Stick a Fork in the 2007 Yankees

“Kick in the idiot box and wait for the news in the history books/ It’s like junkies who hate their heroin.” — d. boon, lead singer of the Minutemen, “Shit You Hear at Parties”

I give up. I’m done. To hell with the 2007 Yankees, and while I’m at it, to hell with the managerial reign of Joe Torre. I’m not spending one more iota of energy fretting this sorry-assed team’s demise after Tuesday night’s debacle in Baltimore. Stick a fork in ‘em, they’re cooked.

I don’t like to lose perspective about one game — I’m usually the one counseling friends and readers to crawl off the ledge — but this one was emblematic. If Torre couldn’t be bothered to use a rested Mariano Rivera in the face of a sudden-death bottom of the ninth to thwart a potential three-game losing streak and 1-6 slide, then this team, this season, maybe even this regime is beyond redemption. Torre inexplicably chose to pitch Scott Proctor in that situation, and despite a terrific play to snare a pop-up bunt, Proctor walked two men, including Ramon Hernandez to force the winning run home with the bases loaded. That came moments after a wild pitch/near-HBP which should have done the job one way or the other.

Not calling Rivera’s number was an indefensible decision, even moreso because Torre’s made the same mistake before. Absent a note from the doctor or a visibly detached limb, there’s no reason Rivera shouldn’t have been in the game — he hadn’t pitched since Friday, so Torre’s explanation about the length of Mo’s previous outing doesn’t wash. The man’s thrown 1.2 innings, 20 pitches, in the past nine days! If the team is disguising a Rivera injury, what’s the point? The Yankees might as well put their heads between their legs and kiss their asses goodbye, because they’ll go nowhere with Proctor and/or Kyle Farnsworth closing things out.

Eleven games behind the Red Sox in the AL East, eight back in the Wild Card with six teams ahead of them, the Yanks can ill afford to fritter more games away. But they seemed content to do exactly that Tuesday night, so I’m officially now Beyond Caring. No more objects thrown at the TV, no more Tivoing their games so I can cling to a shred of hope. This season is done for the Yankees. Throw them on the pile of expensive toys that broke all too quickly. Go spend some time with your loved ones rather than tuning in for the daily rust and rot. You’ve got better things to do than to cheer on this trainwreck.

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