#at least none that typically is crossed with mlb

[certifiedducky]

curious: there's a REALLY high volume of batman x mlb crossovers. can anyone tell me why? it just seems really random lmao

bc like, i guess i could understand mcu(that's actually the only crossover i've read) just because ladybug is inspired by spiderman, but i don't really see a connection that justifies the sheer number of batman crossover fics

(btw the mcu fanfic is what the cat dragged in and it's SO good i've read it multiple times)

[kforbesy]

Words I wish I wrote, stories I wish I told - Part 1

In my experience, nothing ever wraps up in a neat little bow. There's always loose dangling threads and things left undone. For a variety of reasons (which I'll touch on), there's a couple of research ideas that I never got the chance to execute in, but I'm unable to completely move off of or put away. They just keep rattling around in my head. So I'll throw them here and maybe sometime I'll be in a position to return to them or someone else might be able to take the concept.

Concept: Embedding sustainability into sport infrastructure standards

When it comes to sports and sustainability, the venue is often a troublesome aspect. In North America, it's typically funded by a combination of public and private funds, it sits as a monolith in a field of parking lots, it requires vast quantities of power: electricity to power it, petroleum to fuel the vehicles that transport fans, staff and athletes to and fro. Depending on the sport and location, this arena, stadium, field or park may also sit vacant and unused for swathes of time.

(as an aside, Alan Cross had a great little segment on his Ongoing History of New Music show, about how reunion tours for popular bands from 20 years ago, etc, exist, in part, because stadium and arena owners need to find ways to fill their venue when their primary tenant is not there, and for a litany of reasons, like streaming music, the decline of conventional media, and dispersal of disposable income, we're not creating music stars the same way we were 25 years ago)

These venues often suffer from one other calamity: they typically have a short shelf-life, with some research pointing to them outliving their usefulness after roughly 25 years.

None of these dovetails nicely with a team's or league's committment to "Go Green". So in the absence of changing that entire lifespan of a sport venue, could we instead push them to incorporate more sustainable innovation into venue creation and design?

My thought here was that leagues should implement sustainable benchmarks as part of their overall venue standards.

Imagine the impact of the NFL coming out and saying that all new NFL stadiums are required to draw 20% or more of their electricity needs from renewable sources. Maybe there'll be more solar panels on stadium roofs, like in Philadelphia. Or parking lots covered with solar panels.

Or MLB requiring that new ballparks need to support 40% of their capacity travelling to the game through mass transit and enforce maximums for parking lot spaces.

This could all be taken a step further an also include a roadmap for venue renovations (all venues in 10 years will draw at least 12% of their electricity from renewable sources?).

Now that would require some alignment across the board of governors of the individual leagues, who are naturally the owners and operators of the teams and, often, the venues as well. But it would go a long way to prove that league-wide sustainability initiatives aren't just wallpaper as teams fly around the continent, and a full-house on the weekend pulls more power than some small cities.

So if the leagues are reluctant, what if this becomes part of the quiver for municipalities who are providing public funds. There have been cases with cities and states playing a bit of hardball as the funding sport infrastructure doesn't always offer the promised economic impact, that the tax earnings and the glossy entertainment district never really comes to fruition.

So could a city tie their funding to also advancing broader municipal goals for sustainability, such as mass transit or providing power back to the grid (such as those solar panel covered parking lots).

Anyway, this never really turned into the report I hoped it would. In today's political landscape, it probably presents as a bit of a landmine, and even prior to the past six months, calling into question the sustainability initiatives and commitments of leagues was a bit of a non-starter.

But every time a new facility or renovation is announced, or a locale like Climate Pledge Arena is lauded, I wish that these approaches were mandated and not just glossy nice-to-haves.

[ecotone99]

[RF] Santino's Interview

Brisk October air ruffled the leaves on the trees and flowed between the towering buildings as Santino strutted down Market Street in the heart of San Francisco’s financial district. Men and women in suits littered the busy sidewalks as they paced hurriedly to work, but none looked quite as good as Santino did that cool morning. Sporting a fresh shave and haircut, a pressed navy blue suit with an equally blue tie and his polished Italian leather shoes, Santino looked and felt like the finest young professional the city had ever seen.

