Lockout Theatre: INVASION OF THE SAUCER MEN (1957)

 The quintessential teen vs aliens movie, it's supposed to be a comedy. Few laughs, though.

The kids want to boink in their hot rods. The aliens have other plans. They inject - gasp! - alcohol into the youngsters, and nobody believes their claims of flying saucers. They're drunk. 

Con man Frank "The Riddler" Gorshin stashes a dead alien in the fridge. Bad idea. A dismembered hand with an eye on its back slashes tires, terrifying couples as they bang. 

This was released as a double-feature with I Was A Teenage Werewolf.  And what turns out to save humanity? Not the military. Not the cops. The teens - with their high-beam headlights.

Who's on first? It's fair to say the Yankees haven't a clue

Okay, the clocks have stopped, all is nigh, which is a great time to assess our looming Yankee catastrophe. 

Imagine the lineup as a minefield - with danger zones at catcher, shortstop and centerfield. That said, I'd still nominate first base for the Golden Globe in the category of Best Disaster. 

There, the situation is currently so awful, so out of balance, that we should fear a mega-trade - a Buhner deal, a Drabek deal, a decade-killer - which will wreck the 2020s. Don't think it can't happen. 

Think: Oakland's Matt Olson. Whenever I read rumors about the Yankees getting Olson, I get the feeling I'm 14 and playing APBA - which was once the baseball version of Magic Cards. Bloggers toss out wacky trade scenarios where opposing GMs covet Miguel Andujar, Luke Voit and Gary Sanchez - all of whom I believe Cashman, if he had the chance, would deal for a tin of sardines. We're talking about negotiating with Billy Beane, folks, not Dopey Dildox. He's not going to send us a rising star without demanding a trove of kidneys and healthy livers. Imagine the decimation of our farm system - and then double it.

So, here's our potential first base continuum for 2022: 

a) We sign Freddie Freeman. What a crock. This is a fantasy throwback to 1998, when stars flocked to the Yankees. Close your eyes, and imagine yourself frolicking in a field of erect nipples. That's what this is. Enjoy it. But it won't happen. It's just fun to think.  

b) We sign Anthony Rizzo. This is actually possible, though it depends on length and breath of the contract. Rizzo seems a solid fellow, and he bats LH - critical. But last year, gulp, he totaled only 61 RBIs. Sixty-one. Wow. I mean, that's... wow. (Gary Sanchez had 54,) He's 31, and he peaked in 2017. Not the worst that could happen. Just sayin.'

c) Olson. See above. How much of the farm are we willing to trade? He'll be 28 this year.

d) Luke Voit. You know what? I take back what I said about Freeman. The absolutely wildest, most bonkers fantasy scenario is that Luke stays healthy and returns to his pandemic mini-year ways. The saddest part of 2021 is that Luke didn't hit much when healthy. His glove, already made of lead, worsened. He could be a decent DH for some National League team. But our DH cup runneth over. He'll be 31 this year. One of my sons said, with his mighty bare chest half-exposed, looks like a circus strongman. I cannot get that image out of my mind. 

e) DJ LeMahiue. This works as a worst-case scenario. LeMahieu's 2021 was an ongoing cavalcade of red flags. His greatest value is as a Swiss Army Knife, capable of playing anywhere. A full-time at 1B? A RH? Yeesh, I dunno. We need him to hit .330, and I'm not sure he'll ever to do that again.

f) The unknown. Chris Gittens has decamped to Japan. (Prediction: He'll find himself and return in two years as a highly sought slugger.) Our other 1B at Scranton was 26-year-old Brandon Wagner, who hit .158 with 4 HRs. The Yankees have no Mattingly, or even a Nick Johnson, in the system. They talk shifting about former top pick Austin Wells from C to 1B. That would diminish his value and come too late to help us in 2022.

Who's on first? I know: It's Holy "The Fuck" Arewescrewed. 

