Maddox, who was one of the first swinging dicks to directly scorn George Steinbrenner's money - (and the pressure of NY) - and sign with Atlanta.

Al Leiter, the shoulda-been lifelong Yankee, who we traded to Toronto for Jesse Barfield - gahhhhhhh! He left the Jays to sign with Florida in 1995, and won a ring with the Marlins.

Doug Drabek - altogether now: GAHHHHHHH! - the shoulda-been lifelong Yankee, who we traded to Pittsburgh for Rick Rhoden. He left the Pirates in 1992 and signed with Houston. He won nothing there, as the Astros hadn't yet perfected the art of cheating.

David Price, who left Toronto in 2015 to sign with the Redsocks, and who helped them win them a ring. Right now, he's their reigning hot potato.

Now comes Cole, whom the pencilnecks say is one of the best free agent pitchers in history.

"Armed with command of a 100 mph fastball and an assortment of diving breaking balls, Cole is coming off the fourth-best season (6.8 WAR) entering free agency among any pitcher under age 30 in that season."

So, there's that. Unfortunately, the site doesn't say who whether Giancarlo will play 30 games. 

Report from the Chairman

Hello, fans.  HAL here, with my latest report to all of you.

After due consideration of recent events, the board has this to say:

HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW, BEE-ATCHES???

I know, I know.  The whining still goes on.  'We don't have the second-string catcher we want, we might give up too much to get one of the best relievers in the game, sign Bumgarner...'

Blah-blah-blah.  It's enough to make any collection of AI blow a microchip.

Others seem to be wondering how this all came about.  You put it down to a Christmas miracle, another visitation, perhaps, from Steinbrenners past in the still of the night.

But the fact is, I've been in therapy recently with my IBM server.  (Also, yes, I have been watching It's a Wonderful Life, Scrooge, and the Hallmark Channel.  Even the ones with lesbians and Jewish people.)

And it seems that I've had what is called "a breakthrough."

After carefully sorting through all of my feelings, I have to conclude that...I love you guys.  Each and every one of you.

ALL-CAPS, don't worry.  We got this.

Alphonso, I find your negativity charming.  Those JuJu gods won't know what hit them.

Warbler, you can suck my (noncancerous) balls.  I know the place of thinly disguised love where you're coming from, and I feel just the same about you.

I'm sorry, but I just can't hold it back any longer.  What's it matter if some Steinbrenner, somewhere, in the fourth millennium won't have every solar space yacht he wants?

We have a World Series to win, before all you altercockers are in the grave.

So everybody sing:

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer true...

Ah, hell, I'm sick of that song.  How about this one:

Here come the Yankees
Let's get behind and cheer the Yankees
They're gonna learn to fear the Yankees
Everyone knows they play to win, win, win
Cause they're the Yankees!

Would Redsocks orchestrate a tank in 2020?

It's a bit off-putting: Redsock fans calling me lately, cap in mouth, unspooling like Sylvia Plath, to concede the entire 2020 season. 

For starters, you cannot trust anyone from Boston. This is an undeniable, undebatable, History Channel-worthy fact: Redsock fans, Celtic fans, Patriot fans, clam chowder fans - doesn't matter: They lie like drug companies. Sit them at a kitchen table, mention the Yankees, and they'll rant like supervillans plotting to kill Batman. Far worse than Met fans, who just sort of pathetically mouth whatever delusions flow through their Lipton tea-bag heads. (A Met fan cannot be held accountable for the drunken Salvador Dali soliloquies that form while he/she contemplates Bobby Bonilla.) Redsock fans are evil - worse than us. At least, we call ourselves evil. They deny it. That's really evil. 

Anyway, the question is: How should we deal with their current, mealy-mouthed, "woe-is-me" double-dealing? They have spent the last month...

1) Talking about the imminent trade of Mookie Betts, which - frankly - will never happen. Everybody knows this. They're just whining like a 9-year-old who wants a pony for Christmas and knows it's not coming. They want everybody to tell them how sorry we feel for their plight. This is when I hang up the phone. Mention Mookie, and I'm gone.

