The Yankees are No Longer a Serious Baseball TEam (Game 3 Recap)

Another year, another mortifying playoff series loss brought to you by the New York Yankees. At this point, you can argue that this team being eliminated from postseason contention is more synonymous with the month of October than Halloween. While both are widely celebrated, if you don’t have kids, you eventually tone down the costuming in your late 20s. Meanwhile, as my 33rd birthday approaches, the Yankees are showing no signs of slowing down and look to continue devastating this great fanbase for the foreseeable future.

Anyone who watched Games 1 and 2 should have gotten all of the sadness and mourning out of their system. Nothing about this team had changed, and they had no chance of winning this series. My expectations couldn’t have been lower, the final result couldn’t have been any more predictable, yet I had no choice but to sit and endure the last nine innings of my baseball season. Three-plus hours and no escape from the monstrosities occurring in front of me — now I know how Dua Lipa must’ve felt with Creepy-Ass Marlins Man showing her memes and sniffing her hair all night.

While Game 3 was the best the Yankees have looked all series (basically by default), there was never a moment when you felt this team would pull out the victory needed to salvage its last remaining ounce of dignity. Max Fried almost missed the birth of his child just to provide us with yet another mediocre ALDS start, firmly supplanting himself on the Yanks’ ever-growing list of playoff no-shows. You’d think that having a front-row seat to watch this atrocious offense the past two games would have locked Max in when they managed to tie the game on two separate occasions. Yet both times, Fried instantly responded by giving up a pair of homers to right, the second of which still hasn’t landed.

Credit to Anthony Volpe. While the regular-season bar is extremely low, he is one of the only players on the team who actually improves his play come October. I knew immediately that the jabroni had reached over the fence and his game-tying homer was getting called back, but I was still proud of the kid and am more than willing to give him a fair shake at winning the second-base job next season.

He doesn’t exactly have the biggest shoes to fill, as hopefully Jazz spends the rest of his career playing baseball in Oakland, Colorado, or Mars for all I care. Boone pinch-hitting this moron in the seventh as his “do-or-die” move signaled to anyone watching that it was indeed time for this team to die. Boone’s Stantonian Hail Mary was then easily intercepted by Kevin Cash, who saw the move coming a mile away and had a side-arming righty patiently waiting to dismantle Big G.

Of all the managerial mishaps, nothing was more egregious than batting Trent Grisham leadoff. The only thing that worked all series was batting Ben Rice first. The guy was in the midst of an all-time postseason, and instead of having him bat in the ninth, we let Trent Grisham notch his fifth out of the game while Rice was forced to watch the season end from the on-deck circle.

I don’t know the next time we’ll get to see this team play baseball, but whenever that day comes, things need to be drastically different. Aaron Boone inherited a team full of young, promising players who had just gone to a Game 7 with the eventual World Series champs — who were actively cheating at the time. We’ve since injected this roster with a litany of MVPs, All-Stars, and exorbitant contracts, and the results have gradually shifted in the opposite direction.

Trust me, I’m not one of those “Fire the coach!”-after-every-loss guys. This decision should be based on the nine seasons of playoff losses that seemingly get more and more embarrassing by the year. Axing Boone isn’t going to solve everything, but it is the first necessary step in signifying that real change is coming — not only to the fans, but to the players in that locker room.

The fielding errors, mental mishaps, and general coddling of these players need to stop. What the fuck would Jeter have done if Jazz trotted out to second with a lollipop in his mouth, or if Devin Williams didn’t like how he looked clean-shaven? We used to be a serious baseball team and have slowly devolved into this collection of overpaid, entitled pansies who fail time and time again.

With a lengthy lockout expected in the coming months, we have nothing but time to make the necessary changes. We’ve clearly lost our way, and if we don’t get back to being the Yankees of old, who knows what type of support or interest this team will garner upon baseball’s eventual return?

Run It Back Baby! (Yankees vs. Rays Game 2 Recap)

At some point, I really need to stop doubting the level of trauma that Aaron Boone and the Yankees brass are capable of inflicting upon us. While Saturday night’s mortifying 1-hit, 1-0 loss might’ve felt a hell of a lot like rock bottom, this team continuously finds ways to outdo themselves. Somehow, someway, the Yankees managed to embarrass themselves in an even grander fashion, not only by refusing to hit the ball, but by refusing to field it as well.