Lockout Theatre: REFORM SCHOOL GIRL (1957)

A sexploitation classic! The ads beckoned, "CAGED BOY-HUNGRY WILDCATS GONE WILD."

Teen hoodlum Ed "Kookie" Byrnes ditches Luana Anders to take Gloria Castillo on a joy ride in a stolen car. Gloria gets framed in the death of a pedestrian and goes to - that's right - reform school. 

There, Luana is waiting, super-pissed because Kookie had her blown in to the coppers for car-stripping. Tensions between the two torment the cellblock, which includes Donna Jo Gribble and, in her debut, Sally (M*A*S*H.)  Kellerman. This was rushed into release in 1959 to cash in on Byrnes TV success in 77 Sunset Strip, which also launched the hit song, "Kookie, Lend Me Your Comb."

The movie poster, featuring Luana and Gloria fighting, is a collector's item.

Congratulations, Aaron Judge! Now that you're married, let's get down to business

This weekend, Aaron Judge married his high school sweetheart in Hawaii. Everybody! For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow, which nobody can deny. Which nobody can deny, which nobody can deny, for he's a jolly good felloooooow, WHICH NOBODY CAN DENY.

And he IS a jolly good fellow. I'm not denying it. Nobody can. 

At the end of 2022, Judge will become a free agent, capable of choosing his destiny (which might include fatherhood, hint hint?) He says he wants to be a Yankee for life, Frankly, there is no reason why the Death Barge should not slide a ring onto his huge finger and say, "We do." 

In April, Judge turns 30. Through age 29, here are his statistical MLB doppelgangers, according to Baseball Reference:

Look closely. None of these fine human beings will ever make the Hall of Fame. (Martinez would come closest; he needs a few more big seasons.) This is a list of hitters who ruled in their 20s and then hit the wall. (Giles collapsed at 30; Davis, 33; Mitchell, 34; Cash, 37; Wagner, 34; Nixon, 33; Justice, 34; Martinez is now 33, and Humanis Centepedes was done at 32, though he doesn't seem to know it.) 

Listen: Judge is a great player whom the Yankees want to keep. A fixture in RF. A fine teammate. A future plaque in Monument Park. But only once - his breakout 2017 season - has he driven in more than 100 runs. Last year, he hit 39 HRs and batted .287 - but only 98 RBIs, batting second in a stacked lineup. WTF? Twenty players had at least 100 RBIs. Bo Bichette. Austin Meadows. Marcus Semien. Yeesh. And Judge was pretty much healthy all year. 

The Rangers recently gave Cory Seager a 10-year deal worth $325 million, even though he'll probably move from SS in a few seasons. If Judge demands a 10-year deal - similar to what Giancarlo Stanton received from Miami - the Yankees should  consider doing what our AL East rivals would do: 

Trade him, now. 

We'll have Stanton through 2028, when he'll be 37 and probably playing golf. As bad as Stanton's contract is, he still wouldn't be as old as Judge's final season, if he gets a decade-long deal. And let's face it: By 2028, the Yankees would be knee-deep in gigantic DHs, neither of whom would likely be hitting his weight.  

It's sad to say this, especially during his honeymoon, because we all love Judge and what he brings to the franchise. But if Judge wants a 10-year deal, he's not doing the Yankees any favors. And they should say no. 

There should never be a reason for a Yankee fan to suggest austerity, when it comes to players' salaries. Hal Steinbrenner has so much money that, if he started counting today, he would die of old age before reaching the final dime. Someday, Hal will wake up and realize what owning the NY Yankees was supposed to mean, and how that in his quest for more money, he dismantled his father's one successful legacy. So be it. 

But even when considering Hal's unimaginable wealth, Judge still shouldn't get a 10-year deal. It's a grift, pure and simple. If wanting to be a Yankee for life means being paid by the Yankees for life - nope - we should move on. We made the mistake with A-Rod. We made the mistake with Stanton. Three strikes, and we're out. 

