Fans were supposed to receive Mariano Bobbleheads, but the team didn't have them, so folks were handed slips of paper and told to return later, creating long lines during the game, and - frankly - why would the Yankees care about dumb fans who should know better than to attend a game when the team and front office aren't even planning to show up?
The Steinbrenner-Swindell-Lopez trust fund party boaters have now steered the Yankee barge for six years. They financed one championship on the backs of a brand new stadium and a tide of political gifts worthy of a Middle East dictatorship. Ever since, they've tenaciously clutched pennies while tossing dimes into the abyss. We jettisoned AJ Burnett to make way for the great Michael Pineda. We ditched Nick Swisher because Ichiro Suzuki was in the house. We so seamlessly switched from Andrew Jones to Vernon Wells that I barely remember the move. And after each move, we congratulated ourselves for being smarter than everyone else. Now, our listing, $229 million pontoon will miss the playoffs - second time in six years - and 2014 looks like yet another nausea of free agents past their sell date, which is exactly how we got into this mess.
Instead of young players, we'll receive slips of paper promising something in the future, maybe 2015. The players change, but the bobbleheads remain.
Last night, now and then, I tuned into the game. I had to laugh. Down by three in the first. Then down by five. Then we waste the bases loaded. Finally down by seven and nobody in the stadium. Yes, I'll say it: I loved it; I wanted us to be shutout, to be booed and humiliated, and I reveled in the dark blue of every empty seat.
The record shows that when the chips were down, we lost 7 of 10.
We had our shot, and we lost 7 of 10.
Mark my words: One of these days, the bobbleheads will be there, but nobody will wait in line to receive them.
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