We Lose Again

When I was 17 years old, the Yankees won the 1996 World Series. The sports world was entirely taken in by that team, not just because it had rising stars like Derek Jeter and Bernie Williams, and great second chance stories like Darryl Strawberry and Cecil Fielder, but because the storied Yankees, who within living memory had absolutely dominated Major League Baseball, had not won a World Series since 1978 - 17 long seasons. What was remarkable was that a whole generation had grown up knowing the Yankees - the New York Yankees - as losers. Love them or hate them, something was off about this. It was unnatural. So when the Yankees won in '96, it was like the universe righting itself. 

Almost 20 years later, we're there again. The Yankees have not won a World Series since 2009, when Barrack Obama was early in his first term and Donald Trump was hosting The Apprentice. 16 seasons later, a whole generation knows the Yankees as a solid team that loses early in the playoffs and employs Aaron Judge. For this generation, there is no Yankee mystique. No Evil Empire. Just high-priced mediocrity. 

Although the Yankee players talk the same old story of "lost seasons" if they don't win the World Series, no one on the team has experienced anything other than defeat in pinstripes. They say the words because they know someone out there expects it (probably someone who was in middle age when George Steinbrenner was alive) but they also know the expectations are not what they once were. Surely their skipper, Aaron "Wild Card Berth" Boone, must be grateful for the change. 

For 16 seasons, the Yankees have essentially fielded the same team. They hit a lot of home runs in the regular season, but against post-season caliber pitching they can't manufacture runs. If the home runs don't come in the post-season - and enough never do - they go home losers. 

It's time for a change. Maybe that means Boone and Cashman should be dismissed, but that alone would not solve the problem. The Yankees need to build their teams for the small moments in October, even if that means a narrower margin during the regular season. Until that happens, expect many more years of disappointment. 

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