i'm available i would like to take this opportunity to formally announce my intention to step into Steve Swindal's soon-to-be-former role as heir apparent to the Yankees empire. i'm still agape at what an idiot he is. when you stand to take over the Yankees as soon as your crazy father-in-law finishes losing his mind, you don't do ANYTHING to cause your wife to kick you out of the house and file for divorce. but, since he clearly is an idiot and did exactly that, maybe it's just as well that he's out on his bum. i think i am an excellent choice to take his place. why? so glad you asked. for starters, i'm a girl. and there aren't enough girls at the top of that organization. trust me, i've been in that clubhouse - it could use a feminine touch. secondly, i love Derek Jeter. and third, i look great in pinstripes. (see photo.) so, George. think about it. call me. we'll talk.
something's missing last night i was out with my dear friend Sarah (who feels like a superstar when i mention her in this blog, so - there you go, sweetie) and we were chatting away, having a lovely time, but somewhere deep down inside i was aching a little. "Disco Inferno" was playing in the bar and i realized it's one tune i won't be hearing at the Stadium this year. there will be no reason to sing "burn baby burn" because there will be no "Bern" to sing to. and i can't take it anymore - what has happened to Bernie Williams? where is he? where are you, Bernie? he just seemed to vanish into thin air during the off-season, and i think i need some closure. Bernie, if you're reading this (and why wouldn't you be?) come back...come back! (that's my impression of Kate Winslet in Titanic.) even if it's just to say goodbye, Bernie - we need to see you again. we can't end things this way. we just can't.
i'm sorry, i thought you said Carl Pavano was starting... you know it's going to be one of those seasons when your number one pitcher in the rotation hurts himself in spring training and his slot is filled by an infamous character who hasn't pitched a "real" game in 21 months because he hurt his buttocks. yes, that's how the Yankees will start their season on Monday afternoon, with freaking Carl Pavano on the mound. in all fairness, he's pitched well this month and i'm not overly fearful about him starting. (mostly because we're playing Tampa Bay.) and who knows - maybe all that blathering i did the other day about things happening for a reason is actually true. maybe Pavano will knock our socks off on Monday and fully redeem himself and we can all go back to picking on A-Rod.
steeeeee-rikkkkke! i got so excited when i read that a woman was umpiring an exhibition MLB game yesterday. (i know it happened before, but that was way back when i was 12 and not really into baseball. it was my dark period.) i think it's pretty ridiculous that no female umpire has ever worked a regular-season game in the majors, but it seems like Ria Cortesio may get her chance next year, and that just gives me great hopes for my own life. because, you see, if for some reason Steinbrenner doesn't call me for the owner gig, i could study to be an umpire - my dad used to be one and i'm sure he could teach me all his tricks... how different can Little League be from the majors? - and nudge my way into baseball that way. of course, if i was behind the plate when the Yankees were playing, i'm sure i wouldn't last long. i don't think i could resist the temptation to pat Jeter's butt. (what? like you wouldn't?)
on that note, cue New York, New York, grab a hot dog and start slurping the $8 beers. we have a glorious 162 games to look forward to, and life could not be sweeter. PLAY BALL!