The Meeting

Recently Hal, Brian, and Arron Boone met to discuss the state and future direction of the Yankees. I was able to acquire a transcript of a portion of that meeting.

--- 

Hal: Brian. Aaron. Have a seat. As you both are well aware the team is in terrible shape, and it is starting to affect the bottom line. This can’t continue.

Boone:  I’ve already cleaned out my desk sir and have been working on what I’m going to say at the press conference. Something along the lines of, "While I had a few good pitching changes and lineups and was close to turning it around…"

Hal: No.

Boone: The rest of my life is still in front of me?  

Brian:  No.

Boone: I fucked up?

Brian:  No. You’re not getting fired.

Boone: I’m not?

Hal: No. I don’t care if we win or lose. I said, the losing is starting to affect our bottom line. Actually, you are perfect for what comes next.

Boone: For what comes next...

Brian: We’re going to monetize the losing Aaron. Make it our brand.

Hal: Having an insurance company as our uniform patch is just the first step. It gets people into disaster consciousness. They need to understand that watching the Yankees is a depressing, sad, tragic experience.

We’ve been softening the fans up for a while. Commercials about people who need kidneys, fifty eight year old women with brain tumors whose babies died from brain tumors spending millions of dollars to have more babies that will die of brain tumors. That sort of thing.

Boone: Why?

Brian: Because if we get our customers to embrace hopelessness, to embrace losing, we will eventually be able to reduce our payroll to next to nothing.  

Hal: Our only star will be Starr Insurance. And they pay us!

Brian: And, just like Starr insurance we’re getting you ready for the next disaster. It’s a lot easier than trying to fix it. I mean GMing is really hard. Who stays? Who goes? Reading those medical reports. It’s just not me. 

Hal:  In the interim we’ve come up with a number of ways to monetize

Boone: The losing?

Hal: The losing money.

Brian: We’ve made a number a deals. For example, we make a lot of errors in the field.

Boone: Well, you told me we have to play our Gold Glove 3B in left and our best 2B at short. And the guy at 1B is actually a Left… actually, I’m not sure what he is.

Brian: Exactly! That’s by design. Listen to this new radio copy. 

Suzyn: “and Gleyber boots that one. That’s his third bad play and if you are tired of bad plays than go see Back to The Future: The Musical at the Wintergarden Theater.  Go see Back to The Future. The Musical… Unless you’re chicken! “

Brian: Or this one…

John Sterling: Well, it’s the fifth inning and it’s still a no hitter and “no hitter” is a good thing at Levy and Valducci Marriage Counseling. The therapists at Levy and Valducci remind you that, “You no hitter." Levy and Valducci… Use your words.

Brian:  We even have public service announcements.

Suzyn: “Well that’s the 10^th Yankee to strike out. So, it’s time for our 10K report. There’s a 10K Walk to Cure Alzheimer’s this Sunday in Central Park…”

Brain: We’re also considering “This Day in Strike History" brought to you by Pipe Fitters Union Local 545. Who remind you, "There's nothing better than laying pipe!"

Hal: So, Aaron. Are we good?

Boone: No, we stink!

They all laugh

Brian: Oh, and Aaron, tonight… Rortvedt leads off.

Starr Insurers pull into tie with San Diego and Cleveland in Tankathon's all-important win column

 Congrats to the '23 Butcher Bombers -possibly the worst Yank team since 1982, when managers Bob Lemon, Gene Michael and Clyde King piloted the abomination - like Slim Pickens riding the nuke in Dr. Strangelove - to 79 wins and 5th place in the AL East.

That's the last time the Yankees lost nine straight - a run that then came in late September, when the team was auditioning young prospects (Don Mattingly, Steve Balboni) instead of failing sluggers, such as John Mayberry.

Ah, remember Maybe? He came to Gotham in his final incarnation, hitting .209 with 8 HRs in 249 ABs. At age 33, he was done. - and everybody knew it, but the Yankees.

Over the years, if there's one thing Yank fans have come to know, it's the end-of-career, former slugger, scraping on his last legs.

1. Which brings me to Giancarlo. In recent weeks, watching Stanton - (33, of course) - strike out, pop up and jog the bases - (he can't run) - how could you NOT think his career is done? He's Mayberry RFD. 

If NY fans know anything, it's that once a slugger cannot turn on the fastball, his time is over. In the name of Bobby Bonilla, the last thing you need is a thirtysomething, sub-Mendoza Line DH on a long-term contract, and that's what the Yankees have. 

If they want to end this losing streak - (I'm rooting for it to continue, as you know) - one solution would be to remove the 0-for-4 who is batting cleanup. (His average over the last seven games: .056.) They should give him the Anthony Rizzo concussion test, rule him dazed and confused, and tell him to come back in spring training in the best shape of his life. Because next year, his first month of hitting below .200 needs to be his last. 

Look: It's not his fault. It wasn't Mayberry's. Or Danny Tartabull's. Or Steve Kemp's. Or all the other guys.' People get old. They break down. Stanton is baseball's version of Mitch McConnell and Diane Feinstein. He looks fried.

2. It's sorta fun to see innocent, pristine Tampa get caught in an ugly scandal, threatening the once-wide-open future of SS Wander Franco. He's accused of dating underage women - I think they're called "girls" - and MLB has put him on "administrative leave" (aka "Double-Secret Probation) - while it investigates. 

