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Saturday, December 7, 2013

$leeping in $eattle


In his version of "show me the money" Robinson Cano and his suitcase laden with gold head 2800 hundred miles west.

This is a new universe for the Yankees. When was the last time they let their best player leave for greener pasture$? The closest call was the near fiasco of allowing Bernie Williams (then at the peak of his considerable skills) to roam center field for the hated Red Sox.

The specter of  the A-Rod fiasco and the luxury tax were not the only determinants here.


For all his wondrous talents, Robby never seemed the perfect fit in NY. He had his best buddy, Melky, cast aside in part because the C and C boys were apparently too distracted playing together off the field to play their best on it. He made the game appear too easy too often as if the lack of dirt and grass stains on his uniform was an indication that he just didn't care enough. He was never fully appreciated by either team or fans.

And thus the sense of loss is muted. Yankee history was waiting along with $175 million but it could not equal the extra money that the Mariners  served up to Cano like an All-Star game home run derby offering from his father.


For the evil empire, being fiscally prudent is a new part of their lexicon, and if this means exchanging their super-nova for some slightly less glowing stars, then this is the price they (did not) have to pay.


It is a strange sensation for those of us who have lived a lifetime of watching the best players on other teams suddenly call themselves Yankees. From the days of treating Kansas City as a farm team and looting them of the likes of Maris, to the era of free agency and the signing of Catfish and Reggie all the way to A-Rod, the Bronx Bombers were also fitting some other team's best in their finest pinstripes.

Will this mark the beginning of the end? Is the team with the interlocking NY no longer too big to fail? If money can't buy us love, or at least championships, then what is left?

1 comment:

Bruce said...

Who cares? It's an old lament. Athletes getting paid profligate amounts of money to entertain us while Rome burns (actually while our economy turns America into a 2nd rate nation)