Lurch, Piazza, and Berkow

Whenever "Lurch," the gigantic but loveable butler on the "Addams Family," felt motivated to offer a negative opinion in response to the happenings in Gomez' and Morticia's mansion, he groaned pathetically in his uniquely baritone voice, "Uhhhhhhhhhh." That's exactly how I'm tempted to answer when asked to assess the performance of the Yankees over the first 45 games of the season.

At this writing, the Yankees are 20-25--and boy, have they earned every bit of that dismally disappointing record. While the injuries to Alex Rodriguez and Jorge Posada haven't helped, they only begin to scratch the surface in accounting for the Yankees' abysmal effort over the first quarter of the season. Even when A-Rod and Posada have played, the Yankees have struggled to score runs. Other than Hideki Matsui and Bobby Abreu, Yankee batters don't work the count and draw walks like they once did. When they do put runners on base, they don't deliver clutch hits. Defensively, the Yankees always seem to be a step short, whether it's Derek Jeter's lack of range and his scattershot arm, Jason's Giambi's imitation of Dick Stuart at first base, Johnny Damon's ragtag Venus de Milo arm, or Abreu's bizarre fear of outfield walls. (Doesn't he know that most of the walls are padded these days?) Then there's the starting pitching, which has been mostly brutal on days when Chien-Ming Wang and Darrell Rasner haven't pitched, and has been lowlighted by the dismal efforts of heralded right-handers Phil Hughes and Ian Kennedy.

In addition to the tangible deficencies, the Yankees have displayed little in terms of attitude and atmosphere. They play most nights without energy, enthusiasm, or urgency, another symptom of a team that is too old in too many positions. Unfortunately, management has done little to address the situation. Jor Girardi seems to have a mortal fear of putting on the hit-and-run or the stolen base, while GM Brian Cashman has mostly sat on his hands since re-signing A-Rod, Posada, and Mariano Rivera.

When it comes to blame in the Bronx, fingers can accurately be pointed in many different directions...

At times, Mike Piazza could be one of the most arrogant and aloof of athletes, especially when it came to dealing with (or simply avoiding) basic questions from the media. He also lost some respect in a few circles when he essentially went through the motions in trying to learn first base late in his career with the Mets. But none of that should detract from this simple fact: Mike Piazza was the greatest hitting catcher the sport has ever seen. (Johnny Bench is the best I've ever seen on the defensive side of the ball, but Bench didn't hit with the kind of consistency or plate discipline that Piazza had in his prime.) Piazza is such a leadpipe cinch to be elected to the Hall of Fame after his five-year waiting period elapses that it's almost pointless to engage in a debate about his merits for Cooperstown; he's as worthy as Bench, Berra, Josh Gibson and the other catching icons of the last 70 years. Perhaps as much as anything, I'll remember Piazza for that classic follow-through on his maximum effort swing, an approach that gave him remarkable power to both center and right field. They'll be showing highlights of that trademark swing for years to come in the Hall of Fame's Grandstand Theater... 

On a completely different note, the Hall of Fame has settled on a keynote speaker for its upcoming annual symposium on baseball and American culture. The choice is longtime New York Times columnist Ira Berkow. While I'm no fan of the Times, Berkow is an excellent selection. He is a Pulitzer Prize winner and author of more than ten books, including a tome on legendary sportswriter Red Smith.