Listen: Nobody wants a 22-year-old man hanging around the middle school spelling bee, but I would like to remind MLB that it allows franchises to sign 16-year-old Latino boys to million dollar contracts, fueling an exploitative system that begins grooming kids around the first signs of puberty. 

MLB allows this in Latin countries but not in the U.S. I think MLB should put itself on administrative leave and investigate the entire system. No signings until age 18. Everywhere.  

3. Everywhere, you can feel it: Yank fans have moved on from 2023. 

Calls are growing for Hal Steinbrenner to sell the team. He won't, of course. But two names keep popping up, which could maybe save him in NYC. Think: 

Manager Don Mattingly.

General Manager Derek Jeter.

Well?  

THE STREAK STILL LIVES

Tonight... Tankathon Game of the Century: DC Nats v. Starr Insurance Yanks

 Tonight's lineup, presented by Starr Insurance

Yanks now tied with San Diego in Tankathon

The Yankees didn't lose last night. But they kept rolling.

They gained a game on the Mets and Padres - both of whom won meaningless outings - in the Tankathon race to the bottom of MLB, where the worst teams will compete in a lottery to decide the first pick in the 2024 draft. For now, that's our best hope.

The Death Barge is now tied with San Diego in the all-important WIN column, at 60, only one game behind the Mets and Cleveland. 

Tonight brings a stern test:  Washington, currently baseball's 7th worst team, and a well dented tomato can. But Washington has been energized recently by young players called up from the farm. Could the Yankees actually lose a home series to such an abysmal team? I say, BELIEVE. 

In preparation for this critical three-game series, the Yankees yesterday rearranged deck chairs on their Edmund Fitzgerald. The kings of Starr Insurance announced they will bring up 22-year-old OF Everson Pereira, who gushed up through the farm system last month, hitting .312 in 158 plate appearances at Scranton. It won't matter that Pereira bats RH in a lineup that already tilts tragically in that direction; the Yankees weren't getting production from Triple A stalwarts Jake Bauers and Billy McKinney. 

The Yankees will also promote infielder Oswald Peralta, the Scranton yo-yo, who hit over .300 last September in a similar cup of coffee, and who was then hailed as the SS of the future. He tweaked a gonad in spring training and was ghosted throughout most of 2023 - hitting .268 at Scranton in 300 plate appearances. He's only 23, so a lost year probably doesn't mean much. Still, it's a testament to mismanagement that the Yankees have played so miserably, yet Peraza still hasn't even gotten a chance to show what he can do.

Not to be ignored, the Yankees promoted heavily hyped - (Mickey Mantle meets Mike Trout) - outfielder Jasson Dominquez - aka "The Martian" - to Scranton, after a solid month at Double A Somerset. I don't know what to make of Dominguez. He started ice cold - sub Mendoza line - and has steadily lifted his average to .254 over 500 plate appearances. He has 15 HRs and 37 SBs. He'll turn 21 next February. It feels like he's been a farm hand for 10 years, but it should be noted that he lost a season of development during Covid. It's hard to imagine the Yankees enjoying a reason for hope in this rotten season. If Dominquez hits at Moosic, he could rise out of spring training and become next year's Anthony Volpe. Whatever that means.

On a darker note, veteran slogger Jackie Donaldson is apparently running outfield sprints and planning his return. It's like hearing The Joker has been released from prison for good behavior. Donaldson was the first great pariah of 2023 - (followed by Aaron Hicks, Carlos Rodon, Giancarlo Stanton and Luis Severino.) 

I cannot think of more hopeful news, if we plan to move up in the Tankathon. 

Around the horn, mediawise

Today, Gabe Lacques in USA Today asks:

Yankees bound for worst season this century. How low will they go?

We don't even have to continue The Big Tank over the rest of our games to set this record. And Cole does pitch every fifth game. So we should actually win some games (some) down the stretch.

Nothing in concrete, though. 

The overall worst Yankees finish was 1913, the first year they were called the Yankees, at 57-94. But 1966 was the first last place finish since the 1912 Highlanders, so that's my favorite for worst Yankees team ever. (How did 57-94 keep them out of last place? The Browns were 57-96. Of course.)

Jon Iacovacci, of Empire Sports Media, whoever the hell they are, poses this tantalizing question:

Did the Yankees make a $162 Million dollar mistake? [sic]

OK, Jon, one too many dollars there. It's either the symbol or the word, and million shouldn't be capitalized, either, but it's Empire Sports Media, so I get it. However, the point about Rodon is valid. So far, the answer to your question is HOLY SHIT, YES!! SEND HIM BACK!!!

Meanwhile, over at Sportskeeda MLB (wtf is that?), one Aanchal Jaura sez:

New York Yankees hold a closed-door meeting, front office 'frustrated' with club's performance says Aaron Boone

Hello, 1966

That one takes the cake. The front office created this team. The front office took on these contracts. The front office plays the rich veterans and doesn't give many young guys a shot. The front office is Hal and Cashman, and they both suck at their jobs, and now they're 'frustrated'? 

Give me a fucking break of that KitKat bar. Unbelievable. What hypocritical hubris.