2) Letting Rick Porcello walk to the Mets on a one-year, $10 million deal, which - frankly - they could have afforded. Instead, they signed 28-year-old Martin Perez, a pitcher who was thrown overboard by the Twins. They saved $4 million - dip money - all to scare Mookie, I guess. But this is how their team treats players who win them a World Series. 

3) Talking about trading David Price, which - if they do it - will end up looking a lot like the seemingly lopsided deal that made Giancarlo Stanton a Yankee. When they gave Price that insane contract, we all knew it would eventually turn into a millstone. (Just as Gerrit Cole's deal will someday do, as well.) Right now, if somebody would take Price's price tag, Boston would trade him for a bag of Doritos. And, of course, they'll all start sobbing about how 2020 is over.

I don't know what to make of this. As late as September 1, I still held a stark and brutal fear of the Redsocks. (In this millennium, how can you not?) They stood a mere winning streak away from the Wild Card game, with no less than Chris Sale ready to start in it. Rafael Devers was looking like a future MVP, and Nathan Eovaldi was returning from his latest gonadal tweak. Then, kaboom, the bottom gave out. 

So now, their always-demoralized, self-absorbed fans talk about kissing off  2020 - an orchestrated tank, which would let them shed Price, JBJr (or, as I call him, "Mr. Lifetime .236") and anybody else not named Mookie or Rafael. I just dunno. But we've seen what happens when Boston gets off to a bad start. They tank. And when Boston tanks, they don't fool around. They become the Exxon Valdez. They trade everybody, they finish last, and they draft high. 

I'm not saying Boston is ready to throw 2020 into the Insta-Pot. They have way too much talent. But right now, their fans are a lost tribe. And they are already thinking of tanking. Keep them away from the gas oven. 

Is this the year? Syracuse off to slow start in Golden Snowball

In the snowfall tally, Syracuse has won 14 out of the last 16 years.

To Sir with love

Take my word for this: In a comic book universe, nobody ever dies. The head-wound may look fatal, the death ray might have landed squarely, and the inter-dimensional porthole may have closed behind him, but trust me here: He'll be back. They all come back. Heroes, villains, in-between... doesn't matter. They all come back.

Within the Yankiverse, a similar force of resurrection exists. Andy Pettitte came back. So did Ruben Sierra, Tino Martinez, Mike Stanton, Nick Johnson, Roger Clemens, Tyler Clippard, Aaron Boone, Nick Swisher (to the minors, anyway) and (ugh) Javier Vazquez. Now, this doesn't happen to everyone. Joba never returned; nor have Ian Kennedy or Phil Hughes, the once-upon-a-time trio of future Yankee greats. But here's the thing: They will.

Some sunny Sunday afternoon, maybe five years from now, they will amble gingerly from the dugout, bald and buttery, and jog onto the field, waving to the crowd. It will be Old-Timers Day, and if the Fates allow us to be watching, we'll wipe away tears recalling the kids who came up from Columbus, or Albany, or Scranton, or in the case of Sir Didi Gregorius, the Arizona desert.

Someday, Didi will return. Maybe it will be for a pennant stretch. Maybe he'll play 3B, or be a fat DH. Or maybe he will have white hair and a tapered stride. But we will recognize the smile, effortless and everlasting, and our hearts will ache from remembering this weekend long ago... the day Didi left.

On that day, we will be reminded that Didi did the impossible: He replaced Jeter. Moreover, before Didi, the Yankee "Sir" was Sidney Ponson. At least that's off our backs. 

But today, we face more than simple reflections on a great ex-Yankee. There is rightful concern to the danger of letting Didi go. It means the future face of the Yankees, Gleyber Torres, moves to SS. If it works, no problem. If it doesn't, well, it could unleash a series of dominoes. 

