The Yankees Are Like The Killer In A Horror Film… And I Mean That As A Compliment

I’ve been waiting patiently for the Yankees to get old and fade to irrelevancy, but they’ve been like Jason or Freddy or some other disfigured maniac from a horror movie franchise.  It doesn’t matter if he’s been shot point blank in the chest or bludgeoned with a sledgehammer or run over by a Hummer or buried under half a ton of peat moss… Just when you take a deep breath and start to relax, there’s a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning which silhouettes a disfigured figure in the doorway, back to wreak more mayhem.

I give Brian Cashman & Joe Girardi a lot of respect for what they’ve done… They’ve had injury upon injury, and they go get guys like Alfonso Soriano and I say “HIM?  Hah!  Good luck with that!” and then a few days later I’m saying “Soriano did what?!?  Arrrrrrggggggghhhh!!!”

So with that in mind, when I found out that the Yankees were mathmatically eliminated this morning, I gave ’em a little “Na na, hey hey, Goodbye”.

So as a show of respect towards the Evil Empire, I’ll share some recently-obtained vintage Yankees and the vague hope that next year, with the “Core Four” reduced to the “Core 0.667”, the Yankees will just stay dead.

… Even if just for a little while.

1969 Topps Fritz Peterson

1969 Topps Joe Verbanic

1972 Topps Ron Blomberg

Pssst… Ron… Take to doughnut off the bat before you use it…