Granted, Jon Iovacci and most certainly Aanchal Jaura are not real people or real names of the 'authors,' which smell like AI text generators. I could be wrong. Though they are not. 

The 1966 Yanks were 56-69 at this stage, and what looked like an insurmountable lead for them in the Cellar Sweepstakes suddenly looks very doable.

Only 4 games behind...er, ahead now. We can do this.

Lookout, Cleveland. Yanks are hottest tanking team in baseball

As far as I can see, nobody on earth except the Tysons - astronomer Neil deGrasse and philosopher Mike - truly understand MLB's lottery formula for next year's draft. 

Used to be easy: The team with the worst record drafted first. Then Houston and Washington tanked their ways to power, with Baltimore on the cusp of a dynasty. After the 2022 lockout - (remembered by Yankee fans as "the good times") - MLB instituted a lottery system. Here's how it works... I think.  

The three teams with the absolute worst records receive equal odds - each a 16.5 percent chance - to win the coveted first pick. But all 18 teams that miss the postseason qualify for the lottery, with ever-declining odds. 

If I'm reading the Tankathon.com site correctly, the Yankees - currently 12th - have a 1.10 percent chance of taking the top pick in next year's draft. (This only affects the first round; succeeding rounds revert to the old order.) 

There's no way to catch Oakland, KC, Colorado or the White Sox - top shelf abominations - but if the Death Barge can keep losing, it could tank its way into the top five - achieving a 10 percent chance at the first pick. One in ten. That's worth chasing. That's worth keeping Luis Severino in the rotation. 

To reach the Syd Thrift Platinum Tier of Mediocrity, the Yankees must play - quoting Aaron Boone - "unbelievably" bad. 

This weekend, they showed they can.

Yes, it's a longshot, probably a waste of time. But you know what's a bigger waste of the next six weeks? Winning a few meaningless games to maintain the status quo.  

They can't salvage 2023. It's over. For weeks now, it's been a lost cause. There is absolutely no reason to root for this team, unless you have a fetish for self-abuse. Nothing good shall come this week from Yankee victories over the Washington Nationals.

Frankly, I wish they could run the table - lose them all! But we all know what's coming. Once the pressure's off, some of these Viagra-built boners will start to hit. That's the '23 Yanks' signature move: Meaningless solo HRs, when games are out of reach. 

Let's not fall for it. 

Yes, we should root for Anthony Volpe, who might be The Future. It's not his fault that the Yankees hyped him to Hell and brought him to the majors before he was ready. They threw him to the wolves, and he barely survived. He deserved protection in the batting order. He deserved better.

Yes, we can root for Gerrit Cole, as he chases the Cy Young with a won-loss record that befits a last place team. All those quality starts, and no win to show for them. He deserved better.

Yes, we can root for the kids, such as Everson Pereira, who might soon be playing LF even though he's only appeared in 35 games at Scranton. They'll need someone to hype. Will he be the next Oswaldo Cabrera? He deserves better.

Yes, root for your favorite Yankees. Just remember: We're better off losing. 

We're better off embarrassing the owner and his rancid front office. 

This eight-game losing streak has already affected the  future. I think everybody knows Aaron Boone will not return next year. Same with Giancarlo Stanton, though it will cost the owner a shit-ton of money just to bid farewell. Brian Cashman will probably return, though perhaps with less control. The Yankees have plenty of high paid stooges with putting greens in their offices. Cashman might invest in one of those click-clack thingys for his desk. It can get lonely without a window. 

With or without the top pick, every loss compels the Yankees to change. That's our only hope. Hey, here's an idea: The next Yankee GM: The philosopher, Mike Tyson.  

The Streak lives

 

Where to watch the Yankees today

FIRST PITCH: 1:35  

OPPOSING TEAM: Does it matter?

IN-MARKET: There is no market. 

OUT-OF-MARKET: UHF Channel 36, Draper, UT.

PRESENTATION: PLEASE STAND BY. 

JOHN & SUZYN SITUATION: Drivers sent to pick them up this morning report that their apartments have been emptied and stripped to the bare walls and floorboards. The Voice and his Yankees compañera are not answering their phones. 

SUGGESTION FOR THURSDAY: Treat it like a wake.

The 2023 Yankees are dead. 

While I have sat shiva (a number of times) I have never attended a wake but to the best of my understanding... 

1) People get drunk. (Check)

2) Tell stories about the dead. (Check)

3) Get overly sentimental. (Check)

4) The weakest among us will cry? 

5) A fight breaks out?

6) We all start singing. Y-A-N-K-E-E-S!

7) Someone gets arrested?

So, let's treat Thursday like the wake it wants to be.  

Should we wear black? Like I said above, never been to one... 

What else am I missing?

John to Suzyn: "How low can they go?" Boone to world: "We're sick animals." Yanks to Angels: "Pardon our Tankathon dust"

It's all over but the booing, the mockery, the brooding silence of a pissed-off capacity crowd.

It's Roger Maris #61 Bobblehead Day - a heavily hyped promotional giveaway, devoted to the long-ago debunked notion that Maris enjoyed his time in NYC, that he wasn't continually ripped by a fanbase and media simply because he had the nerve to chase Babe Ruth. 