Lockout Theatre: PANTHER GIRL OF THE KONGO (1955)

One of the last serials of the 1950s, and one of the worst. 

To scare natives away from a diamond mine, mad scientist Arthur Space transforms crayfish into giant claw monsters. Good grief, he could make a fortune selling seafood in New Orleans. As Panther Girl, Phyllis Coates - the original Lois Lane - faints a lot. Myron Healey does the fighting. Out of cheapness, they used old footage from the 1941 serial Jungle Girl. Not only that, but Phyllis wore a second-hand costume, used in a previous serial. Special effects by the Lydecker Brothers, who used real crayfish next to scaled down people. They later worked with Irwin Allen in Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea.

What if the Yankees simply chalk off 2022 as a rebuilding year? What would tanking look like?

Crazy thought, eh: What if the Yankees spend this third Covid-affected season rebuilding for the long haul - while achieving the owner's primary goal: To pay not one thin dime of luxury taxes.

With an expanded playoffs structure, even a .500 team could pretend to contend until mid-September. With the YES barkers marshalling hope, the franchise could chalk off the drop in ticket sales to the pandemic - and prop up TV ratings until the football season. 

So, how would we do it? Simple.

1. Trade Aaron Judge. A couple prospects, similar to what Boston received for Mookie. Put Joey Gallo in RF, where he won the Gold Glove. 

We just saved Hal Steinbrenner $25 million a year!

2. Sign a stopgap shortstop. There are plenty out there. Keep the position open for Anthony Volpe or Oswaldo Peraza, or anybody else who rises through the system. 

3. Keep Gary Sanchez. Our top catching prospects are at least a year away. With no worthwhile free agents, ignore the boos and ride with Gary in his final, lost year. If he's hitting his weight, deal him at the trade deadline.

4. Trade Aroldis Chapman and Mean Chad Green. They're running out of gas, anyway. Make Jonathan Loaisiga the closer.

5. Play Giancarlo Stanton in LF and Aaron Hicks in CF. If they get hurt, that's China Town, Jake. Hal signed them to big contracts. He needs to get his money's worth. Doesn't grow on trees.

6. The rotation? Cole, Monty, Sevy, Tailon, Nasty Nestor and the farm system. Maybe Bartolo Colon from the scrap pile? Recycling old farts is Cashman's greatest talent. 

7. If we're dead by the all-star break, dump salaries and tank.

Remember: The key is to avoid luxury taxes. 

If we're going to be the KC Royals, let's at least be a smart version.

Lockout Theater: Munster Go Home (1966)

In Technicolor - no black and white - the family inherits Munster Hall, an olde  British manor, which is actually the secret headquarters of a counterfeiting gang. Hermione Gingold, Terry-Thomas and John Carradine take turns trying to scare the Munsters into leaving, but it only makes them feel at home. With Richard Dawson, Cliff Norton and Robert (CHiPs) Pine. (Controversy Note: The part of Marilyn is played by Debbie Watson, rather than Pat Priest.) 

Herman wins a drag race and eventually subdues the bad guys by ring-tossing them with tires. Here's the trailer.

Outsmarting the juju gods, Aaron Hicks heats up in winter ball, then leaves before getting hurt

Congrats to Aaron Hicks, the relentlessly maddening specter of Yankee frustration. He just finished a two-week stint in the Dominican Winter League without tearing anything. 

Here's his line for 12 games with the Leones del Bumfukkery: 13 for 49 (.265), one HR, nine RBIs and 10 Ks.

This microscopic sample size ignores the fact that Hicks heated up in his final games, going 6 for 11. Thus, he neatly pulled the plug on his comeback before the next, inevitable tweaked gonad. 

Over his nine-year career, Hicks' Yankee experience has always gone this way: 

He starts slowly. He gets hot. He gets hurt.

