I woke up cranky this morning. The morning commute, the 9-5, the evening commute home--slow, stifled and smelly--all sucked. I got over my mood and felt better by the afternoon, but all the externals were just lousy all day. Take the Yankees, for instance. Not only have they played like Chickenfried Ass for the last week but tonight we get word that Phil Hughes is seriously hurt. Four-to-eight-weeks-gone-won't-see-ya-'til-maybe-July hurt. Who knows, maybe he heals quickly and is back in mid-June.
Just perfect. What else can go wrong?
I know we Yankee fans aren't exactly known for our patience, but I think there has been a certain tolerance in the Bronx so far this year. Part of it is because the team has been on the road so much. Another part is that fans like young talent and are willing to give kids a break. But Hughes got the royal treatment after his last start--nice taste to leave in the kid's mouth for a couple of months, huh? Nobody else--other than poor LaTroy Hawkins--has really heard it from the crowd yet this year. Robbie Cano, who is talking himself out of at bats before he steps into the box these days, has not gotten a real beat down yet.
It's really cold in New York for May. What's with that, Snoop? It isn't supposed to be chilly like this in May, man. The fans are cold, sitting on their hands, with nothing to cheer about. Many are getting drunker by the pitch. If the Yanks continue to get waxed the crowds' patience will run out. It's cold out there. Time for the Yankees to warm up.