If there was every day on which Santino needed this confidence, it was today. In just one hour, he would head to the 31st floor of the tallest building on Market to interview for the sports agency firm he had longed to work for since his days as an undergrad slaving away at his legal studies coursework. Night after night he had worked tirelessly to assure his papers were perfect, leaving no t uncrossed or i undotted. When he wasn’t focusing on his coursework, he spent hours in the depths of the university library studying for the LSAT, a test he needed to ace in order to earn admission to a Top-14 law school. The remainder of his time was spent interning at a local court nearly an hour away from his off-campus apartment. Though the commute and workload exhausted him, he knew the experience he was gaining would give him a great leg up on the other applicants. Sure enough, he was right.

Through his hard work and dedication, Santino nailed the LSAT, maintained a perfect 4.0 GPA and earned himself an admission to the law school of his dreams.

Throughout his time in law school, he worked as hard as he ever had, excelling in his classes and spending hours on end interning for one of the most esteemed sports agents in the area. After graduating summa cum laude, he scored nearly perfect on the California Bar Exam and returned to the golden state where the air was warmer and the girls were prettier. After weeks and weeks of perfecting his resume and cover letter and gathering recommendation letters from his professors and employers, Santino submitted what had to have been the most robust application the firm had ever received. Then, he waited.

And he waited.

And he waited.

As morning turned to day and day turned to night, Santino incessantly watched his phone for any email or phone call from the firm. He even went as far as sleeping with his phone ringer on full blast at night, just in case they called him at one in the morning to schedule an interview.

With each passing day, Santino grew restless. It crossed his mind to submit other applications in the meantime, but he decided against it because he saw it as settling. Santino was the best candidate out there, and he would aspire for nothing but the best.

So he waited.

In order to preserve his sanity and keep his mind off the application, he had to find ways to occupy his time. Every morning at precisely 5:30a.m. he would wake up and prepare a breakfast consisting of two eggs over easy, one scrambled, three egg whites, two pieces of sourdough toast garnished with gluten-free margarine, a short stack of chocolate chip pancakes, a bowl of strawberry yogurt mixed with granola, two chicken-apple sausages and a bowl of Frosted Flakes, washed down with a cup-and-a-half of black coffee, two glasses of filtered water from his parents’ state-of-the-art Kitchenaid refrigerator and a smoothie consisting of a banana, two spoonfuls of Skippy super chunk peanut butter, twenty grams of vanilla protein powder, a cup of blueberries, exactly three strawberries and a light drizzle of organic honey. Once he finished his feast, he washed his dishes and headed straight out the front door and over to his local 24-Hour Fitness where he engaged in a rigorous workout regimen consisting of stretching, running on the treadmill, weightlifting, swimming and more stretching. When his workout was completed, he went back home to prepare his parents’ breakfast, which was the least he could do considering they were letting him live in their home rent-free. After his parents were fed and their dishes were cleaned, Santino would sit under the shady tree at the park down the street where he read classic literature, sipped on an iced green tea and let the summer breeze caress his skin. When he finished his reading, he headed back home, studied NFL and MLB statistics and practiced negotiating contracts based on those stats.

Santino usually finished these activities by one in the afternoon, at which point he would settle on the couch for a midday siesta.

The rest of Santino’s day was typically spent playing solitaire, making hip-hop beats for his friend José, reading the Bible, Quran, Talmud and The Book of Mormon, dominating online strangers in virtual chess, brushing up on his Southern Italian cooking skills and studying more sports statistics.

For a while, this laundry list of activities kept Santino preoccupied and did a fairly decent job of keeping his mind off his job application.

Until it didn’t.

After about the second day of this routine, Santino once again grew restless and was engulfed by anxiety.

Why haven’t they responded? he asked himself.