The Yanks wasted no time letting us know that Monday wasn’t gonna be our night. Ryan McMahon — whose only redeemable quality is his serviceable 3rd base defense — completely fans on the most routine ground ball you’ll ever see. Then, instead of settling for a much-needed out, Jazz Chisholm opts to 360-no-scope a ball into the Rays’ dugout, instantly putting the team in a 1-0 hole.

After the game, Jazz was asked whether he regrets trying to turn that impossible double play. The Yankee second baseman told reporters, “I’d still try to throw the runner out.”

You gotta love this level of accountability. He’s not only doubling down on the mistake, but letting you know that he looks forward to making it again in the Bronx. I just hope to God he’s wearing another uniform when he decides to do so.

Schlittler would survive the pair of fielding errors, along with a 3-pitch strikeout overturned by catcher’s interference to keep the Yanks in the game. Cam fucking battled for the entirety of his short outing. Despite being under constant siege by the relentless Rays offense, he never allowed them to deliver the knockout blow. Even after the defense forced him into throwing high-stress pitches and getting a half-dozen extra outs, he still took responsibility postgame.

“I’m not disappointed in our defense. I’m not disappointed in the offense. Really just disappointed in myself. That’s baseball and those things are gonna happen. But I’ve got to be able to work through those. I wasn’t able to do that today. Didn’t get through the fifth, just not good enough.”

Given this is likely the last time we’ll see him pitch for a while, I think it’s only right that Cam gets his well-earned flowers. Schlittler is a rare breed of psychopath and a true throwback ace. While I respect the hell out of him falling on his sword, this game wasn’t on him at all. He carried this pitching staff from wire to wire, and his team let him down in the biggest game of the season. There are plenty of players that need to be replaced this offseason, but Cam is a guy I want on my team for the next 20 years. Rest up, King. We’ll see you soon.

It’s hard to believe that there was a point in the night where I genuinely believed the Rays had missed their opportunity to step on our throats and end the game/series. After Rice’s game-tying solo shot, it truly felt like the momentum was on our side. I probably should’ve realized it in the moment, but when you’re celebrating your biggest rally of the series — one that consists of a double, 2 walks, and an almost grand slam — your offense is in a truly pathetic state.

Enter: “Inning from Hell Pt. 2.”

As if watching him literally swing his helmet off for the 2nd consecutive game wasn’t offensive enough, Spencer Jones decided to get in on the defensive masterclass and stopped dead in his tracks to allow a leadoff single in the 5th. Then, with men on 2nd and 3rd and every other member of the infield playing in, you have Jazz playing shallow right field with a thumb up his ass, allowing a weak ground ball to give the Rays the lead. Boone would, of course, cover for Chisholm in the postgame, being ever so adamant that he was in the correct position. If that’s the case, then WHY WAS HE IN ON THE DIRT THE VERY NEXT PLAY?

By the time Lombard muffed another weak grounder and Luis Garcia couldn’t squeeze an easy out at 1st, I was beyond numb. We’re the same team making the same mistakes that cost us a World Series, and nothing will ever change. The 5-1 deficit was insurmountable, and the season was, by all accounts, over.

Aaron Boone seemingly shared my sense of ennui as he sat idly watching his team get massacred for the world to see.

Hey asshole, how about when your defensive lineup fails to play any semblance of defense, you make a god damn substitution? You’re so fixated on lefty/righty matchups, yet you allow our all-lefty lineup to get mowed down by left-handed bullpen arms for 5 straight innings?

We’re down 4 runs and just got ground-balled to death, and you’re just watching this team die like Corporal Fucking Upham. The best part is, if the Yankee Analytics Department catches wind that Tampa’s Game 3 starter scratches his balls with his right hand, THEY’LL ROLL OUT THIS LINEUP AGAIN!

This series is completely over. Even if we save ourselves the embarrassment of getting swept at home, you’re not beating Rasmussen and then winning a Game 5 Spikeball match at the Trop. The “Run it Back Yankees” are quite literally running back last season bar for bar.

Next season, it’ll be Baltimore’s turn to knock us out of the divisional round, but we’ll bat Grisham leadoff again and be told “things are different”.

Wooooo! Let’s go Yankees!

Well, That Wasn’t Great (Yankees Vs. Rays game 1 Recap)

After spending the last five days comfortably aboard Cloud 9, the Yankees were given one of the quickest, harshest wake-up calls in franchise postseason history. In the blink of an eye, all the confidence and goodwill the team had instilled in the fanbase washed away and replaced with a 1-0 series deficit.