Today, the real bobbleheads won't be given away. They are the Yankee ownership and front office, who have ground a once-proud legacy into a toxic stench that would make a West Virginia cow pasture seem like Malibu Barbie's perfumed Zino corn removal pads.

It won't get better. 

If you're a Yank fan, you've already received mocking calls from Boston frat boys, offering crocodile condolences. You've already made new plans for Labor Day, for September, for October, and for next spring in Tampa. The Yankees have abandoned NYC. They've gone to an alternative universe, one where losses should be celebrated for creativity, and where mediocrity must be saluted. This is a team that will be remembered for its lineup of zeros - for two-hitters pitched by journeymen, for fanning 17 times against bums, for squandering leads, for meaningless solo home runs, and for a clueless manager, a detached owner and a front office that never pays for mistakes. 

Yesterday, I listened to John & Suzyn call the final two innings. They might as well have been covering a funeral. They drifted in and out of the game, speaking instead to the immensity of the meltdown unfolding before them. John wondered how this could be happening? Suyzn responded gruffly: "They don't hit," she said. "That's all. They don't hit." 

They talked about next winter. "A lot of changes," The Master said. "A housecleaning," his acolyte agreed. 

Nothing will change. The front office cannot trade players with the bloated contracts they have accumulated. They can hype prospects - revving the old media machine, the one thing the franchise still does well - and pretend the Yankees are the only team with a farm system. Come December, they will sign a few players who were good in 2019. They will do the same things that got them here.

Well, yesterday we leap-frogged the Angels in the 2024 draft Tankathon. Next up, Cleveland. 

Today, there is nothing to be gained by beating Boston. The Redsocks aren't going to win anything this year, and another loss will hardly diminish our ongoing disgrace. The Yankees are not chasing a wild card berth. They are individually seeking to pad their numbers, to survive the coming winter of barn sales and scapegoats. When the race was on, they didn't hit. Now that it's over, they don't need to start. What about fan loyalty? Shouldn't we cheer them anyway? Yeesh. I don't even know where to start. We came in last with them. We can come in last without them. 

And on Roger Maris Bobblehead Day, excuse me if I do the unthinkable. Excuse me if I root for Boston.

9-9

 

I'm sure that, by now, Brian Cashman has fired whatever poor slob in the Yankees' front office scheduled the latest-ever Old Timers' Day for September 9th. 

Or, more likely, it was Cashie himself. The move has his usual arrogance and too-clever-by-half calculations written all over it.

"Oh, we're gonna celebrate the 25th anniversary of the 1998 team and Derek Jeter, are we? Well, we'll have it late enough in the year that we will have already wrapped up the division and be coasting toward the playoffs. No one's gonna be chanting 'Fi-re Cash-man' THAT DAY!"

Yeah.

Your New York Yankees right now are in free fall, on the schneid such as I have never seen or heard of with a Yankees team, save for late 2000 and 2022. (Hmm, what could be the common denominator there?)

They are finding ways to lose, bedeviled particularly by the team's insistence on a clearly awful hitting approach, but also hobbled by lousy pitching, fielding, and mental mistakes—not to mention the ceaseless injuries that this team endures, year-in and year-out.

The 2000 slide was particularly terrifying, coming just as the Yanks seemed to be peaking that year, opening up a 9-game lead on the hapless Red Sox (Remember when the Red Sox were still hapless? Ah, me.) with only 18 games to go.

Then, apparently exhausted by having had only 1 off-day in the last month-and-a-half, the Yanks eased up on the throttle and couldn't find "drive" again. They went 3-15 the rest of the way, getting beat badly, and often falling hopelessly behind in the early innings (sound familiar)?

The team's starting pitching had become perilously thin that year, with David Cone's meltdown. But never fear: GM Brian Cashman had packaged 4 prospects for NL star Denny Neagle, a veteran southpaw so tough he had been unable to get out of the 6th inning with a 6-0 lead against us in the third game of the 1996 World Series.

Denny went 7-7 with a 5.81 ERA in 15 starts as a Yankee in 2000, including 0-3 during the Great Swoon. 

Fortunately, Hapless Boston wasn't coming, and the Yanks hung on to win by 2 1/2 games—then miraculously turned it on again in a deliriously fun postseason, to post their third straight championship.

Last year, I'm sure, you remember all too well. 

After building up a seemingly insurmountable, 15 1/2-game lead over Tampa Bay on July 8th, the Yanks scuffled a bit, going 9-11, as Ace Manager Aaron Boone seemed to decide the race was over, experimenting with this and that rather than just trying to win ballgames. 

Still, the Yanks remained 12 games up on August 1st, when Cashman decided to pull The Big Deal, bringing in an Invalid Corps of assorted moaxes, led by "Frankie Says: I'm Done" Montas. The Yankees immediately went on a 3-14 slide, their lead dropping all the way to 3 1/2 games before they finally got the nose up again, thanks only to Aaron Judge assuming the role of Superman. 

Frankie went 1-3 with a 6.81 ERA, and appeared in the playoffs just long enough to surrender a long, insurance-run homer to Jeremy Pina in Houston, before exiting our lives forever. So long, Frankie. We'll see you in our dreams—the ones accompanied by lots of restless leg movements and eye twitching.