That's it. He breaks bad. He breaks out. He breaks down. He almost seems too muscular for his own good. The man is a walking sandwich of pulled pork.  

In pondering Hicks' two-week numbers, I wondered if they are even worth mentioning. Look, it's great that he's attempting a comeback. I still remember that magnificent night in Minnesota, when his miraculous catch saved the game and his HR won it. He always looks great - before looking for a surgeon. 

But I ask you, o juju gods: How in fuck could the Yankees enter 2022 thinking Hicksy remains a viable CF option? He'll start slowly. He'll get hot. He'll get hurt. Do we need to experience it again? As Bojack once said, Fool me once, shame on you. Teach me to be fooled, and you'll fool me the rest of my life. 

Anyway, he'll be only 32 this year. He's not too old. But is he worth it? Last year, he finished at .194 with 4 HRs. Over his career, one of his statistical doppelgangers is Roger Repoz, a name that stands for unfulfilled Yankee hopes. 

So, anyway, congrats to Hicksy. And wherever you are, Mr. Repoz - (you're listed to be 81) - happy holidays. 

Lockout Theater: Murder by Television (1935)

 Bela Lugosi plays twins, one of whom may just be the killer of a scientist who has invented an incredible machine that could elevate humankind to a perfect society. It's called a "television set." 

This staticky murder mystery also stars Huntley Gordan and June Collyer. 

The El Duquecast

In his previous post, El Duque identifies the true challenge of our current situation. How can we  remain participatory Yankee fans when we hate the league, the team's owners, and its management? 

How can we still watch our favorite team with out buying into and enriching a system that does not value, regard, or reward us? And, perhaps just as importantly, and I'm paraphrasing here, how can we get revenge?

At first I thought I would look to historical precedent.  The great protesters who brought about real change. I dusted off my Ouija Board and contacted Mahatma Gandhi. His advice was simple. D-o-n-'t. E-a-t. T-h-e. B-a-l-l-p-a-r-k. F-o-o-d.  

This was good advice and will certainly cut into Yankee revenue but it doesn't really go far enough. Also, most of us don't go to the ball park anyway for a number of reasons. 

We need a solution that will work for all of of us and I think I've got it. 

The El Duquecast  

Much like the similarly named Manningcast, we don’t watch the games on YES, we watch El Duque and his co-host, I’ll say Mustang, watch the games on YES.

For starters we would get better commentary. Well, more honest commentary anyway. Plus they could bring on interesting guests, think Alphonso.  

The El Duquecast would provide enjoyable features such as, “The Seventh Inning Rant” done by any one of a number of us. Hoss could do, “This Day in Yankee History” ZachA could text in salient statistical data.  Winnie could periodically phone in and threaten to kill everyone in the front office…

I do a decent Rizzuto. I could call an inning or two. I’m sure someone does a good Mel Allen. 

Bottom line:  

We get to watch AND get a better entertainment product because, lord knows, it ain't the team on the field. 

and...

The Yankees don't get the money. 

It's a win/win. 

Are the two sides even talking? How can ardent fans follow baseball without supporting this rancid system?

This week's hot Yankee news involved a few farewell tweets by Clint Frazier and his girlfriend. (Well, there was the minor league Rule 5 draft, but who ever cared about that?) Frankly, I could do with less Clint and more of the girlfriend.

We'll soon enter the Xmas news vortex, a time when MLB traditionally assumes radio silence. Barring an unforeseen tragedy or scandal, the next several weeks will generate almost no ink. You can hang the stockings, but we won't get a SS for Christmas. 

That vaults us into January, when hot stoves normally explode with signings and trades. I suspect real talks won't start until mid-February, when camps are set to reopen. Considering the polarized state of America, why wouldn't we expect this impasse to last until opening day - forcing the second collapsed season in three years? 

Make no mistake: I stand with the players. Yeah, they're overpaid and overpampered, but no owner ever took a 99-mph ball to the ribs. In a war between millionaires and billionaires, I'll back the hired help - even if they're sure to lose in the recount. (The owners have the most expensive lawyers in the world; the players have Tony Clark.)

