The Sound of the Suburbs

Well it's only a couple of days since May Day but if George Steinbrenner was kicking (yes, he's still alive), he'd be redder than Leon Trotsky with an icepick in his ear.

The fabled New York Yankees are a game under .500, five and a half out of first and, most viscerally, 0-5 v. the hated Bosox after back-to-back drubbings this week against the team that reversed The Curse years ago and ever since has Yankee faithful wondering if the A-Rod signing was the historical corollary of the Babe Ruth trade.

It's all summed up by the fact that Manager Joe Girardi was booed the other night when he pulled Joba The Hut for Jose Veras as rain fell on the field like manna from Hell. If King George was still with us and Billy Martin was making that pitching change, he'd be looking over his shoulder towards the unemployment line.

Because this would be unacceptable.

The fattest payroll in sports, empty box seats and the last vestiges of the great Yankee core -- Jeter, Posada, Rivera -- aging quicker than Rajon Rondo on a breakaway, George would be out of his mind. Right about now Brian Cashman's ass would be so hot he couldn't sit down and Don Mattingly would be getting text messages summoning him to an urgent meeting in The Bronx.

Mark Teixeira's slow start would make him target one, followed by CC Sabathia and A-Rod. I doubt Billy Martin would be defending a tell-all book about Reggie Jackson; he'd be all about saving his own skin. Which is a backhanded compliment to Girardi, a stand-up guy and a player's manager, as the saying goes, but George would have none of that.

He'd be looking around to blow somebody up -- and I mean that old school -- because someone must be held accountable.

Sure, it's only 27 games in and the Yankees are potent, but their bullpen sucks, their defense is worse, they have zero team speed and dropping five in a row to Boston is as bad as it gets.

I was a Yankee fan since childhood but, and call me a Redcoat (sic) but I haven't been able to root for this team since Paul O'Neill retired. They just lack a certain ... spirit. Love Nick Swisher and what he brings to the team (not to mention the bullpen, yuck, yuck), but they have become a faceless corporate entity since O'Neill, Brosius and Bernie, among others, have departed.

Derek Jeter is still the purest competitor in sports, but it isn't his team anymore. The offseason signings were so over the top, particularly in the shadow of Wall Street's Nervous Breakdown, that you HAVE to root against them.

On paper they run away with the division and win about 120 games, but there's always that pesky matter of having to play the games. And the reigning AL champion Rays are for damn real, while Boston has reloaded on the fly and are as potent -- and young -- as any contender.

Somewhere in FLA, King George may just wake up in the dead of night and fight back the clock with a WTF that will be heard across Yankee Nation. As when he summoned Billy and Gabe Paul to his private office to insist, no DEMAND, Reggie bat cleanup -- with title results on deck -- The Bronx Would Be Burning (aside: if you missed the tremendous ESPN miniseries produced by the incomparable trio of Brian Robbins, Mike Tollin and Crazy Joe Davola, get thee to the Best Buy DVD section).

Despite his raging vicissitudes of emotion and bad behavior (the elevator incident during the Dodgers' World Series remains a classic in Owner Meltdowns) I think I speak for all Yankee fans when I say I miss The Man.

Hank, Hal, whoever's in charge: DO something, just to keep the barbarians at the gate. Yes, Teixeira will come around, A-Rod will return and hit solo homers against Baltimore when the game's not on the line, but unless they move Joba to the set-up role (remember the Dave Righetti principle) and find a way to play little ball once in a while, they are going down.

Where's Bob Lemon when you need him ... ?