Now, here we are in 2023. The Big Schneid's already at 2-9, and this time there is no huge lead, no core of gutsy, seasoned vets or superhero performances to fall back on. Superman's wearing a kryptonite cape, and the rest of the team looks like a collection of ant men.

This time, Cashman seems to have brought in a perfect amalgam of Neagle and Montas in Carlos "Kiss Me Kate" Rodon, a portly free spirit who seems to be, shall we say, less-than-inspired about little things like getting in shape or pitching.

Thus far, Mr. Kissy Face is at 1-4, 7.33, bidding fair to be Brian Cashman's very WORST pitching acquisition, ever. 

Hey, the real pros only get better with time, am I right?

So here we are—and we can just imagine where we'll be on 9/9, only three weeks from today.

9-9. Back in the day, it used to be the ultimate help signal from the New York Fire Department, the all-points alarm that there was a fire so immense it required every truck available.

9-9.

Like every other great Yankees tradition—the Stadium, the uniforms, winning World Series—the present regime has managed to tinker with and spoil Old-Timers' Day, and spoil it. The big day used to be on a sunny July or early-August afternoon, but now it's after Labor Day, when the shadows start to creep in around the season.

They've canceled the generally hilarious game the old-timers used to play (Quite intensely in the  very old days. Apparently Joe DiMaggio hit a grand-slam home run in one, and an inside-the-park homer in another.), and reduced it all to introductions.

And this year the introductions will include...Derek Jeter.

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH.

I expect his name to ring from the rafters all afternoon. Interspersed with chants of "Sell the team!" should HAL dare to make an appearance (he won't), and "Fi-re Cash-man!" whether or not The Great Brain shows himself. 

Followed, perhaps, by chants of "Hi-re Der-ek!"?  Just a suggestion.

Where to watch the Yankees today

  

FIRST PITCH: 1:05  

OPPOSING TEAM: Our former rivals. (Last night Apple showed a supercut of red-hot NY-BOS rivalry clips and they were all approx. 20 years old. That was the best they could do.)

IN-MARKET: YES, of all places. 

OUT-OF-MARKET: FS1. 

PRESENTATION: No idea about FS1. If Kay and O'Neill are in the YES booth, prepare for a heightened threat of tangents they find amusing. They think they're Scooter and White, a problem that apparently will never go away. But YES' graphics and onscreen info choices are very good.

JOHN & SUZYN SITUATION: I don't know about the cable feed or MLB's audio service, but the YES app is routinely three or four pitches behind the terrestrial radio broadcast. So the John & Suzyn situation couldn't be worse. 

No matter how you feel about this team, fans should appreciate last night's classic Yankee Noir defeat

Like a Philip Marlow movie created by artificial intelligence, the titanic Yankee tanking of '23 continued last night, rousing all the dark tropes of modern Pinstripe noir.

1. Grimy hopelessness. Before coming to bat, our desperate heroes found themselves down 4-0, an impossible deficit to overcome. If MLB had a mercy rule, the '23 Yankees' limit should be four. 

2. The meaningless gesture. In the eighth, Aaron Judge belted a 2-run homer, making the score 7-3. Didn't matter. Hooray for the Captain, but we needed baserunners - not a blast.

This team seems to be incapable of altering its approach. Everybody just swings away. Who cares what the score is?

3. Squandered heroism. Our bullpen lug nuts threw five shutout innings, keeping the outcome from becoming a football score. Didn't matter. The game was over.

4. The beauty with a dark secret. They had chances to solve her, but in the end, they just chased. Thirteen runners left on base. Eleven strikeouts. That's Chinatown, Jake Bauers.

5. The epic finale. We opened the ninth by putting runners on second and third. Boston began to squirm. The TV announcers - (Apple? WTF? Why am I paying for the YES Network?) - sensed an historic rally. I'm joking, of course. Harrison Bader struck out. Anthony Volpe struck out. Ben Rortvedt popped out. Game over.  

A classic modern Yankee defeat. You could feel the ghost of Old George rattling his chains. 

Watch out Angels, we're coming for your draft pick, number 12. We're only four losses behind the Mets. Write this down: 

This Yankee team will draft in the Top 10. Think of that golden moment next June: "And with the eighth pick, the Yankees select... Cito Brackman!"

Where to watch the Yankees tonight

 

FIRST PITCH: 7:05  

OPPOSING TEAM: Nobody important. 

ALL MARKETS: Apple TV+

PRESENTATION: Attractive Apple-brand graphics display unhelpful stats, including odds of outcome on every pitch. Booth personalities at once frivolous and flat, enough to cause upset. 

JOHN & SUZYN SITUATION: Top rank. Above and to right of progress bar, sound and language button mutes TV audio and gives radio feed, precisely in sync. 

Luck.

 

"They say that luck is the residue of design," blurted the beginning of some inane YES ad for upcoming broadcasts last week.

No, "they" didn't say any such thing. 

Wesley Branch Rickey—seen here in his early days as a sore-armed catcher for your New York Highlanders—said it and lived it.

Rickey was the greatest general manager who ever lived, and almost the only one who could stand up to the Yankees juggernaut in its nautiest days. 

From 1923-53, the Yanks won 18 pennants and went 16-2 in the World Series, running up a record of 68-26 (.723) in the Fall Classic.  

