New York Yankees and the Curse of Old Age

Hello, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls.  Tonight I want to share with you a tale about the New York Yankees and their fall from grace. 

This story is more scary than sad—pitiful really. I say this because the Curse of Old Age could have been avoided.  Creeping up the spine of a franchise, weakening it from the inside out, the Curse is a product of human imperfection:  we want more. 

The Yankees can be no more faulted for their actions than little Billy Bailey.

Little Billy Bailey went out one Halloween and got a whole bag full of candy.  But he wanted more!  By the time he was through he had robbed an entire block of houses of all their candy.  But when he got home he couldn't finish it all.  The candy got old, brittle, and unusable, and Billy didn't know what to do.

Billy's story is for another time, though. Back to the Yankees.

Like many stories this one begins with a revival.  A rise to success so dominant that great generals of the past surely applauded from the seats.

Traveling back to 1996 we encounter a hungry young baseball team in pinstripes.  The team hadn't won a World Series since '78. Made the playoffs for the first time since '81 the year before.

Now that's a drought people, 14 years—makes me happy not to be a Cubs fan.

Then came the glory years, '96-00.  Five years of some of the greatest baseball ever played. Five years that lofted the likes of Jeter, Rivera, and Posada into rarified air that select Yankees breathe.

When I was just a teenager I remember watching the '96-'00 Yankee teams and thinking how Yankee-like they were.  Farm system products, mixed in with salty veterans. 

Ah! Glorious days! But people wiser than I tried to temper my exuberance saying that, "Offense puts butts in the seats, but pitching wins you rings."

I had no inkling of the terrible fate awaiting the pitching staff of the Yankees.

The run started in 1996 with a dream staff. Andy Pettitte, Jimmy Key, David Cone, Dwight Gooden, and Ramiro Mendoza held down the starting rotation, but our bread and butter was the relief staff.

John Wetteland (29), Jeff Nelson (29), Mariano Rivera (26), and Bob Wickman (27).  Four young arms who, with help from others, were able to close games like undertakers nailing coffins.

The average age of the pitching staff during this five-year reign was 30.46 years old. Never did it get higher than a 32-year average.  A young and healthy staff.

Then the onset of the Curse slowly became apparent.

2001 was a transition year, from glory to desperation, as the Yankees and all of New York had their hearts ripped out by a Diamondback staff which performed superbly.

No one really knows when it all went wrong.  Was it when we paid for Giambi? Was it when we paid for A-Rod? What about when we bought Pavano, Johnson, Damon, and Clemens?

Maybe the greed of the Yankee organization was bringing it down.  What was once based on teamwork, was now based on money and stats.

But this is America, people!  Greed is rewarded here.  Sink your money into things and you should be rewarded. 

And rewarded people are, if they make the right decisions.  Like poor portfolio managers, the Yankee brass forgot how to diversify.

IBM, Microsoft, Coca-Cola: Blue Chips.

A-Rod, Clemens, Johnson, Giambi: Blue Chips.

The Yankees forgot about the little man—and nowhere is this more evident than in their relief platoon.

By 2002 the Yankees needed to retool their bullpen.  They had let go many of their role players. Ironically they had become too high-priced due to their good performances during the Glory Years. Spending all their money on Blue Chips left them without any team balance.

Average age of the pitching staff from 2002-2007 was a whopping 32.95 years old! Two and a half years older than when we were winning championships.  The Curse had wrapped icy fingers around the arms and shoulders of our staff.

No more the days of young fireballers hurling bolts of lightning at the plate.  We were forced to watch men like Chris Hammond (37), Ron Villone (36), and Mike Myers (37) hurl moth balls straight down the pipe.

"Flash" Tom Gordon was aged 36 when he began his stint with the Yankees.  The only thing fast about "Flash" was how quickly he worked in between pitches so he could get back in the locker room and take a leak.

A terrible Curse had beset the Yankees and we had no one to blame but ourselves.  Blinded by the riches and treasures we had experienced during the Glory Years, we became greedy—wanting, needing more. 

One can almost picture the meeting that went on in the Steinbrenner War room.

"Why can't we just buy 10 all-stars? Oh? We can?  All right, let's do it.  We should surely win every game then."

It is that attitude which defined the Dark Years of 2002-2007. 

But this story is not all gloom and pity.  Old man Steinbrenner is gone.  With his son in place the organization experienced a youth movement from the top down.  Newfound exuberance has taken over the club. 

The Curse is beginning to subside.  Currently our pitching staff has an average age of 30.5.  The last time that our staff was so young we won the World Series. 

It has been a long six years since the Yankees last made it to the series.  For the first time in years the Old Age Curse is loosening its grip on the arms of the Yankee pitchers.

I tell this story in warning to other teams beset by the happiness of winning.  Do not let yourself slump into greed and pride.  It is in these states of mind that many perils lie.