Tuesday, April 30, 2013


A double dose of irony, even if it proves fleeting, is too delicious not to savor, even if it may lose its flavor on the bedpost overnight.

And so we trot out our dear friend and occasional (very occasional...) boon companion--more on that later--Mr. Vernon Wells, who has...temporarily at least...gone from being the scourge of Anaheim to the toast of New York. (Different kind of toast, kiddies, the one with the bubbles as opposed to the one festooned with tell-tale traces of carbon.)

The double irony? Vernon, who brought his enormous salary to Anaheim and promptly turned into a pumpkin, was sent East prior to the start of the 2013 season when the Yankees suddenly discovered that virtually their entire roster was turning into the same substance that Lot's Wife became when she ignored the admonitions of Ye Olde Lord (and Bob Dylan, for that matter).

Into the scorched valley of death Wells loped, with the Yankees--normally the team with the groaning ledger sheet--making sure that Arte Moreno's boys would be picking up two-thirds of Vernon's egregious overpay.

So now, as April 2013 rides off into the sunset, Wells has had a fine month for the Bronx Bombers, with six homers and a .900+ OPS. The Yankees--at least for now--have a bargain on their hands.

Of course, it may not last...so many things are ephemeral these days. The last time Vernon had a .900+ OPS over the course of a month was in September 2010, when he was still with the Blue Jays.

We'd like to think that our brief encounter with Wells, last September in Oakland, when he happened to be loitering near the team bus after a game in which he'd hit what proved to be his second-to-last HR as a member of the Angels, was a galvanizing moment. Vernon was happy, of course; when we suggested that things might be looking up, he offered a couple of brief dance steps, spun around on his heels, and pointed his finger accusingly.

"Don't you be jinxing me, hear?" he said. He was smiling, but the glint in his eyes was intense enough that we quickly agreed not to do so.

Until, possibly, right now.