But I will never again buy another item of Yankee merch, and I challenge everyone at this blog to help us come up with a strategy to follow the Yankees - our childhood obsessions - without paying one thin dime into this fucked-up, greedy system of exploitation. There needs to be a way for fans to register our anger. 

Let's start it, right here. 

Nobody likes him, everybody hates him, he's gonna go eat worms.

 

Lockout Theater: Willard (1971)

A bullied young man trains rats to do his bidding. This gave me nightmares in 1971.^[1] Now, not so much. It's fun, though, and the cast is great: Bruce Davison, Ernest Borgnine,^[2] Sandra Locke, Elsa Lanchester, J. Pat O'Malley. This is the full movie, a pristine, official, free YouTube release:  

^[1] I read the book then, too. Maybe that's what gave me the nightmares. 

^[2] Publicity at the time alleged that Borgnine's ex-wife Ethel Merman saw the movie five times just for the sight of him being mauled by rats. Merman had filed for divorce 32 days into the marriage. 

Respecting the theme of this blog, here is one of the many baseballs Borgnine appears to have signed for some reason: 

Presto! The Amazing Kriske is going away

The legendary Brooks Kriske - with a 14.40 career ERA and at least four delightful nicknames - is taking his disappearing act to Japan. 

I believe I speak for the Yankiverse in wishing him お別れ!

Kriske will soon turn 28, which makes his looming personal journey all the more epic... and final. That said, baseball history is studded with unlikely comebacks - (does the name Kirby Yates strike a note?) - so, who knows? 

Either way, we at IT IS HIGH have lost a name that never failed to amuse us. He was:

The Amazing Kriske
Officer Kriske
Kriske Kreme 
And Shop at Kriskes (an ode to Kresges' Dept Stores, the ancient retail chain that flourished in the era of soda fountains and radar ranges.)

Not since Zolio - (Z for Zolio!) - Almonte did such a relatively irrelevant Yankee so entertain us. Then again, around here, it doesn't take much to entertain us.

For the record, Officer Kriske pitched 8 games for the Yankees last year - a total of 7.2 horrendous innings. Basically, he was Kriske Kremed. He surrendered 14 runs - including 5 HRs and 6 walks. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe he was overwhelmed. Either way, the Yankees released him in September, a mercy-killing. The Orioles picked him up, turned him over, shook him, and then waived the Amazing Kriske in October. 

The thing about Kriske that will haunt us is that the Yankees kept him on the roster during the 2020 Rule 5 Draft - protecting him over Garrett Whitlock. That move is already legendary within the Boston-NY continuum - not in a good way.  

Why did Coopertown Cashman do this? My guess: He saw the potential nicknames.

Oh well,  お別れ, Brooks!

NO TURN ON RED: We're now catching grief from Clint Frazier?

Former future Yankee great Clint Frazier is revenge tweeting about his liberation to the Chicago Cubs, after being jettisoned from the Death Barge. 

I believe I speak for the Yankiverse in wishing the guy luck. Go forth and prosper, Crimson Thunder.

But I feel no guilt about saying farewell. We waited six cruel years for Clint to ferment, and the guy couldn't hit his weight. Statistically, he's the Second Coming of Otto Velez, and though he caught most flies, he treated every one like an advanced course in calculus. 

So, yesterday, he took a final dig at the Yankee deep state for a slimy news byte that accompanied his arrival: Some anonymous asshole claimed he demanded jersey No. 7. The story never made sense, aside from the fact that someone apparently didn't like him and threw him to the Gammonites for an attitude adjustment. 

One final note: He's tweak-tweeting the Yankees, not us fans.

So, best of luck, kiddo. You have permission to make the doubters look bad. In the end, we got nothing.