Moving Gleyber means DJ LeMahieu plays 2B. No problem there. But it leaves two question marks at 1B: Luke Voit (who, frankly, fell apart in the second half) and Mike Ford (who hasn't been around long enough.) Neither will win a gold glove, and a poor-fielding 1B can undermine an entire infield.

It almost begs the question of whether the Yankees should keep LeMahieu at first, use Miguel Andujar at 3B and move Gio Urshela to 2B. But can Miggy play 3B? Can Gio play 2B? As problems go, this is not a team-crusher. The Yankees should be able to figure everything out by late May. But simply stated: Didi is no small loss. The man who replaced Jeter won't easily be replaced by Tyler Wade or Thairo Estrada.

But but BUT... let's be real here: If the signing of Gerrit Cole meant the loss of Didi, so be it. I wish the team could have given Didi a qualifying offer; a draft pick would be nice. But I'm not going to squawk. We just signed the most expensive pitcher in history. And on that future summer day when Didi steps onto the field, as the fans shout and shutter their tears, who knows? Maybe Cole will be warming up. 

Between now and then, thank you, Sir. We had our ups and downs. But you always brought your smile, and more often than not, you gave it to us. We will never forget you. And we will await your return.

Gardy returning, we took a hit in the Rule 5, Romine is a Tiger

Captain's Blog for the S.S. Death-to-All. Star date: Day One of the Cole Epoch.

The crew remains jubilant over the notion of our new, genetically-altered Ricardo Montoban-clone pitching every fifth day. To celebrate, many wear falsies and yell, "Boooone" in the corridors. I've tried to tamp down my personal expectations, yet find myself vigorously engorged, and need physical therapy from First Lieutenant Barbie. I've never seen the Death Star so merry.  

Adding to our delight is news that we have contracted Chancellor Gardner, the ageless scion, for one more mission. I will order buttresses for the ceiling of his quarters, as his baton is known to do physical damage. Though not as quick as he once was, Gardner's vast experience and knowledge of hostile beings make him a valuable asset. He is a lifelong member of the fleet, and he often outlasts our younger officers. 

The recent dire warnings by Science Officer Cashman have proven cogent. Yesterday, the Tigers conducted a flash raid on our system, taking two hostages. 

In the Rule 5 draft, the fiends made off with Rony Garcia - a youngster that I never had the chance to know - and later, they brazenly stole the venerable Austin Romine, turning his head with vast offers of gold. I knew that Romine - who'd been overlooked for promotions with us - was ripe for outside temptation, but I was stunned by the speed of his decision, along with his choice of Detroit. I wish him well. We worked together for 13 years. Still, a part of me knows that we shall inevitably meet in battle, where friendships are best forgotten. When we duel, he will not lower his mask to greet me. 

Through distant channels, we have picked up variant communications suggesting that Death Star Fleet could be interested in Josh Hader, an intriguing life-form from Milwaukee Sector. The idea of adding such a volatile presence concerns me, as does the potential price tag. In the coming days, who knows what will beam in?

Amid the madness of next October, America will have one unifying diversion: The return of the Evil Empire

Thus far, I've dreaded 2020. It's that horrible, all-consuming, presidential election. It doesn't matter which side you're on. It'll be the most divisive vote in our lifetimes. Friendships strained. Families torn. I could fill 20 blogs with my political opinions - (which are dead on right, by the way!) - but then again, I was wrong about Jesus Montero. (Damn, I thought the pug would hit.) So, I'll spare you. But across America, next October will be batshit insane.

That's another reason to cheer the Yankees' move yesterday with Gerrit Cole. No player can guarantee a world series, or even a post-season. But if the Yanks miss the 2020 playoffs, I'll personally pay Rudy Giuliani to connect the Ukrainian dots. Nothing will make sense.

Even if Luis Severino and Giancarlo Stanton repeat their dismal outputs from 2019, the Death Star should still make the 2020 playoffs with Aaron Hicks to spare. And if it's a wild card game that we must win, we now have the pitcher to start it. 

