The Madman: Yankees, Why Do You Tease Me?

There is no better time than following a torrid winning streak to complain about the team that you love.

I realize now how unfortunate it is that we did not post much of anything over the course of eight wonderful days for the Yankees. We saw lots of wins, resulting in a legitimate division-lead push, a fantastic (if mildly overrated) trade, and a series win in Fenway. If only we had decided to chime in then, and talk about how proud we were of this team.

But, alas, The Madman has returned to spew his bile in the midst of a logic-defying losing streak; a losing streak that has brought back to light all of the Yankees' shortcomings: a lack of dependable starting pitching, a "light switch" offense that rises and falls like an ocean tide (ooh, figurative language!), and a frustrating tendency to play down to the level of the competition.

Things, in no particular order, that have caused me to pout:

It's my own fault that I continue to listen to sports talk radio, but I can't believe how many "fans" call-in to complain that Alex Rodriguez and Richie Sexson are problems for this team. Does anybody watch the games? A-Rod continues to produce and produce and produce. Richie Sexson continues to sit on the bench, the bench, the bench and (when on the field) play firstbase at a higher level than Giambi and Betemit put together. Please direct your frustrations at legitimate concerns, like...

Melky Cabrera. Everybody makes a big deal about the injuries the Yankees have suffered this year, but I maintain that it's the injuries that haven't befallen us that are holding us back. Why can't Melky and his .652 OPS (2nd worst amongst starters), his 127 Total Bases (worst amongst starters), and his 28 Walks (worst amongst starters) pull a hamstring once in a while?

Robinson Cano. Thanks, Robbie, for remembering that you play professional baseball! If I hear one more person talk about the "cold weather" hampering Cano's swing I'm going to impale him or her with a piece of shattered, maple bat. A really hot July and August does not negate three months of shit. The man makes millions to hit the ball and (occasionally) field it. Learn to do both of those things - you know - the whole fucking year.

Darrel Rasner. Will someone please put this kid out of his misery? Pitching to a 1.80 ERA in May, Rasner ballooned to a 6.47 in June and, fortunately, has trimmed that ERA down to a healthy 6.32 in July. I know ERA doesn't tell you everything you need to know about a pitcher, but in Rasner's case, it does. He stinks. A lot. And yet, the brass seems to believe that he'll return to form. What they don't realize is that Darrell is in form. This is him. And that's a problem.

Derek Jeter. I could talk about The Captain's subpar year, but that doesn't really get to me. In the end, his numbers will be fine. He's actually on pace to strike out less than he has in the last five years; however, my complaint revolves around one statistic in particular: double plays. Derek has grounded into 16 of these bad boys so far in 2008, leading the team. In the last week alone, I've seen him hit into three, each time with a runner in scoring position. This type of inning-killing, out-creating must stop in order for the Yankees to succeed.

Jorge Posada. Damn you, sir, and your shoulder muscle tear. What frustrates me about Posada, besides the massive contract that looks like it will serve as a pre-pension pension by the time these four years are up, is the diva-like attitude that Jorge adopted, all the while knowing that his shoulder was shot. He complained about not wanting to play first; that he was a catcher and wanted to catch (goddamit!); that it was unfair to say he could no longer make the throw to second. A week later, he's riding the pine and deciding when (not if) to have his surgery. Thanks for holding us up for a good two months, Jorge. Much obliged.

Mariano Rivera: I know. Blasphemy. But, seriously, Mo, is the excitement of a save opportunity the only thing that gets you going? Rivera has given up runs in only seven (!) appearances this year, yet six (!) of those appearances have been non-save situations (with the Yankees either tied or trailing). The most recent example has occurred as I type this very complaint, as Mo has given up a "garbage time" homerun against the Orioles that has ended up being the game loser, as the Yankees have executed one of their patented "Holy-Shit-It's-The-9th-Inning-Let's- Take-Our-At-Bats-Seriously" comebacks. Michael Kay likes to insist that Rivera is having his best year ever. Trust me...he's not.