Lockout Theater: Gomer Pyle sings the classic

 It begins when the future husband of Rock Hudson loses his voice. It will end with you in tears. Don't bother with phony Yuletide carols or crapola. On Christmas Eve, play this, instead. 

From The Yankee Book Lovers Holiday Gift Guide

Looking for that perfect stocking stuffer for the Yankee Fan in your family? Well, this isn’t it. First of all, it’s too large to fit in a stocking. Also, it doesn’t actually exist. Here it is anyway. 

Yanks for Sale: A History of Failed Ad Campaigns Utilizing New York Yankees

The title says it all…  This comprehensive history includes everything from Babe Ruth's ill-conceived, Ex Lax sponsored, "I Eat Most of My Food At the Ball Park" ad, to the story of why Whitey Ford’s deal with Chevrolet tanked when they decided not to use, “How Does Whitey Ford Get To Yankee Stadium? In A Chevy!”  or even “This Ford Drives a Chevy!” but instead chose “Hey Whitey! Where’d You Get That Car!”. Which was a bad idea for a number of reasons.

The book includes Norman Mailer’s account of the ill-fated 1977 Hawaiian Punch promotional tour when Billy Martin cold-cocked the Hawaiian Punch Guy.  

There are newer examples as well, such as, Phil Nevin’s failed PSA promoting driver safety, “Who Needs Stop Signs?”  

And a whole chapter on the recent spate of Yankee Themed Ben and Jerry’s Ice Creams

Gioncaramello:  Vanilla ice cream with ribbons of caramel. Delicious, but not as many ribbons as you would think would be in there for $7.99 a pint. You also would have thought Ben and Jerry would have learned after their Carameloanthony disaster.

Boonble Gum:    Flavored like Manager Aaron Boones favorite dugout treat. This ice cream blows bubbles, in game decisions, leads, and the division.

Cashman Chip   The product artwork depicted what looked like yummy chocolate chips but the product itself is filled with left overs from other ice creams.  Pistachio pieces, peppermint flakes, cookie dough. Speaking of dough. At least it’s tax exempt.  

This book about Yankee themed failures is the perfect bridge between last year and the upcoming season... The Holiday Season! (Wink!)

Lockout Theater: FLOOD! (1976)

 Flood! Flood! FLOOD!

No, it's not the bio of the great Cardinals centerfielder who freed MLB players of slavery. (And let's not forget that the music has stopped, with the Yankees left holding the Gary Sanchez bag. And if Gil Hodges made Cooperstown, so should Don Mattingly and Bernie Williams.) In Irwin Allen's first made-for-TV disaster movie, a damn bursts, with Robert Culp and his helicopter coming to the rescue. What a cast! Cameron Mitchell, Leif Garrett, Whit Bissell, Richard Basehart, Barbara Hershey, Martin Milner, Carol Linley and Roddy McDowell. The following year, Allen made his bookend piece: FIRE!

It's TJ Time!

Congrats to all of the new Hall of Fame selections, all of whom—in my not-so-humble opinion—deserve to be in that grand hall so close to where Abner Doubleday did not invent baseball.  

Yet our estimable companion Ceeja makes the interesting case that, if Tony Oliva is now in the Hall, Donnie Baseball, our own Don Mattingly, should be there, too.

He has a point. Their stats are almost identical. Donnie played in a more hitting-friendly era—but was a better fielder than Oliva. Tony won three batting titles, Mattingly one—and an MVP. Both men had their careers sadly shortened by injuries.

But riffing off an exchange I had with Kevin yesterday, I would also say that if Jim Kaat is now in, Tommy John—who Kevin nicknames "Surgery," hee-hee—should be honored by the shores of the Glimmerglass as well.

Statistically, they are virtually the same pitcher. Neither was ever quite the very best pitcher in the game, but both were astoundingly long-lasting and productive.