Did I sound too eager in my cover letter? Too cocky?

Do they not like Italians?

After days and days of insufferable torment, Santino had had enough. It was time to call the firm’s human resources department and ask if they had received his application. He had been reluctant to do so because he didn’t want to appear desperate. But at this point, he was desperate and had nothing to lose.

After finding the firm’s HR phone number, Santino poured himself a glass of room-temperature water to clear his throat and hit the “call” button. As the phone rang, he took a deep gulp of his water and repeated through his head, Sound confident; not cocky. Confident, not cocky.

“The Chang Corporation, this is Clarice. How may I help you?” asked an energetic voice on the other end of the line.

Caught off guard, Santino choked uncontrollably on his water and spit it all over himself.

“Uhh, hi!” he squeaked embarrassingly. “I mean, um, hello,” he stated in a forced tone much lower than that of his regular speaking voice. “My name is Santino Rigoli and I’m calling to inquire about the status of an application I submitted several weeks ago.”

“Okay, Mr. Rigoli,” Clarice responded. “Give me one second and I’ll pull up your application.”

Silence flooded the phone line and Santino nervously paced his kitchen floor, with each passing second looming like an eternity. What if the application hadn’t been received? Or worse, what if it had been received and they had simply discarded it?

“Well, Mr. Rigoli,” Clarice said after some time, “It seems we did receive your application and its status is listed as ‘Under Review.’ I’ll tell you what, though. I’m going to go ahead to transfer you over to DeSean Holman, who is one of our hiring managers, and he can give you further details on what to expect with your application from here on out.”

“Oh, wow!” Santino declared a little too excitedly. “Thank you so mu-

The line clicked and Santino was now listening to Country Roads, Take me Home, by John Denver. After fighting the urge to shout “West Virginia” about eight times, the music stopped and a strong voice took over the line.

“DeSean Holman, may I ask who’s calling?”

“Hello, Mr. Holman, my name is Santino Rigoli and I’m calling in regard to an application I submitted to your firm several weeks ago. I was just told by your receptionist that it was under review, bu-

“Well if you know it’s under review, then what more can I do for you at this time?” Mr. Holman asked impatiently.

“Um, I just wanted to se-

“You just wanted to see what was taking so long, is that right?” Holman asserted. “We have processes here, son, and you need to respect that. Business doesn’t get done at the snap of your fingers. It takes time, and you need to respect that and let us do our job as we see fit.”

Santino was shooketh, rattled like a snake. Before he could muster up the confidence to apologize for being too forward, Mr. Holman began speaking once more.

“But you know what, kid. I will say this: you got ambition. Too many kids your age, man, they’re complacent. They’re not hungry. They would have waited for months on end before we got back to ‘em. And if we didn’t? Oh well. And that’s the problem with you millenials; you expect stuff to come to you. But not you, Sanchito.”

“Santino,” he corrected him.

“That’s what I said, Dorito. But look, you’re not like those other kids. You’re hungry. You wanted something and you went for it, and that’s the type of ambition we’re looking for at this firm. And shoot, I have your resume right here in front of me, and I can tell you’ve got that ambition.”

In just a matter of seconds, Santino had gone from nearly throwing up to smiling like a priest in a boys’ daycare facility.

“I’ll tell you what, Sergio. We’re gonna bring you in for an interview. Tomorrow morning, 9 a.m. sharp. I want you in a full suit, tie and all. You come prepared with your resume, references and any other materials you find necessary. Check in with Clarice on the 31st floor and she’ll take you to Mr. Chang’s office where he’ll conduct your first round of interviews. Got it?”

Nearly in disbelief, Santino had to bring himself off Cloud Nine and confirm he understood the details of the interview. After thanking and saying goodbye to Mr. Holman, he hung up the phone and hurried to his room where he spent the next several hours preparing for his interview.