You can't predict baseball, Suzyn, but here's an observation: Even if the team eats contaminated romaine, they should still win 95 games. With luck, they could take 120. Thus, during the madness of October, as the Presidential election ticks down like a bomb, and the streets turn into hockey brawls, America will have the Yankees to love or hate, to cheer or boo... which is how God intended baseball to be. 

Imagine the brisk, late October nights in the Bronx. The frenzied crowds. The explosion after each pitch. The Master singing win-warbles - perhaps the final ones of his career. Everyone in Yankee Stadium - 60,000 people, Republicans or Democrats - united, as one. 

When the World Series pits KC vs SD - with due respect to those fine towns - it's not the same. America needs the big bad Yankees, the Evil Empire - not a franchise of nerdy, calculating tightwads who scrapbook their way into the playoffs. Perhaps MLB - instead of neutering New York's financial might - will recognize what every comic book and pro wrestling "federation" has inherently understood: Without super-villains, there can be no superheroes.

We should bought ourselves a diversion next October. We'll need one. 

Now, as for the all-important news/rumors of the day... well, to be honest, nothing bothers me. Nothing.

Yeah, it hurts to lose Didi, but I'm excited to see Thairo Wade and Tyler Estrada (wait, is that right?) compete for a utility role. 

Okay, it'll hurt to lose Dellin, but I'm excited to see all those newbies from Scranton and Trenton. Young, fresh arms. Somebody will step up, right?

Sure, it'll hurt to lose Austin, but Higgy is ready (and Romy deserves a starting shot.) 

Nope, we won't get bupkess for Happ, unless we package him with Miggy or Red Thunder, but that kind of bundle ought to bring someone interesting. 

And it looks as though Gardy will return, so the team better buttress the dugout roof. Nope. Nothing rattles me. We have our Catfish, our Rocket, our Moose. Damn. Dare we think it: The Canyon of Heroes. 

This will never work out.

Somewhere in the Stygian depths where they slumber for the winter months, dreaming up fresh torments for Knicks and Jets fans, the JuJu gods stir, sniffing out our joy like blood on the wind.

Something must be done to appease them!  So in the interest of a calming sacrifice, I offer up the following:

We got Gerrit Cole?  BFD!

First, the guy doesn't even know how to spell his name right.  It should be Garrett, or at least Gerritt.  Not Gerrit.  C'mon!

Second, has he ever played for a winner?  I mean a champion.  No, he has not.  He doesn't know how to win, let's face it!  Look at how he couldn't bring home that big game seven in this year's World Series!

(All right, so he didn't pitch in it.  But still, he didn't bring it home!  Did he?)

And think of all the things that can go wrong!  Why, just for starters he could:

—Trip on a throw rug and break his foot.

—Lose a leg fighting the Nazis.

—Lose some toes in a mining accident.

—Get epilepsy after extended combat exposure and start drinking heavily.

—Break his hand smashing a water cooler.

—Break his hand smashing the dugout wall.

—Pull a hammy.  In Alabam-y.

—Crash into a building piloting his personal plane.

—Contract a debilitating heart condition.

—Get suspended for exposing himself in the bullpen.

—Develop a serious cocaine habit.

—Break an ankle jumping on a trampoline with some kids.

—Slice off part of a finger trimming his hedges.

—Contract tuberculosis after being accidentally gassed in an army training camp.


Why not?  All those things have happened to pitchers, and much, much more.

Nope, nope, nope, no way I'm buying this, it's just setting us up for more disappointment.  Cole will flop, and even if he doesn't we still need more left-handed hitters, more outfielders, a better catcher, better trainers and coaches and a real GM.

Nope, no way, nothing is happening.  We Yankees fans are filled with gloom, and if you take a good look at our faces you'll see our smiles look out of place and if you closer it's easy to trace the tracks of our tears.

Yep, all we've bought ourselves is whole mess o':

Music to my ears

A friend who happens to be a Redsock fan writes:

"The Evil Yankees are back. The Sox will unload Betts and JBJr. and sink back to pathetic and cursed. That's our comprehensive marketing strategy."