The only two losses were to Rickey's small-market, small-budget Cardinals, in 1926 and 1942. The Yanks were 2-2 against those Cardinal teams, and 12-9, .571. Take out those Series, and the Yankees—who beat every other National League team in this stretch save for the Braves, who they didn't get the chance to play—were 56-17, .767.

(Caveat: The Yankees did considerably better against the 1947-1956 Dodgers, who Rickey also built, going 5-1, 23-16, .590. But that might not have been the case, had The O'Malley not utzed The Mahatma out of the front office at the end of the 1950 season.)  

Rickey accomplished this by creating baseball's first, full farm system—a system so good it was avidly copied by the Yankees' triumvirate of Jacob Ruppert, Ed Barrow, and George Weiss.  

None of these very different individuals believed in "luck." They didn't think that the World Series was "a crapshoot." And they were right.  

As JM, Kevin, and our Peerless Leader have all noted of late, most of what we think of as the Yankees' vaunted "legacy" was accomplished well before the Steinbrenner clan, the Snopeses of the Great Lakes region, ever came on the scene. 

What's more, it is ONLY thanks to the failings of said Steinbrenners—the childish irascibility of George; the obliviousness of Hal—that the team has missed several opportunities to recreate that sort of sustained excellence.

When the Yankees finish last this season, much is going to be heard about how that's the first time they've ended up in that position since 1990. We will also hear a good deal about how the team's 30-year streak of winning seasons has been snapped. And as the losing seasons and the last-place finishes pile up in the years ahead—as they will—we will hear much about that, too, along with assorted vows to rebuild, shake up, sweep out, do better.

What's missed is the bigger story of how, over the last three decades or so, other organizations have already eclipsed the Yankees' legacy of excellence in today's game.

We all know about how the likes of the Houston Astros—cheaters or no—the TB Death Rays, and the Boston Red Sox, this weekend's designated daddy, have surpassed the Yanks of late. But it goes well beyond that.

This occurred to me when I was watching the Braves' dynasty-in-the-making take apart both our local excuses for ball clubs.

Since 1991, the Braves have won only 2 World Series. But they have won 7 pennants and 21 division titles (counting this year), made the playoffs 23 times, and suffered only 5 losing seasons. And yet, somehow, they have been able to rebuild again and are looking at years of unbroken success "all before us."

You want to know the last time the Dodgers finished last? It was 1905, when they were popularly known as the Brooklyn Superbas. The last time they suffered three losing seasons in a row—a fate that is surely approaching for the Yankees—was the mid-1930s. 

Sure, since 1995, they have won just 3 pennants and 1 World Series. But if they win the NL West again this year, as it looks like they will, that will be their 11th division title in the last 12 years, and 15th altogether since 1995. In that time, they've suffered exactly 2 losing seasons, and made the playoffs 17 times.

Then there are the still-small-market, St. Louis Cardinals. Hey, no Branch Rickey needed! Since 1996, the Redbirds have won 4 pennants and 2 World Series. But they've also won 12 division titles, made the playoffs 17 times, and suffered only 3 losing seasons.

Point is, the playoffs aren't a "crapshoot." Luck's got nothing to do with it. 

Chances are, we'll all be dead and gone—thanks heavens—long before anyone breaks the Yankees' records for pennants or World Series titles. 

But that will be mainly because there are now so many superb organizations putting together winning teams year after decade—without ever having to tank and rebuild. Chances are there will soon be more—including a certain team in Queens.

If the Yankees truly want to compete in the years ahead—and thus far, there's no indication that they do—they can't go on running the team like some sloppy, declining family business. They can't go on, in short, running the team the way Old George ran his family's shipping business aground.

The new Branch Rickeys will eat our lunch.

 

Hard-falling Yanks pull within half-game of Angels in Tankathon race

Nobody believed us. When we started shit-talking the Yankees, back in June, the notion of a mid-August tanking seemed impossible. Too much talent. Too many Starrs. At worse, the Death Barge would snag that final wild card berth, a disappointing outcome to a slouch season. But they'd still have an outside shot at October. 

In the MLB dog show, every pooch gets a ribbon.

Well, they went 11-12 in June - a glitch, we were assured. Then, 10-15 in July, a brief setback. Now, 5-10 in August - including meltdowns in Chicago and Miami, and a sweep in Atlanta, where they looked like a geriatric unit pitted against a team of actual pro athletes. 

Gone is the delusion that the '23 Yankees have - as Michael Kay would say - "a rally in their bones." In fact, they have no bones. They've blown 24 leads, been shutout seven times. They can tout 27 world championships - the team of Ruth and Gehrig, blah blah blah... but this team's squalor is a just a long, hard horse-piss on their legacy. 

Tonight, we welcome Boston, and - honestly - who cares? I can dredge up the old Redsock hate posts, but why bother? Neither team is going anywhere. I say, let Boston win, let them bark at the weather balloon, let them chase the mail truck, let the baby have its peanuts. Our rotation is Cole, Clarke, TBD, TBD and TBD. Our leadoff batter changes nightly. Our cleanup hitter can't run 10 steps, even on a play at the plate. Our LH bats belong in Scranton. Our farm system is sputtering. It's a lost year, and nobody at the top seems to give a shit. Why should we?  

