Yankees’ closer, David Robertson, is known colloquially as “Houdini.” I call him “The Reason I’ve Been on a Bender This Week.” I enjoyed a beer as I watched the first eight innings of their recent game in Texas. But in the ninth, I drank three. Then Mr. Scotch showed up.
“Woke up in my clothes again this morning. Don’t know exactly where I am.” ~ Sting
During trade deadline day, I sat on the edge of my seat, madly refreshing news pages, twitter accounts, and pouring over rumors and possibilities. I wanted David Price, if only just so he’d have to shave his beard when he said he didn’t want to. Freaking punk that he is.
No, but seriously, like many Yankees’ fans, I waited with bated breath for Cashman to add a piece or two. Then, the blockbusters started happening. Yoenis Cespedes was available? Are you kidding me? And now we gotta deal with him in our division all the time?
What’s that Mr. Scotch? No, not yet, it’s early. I still haven’t forgiven you for the other night. Never you mind that I’m hanging with Mr. Beer. He doesn’t cause me to lose my pants, at least. Recently, anyway.
So here’s the thing on trade deadline day, fake Twitter accounts completely take over everything. At one point the Yankees had acquired David Price, Marlon Byrd, and LeBron James.
Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, anybody reporting Byrd coming to the Bronx has GOT to be kidding! It was a red flag for me too.
It doesn’t help that I’m friends with not only the writers on this site, but the writers on many other sites. Everybody is looking to scoop everybody else.
Add to that, the fake Twitter accounts reporting whatever they thought was funny and you had absolute mayhem on the social media feeds. Don’t laugh, that ESPN guy fell for fake news.
“Price is a Yankee!” “Oh wait, no he’s not, my bad.” “Marlon Byrd is a.. Never mind.” “MLB has lifted the suspension on A-Rod!” “Bernie Williams is coming out of retirement!” “Cashman assassinated by Bald Vinny!” “Can King James play baseball?”
*Glug glug glug glug glug*
My point is, it’s been a ridiculous few days as a Yankee fan. And now the boys are in Boston. Naturally. I mean, I’ve pretty much pulled my hair out all week so let’s just go ahead and amp up that anxiety with some hot blinding hatred to boot.
Oh, and there’s two-time consecutive Home Run Derby Winner Yoenis Cespedes chomping at the bit to get at our pitching. You know, the same pitching that didn’t end up getting an upgrade because David Price somehow ended up in Detroit. Argh. Cashman made two trades. At least I have a soft spot for Martin Prado.
So me and Mr. Scotch are getting to know each other these days. I’d written previously about how there are Life Stages of Going to the Game, and that my drinking stage was long over. Guess we need to add a caveat to that, starting with D-Rob, including trade deadline day, and figuring in a trip to Fenway.
But things aren’t really that bad. Derek Jeter smacked a homer over the Green Monster, after all. And it sure could be a lot worse. Over in Queens, reports are surfacing that Mets fans are getting rashes after sleeping over in Citi Field. Personally, I’ve gotten a rash every time I’ve gone there too, but when it happens to somebody else, it’s news. Figures.
Leave it to the “Amazins” to put things back in perspective, though. At least I’m on board with the right New York team. And Mr. Scotch is making me feel better, too.