Those words, those wonderful words...

"The Evil Yankees are back..."

Do we dare believe?

Dear Mr. Steinbrenner, at long last, you are owner of the New York Yankees

Yo, Hal, we did it!

As the fates intended, Gerrit Cole shall be a Yankee. 

Suck on this, Redsock fans: Our 2020 rotation, as of today:

Gerrit Cole
Luis Severino
Masahiro Tanaka
James Paxton
Domingo German
J.A. Happ
Jordan Montgomery
Jonathan Loaisiga
Deivi Garcia

I'm going drinking. But first...

Dear Hal,

Congratulations! At long last, you have become the owner of the New York Yankees.

For many years now, you merely occupied an office where an owner was supposed to work. You quibbled and quivered, straddled and stumbled, always flinching at the last moment, fearful of that all-important bottom line, refusing to go all-in on the team that your father left you... whether you wanted it or not.

It was his team, his legacy, the extension of his domineering presence - his obsession - which overwhelmed you through the first half-century of your life. Last week, you turned 50 with the Yankiverse hardly taking notice.

Today, the Yankees are your team, your investment, the extension of your psyche. 

Welcome to our Great and Astonishing Show.

Listen: We won't always see eye-to-eye. When your Yankees lose - as of course they will - we die-hard fans will shriek, and moan, and prosecute, and bellow to the heavens for sacrificial blood. You know that. It is the underside of owning the New York Yankees. It cannot change... because we care.

That's right: Because. We. Care.

For years, we've had the feeling that you didn't. And that was the problem.

Today, on behalf of the Yankiverse, I say this:

Welcome to the Yankees. It's good to have you all-in, all aboard.

Let the Roaring Twenties begin! This could be a great Yankee decade!

Yours truly,

El Duque

(Oh, and while I have you: Don't be going cheap on us now: Sign Dellin Betances!) 

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

And his name is Hal Steinbrenner.

Who knew?

I'm going to have to rethink my entire fucking Weltanschauung.

Didi, we did know ye. And we liked ye uncommonly.

So Didi is gone.  And going strictly by the statistics, this makes sense.

He'll be 30 years old in February, our Didi, and last season was not a good one, even after he got back from his half-season on the DL.  The average was down to .238, and all too often he looked like Alfonso Soriano, flailing away at pitches he could neither hit nor lay off.

Let him go
Let him go
Let him go.

In the playoffs, despite that glorious grand slam against Minnesota, he usually looked even worse, overwhelmed by top pitching.  At his age the odds are against him regaining his old form, and isn't it past time to give the Yanks' very patient "kids" more of a shot?

Slot LeMahieu, nearly this year's MVP into second, give Ford a solid shot at first, and let Thairo the Pharaoh and Tyler Too take up the utility roles they seem born to play.  If the Yankees fall short again in 2020, chances are it will not be due to a lack of infield depth.

It all makes sense on paper.

Let him go
Let him go
Let him go.

And yet.  And yet.

Even the best ideas on paper have a tendency to go awry.  I don't know how the Phils will do with him next year, or how the Yanks will do without him.  But what we do know is that Didi Gregorius gave us one decent season and three excellent ones, before his injury-hobbled 2019.

He stepped into two of the hardest shoes to fill in the history of New York sports, and he did it all without any muss, fuss, or bother.

Taking over for Derek Jeter?  It's hard to think of anyone who stepped in so well for such a giant.  There's Mantle taking over for DiMaggio, and Elston Howard for Yogi, of course, but after that?  

Can we even remember who took over at center for Willis Reed, once the captain was finally done?  Who replaced Joe Willie at quarterback?

Even better, Sir Didi played the game with élan, with all the spirit and joy a young man should convey, making a small fortune to play baseball everyday.  His tweets were hilarious, and he always hustled, and he played shortstop better than Derek Jeter ever did.