This game ended so quickly that I still had time to watch a movie afterward. Between the decision process and the slew of Progressive ads, 2025's Together might've lasted even longer, while sucking nearly as bad.

Listen, we all knew this Rays series was going to be far more challenging than the last, but not for any of the reasons we saw tonight. It's not like the Tampa offense had a ton of traffic on the basepaths. They weren't slapping the ball around, bunting, stealing bags, or being the pains in the ass we've all come to expect.

On a night when Cole was far from perfect, he still managed to navigate through their lineup multiple times, surrendering only the solo shot through five. The bullpen then proceeded to absolutely cruise through the next three innings, parking this one outside of a Newark bodega - in prime position to be stolen.

Unfortunately, the Yankee offense was nowhere to be found as Drew Rasmussen carved us up in one of the most dominant playoff pitching performances these eyes have ever seen. It was a "blink and it's the seventh inning" type of showing from Tampa's ace, whose no-hit bid didn't end until Austin Wells drilled a double down the line in the top of the eighth.

Unfortunately, said double would become out number 3 of the inning after the Yankee catcher inexplicably tried stretching our only base hit into a triple for reasons I still can't fully fathom.

"Never make the first or third out at third base," said Michael Kay... for the last 25 years of my life. Do you know how bad of a fuck-up it takes to earn offensive scapegoat honors when you're the only guy who got a hit? Luis Rojas would send my Grandma across the Jersey Turnpike, and even he was throwing up the double stop signs!

I'm well aware we probably weren't getting another knock off Rasmussen or that mutant closer of theirs, but you can't kill our only scoring opportunity of the night by getting gunned down by 20 feet. Just such an unserious, embarrassing moment that simply can’t happen.

But alas, the focus now shifts to Game 2. It goes without saying that with Schlittler on the mound, this is a must-win. If we're being honest with ourselves, knowing this monster is looming in Game 4, it's imperative that we get the next two.

I fully trust Cam to do his thing, and you have to believe the bats will have a better showing against Freddy Peralta — ideally, not just by default.

So please, Yankees, flush this wasted opportunity away and show up on Monday, because I don't know how many more Dave Franco horror performances I have in me.

Thanks for Keeping Us Loose, Boston!

WOOOOO! Nothing like the taste of warm coffee and dirty water (still don’t know what that means) the morning after sending your rivals packing. For the second night in a row, the New York Yankees completely dominated the Boston Red Sox, ending their October campaign on September 30th.

Without Roman Anthony (OUT – broken fingernail), Boston’s quadruple-A lineup didn’t stand a chance against Max Fried and his C+ stuff. I had quite the laugh upon realizing that the same Jahmai Jones who served exclusively as Stanton’s pinch runner during the 2024 season was now batting leadoff for the Sox in an elimination game. I half expected Tyler Wade to be batting cleanup, with Chase Headley waiting in the wings if we brought in a lefty.

I’m genuinely curious how many innings it would take this lineup to match the 18 runs we hung on them. I estimate it would be around 1,000 — give or take.

Speaking of old Yankees, shoutout to Sonny Gray — not only for pitching much better than I expected, but also for his touching tribute to Michael Pineda. Between the comically sideways cap and a borderline blackface amount of pine tar, I think he had Tracy convinced he was, in fact, Big Mike. So much so that the Boston skipper decided to yank his starter after 4.2 innings for the second night in a row.

Sox Twitter seems pretty pissed at Tracy, and I’m not totally sure why. Did he make a single good decision the entire (short) series? No. But after seeing what we did to Crochet and Whitlock, I’m not certain there were any good buttons to be pressed.

After the game, Sonny Gray said, “I would have liked to have been trusted in that moment,” but how can his manager truly believe the words of a man who has shied away from the big innings for the better part of a decade? The decision was clear and obvious — Tracy had no choice but to call upon his lefty specialist, Erik Miller, who struggled mightily against our lefties the night prior.

After an ill-advised Luis Rojas send killed the Yankee rally, it looked like Tracy’s gamble might pay off when Wilson Contreras ended Boston’s 26-inning playoff scoring drought with a solo shot to cut the lead to 2-1. Instead of building any sort of momentum for his own team, this jackass decided to literally walk around the bases, pissing off the Yankees while simultaneously making a total ass of himself.

Thankfully, his lackadaisical effort carried over to the field, as he decided to field a throw to first on the back-right corner of the bag, kickstarting the rally that would serve as the eventual nail in the Boston’s coffin.