Xavier Nady / Damaso Marte. They really haven't done anything badly. But they will! Oh, yes, they will.

And The Madman will be watching.
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A Modest Proposal

YES network execs, are you listening? You've already taken one shot at reality TV with The Ultimate Roadtrip...and I think we can all say that was a rousing success, right? Right? Anyone? No? OK.

But the time is ripe for what may be the greatest reality show of all time. I present you with...

Lucky Thirteen: The A-Rod Dating Show!!!


Thirteen women compete for the heart of baseball's greatest player.

Now hear me out. Really, we've all had our fill of Michael Kay and there's only so many times you can re-run the Snoop Dog episode of Centerstage so let's strike while the iron is hot and get this done.

First off, we all know this Madonna thing will be over in a hurry and that leaves Alex to his own devices in the middle of NYC. A show like this allows the greater Yankees empire more say in who A-Rod decides to distract himself with next.

A-Rod's breakup with his wife isn't the only impending split that fits perfectly into this plan: with the inevitable breakup of Mike and the Mad Dog, you have the absolute perfect reality show host available now in one Christopher Russo. The hyperbole, the screaming, the speech impediment, and the fact that he will absolutely reek of desperation after being let go by WFAN makes this a perfect storm of Howie Mandel meets Tom Bergeron proportions.

"OH! THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE, ALEX! IT'S A DISGRACE! YOU KISS HER IN A HOT-TUB ONE MINUTE AND THEN SEND HER FANNY HOME THE NEXT? ABSOLUTE DISGRACE...say somethin' funny, Bob Sheppard."

"Number 6, you have been ejected from Lucky Thirteen. And now let's welcome Ronan Tynan...as he sings...Happy Trails...to You. Number 6."

On the other end, contestants who successfully make it through to the next round (we'll call them innings...it's fun!) get a celebratory bump dance from Robinson Cano and Melky Cabrera.

I haven't worked out the other details yet, except that each time someone makes it through to the next inning they have to get one of those classic A-Rod sound bite speeches. Something like: "Hey, y'know...you put yourself in a situation where you could succeed and...I guess it worked out for you this time." Of course this would be counter-balanced with the rejection speech of "Well, you put maximum effort out there, but unfortunately things just didn't work out the way you wanted them to. Just go home tonight, forget about it, and go back out there tomorrow, I guess."

YES execs, get in touch. We'll work it out. Email address is over there on the right.
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Hi! My Name Is: Melky Cabrera (CF)

Each day, "Piss and Wynegar" will present Yankees "player previews" for the coming 2008 season. In what can only be referred to as a "revelatory" strategy, we will use statistics, as well as opinion, to further our analysis.


Ah, Melky. Average, average, Melky. It is with great skepticism that we welcome Mr. Cabrera back to the Yankees starting lineup, having avoided being shipped to Minnesota for Johan Santana in a deal that, inexplicably, Bombers fans rejected en masse. The question is: why? Melky’s popularity is baffling. He tracks balls awkwardly in the outfield, doesn’t walk (he trailed only Robinson Cano in fewest BB’s amongst starters), has no power to speak of, and had an OBP of only .327 (worse than Mr. Cano who, as just mentioned, actually walked fewer times than the Milk Man).

There remains an expectation that Cabrera will suddenly shed his caterpillar exterior and become the beautiful butterfly of our dreams, but the likelihood of that gets smaller and smaller with each passing day. Virtually every “analyst” who speaks of Melky labels him as a 4th outfielder, and yet here he is, starting every day in the most hallowed of Yankee Stadium positions. While 73 RBI from a guy hitting in the bottom 1/3 of the order looks perfectly fine, we can’t help but feel that the Melkster has somehow cast a spell upon New York City that enables mediocrity to pass as star-quality talent. In short, we expect more of the same from Cabrera this year: a few outfield assists and a lot of pedestrian offence. But, he does do those fun dances in the dugout when guys hit homeruns!

To read previous "Hi! My Name Is" entries, click here.