Given that Hank Steinbrenner is already bughouse and would do nearly anything to be noticed by anybody, he would seem like the perfect choice for a Frank Thomas-Barry Bonds two-fer. If nothing else, it would get him off his new kick, which is micromanaging Joba Chamberlain's career.
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| Hang in there, Joba, help is on the way. (Getty Images) |
Well, yes he will, if he insists on the $10 million kicker.
But there is at least one place where that wouldn't be such a big deal, and if you throw that in as part of a Thomas-Bonds combination plate, you have enough of a distraction to at least momentarily gag His Gasbaginess.
And why isn't that something to be much desired?
Hank already established himself as his father's son in all the worst ways, apparently feeling the weight of the crown more on his tongue than his head. Which is fine enough, we suppose; the New York papers need to be given silliness so as not to invent it on their own (as in the Alex Rodriguez doesn't shake Bobby Abreu's hand after a home run scandal of last week).
But when he started fulminating about Chamberlain, about how he must be put into the rotation immediately and how he should have been put in last year and that this would never have happened if he'd been king, and blah-de-blah-de-blah, it occurred to sensible people everywhere -- this man needs a distraction.
A mere hobby wouldn't do it. Not building three-mast model ships in a soda can, not quilting a mansion cozy, not running a Meals On Wheels operation in Nunavut. None of that would work.
He needs something else Yankee-related to keep his febrile mind in action, and that would be Thomas, in conjunction with Bonds. Eighty-four years of life, almost 1,400 homers, two Potential Hall of Fame plaques, and enough clubhouse merriment to make Derek Jeter demand a trade to Washington.
Every day would be Mardi Gras, or at least Mardi Gras in Hell. Every day would be a new crisis. Every day would offer Joe Girardi a new and exciting way to pull off his own head. It would be the story of the year, easy. Eli Manning would have to play naked in the season opener to see the back page. It would be the perfect Steinbrennerian storm.
So much so that he would forget that he had Joba Chamberlain at all. Which, frankly, would be the up-side to this idea.
Now we don't expect this to happen, if only because there would surely be someone on site at Steinbrenner's Tampa manse with a bicycle pump full of animal tranquilizers and a hypnotist on site for just an occasion. Plus, there is no way of knowing whether Thomas is actually done, or just too expensive for J.P. Ricciardi's tastes. There is also no way of knowing whether Bonds is too long out of the game or just offends Steinbrenner's odd sensibilities.
But what is clear is that Steinbrenner needs shiny things swung in front of his face to keep him off task at times like this, and the idea of Bonds and Thomas is just splashy/goofy/dangerous enough to get him out of the pitching meetings.