That sixth inning was everything for me. Jones busting it out of the box on a strikeout and then stealing a pair of bags. Lombard drilling a single to right à la Jeter. Known speedster Trent Grisham bunting for a hit. A pair of sacrifice RBIs. And a vintage three-run porch job from Belli to put this team to bed.

I can’t speak any more fondly about what I’ve seen from the Yankee offense thus far. We’ve now seen both the righty and lefty renditions of the lineup, and both have sprayed the ball all over the park. Eighteen runs and 26 hits in 16 innings is nothing short of phenomenal. It finally feels like we’re scoring runs in a way that’s conducive to winning postseason games. There have been so few noncompetitive at-bats; everyone and their backup is up there grinding, and we’re still delivering the knockout-punch homers late.

I’m not naïve to the fact that the road ahead will be much more difficult, but having this sort of offensive momentum has me fully believing we have a shot at winning this thing.

Defeating Tampa will be no small task. Their manager doesn’t shelter an entire family of rocks between his ears, their lineup can actually score runs, and we’ll be forced to play baseball in that astroturfed hellhouse of theirs. While I don’t expect a walk in the park (not sure Tropicana fits that billing), I’m happy to be coming in red-hot rather than potentially over-rested.

So, thanks for keeping us loose, Boston! We hope to see you again in 2028! Enjoy Drake Maye’s unraveling and the impending Diana Russini tell-all interview!

Fuck Around and Find Out. Yanks in 2.

Despite the fact that you couldn’t have scripted a more perfect start to the postseason, I can’t say I’m surprised. In fact, I essentially leaked the game script yesterday. You could play this game 1,000 times, and it was always going to end with Cam Schlittler dominating this team. Last night just happened to be the 6.1 scoreless, 10-strikeout, 117-pitch variety, where you never felt for a second that Boston was going to break through.

While this may come across as a slight to Gerrit Cole and the aces of Yankees past, Cam just isn’t a guy you need to feign confidence in. He comes up big in these spots every single time. We are beyond lucky to have this lanky lunatic on our team. Having him pitch two games per series the rest of the way gives us a puncher’s chance against anyone.

Now how about that Yankee offense?

Despite things feeling tense with the game sitting at 1-0 heading into the fifth, you were getting great at-bats and contributions up and down the lineup. Austin Wells, a guy we all wanted replaced at the deadline—ironically by Adley Rutschman—comes up with the big RBI single early on. Anthony Volpe, who I hoped to never hear from again after the first day of the George Lombard experience, gets the hit to set the table earlier in that inning and is laying down sac bunts to help blow the game open.

And what else can you really say about Ben Rice?

Without Judge and Stanton for a majority of the year, the kid has carried this team from a power-hitting perspective and came up massive Tuesday night. A triple shy of the cycle in the bottom of the eighth, Benny Boy instead opted for the Grand Salami that officially put this one into complete laugher territory.

Ironically, the only guys who didn’t really join the party were the righties who played specifically to combat the left-handed starter. You’d be a rare breed of asshole to nitpick Boone on a night where he made 99% of the right calls—especially letting Cam go back out for the seventh—but this is definitely something to monitor as I’m unsure how much more “3-hole” Heliot Ramos I need these playoffs.

And just like that, we’re onto our old pal Sonny Gray.

Everyone knows the story by now. He was an abject failure in New York, the poster child for “the lights were too bright,” yet after exiling himself to Middle American Mediocrity Baseball for seven years, he emerges and suddenly wants to be a part of high-stakes innings again?

“I will say what did factor into my decision to come to Boston is it feels good to me to go to a place now where it’s easy to hate the Yankees.”

I know this pissed off some Yankee fans at the time, but honestly, all I can do is laugh at the poor guy. You can’t even be a little more demonstrative in your blatant pandering attempt?

It was always easy for you to hate us because that’s how your excuse-making, “why me?” brain works.

To anyone going to the game Wednesday: boo this man. He’ll push the bully/victim button regardless, so you might as well get under his paper-thin skin.

I’m glad the Red Sox “let you go out and be yourself.” I’m even more glad I get to witness you crap down your leg in an elimination game, in 4K nonetheless.

On the complete opposite side of the coin is Max Fried, who also came from a smaller market yet has lived up to the billing in his two seasons in New York. While Schlittler’s complete and utter dominance is a tough act to follow, I fully expect Max to mow down whatever is left of this anemic Red Sox lineup.