Lately, several Yankee sites have, like hostages, spouted reasons to root for this team through September. God bless 'em. On the Titanic, they'd be donning swimsuits. 

Honestly, I see NO reason to follow this team, other than to root against it. Why not? 

1. Every loss means a slightly better draft pick. I know, I know... Andrew Brackman! Cito Culver! et al. But you never know. in 2018, had we lost, say, five more games, we might have moved up a few notches in the 2019 draft, and selected George Kirby, currently a top candidate for the Cy Young. Any tick upwards in the draft is an improvement. 

Okay, I should note that in 2019, we did draft Anthony Volpe. It wasn't a total washout. But damn, watching Volpe is a slog. Did this season in NY do him good - or harm? Is he a future star (or Starr?) Right now, he shapes up as a reincarnation of the player whose jersey he wears - Brett Gardner, No. 11. We loved Gardy, as we might love Volpe. But can he hit, say, .290? This season, did we grind him into the pavement?  

2. Giancarlo. This is the year he turned 50. He's awful, and he won't get better - not for a long stretch. Listen: I don't hate the guy personally, or blame him for signing a contract that will feed his family forever. But remember how they said Giancarlo can get hot and carry this team? Nope. He can't. He won't. He's a shell of what he once was, and we have him for eternity. He's the guy who broke whatever spirit Hal once had about building the Yankees through spending. He's the excuse Hal will always use for holding the line. 

3. The farm system. Insert names here. I suppose our main hope is Everson Pereira, a young outfielder who streaked meteorically through the system and has hit well at Scranton, in a small sample. If the Yankees promote him, it will enliven the fan base. But it will smack of desperation. Pereira needs development time at Triple  - not the crushing pressures - and distractions - of Gotham. Is anything to be gained by calling him up, other than to create a diversion for this sad team?

Listen... I hate myself for writing this, but tonight, I'm rooting for Boston to clean our clocks. Let it rain! Let it hail. Let' the clouds rage upon us! Let the winds blow this sorry franchise into the sea. Fuck the rivalry. What's on the Turner Channel tonight?  

Litter.

The latest from Aaron Boone, after the latest debacle:

"The game is still littered with examples of teams going on unlikely runs." 

Right. And the highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive. 

"I know we've put ourselves in a position to not give anyone that confidence," Ma Boone continued in his weird, anti-inspirational way, "but we gotta continue to work and fight and compete to do that."

Good thing Aaron Boone wasn't in the Notre Dame locker room.  

"I know this game isn't where we would like it to be at halftime, but, uh, you know once before he unfortunately passed away too young, George Gipp—Gipp was a very good player before most of you were here, some would even say an All-American. How he could continue at Notre Dame with those grades, I dunno. But anyway, he, uh, passed away at a relatively young age, though a lot of guys were dying young in those days, with the war and the influenza and everything, and he said that, if it wasn't too much trouble, and sometime things aren't going well, maybe I should try telling the team that, it's all in front of you in the second half."

Not for nothing, but the last time a Yankees team had a losing record this late in the season, was in 1995. Otis Livingston, who does a consistently excellent job every night on Channel 2, pointed out that that team then did indeed go on an unlikely run, and made the playoffs.

So they did. 

60-61 was the nadir for the 1995 team. They went 19-4 the rest of the way (it was a season shortened by the big strike of 1994-95). 

(Spoiler alert: 60-61 won't be rock bottom for the 2023 Yankees.)

In the playoffs against Seattle, they won the first two games—meaning they won an unlikely 21 of 25 (.840)—and would have won that ALDS had it not been for the Big Buck Muck, leaving an exhausted David Cone out to walk in the tying run with a ready Mariano Rivera in the bullpen.

Thing was, that 1995 Yankees team was betwixt and between, full of veterans who were maybe on the way down, and rising young stars.

They had been beset by injuries—particularly to the pitching staff—and some bad luck (free agent pick-up Black Jack McDowell turned out to be a bust). But there was the core of a good team there.

Don Mattingly, still good enough to have one last, great series in his first postseason (.417). Wade Boggs, still able to hit .324 and field an excellent third base at age 37 (looking at you, Jackie Donaldson).

In the outfield, both Bernie Williams and Paul O'Neill hit over .300 with power, and the fleet Gerald Williams backed them up. Mike Stanley, who could slug, was behind the plate. 

The pitching was more of a mess. Mariano only began to emerge as the GOAT in that playoff series. Young guns Andy Pettitte and Sterling Hitchcock weren't quite there yet. Melido Perez and McDowell were done, Cone and Jimmy Key struggled with injuries, John Wetteland was unreliable, Steve Howe had to be literally tied to a fence to keep him from running after cocaine, and Scott Kamienicki was Scott Kamienicki.

But hey, there was enough to go on that unlikely litter run. And to so much after that. Derek Jeter and Jorge, among others were still waiting in the wings.

Are our current New York Yankees anywhere close to going on a similar run?  Either for the rest of this season, or in the years ahead?

No. They are not.

Stanton is done, Donaldson is done. Who knows when Rizzo will even play again. Anthony Volpe is, let's face it, a bust so far. So are the Oswaldii. Bader will walk next year, and the Yankees should let him.