​

The next morning, Santino shot out of bed at promptly 5:37 a.m., downed two tall glasses of water, performed 50 consecutive push-ups and hopped in the shower. Once he was clean, he ate a banana, ironed his suit, shined his shoes, sytled his hair, brushed each individual tooth as if he were polishing Michelangelo’s “David” sculpture, gathered his interview materials and headed out the door.

He arrived at the West Dublin/Pleasanton BART station at 7:01 a.m. and boarded his train almost instantaneously. Scheduled to arrive in San Francisco’s financial district at 7:58, he was afforded nearly an hour to rehearse his prepared responses to any questions his interviewers might throw at him. Right on schedule, the train stopped and Santino deboarded and rode up the escalator to Market Street. Despite the plethora of spectacles and distractions Market had to offer, Santino was not fazed. He was in the zone, locked and loaded, ready to go.

Conveniently, the Chang Corporation’s office was located right next to the BART station and would take less than a minute for Santino to reach by foot. The problem, however, was that he was 57 minutes early. He didn’t want to check in with Clarice too early out of fear of seeming too eager, giving the impression that he was desperate. Of course, he was desperate, but that didn’t matter. What mattered is that he didn’t seem desperate.

As Santino thought of ways to kill some time, he remembered there was a Peet’s Coffee just around the corner of Market and 3rd Street. Suddenly he realized that in the midst of all his excitement that morning, he hadn’t even remembered to brew his morning cup of joe. Not that he needed the boost of energy, for his enthusiasm had him feeling plenty energized. Still, a little jolt of java couldn’t hurt, right? After all, he certainly looked the best he ever had, and he was willing to do whatever he could to feel his best too. So with his chest puffed out and his chin held high, Santino strutted down the sidewalk with a sexy swag and rounded the corner onto 3rd Street.

Immediately after rounding the corner, Santino collided into a careless woman who spilled a piping hot cup of coffee onto his white shirt and all over his face and hair. To make matters worse, she was holding a breakfast burrito that exploded all over Santino and drenched his clothes in bacon grease, avocado and copious amounts of Tapatio. With his mouth gaping in shock, Santino was overcome with horror and wore an expression that looked as if he had seen Harvey Weinstein.

“I… uh… you…” he stammered, desperately searching for words he could not find.

“What in the hell is the matter with you?” the woman yelled as if it wasn’t her inattentiveness that had caused the collision. “Flying around the corner like that, not watching where you’re going! This is unbelievable; I have to be at work soon!”

Still, Santino couldn’t find his words. Perhaps there were no words to express his despair.

“This is unbelievable,” the woman spat as she swiped away egg particles out of her long, black hair. “Unbelievable. How am I going to show up to the office like this?”

She continued her angry tirade as she stormed off into the sea of people and out of eyesight. Stunned, soaked and covered in filth, Santino stood hopelessly on the sidewalk as he watched her disappear.

This was how it ended. He couldn’t walk into his interview with coffee stains on his shirt and face with hot sauce and avocado smeared on his jacket all the way down to his shoes. He looked terrible, and he felt even worse. It wasn’t even 8:30 and all the clothing stores were still closed, so that threw out the possibility of him swapping out his wardrobe. This was the look Santino was stuck with, covered in grime from head to toe. Moreover, there was no way he could muster the confidence to conduct an interview now, at least not a decent one.

As he crouched into a seat on the cafe’s patio, Santino thought about all the steps he had taken to reach this point. All those hours spent in the university library studying for exams and mock trials. The sleepless nights spent reading and memorizing penal codes. The times he sold his belongings when he was short on rent. All the time and money spent on his commutes to his internships that paid little to no wages. So many sacrifices made, all for nothing.

“No,” Santino said softly. “This isn’t how I go down.”

Santino Rigoli was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a quitter. He thought back to those trying nights when his will was tested and his limits were pushed. Although giving up had crossed his mind several times, he had never seriously considered it. It wasn’t who he was. Santino was a go-getter. An ambitious and talented individual who always worked hard to achieve success. He hadn’t sacrificed years of his life and taken on tens of thousands of dollars of debt to be stopped by a little coffee stain and some egg yolk. He ate those problems for breakfast. No, Santino Rigoli was a competitor, and he was going to overcome this challenge just like he had overcome all the others. He had a story to tell, and it was time to start writing it.

