Pinstripes in Peril

The Yankees didn’t just lose the past two days — they embarrassed themselves. The Blue Jays ran roughshod over this so-called contender, turning every inning into a clinic on how not to play baseball. The pitching was lifeless, the bullpen porous, and the defense leaked runs like a busted faucet. Watching it was like staring at a slow-motion car wreck — you couldn’t look away, but you desperately wanted to.

Strikeouts piled up like unpaid debts, every at-bat more pitiful than the last. These weren’t professional swings; they were desperate flails at pitches that could’ve hit a barn door and still missed the handle. And the fielding? Let’s just say that if leather could cry, every glove in the Bronx would be in tears tonight.

Once upon a time, players wore these pinstripes with pride — with accountability. Men like CC Sabathia, who just celebrated ten years of sobriety, wouldn’t have tolerated this level of apathy even when he was on the drink. This isn’t the Yankee way. It’s a disgrace. The Boss would’ve torched half the roster by now — and frankly, after this weekend, no one could blame him.

The Boss Speaks from the Beyond

I was never an easy man to work for, and I never wanted to be. Excellence doesn’t come easy. You don’t build the greatest franchise in sports by lowering your standards or accepting mediocrity. I demanded the best because I believed the New York Yankees should always stand for greatness.

Yes, I ruffled feathers. Yes, I made headlines. But every move, every decision, every firestorm — it was all because I cared. I cared about the players, I cared about the fans, and above all, I cared about winning.

Looking at the Yankees this year, I feel nothing but pride. They have shown resilience, grit, and determination. They may not be the flashiest team I ever assembled, but they remind me of what Yankees baseball is supposed to be: tough, relentless, and unafraid of a fight. I always admired stars, but I respected grinders just as much. And this group? They grind.

When I see them wear those pinstripes, I see tradition carried forward. I see the standard I lived my life enforcing, alive and thriving. That makes me proud — prouder than words can capture.

My greatest gift was never my business acumen or my stubbornness. It was that I cared enough to demand more, to expect greatness, and to deliver championships to New York. And watching these Yankees today, I know my spirit still lives on in every inning, every win, every cheer from the Bronx faithful.

Because deep down, that’s all I ever wanted — for the Yankees to be Yankees.

From Above
-Steiner

When our world fails us, we remember George Steinbrenner

For a moment, know hope.

George and Dave

We Celebrate a Legend

In just over two weeks time, we'll move through the throes of extreme sadness and bitterness, defeat, and sometimes boredom.  We'll weep over red roses, of which we'll dry out in the high noon sunshine, and burn by candle-flame in the moonlight.  Our tears will douse the flames.  We'll lay fetal, small crushed stone and dirt, hard packed clay, straw-grass acting as our pillow.  The moonbeams providing a blanket, illuminating dried tear furrows on sullen faces.  We become the dark.

But then a new day.  A day of exuberant joy, a cataclysm of elation as we take flight.  We know George is there.  Sitting with Billy.  His fat-jolly face taunting; his tone of a blow-hard, condescending but loving.  "Yes, George.  You're right, George".  George you fat-jolly winner.  You fat-jolly winner.  You win, George.  Kiss Billy for me, George.  

Has anything ever been the same again?  

We will Celebrate a Legend on July 13, 2021.  We love you, George