Even though Cam threw a ton more off-speed than we’re accustomed to, Fried still gives Boston a completely different look, mixing in three different breaking balls to go with a trio of fastballs. As long as he throws strikes, expect tons of soft contact and for him to go very deep into the game.

Boston will be feeling the pressure. You could argue Chad Tracy already was last night when he tried to steal outs with low-leverage bums after pulling Tolle in the fifth. Expect Whitlock and Chapman early, unless Tracy wants to continue saving them until next August, after the lockout ends.

Regardless of whatever kitchen sink is tossed our way, it is paramount that we close this team out tonight. We have much bigger fish to fry, and we need to be as healthy and rested as possible when we face a real challenge in Tampa.

Tonight it will be, and always has been:

Yanks in 2.

Fuck Boston, Cam Schlittler is on the Mound

Well, the day has finally come. The matchup we’ve long been anticipating, yet fully expected for months, has arrived. Tonight, the “Run It Back” Yankees hope to run back their 2025 Wild Card performance by once again eliminating the Boston Red Sox.

While the uniforms remain the same, the teams are both in drastically different places this time around. The Yankees are without their captain, yet have established a new identity centered around a dominant starting pitching staff. Locked into their playoff position, they’ve spent much of the past month working injured veterans back into their starting positions. Meanwhile, the Sox had bottomed out, ditched their longtime skipper, gone on one of the hottest hot streaks I’ve ever seen, and then returned to mediocre play over the final six weeks of the season.

Both sides have undoubtedly felt the extreme effects of the ups and downs that only a 162-game season can deliver. Both have faced their fair share of adversity and relied on major contributions from unsung heroes. And each fanbase should feel fully confident that their team’s A-game will result in the timely demise of their hated rival.

If you want to read more about Boston’s path to victory, maybe consult the nearest Bible or Quran, because there is not a chance in hell the Yankees lose to this rag-tag squad of losers.

As far as I’m concerned, the majority of the conversations focused on lefty/righty matchups, defensive replacements, and bullpen decisions are moot points. If the Yankees want to make any noise whatsoever this postseason, it is fully dependent on our starters shoving it up our opponents’ proverbial asses.

Looking at this Boston lineup, I fully expect all of our guys to go seven-plus, rack up Ks, and surrender one run or less. This, of course, all starts with the American League Cy Young winner: Cam Schlittler.

For those of you who may have forgotten one of the greatest closeout pitching performances in MLB history, what’d you get hit in the head? Cam walked onto the mound as a rookie, in a winner-take-all game, and went eight shutty with a 12-pack of strikeouts, sending his boyhood team packing to their syringe-covered beach of choice.

The city of Boston never fully recovered, as they have since spent the last 12 months writing fan fiction about him being some sort of Robot-Bully-Nazi. Then, the second my guy shoots off a joke reply on Twitter, you get little weirdos like Carrabis pushing narratives that Boston remains in his head.

That’s like Fireman Ed saying he makes Tom Brady nervous, only in Ed’s instance, he actually beat the Patriots once a decade. Schlittler has 39 Ks and a 0.56 ERA against Boston. That’s less than half the GPA of the dumbasses who choose to provoke the guy who has smoked them time and time again.

Payton Tolle seems like a good dude, but there are levels to this shit, and tonight, Schlittler adds yet another “Fuck Boston” performance to his resume.

Offensively, the Yankees lineup remains rough around the edges. It might get a little sweaty if they struggle to score early, given our historical struggles against the back of Boston’s pen—specifically, that actual scumbag, Aroldis Chapman.

Again, it’s not worth outlining who needs to get a big hit when, because we’re going to be platooning a number of positions and pinch-hitting in response to bullpen moves throughout this three-game set. Any reliance on guys who haven’t played in months (i.e., Stanton and Grisham) obviously doesn’t make you feel great, but we just need one or two guys to step up, and that should be all the run support we need to get out of tonight unscathed.

Despite the Judge story continuing to get more bizarre by the hour, he really should not be the concern over the next two days. While I’ve spent more time researching the effects of anti-gravity treadmills than I’d care to admit, we really don’t need to force another borderline-handicapped Kirk Gibson type into this lineup.

I’m confident Judge’s story still needs to be told and that he will be a contributor if this team ever does get over the hump. But that needs to remain a conversation for another day.

Tonight, the focus is Schlittler to Bednar to a 1-0 series lead and a closeout game against Sonny Gray. I know the Bronx will be rocking. I know Schlittler will deal. The only question that remains is which one of the Yankee bats hits that first bomb to kick off the festivities?