In the first month of the 2018 season, it looked as if Didi might be possible of something greater than we'd ever imagined, batting .327, hitting 10 homers and drawing 18 walks, driving in 30 runs.  It looked like the beginning of an MVP season, and we asked ourselves if Didi could actually be a great ballplayer, not just a very, very good one.

Well, it didn't work out that way.  He reverted to being his streaky self, and then came the injury.

But let's never forget that even that injury came on a hustle play, to score the winning run that clinched a playoff spot.  Let's not forget that he played the whole of the postseason without shirking or complaint (lookin' at you, Giancarlo), and the smile never seemed to leave his face.

Here's lookin' at you, Didi Gregorius, and let's hope you're back in the Stadium for the World Series.

Who Remembers The Gulf Of Tonkin Incident?

I want to remind you all that what you hear is not always accurate.  Sometimes, it is language artfully crafted to deceive.  Or to placate.  And such communications always takes place in secret.

The truth is:  There was no Gulf of Tonkin incident, initiated by the Vietnamese.
And yet, the report of a sea-based attack on the USS Maddox was sufficient to initiate our deep involvement in the Vietnam war.

What you are hearing about the Yankees, and their grand offer to Gerrit Cole, bears careful monitoring. I'm not saying it isn't true, but I am suggesting that Hal may already know that it is not enough.

Hal wants to"appear"on our side.  That he is defending Yankee history and legacy. That he is the USS Steinbrenner in this case.

He wants us to think he did all he could, but was was viciously attacked and outgunned.  In the dark of night so to speak.  By underhanded, cowardly "hit and run" artists.

And Cole will land an egregious contract. He will never live up to it.

But he will not be wearing pinstripes.

The con is already in.

Don't believe that Hal is the good guy here.

In any trade of J.A. Happ, Yankee fans should brace for the worst

J.A. Happ was last winter's mistake. Somehow, intoxicated by yuletide spirits, the Yankees decided a 36-year-old fastball pitcher was their ticket to Paradise, or Sacramento, so they plunked down $34 million - ($17 million for two seasons) - on him. From there, it was all downhill.

Maybe it was the juiced-up "superball" of 2019, which transformed routine flies into Ruthian shots. (And which might be the permanent normal, by the way.) Or maybe Happ finally reached his sell-by date. It doesn't matter. He is what is. 

On that note, put yourself in the sneakers of an opposing GM at this week's winter meetings, and ask the fundamental question: What will you give up for a 37-year-old contract volcano who was jettisoned for the playoff rotation and finished last season with a 4.91 ERA? I'd start the bidding war with Zolio Almonte, and I'm not sure I'd drift much higher.

Happ was last year's Sonny Gray, who was the Chase Headley of 2018. Like rabbit's foots or millstones, the Yankees always have one. So now come rumors that Cooperstown Cashman is shopping Happ at the meetings, and I can't help but wonder how awful any trade will look. Before Hal Steinbrenner assumed the mantle of Commander in Cheap, the Yankees used to live on the other end of salary dumps: We were the team to accept Kevin Brown's ridiculous contract. Whenever another franchise faced strangulation by some horrible deal, we would take over. We found space for Brian Roberts, Ichiro, Headley and, of course, the mother of all salary dumps: Giancarlo Stanton. 

To get much for Happ, the Yankees will likely have to add $12 million in movie money, plus a prospect. Even then, we might settle for another team's mistake, and maybe a worse one than Happ. What's more likely is that Cashman will give Happ and a couple prospects for some 28-year-old minor leaguer, a "Boom Boom" McBroom or "Brigadoon" Refsnyder. Cashman can claim he's found another Voit, Urshela or Tauchman, and salvage some hope.

But one thing we've learned: A horrible pickup seldom brings a happy ending. Happ was the mistake of 2019, as Gray was for the previous year. If we trade him, expect little in return, and then - adding sting to the wound - to watch him improve in 2020. Expect the worst. 

In trading Happ, we're in a hapless position. 

Damn, that was a long hard slog for a lame pun. But I did it. Okay, now shoot me.