Not just because he carved up the Jays for 6+ innings last night before running out of gas. That obviously helps a lot, dismissing the Jays lineup without much of a second thought. The steady diet of nasty two seamers starting at the hip of left-handed batters — most of whom helplessly watched as it broke over the inside corner for a strike — is reason enough to have the bad taste of Bartolo fresh in your mouth.
On his own, Bartolo Colon represents what non-baseball fans dislike the most about baseball – he’s overweight and he’s a known mercenary with seven different teams on his CV. His fleshy face seems permanently frozen in an uninterested gaze (seen above and all night long at the Rogers Centre) betraying any emotion or desire to participate the ongoing baseball game of which he is very much a part.
But that’s not why you — yes, you! — hate the Yankees. You (and I, if all our cards are on the table) hate the Yankees because of their uncanny ability to slap those cursed pinstripes on just about any corpse and have them produce.
I should clarify: not just any corpse, the Yankees have their pick of the finest corpses Major League Baseball has to offer. While teams like the Jays try to make something out of nothing with waiver wire pickups/reclamation projects like Bryan Bullington, Corey Patterson, Dana Eveland; the Yankees call on guys like Colon (who averaged more than 4 WAR a season for the better part of a decade) or Andruw Jones (second behind only Barry Bonds in outfielder WAR since 1998) to plug holes and play roles.
They can afford to take fliers on players with exemplary track records but spotty health and players in similar situations willingly choose the Yankees first. Eric Chavez and Russell Martin were both free agents with plenty to prove this off season, both chose the Yankees over comparable offers.
The Yankees and their seemingly unlimited resources are in the most enviable position imaginable: they can lock up homegrown players when they hit free agency, attract the upper echelon of free agent talents by outbidding anyone (even themselves!), and they flesh out their lineup and bench with proven veterans and valuable role players.
So hate the Yankees for their infinite riches, for their detestable stars and incessant self-perpetuated mythmaking. Make sure you reserve some ire for the overweight jerks who stroll into your town and dominate the home nine like it’s 1999. The jerks.