Quickly, Santino got up out of his seat and hurried into the cafe to freshen up. He grabbed a handful of napkins out of the dispenser, dampened them under the bathroom sink faucet and began wiping away whatever food residue he could. The scalding coffee had left his face quite red and would perhaps later resemble a serious burn, but all he could do now was splash cold water on it and hope for the best. His hair was dampened and the gel he molded it with had nearly entirely lost its hold. Thankfully his Italian ancestors had granted him dark, sleek hair that looked stylish even when messy, so that was the look he was going to roll with.

When he finished freshening up, he still looked sloppy but at least he knew he had done the best he could. It was now 8:41 and he had to leave the cafe if he wanted to check in with Clarice exactly 15 minutes before his interview.

As he marched down Market, the autumn air cooled his singed face and the foliage on the trees glowed red and orange overhead. When he reached the building, he managed to secure an elevator all to himself, rode it straight to the 31st floor and approached Clarice at her desk.

“Hi, Clarice?” he began. “My name is Santino Rigoli, you and I spoke on the phone yesterday. I’m here for an interview with Mr. Chang.”

Clarice looked up from her appointment book and brushed her bushy hair back with her hands. “Mr. Rigoli, you’re here early,” she said with a tone of satisfaction. “Thankfully, Mr. Chang is…” She stopped her sentence once she noticed Santino’s appearance. Though she saw how dirty he looked, she decided against saying anything as not to hurt his confidence. Thankfully, she was quick enough that Santino didn’t notice. “Mr. Chang is ready to see you right now, so you won’t have to wait. Please follow me.”

With that, she arose from her seat and led Santino through the Chang Corporation’s office, which was a breathtaking space characterized by cool, earth tones and high ceilings.

“Will Mr. Holman be conducting my interview as well this morning?” Santino asked in a strong, professional tone.

“DeSean is actually out meeting with a client today,” Clarice responded. “He’s working on a big contract right now and felt his time would be best spent focusing on that. But let me tell you, DeSean was very impressed with the initiative you showed yesterday, and he made sure to let Mr. Chang know that.” Trying not to reveal too much excitement, Santino let out a half smile and expressed his satisfaction with a simple nod.

The two continued walking to Mr. Chang’s office in silence, and Santino couldn’t help but stare in awe of the facility as they passed through it. All along the walls were life-sized images of athletes represented by the firm. Record-setting contracts were framed on full display in the most visible places. To Santino’s left he saw a trophy case containing an NFL MVP award, two MLB Cy Young awards and an NBA Rookie of the Year award. To his right, he saw offices, state-of-the-art coffee machines, ping-pong tables, massage chairs, a weight room and a cafeteria that served gourmet cuisine ranging from smoked salmon to grilled bison. Straight ahead stood a gorgeous waterfall that fell from the ceiling down into a shimmering sapphire pool in which koi fish swam.

This is it, Santino thought. This is where I belong. I am going to work for the Chang Corporation.

Inspired, he envisioned himself working in one of the building’s offices, eating at fine restaurants with professional athletes and charging their meals to the company credit card, attending important sporting events and setting record-breaking contracts of his own.

It all starts with this interview, Santino told himself. This is going to be the best interview of your life.

“Okay, Mr. Rigoli, here we are,” Clarice said encouragingly when they approached a large pair of mahogany doors. “Mr. Chang,” she said as she knocked lightly on the door. “Santino Rigoli is here for his interview.”

“Ah yes!” sang an older gentleman’s voice from the other side of the door. “Please, Clarice, send him on in.”

“Well, Mr. Rigoli, best of luck to you,” Clarice smiled before she turned around and headed back to her desk.

Confident, not cocky, Santino reminded himself.

