Marlow Stern outlines the sentiment in New York about disgraced slugger Alex Rodriguez.
The “steroid years,” 2001–2003, were some of the best statistically of your career. And, in 2004, you were traded to the most legendary franchise in sports, the New York Yankees—under false pretenses, due to your juiced-up stats. So, this union was cursed from the start.
You have always been the epitome of everything that is wrong with the Cashman-era Yankees—a motley crew of high-priced mercenaries with a championship-or-die attitude. Despite the 2009 World Series title, for which you are very much responsible, you were always a mercenary. A hired gun, à la Randy Johnson or Kevin Brown. A mirthless automaton equipped with frosted tips and a smugness that pervaded every fiber of your being.
There is, of course, a silver lining for the Yankees. If you’re banned from baseball, we don’t have to pay you the $86 million we owe you over the next four years to tan poolside in Miami while you undergo “rehab.” And, if my beloved Yankees had any sense, they’d invest these funds in some young, team players. The last thing we need is another overpaid A-hole.
It makes a baseball fan wonder what happened to Albert Pujols when he left St. Louis for big money with the Angels. Is there no juice in California?