Kitty Kaat—seen here in his Yankees' cup of coffee—pitched in 25 major-league seasons, from 1959-1983, and went 283-237, with a 3.45 ERA, three 20-win seasons, 180 complete games, 31 shutouts, a 1.259 WHIP, and a 3.41 FIP. 

TJ pitched in 26 major-league seasons, between 1963-1989 (He missed one year for, well, Tommy John surgery. What a coincidence!)

John went 288-231 in that time, with a 3.34 ERA, three 20-win seasons (including one in the NL), 162 complete games, 46 shutouts, a 1.283 WHIP, and a 3.38 FIP.

Kaat was a better fielder, winning 16 Gold Gloves.  

TJ was the better postseason pitcher, going 6-3 with a 2.65 ERA in October, compared to Kitty's 1-3, 4.01 ERA (though that one win was a complete-game, 5-1 World Series victory over Sandy Koufax).  

Both came back—repeatedly—from what looked like career-ending injuries.

Besides his Tommy John surgery—am I the only one who is amazed by the coincidence?—TJ saw his best season to date—10-5, 1.98—go down the drain halfway through 1968, when Dick McAuliffe took exception to an inside fastball, and decided to assault him on the mound.

That alone probably cost TJ a 300-win career, and an automatic place in the Hall.

Both were incredibly consistent for long stretches of time. From 1962-67, Kaat averaged 17 wins a year. 

From 1977-80, John averaged 20 wins a season. 

Both suffered other pieces of bad luck that kept them from being seen for as good as they were. 

Kaat's best single season was in 1966, when he won 25 games, threw 19 complete games, and might well have won the Cy Young—save for the fact that MLB, in all its wisdom, gave out only one for all of baseball at the time. It went—deservedly—to Koufax. The next year, they changed the rule to give each league its own winner.

TJ's best season was probably 1979, when he went 21-9, 2.96—but lost the Cy Young to a lesser season from Mike Flanagan (though in fairness, Ron Guidry, who missed 20 wins only because he volunteered to go to the bullpen for two weeks after the stupid Goose Gossage-Cliff Johnson brawl, had a better year than both John and Flanagan).

Jim Kaat was en fuego down the stretch in the famous 1967 pennant race, going 7-0 as a starter that September, with 6 complete games including a 10-inning shutout. Next-to-last game of the season up in Boston, he started to breeze through the Sox, striking out 4 in the first two innings in what would have been the pennant-clinching game for the Twins.

Then—a sudden arm injury in the third. So long, Kitty, who was never quite the same pitcher—and so long, Minnesota.

TJ, for his part, beat our boys in one World Series start in 1977, then left a second one after 7 innings with a 3-2 lead, in a contest that would've put the Dodgers up 3 games to 1. But his bullpen blew it—in part to the "Reggie Bump."

In 1981—another truncated season that cost him wins—John looked unbeatable in the World Series, blanking the Bums, 3-0, in Game Two, with a little help from Goose. In Game Six, trying to keep the Yanks alive, he didn't look nearly as formidable, but he was still locked in a 1-1 game after 4 innings—when Bob Lemon decided to pinch-hit for him. The rest is infamy.

In 1982, TJ helped the Angels take the division down the stretch, then won the first game of the ALCS—only to have Gene Mauch, repeating the worst mistakes of his life like a Bernard Malamud character—insist on pitching him on short rest, when he had a game to give. John lost that second start, the Angels lost the pennant. 

All of which is to say...Surgery for the Hall! Now!

 

Lockout Theater: The Green Slime (1968)

Newspaper ads shouted, "THE GREEN SLIME ARE COMING!" They are one-eyed monsters whose tentacles multiply when shot. Astronauts Richard Jaeckle and Robert Horton represent Earth's best hope, assuming they stop fighting over Luciana "Thunderball" Paluzzi in her hot miniskirt. This became the pilot movie for Mystery Science Theater 3000 and inspired The Green Slime Award, given annually to the worst science fiction movie. It's theme song was a minor hit. Here's the trailer.