As he pushed the door open and stepped onto pristine cream-colored carpeting, he discovered Mr. Chang’s office was just as grandiose as the rest of the building. The ceilings arched high overhead and the walls were lined with wooden shelves holding dozens of knick-knacks ranging from collector’s edition baseball cards to decades-old bottles of wine. Mr. Chang’s fine mahogany desk sat approximately 20 feet from the room’s entrance. Cool and collected, Santino closed the door behind him and strided toward his interviewer.

“Mr. Rigoli,” Mr. Chang stood up, revealing his tall stature. “It’s a pleasure to have you here.” Although Chang was an older gentleman with gray-turning-white hair and a fair share of wrinkles on his face, he possessed a surprisingly strong frame and boasted the energy of a very young man.

“Please, Mr. Chang. Mr. Rigoli is my father. Call me Santino,” he responded charmingly.

“Well then, Santino,” Chang chuckled. “Go on ahead and have a se…”

Just as Santino was about to place the folder containing his resume on the desk and have a seat, Mr. Chang stopped his sentence and fixed his gaze on Santino’s shirt. He then moved his eyes from his shirt and scanned Santino’s entire torso and what he could see of his pants.

It’s okay, Santino thought. You knew this was gonna happen. Just play it cool and win him over with your confidence.

“I see you’re rather fixated on my attire, Mr. Chang,” he began. “I do hope you won’t call the fashion poli-”

“What in the hell are you wearing, son?” Chang asked in a tone full of disappointment. Santino’s stomach sank slightly.

“You see sir, I was ju-”

“You see? Yeah, kid, I do see. I see that you look like a wreck. What in the hell is the matter with you? Did you get into a food fight before you came over here?” Now rattled to his core, Santino knew he had to act fast.

“I, uh, I kn-know you see, sir. Th-the thing is, I-I-”

“I-I-I-I,” Chang mocked him. “I rolled around in the garbage before I came up here? I used coffee as cologne this morning and combed my hair with hot sauce? What in the hell is the matter with you?” Santino gulped. He was mortified beyond anything he could have imagined.

“Mi-Mister Chang, listen. I-”

“Listen? You’re telling me to listen? No, you listen to me, buddy. You come in here dressed like a slob, you can’t explain yourself and stammer like an idiot, and then you start barking orders at me in my own office? Do you know where you are, or who I am? This is the top sports agency in the world, and I am its founder and CEO. And you have the nerve to come into my office and tell me what do? No. No, I don’t think so.” Seeing his hopes and dreams burst into flames before his very eyes, Santino shook and stood silently, waiting for Chang’s wrath to come to an end.

“You know,” he continued. “This is the problem with you kids nowadays. You don’t have standards. You think that can just cruise to success without facing any trials or tribulations, that you can just enjoy the benefits of hard work without actually putting in the work.”

Santino felt as if his throat was closing. Rage and despair rose within him. Nothing Mr. Chang said had even remotely applied to him. Santino did put in the work, and he wanted to continue to work hard. If Mr. Chang would only hear him out.

“Sir, if you would please just let me spe-”

“No!” Chang barked furiously. “Don’t you dare interrupt me. You had your turn to speak, and you stuttered and insulted me. Now, I speak and you listen. I’ve seen kids like you before. You come in here acting like a hot shot with your fancy degree from this big-name school and act like that will serve as your free pass to do whatever you want to do. Well, guess what, pal? That’s not how it works here. You show up covered in filth, talking like you own the place and expected to get offered a job on the spot. Well it’s not gonna happen. I want you to get outta my office and escort yourself out of my facility, right now.” Chang looked on his desk and saw Santino’s folder. “And what’s this, your resume? Take it with you. I wouldn’t even be able to read it anyway because it’s probably soaked in coffee just like the rest of you. Get out.”

Santino sheepishly took the folder out of Chang’s hand, turned around and escorted himself out of the room without saying another word. On the way out, he thanked Clarice for showing him around and waited in silence for the elevator. Once outside, he walked down the steps leading to the BART station, boarded his train and headed back home.