The Yankees Can’t Keep Ignoring the Warning Signs

A brutal Subway Series collapse exposed problems the Yankees can no longer ignore

Well, we’re one day removed from suffering an early “worst loss of the season” contender at the hands of the crosstown rival, New York Mets.  If we’re being honest, it seems as though they’ve gotten the better of the Yankees in a majority of these Subway Series matchups.  While we can usually brush off a series loss in the infancy of a season with the predictable, yet lame “This is your World Series” excuse – this one just feels different. 

This is largely due to the fact that the Mets are in the midst of a season from hell.  This is an organization that watched beloved core players walk to greener pastures so they could spend Uncle Creepie’s schmeckles on aging, underperforming, hired bums.  It was only a few weeks back that this team suffered a franchise-tying 12-game losing streak which doesn’t include a separate 3-game sweeping at the hands of the vaunted Colorado Rockies.  Simply put, everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong for a franchise that has had their fair share of miserably embarrassing stretches over the years.

So when Tyrone “3 for his last 32” Taylor steps up to the dish with 2 outs in the bottom of the 9th, there wasn’t a soul in that building that expected him to come through in the clutch.  Not only did Taylor send Bednar’s (inexplicably dumb!) first-pitch curve to Astoria, but he potentially rerouted the entire 2026 Yankees campaign in the process. 

If you get miraculously beaten by a team that was 0 for their last 91 in games they were trailing through 8 innings, what does that make you?  I’m not trying to be dramatic, but Sunday’s loss will leave a stench of “they’re gonna blow this one” on this team for the remainder of the season.

Something needs to be done about the bullpen immediately.  Last season, Bednar earned a ton of goodwill simply because he was a human being not named Devin Williams.  This year, he’s given up earned runs in 9 of his 20 appearances and has flushed all the trust he was wrongfully awarded down his parent’s Pittsburgh Potty.

Doval; the prematurely crowned “set-up man”, has been even worse.  This leaves any and all late inning pitching responsibilities in the hands of Fernando Cruz, Tim Hill, and Brent Headrick.  This trio has performed admirably, but to expect this consistency for another 115 games is equal parts unfair and moronic.

While I fully understand that teams aren’t going to easily part with bullpen arms while they remain within the clusterfuck that is the May Wild Card Race, I think it’s time to start extending godfather offers to some of the bottom feeders.  There is no room for both Jones AND Dominguez in the near or distant future.  This isn’t an easy decision by any means, but if you need to ship one of these kids off for a proven closer, make the move.

I’ll do my part and butcher whatever woodland creatures Matt Blake deems necessary to perform his black magic on this year’s class of 5.00 ERA relievers.  But I need it to happen immediately, not in July.  So, make the calls Cashman and I’ll start drawing the pentagrams.

While you’re on the line, some sort of competition at the catcher position would be nice.  Either give Escarra real reps to see if he can fill the black hole in the lineup, or get someone (ideally a righty) who can play the position.  You truly don’t know how good you have it, until you’re willing to name your first-born “Higashioka” if it meant the “Home Run Stroka” would walk through those doors.  While Volpe has served as the team’s whipping boy for the past couple of years, Wells has been equally disappointing and is equally undeserving of being penciled into his starting role.

Aside from that, we need to get our big guys back on the damn field.  The June Swoon has come a month early and scheduled PTO needs to end.  For the life of me, I don’t understand why we’re having Cole throw 90 pitches a start in “Cinco De Mayo” alternate jerseys when Rodon is up here playing wall ball with the backstop.  The team needs juice and intensity.  Let’s wrap up the purely precautionary Caballero stint, get Stanton on a yoga regiment, and cancel Cole’s next rehab start in Antelope, Oregon.

I swear that I’m not normally the suburban WFAN Caller – but when the narrative surrounding the Yankees is “they only beat bad teams” and then you get absolutely pantsed by a rival bad team, change needs to be made.  We’re looking at a month long stretch of games that starts with the Jays and Rays (obvious divisional significance), followed by a clump of teams right in the thick of AL Wild Card contention.  These games will ultimately decide who and where we’re playing come October.

Learn from years past.  Don’t let early season success and shitty American League records fool you into thinking you’re better than you are.  This weekend’s gut punch was long overdue and its time to make the necessary changes to ensure this season doesn’t end the same as the last 15.