 Trust me: he won't get far before he pulls something.)

The pitching staff consists of one reliable starter, and no reliable relievers.  

Incredibly, even Judge is done, if AboveAverage is correct, reduced to a $40-million Andrew Benintendi. No, that's not fair. Benintendi can still play the field.

And there is nobody waiting in the wings. Just Estevan Florial, the Prometheus of the Yankees system, tied to a rock in Scranton, where everyday the carrion birds of the International League feast on his liver.

(Sorry. Those Greeks had really lurid imaginations.)

Scene we will not see in Yankee Stadium again...

   

 

Sorry, Arizona, but that whoosh you heard was the Starr Insurance Yankees leap-frogging you in the Draft Lottery Tankathon. Angels, you're next!

Remember how they marketed The Magnificent Seven, way back in 1960? "SEVEN MEN, BUT THEY FOUGHT LIKE SEVEN HUNDRED!" 

We just watched The Fearsome Five: "FIVE LOSSES, BUT THEY FELT LIKE FIFTY!" 

This Yankee collapse has been Biblical: Two shutouts, a one-hitter, a blow-out and a  walk-off bullpen meltdown. This stuff should come with a rain of frogs and the reincarnation of Yul Brenner. In terms of the Yankees, this is an End-Times moment.  

With each loss - and the games are over by the 3rd - the '23 Yankees further etch their legacy into the folklore of NYC sewers: No alligators down there, just Joey Gallo and a legion of left-fielders, as they explore exotic new ways to torture the Starr Insurance Co. 

The tanking has begun, and it is our only - albeit meager - hope. By losing last night, the Yankees picked up ground on the Angels, Padres, Tigers and Mets in their quest for a better 2024 draft. You can argue that it won't matter: The Yanks will draft some guy headed for Tommy John surgery. But a win last night would have meant nothing. It's better to lose, to tear off the mask, to remind Gotham that the Yankees are a losing team with nothing to sell but a far-off history - Roger Maris Bobble-Head Night? Really? - with no connection to modern times. Even codgers like myself have no memory of the years when the Yankee dynasty began. Living off them is a joke.

The worst part: A sense that nothing will change. Next year, we will suffer the same owner and his front office of nephews and sycophants, who will make the same brutal mistakes that landed us in this flaming shit pit of quicksand. This is not a one-year aberration. This is not a glitch in The Matrix. This is the slow-motion collapse of an ancient empire. Years ago, the roof started caving, and it's worsened each season. It's beyond repair. It needs a teardown, but that would require the engineers of this disaster to assume responsibility for their deeds. 

What? Am I being too negative? Sorry. So... here's a happy thought: We can't lose tonight. No game.

Honestly, there are no words to describe the anger I have about this team, other than to remind everyone that Hal Steinbrenner is still making money off our obsessions, and as far as he's concerned, the shrimps are on the grill and the 19th hole features  icy martinis. I suspect that - all things considered - Hal would prefer to win: He'd be a hit at the club, and the team would make more money. But he'll never walk among us, and in that rarified air, all is fine. No need to panic. You could say the Yankees do have one great star -their insurance. So, can I get six losses in a row? Angels, we're coming for you.  

Aaron Judge's Toe Doesn't Need Surgery.

 

Aaron Judge's big toe doesn't need surgery. This is what passes for good news from Yankeeland these days.

No, Judge's toe doesn't need surgery. 

Just like D.J. LeMahieu's foot didn't need surgery after last season. Just like Luis Severino didn't need to be pulled out of the rotation when his arm went in July of 2018. Just like Giancarlo Stanton didn't need to adjust his workout routine one iota, even after he started missing entire seasons. Just like Carlos Rodon didn't need to get into shape for this season. Just like Gleyber Torres doesn't need ADHD medication every time he's on a ballfield.

No, what Judge "needs," if it's left up to the experts in the front office, is to become one more semi-invalid Yankee on the playing field, giving you his all half one-quarter whatever, like so many others in recent years. Missing entire months, clearly declining year after year, even as Aaron Boone and Brian Cashman tell you there's nothing to see here, just look at the back of his baseball card.

Aaron Judge lost seven weeks thanks to The Toe That Wouldn't Heal, and has come back looking like the World's First $40-Million Singles-Hitting DH. He can't much run, and he can't really play the outfield, and nobody's going to feed him a big fat pitch in this lineup, so why he is put out there in a season that has already, obviously got away from the Yankees is a mystery.

Most likely, it is yet another Patented Brian Cashman Exercise in Denial, insisting that the hobbled wreck of a ballplayer you see before you—surrendering home run after home run, or unable to get to second base on a drive to the gap, or unable to connect on balls he used to lash all over the park—is really just fine, needs to round into shape, has it all before him.

Quite obviously, Aaron Judge needs toe surgery. OR—he at least needs a battery of opinions from the leading medical authorities on the subject, rather than from the Yanks' in-house surgical expert, who I think is Dr. Nick Riviera.  

Instead, what we are going to get is yet another injury that carries into at least another year, or until it becomes chronic, and in trying to adjust Aaron Judge does further, major damage to himself.  

Hey, it's HAL Cashman's $360 million. But if I were him, I'd spend a little of that on a good HMO.