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[usatrendingsports]

MLB Sizzling Range: Will the market enable the Yankees to afford Mike Moustakas?

We’re headed towards late February, and third baseman Mike Moustakas — coming off a 38-homer season in 2017 — stays unsigned. That is the case for quite a few notable free brokers, as so typically mentioned this winter. The marketplace for Moustakas, although, could also be skinny even by these requirements. 

Partially, that as a result of the Padres not too long ago inked Moustakas’ former Royals teammate Eric Hosmer to an eight-year contract. Royals GM Dayton Moore had been holding out hope for a “reunion tour” of types with Hosmer and maybe Moustakas, however the Padres’ daring bid has probably snuffed out these plans … 

The #Royals say they may keep pat and go into rebuild and won’t pursue any marquee free brokers now that Eric Hosmer went to #Padres

— Bob Nightengale (@BNightengale) February 18, 2018

By extension, that additionally signifies that Moustakas in all probability will not be going again to Kansas Metropolis. Eyeball the depth charts, and pure matches for Moustakas are onerous to search out. The Cardinals have been linked to him, however they do not appear inclined to make any additional notable additions, at the least when it comes to hitters. Between a wholesome Matt Carpenter and Jedd Gyorko, the Cardinals, you can argue, ought to be effective on the sizzling nook. Absent any trades that create roster holes, the Yankees stands out as the most obvious touchdown spot for Moustakas. Such a pairing has in fact been rumored for a while. 

The problem for the Yankees, although, is their willpower to remain underneath the aggressive stability tax threshold — informally generally known as the “luxurious tax” threshold — for 2018. Mentioned restrict is $197 million for 2018, and the Yankees have roughly $15 million to spend and nonetheless meet that purpose. Coming into the present offseason, signing Moustakas, who’s 29 and has a robust historical past of hitting for energy and including worth with the glove, for $15 million per appeared an unlikely proposition. However issues have not unfolded as anticipated. 

First, he is very a lot a match for the Yankees. Presently, they’ve Miguel Andujar penciled in as their common third baseman. The 23-year-old is mostly thought to be a top-100 prospect, and as such he has long-term potential. Clearly, although, he isn’t a assure to supply instantly. Not like Andujar, Moustakas is extra of a identified amount within the right here and now, and likewise not like Andjuar he hits from the left aspect. Talking of which, check out Moustakas’ spray charts from the final 5 seasons: 

FanGraphs.com

Observe the house runs in black. That, folks, is left-handed pull energy, and that is a super match for Yankee Stadium, particularly when fellow boppers Giancarlo Stanton, Aaron Decide, and Gary Sanchez all hit from the best aspect. So Moustakas pins down third, and in doing so he would not block the trail of high prospect Gleyber Torres, who might very quickly fill the void at second base or maybe dislodge Didi Gregorius at brief. 

Now, the cash … Moustakas would not have a lot of a market proper now, and he additionally turned down a qualifying provide from the Royals, which signifies that signing him will price his new crew a draft decide or two and maybe some worldwide signing bonus cash. These are important hits, and that will probably be mirrored in no matter contract he ultimately indicators. The hope for the Yankees is that Moustakas’ post-Royals market is so diminished that he is keen to take a one-year “pillow” contract and check out the market once more subsequent yr heading into his age-30 marketing campaign. Whether or not he’d do this and take a mere $15 million or so is way from sure. (Maybe the Yankees would wish to clear further price range house by, say, stapling a few prospects to Jacoby Ellsbury’s contract.)

All that stated, what we could also be seeing is a slow-moving market versus a market that favors the client to any excessive. If that is the case, then the Yankees aren’t going to have the ability to afford Moustakas whereas resetting their tax penalties. After parting methods with Starlin Castro and Chase Headley this winter, although, the Yankees may have some reliability within the infield. Moustakas would give them that after which some, and the going charges is likely to be such that signing Moose would not compromise their long-term imaginative and prescient. Possibly none of that involves cross, however the Royals’ newly cemented standing as rebuilders makes it extra of a risk. 

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