Trying to Resist the Clemens Kool-Aid

So Roger Clemens is a New York Yankee once again and this time around, I don’t know how to handle it. While the signing comes with a world of upside — we’re not cost any minor league talent and we can be no worse off than when Kei Igawa was on the mound — there are three negatives that I find quite troublesome:

1. The realization that we are in such dire straits that we are willing to pay $7,500 per pitch to a geriatric egomaniac that’s still frosting his tips like Lance Bass circa 2001.

2. Roger Clemens is a sodding ass. I’ve already devoted my "I hate your dickish personality but that’s okay" good will to Alex Rodriguez. Shouldn’t that be enough?
3. Accidental ingestion of Clemens Kool-Aid.

When the Yankees were sliding through April on the wrong side of the win column, there was this optimism that Alex Rodriguez’s brilliance and solid hitting from the rest of the squad would helps us survive until Moose and Wang came off the DL. Everyone admitted that we’d spend some money on relievers near the trade deadline to assure a playoff run but this was something we could handle. We didn’t need a Hessian soldier coming in to make things right.

But at week 6 of the season, it’s getting late fast. Not only are the Yankees taking a back seat to the Mets in the press but we’re also 6 games back with a 15-16 record. Something had to be done. Someone had to stop the bleeding, both in the press and on the field. Someone had to finally admit, "No, we can’t do it on our own. It’s time to whore ourselves yet again." 

And while I love the signing because, like I said before, this is all upside, signing Clemens is like admitting defeat. And it’s upsetting to me that the smug bastard and his little K-family is getting the satisfaction of preying on our pathetic desperation. That notwithstanding, I will work hard to make sure Rocket receives my full backing. Because, like A-Rod, even though he’s a bleeding rotter, well, he’s ours.

Now, when I was little, doctors advised my mother put me on ritalin because I was overwhelmingly hyperactive. She disagreed, opting instead to keep me outside as much as possible and, when I was indoors, far far away from sugar. That meant Kool-Aid was out for me. But whenever I saw it – especially the cherry flavor, whose sweet elixir tasted like liquefied cherry Jolly Ranchers – I had this unbelievable urge to put my entire face in the pitcher and drown in it. That is exactly how this Roger Clemens signing feels to me. It’s like I’m at the kitchen table again having milk while the other kids get Sunny Delight and then the Kool-Aid man bursts through the wall promising me and only me eternal, delicious happiness.

I want to climb on and dive in. I want to drown myself in the possibilities. But I have to keep reminding myself that Roger Clemens – while a great boon to our prospects – is not some fix-all. Signing him doesn’t assure us a World Series or even a trip to the playoffs. The truth is, I don’t think we’d be in such dire straights if someone could put a freeze on Joe Torre’s push-button style of bullpen management. He’s like a cracked out Dusty Baker down there (Or is Baker a cracked out Torre?) and no one seems to notice. It’s been quietly ruining us since he began overextending Rivera (2003 aside) in 2001 and there are no signs that it will ever end.

This is heresy but after this season, it’s time for Torre to be put out to pasture. Please spare me the World Series rings and Hall of Famer arguments unless you can explain his brain function (or lack thereof) in the dugout these days. It’s like he’s sitting down there thinking of the best way to water his lawn instead of actually focusing on important matters like, oh, I don’t know, not destroying the only relievers that have a lick of skill.

I know that the starting pitching has been shite in recent years and that has forced Torre to burn up some arms. But when you have an 8-1 lead like the Yankees did last night and you plant Scott Proctor on the mound for 26 pitches instead of using instead of using Colter Bean or Luis Vizcaino to hold down the fort, there is a problem. "Hey, Scott, aren’t you one of the few relievers that we have that is worth a damn?" "Yeah." "Have the ball, son. Wear yourself out."

High leverage pitchers in low leverage situations. It’s Joe Torre’s anthem. Where is the sense in that? It’s one thing to use up your pen when the starter leaves in the 4th or 5th inning but it’s quite another when the other team has already packed up and gone home and you’re still gassing out the best options in your relief rotation. This happens enough to make me wonder if Torre’s even trying anymore. Maybe this is a case where he needs to retire but just can’t let go or maybe karma is out to get us for four championships in five years. Either way, I’ve had enough.

*I don’t know what any of my last paragraphs had to do with my initial concerns. My apologies.

HT: Coz – stimulating conversation