F*&! Joe Torre

Since Joe Torre breaks our hearts, this blog will break his balls. Every day of the season I will detail the errors, misjudgements, and omissions that make him the most overrated manger in the history of the game (even more than Tommy Lasorda!). But Joe Torre is not just one bum in hero's clothing (i.e. the pinstripes); he is the quintessential counterfeit of excellence, a figure who embodies the triumph of the ersatz that pervades every aspect of our culture. No organization in sport, nay in civilization generally, has manifested a committment to continuing greatness like the New York Yankees, a beacon to all, in every field of endeavor, that the best is always possible. How intolerable is it then that the Yankees should be managed by a mediocrity on stilts, a figure with a reputation for greatness without any of the attributes thereof. Beginning with Torre and ending with Torre, this blog will look to smash idols we create out of inadvertence, ignorance, and complacency.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

They Just Don't Get It

As an addition to last night's post, I would say that while there is no point ranting about a loss like that, the comments in the Yankees lockerroom afterwards indicate that they are delusional in their estimate of where they are as a ballclub right now. Johnny Damon, who has frankly been pretty disappointing all year, nonchalantly assures everyone "we'll be there in the end and we'll be solid." Solid is some thing the Yankees haven't been since the last night in the desert when Mo threw the ball away at second base. They still seem to believe that playing for this franchise makes them that dynasty team. The Detroit Tigers are closer at the moment. Torre, who is almost as out of touch with reality as his addle pated Boss, appreciates how they keep battling, keep taking their swings even when the game looks out of reach. 'We just have to keep the game closer early on' he proclaims, seemingly unaware Pretty Boy Fraud and his ilk only get decent swings when the game is out of reach. How lifetime baseball men can fail to recognize such a collective inability to hit with men on base or in scoring position in close games is beyond me. Once again, I think we are looking at a subtle perversion of the Yankee code. It used to be, "My God, I'm a Yankee now, I better start playing like one." These days its, "Playing like a Yankee will come as a matter of course, since I am one."

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