Tag Archives: 2024

Onward and Upward

At the end of December I often write some words on what the past year has meant, or what I might be aspiring to in the coming year. But over the weekend, when asked about 2025 goals on a stroll down icy trails in Banning State Park, I struggled to articulate much other than to say I should keep doing what I have been doing. That, I suppose, is a good sign.

Two pieces I have written the past year on here explain my equanimity. The first was the 2023 year-end reflection on harbour minds. I continued that push outward even further this year, became a literal pilgrim and knocked out another continent, enjoyed living this way and the questions it posed. Over the past several years regular journeying has become a part of who I am, and that will continue into the foreseeable future. I am in many ways living as I mean to live, and generally making progress in the spaces where I am not. The 2023 post includes a lament about my lack of writing time, and while I was not dramatically better in 2024, I did carve out an escape to kick off a project. The second notable piece, on my San Diego retreat in November, both announced some writing ambitions and reflected a certain comfort with self that made that project possible. If I were to choose a Joan Didion essay that describes this shift (because of course I would), it would be “On Self-Respect.” To whit: “To have that sense of one’s intrinsic worth which constitutes self-respect is potentially to have everything: the ability to discriminate, to love and to remain indifferent.” People who have it “are willing to invest something of themselves; they may not play at all, but when they do play, they know the odds.”

I will have some things to post in the coming weeks. I’ve been noodling on one little piece for a bit now. I also feel some responsibility to comment on the state of Duluth East hockey at some point in the next month, though I am afraid that this year that task feels more like an obligatory tending of a flame until it can burn brighter again in the future. Other bursts of inspiration may come, as they sporadically do. But more than anything I want to focus on the project I set for myself in San Diego. The holiday season has predictably been a hard time to do any of that, and I need to be more intentional about slipping it in between hockey games and such. It is time to write a bit but mostly a time to edit, and then to look for brutal, honest feedback and likely deal with rejection, because that is how this game goes. But I am at a point where I can handle that now.

And so I hope I can get to work. Thanks for being a part of the journey.

An Empire in Autumn

To be a Yankees fan since 2009 is probably something akin to being a Spaniard after the demise of the Armada or a Brit after World War II. The empire is still powerful, still has vast holdings and wealth, but the decline phase has clearly begun, old fiefdoms slipping away and a general sense of decadence in the air. For 15 years, the Yankees put together consistent playoff contenders but always fell a bit short, first as a vaunted core faded into retirement and then as a new generation repeatedly collided with skilled and occasionally cheating Astros teams. We waited and waited for a breakthrough.

In 2024, they finally found their way back to the Fall Classic, a triumph after a nervy but steady march through series against inferior opponents in Kansas City and Cleveland. Luke Weaver emerged as a hero to shore up a shaky bullpen, Gleyber Torres rehabilitated himself, Giancarlo Stanton put on his playoff cape, and Juan Soto showed he is worth every penny he will get this offseason. They did not overpower a thin AL, but they took care of business and found some of those dramatic moments that hearkened back to past Yankee greatness. This was only the third or fourth best Yankee team over the past eight years, but caught enough lightning to suggest they could cover up the flaws.

It was a new experience, then, to see them line up in the World Series against an opponent that had all the resources they did but used them much more intelligently. The Los Angeles Dodgers were so deep they could have a full pitching staff on the shelf for the postseason and still be better than everyone else. After the Yankees inexcusably blew a Game One they needed, the Dodgers buried their erstwhile crosstown rivals. The Yankees retained some of their honor with a thunderous Game Four win, but between Freddie Freeman and a relentless order one through nine, LA trounced the Bronx Bombers even with Shohei Ohtani playing like a shell of himself.

The one advantage the Yankees had over the Dodgers was Gerrit Cole, but they won neither of his starts. First, they wasted a dominant Game One outing with an early hook and questionable bullpen decisions thereafter. And then, in Game Five, after sailing through four dominant innings, the defense absolutely unraveled, with back-to-back errors and Cole failing to cover first base before the roof caved in on the Yankee ace. Somehow he gutted his way into the seventh inning, a testament to fortitude, but he alone could not drag the Yankees to another comeback.

That fateful fifth inning underlined some of the team’s glaring flaws. The Yankees somehow outhit and outpitched the Dodgers over these five games, reaching base at a much higher rate and hitting more homers and logging a team earned run average that was nearly a run lower. The defense, however, has been atrocious season, with facepalm-worthy errors at regular intervals. The baserunning, somehow, was often worse, with Yankee runners frequent victims of pickoffs and some curious sends.

New York had too top-heavy an offense, a four- or five-man show with too many free outs toward the bottom. Jazz Chisholm and Anthony Rizzo have their qualities, but their 2024 selves are far cries from prime Tino Martinez or Hideki Matsui or the others who filled their spots in Yankee lineups in the 90s and 00s. (Lest someone argue baseball has changed over the past 15 years, they are no Max Muncy either.) Relying heavily on stars means they can’t go cold, but one of them did: Aaron Judge did just enough at the end to rescue his postseason from utter infamy, but his New York playoff legacy remains an open question. The Dodgers had the talent to cover for Shohei’s shoulder; the Yankees did not have the talent to cover for Judge’s yips.

The future of this team hinges most immediately on the Soto sweepstakes, as the Yankees had better pony up the hundreds of millions necessary to keep their incredible prize. Beyond that, however, the fixes are murky. The pitching, despite some admirable October efforts, still does not feel championship caliber, and there is no obvious single way to fix it. Unless Hal Steinbrenner decides to backtrack on his cautionary payroll notes, it is hard to see them resigning both Soto and Torres, and with Rizzo played out at first base they will have at least two gaping voids to fill. And then they have a slot in the outfield for Jasson Dominguez, their most hyped prospect in years but still an unknown.

For all the Yankees’ money, the fate of their youths will likely decide their trajectory in the coming years. They need some kids to give the lineups balance beyond the stars, and to save payroll in the process. Anthony Volpe had a Game Four for the ages in the Series and Austin Wells might just be the AL Rookie of the Year, but they are not yet in any sort of all-star class. Starters Clarke Schmidt and Luis Gil, dominant at times in the regular season, did not quite look ready for the bright lights of October. Maybe they can stick around and become the next Jorge Posadas and Andy Pettittes, but the transition to stardom is not seamless.

Like most Yankee fans I am not particularly thrilled with the regime running the team right now. These people have not won a playoff series against a team outside the AL Central since 2012. Hal Steinbrenner has overcorrected for his father’s excesses, a corporate manager who maintains the brand but takes no risks. After a quarter century Brian Cashman is who he is, capable of finding diamonds in the rough but also making some absolute clunker long-term deals, always a seeming half step behind in front office innovation. Aaron Boone is his loyal yes-man, a player’s manager to a fault; to his credit his in-game touch showed some progress in the early rounds of the playoffs, but at least three separate decisions in Game One still gall me. It is also hard not to compare the Yankees’ slop in the field to the Dodgers’ fundamental soundness and wonder if certain messages are not coming through the way they should.

Maybe the Dodgers have shown Steinbrenner what can be and push him to think differently. But most likely Cashman and Boone aren’t going anywhere, so their true test should now be their ability to bring along this next generation of talent. Is there an actual foundation here, or are we going to swing through yet another cycle of incomplete rosters propped up by enough dollars to stay in the hunt, never rising to the peak? The tale of baseball’s most storied empire depends on it. Are they a collection of dusty monuments to past glory, or is a renaissance at hand?