(EDITOR’s NOTE : from time to time, decorated sports executive / consumer rights advocate Randy L of the Bronx checks in at CSTB to weigh in on the important issues of the day. Upon learning of the New York Mets signing former Heisman Trophy winner Tim Tebow to a minor league contract, Randy offered, no he insisted on having his say – GC)

Greetings, members of the Yankee universe and the desperate, life-long also-rans who fail to understand the difference between star power and a freak show. I’m of course referring to my good friends in Queens, Fred Wilpon and his slow-witted son, Jeff, and their general manager, Sandy Alderson, an honorable man who surely was forced to make his latest, ill-advised acquisition.

In the form of Tim Tebow, the Mets will send to Florida a guy pushing 30 who hasn’t played competitive baseball since high school. Though we hear repeated mention of Tebow’s leadership skills, let’s not forget the former Florida QB is saving himself for marriage, a stance which should go down a storm in an organization that’s had more zipper problems than the Clinton and Weiner households combined.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s certainly something to be said for not surrounding yourself with complete and utter sexual degenerates. I’ll long wonder how many more World Championships this premier franchise would’ve won if our own GM was capable of thinking 24/7 with his brains rather than his needle dick, but I think it is fair to say that we hold front office executives and uniformed personnel to a different set of standards. I don’t know who it was that once said, “you can’t have a team full of choirboys,” (I’d ask Cashman to look it up for me but I can’t bear to walk into his office and have him pretend he’s reading some statistical analysis rather than trawling Chaturbate), but let’s just presume it was me. It sounds like something I’d have said and I’m right. Unless you’re fielding some sort of men’s choir team, you cannot have a team full of choirboys. Or choirmen. You know what I mean.

Look, between the myriad sexual indiscretions of our GM, our primary radio voice and a recently jettisoned third baseman, you have no idea how much hush money I’ve thrown around. But would I ever dream of telling our world class athletes that a life of abstinence was a path to success? Compare the respective trophy cases of Derek Jeter and Tim Tebow where their professional careers are concerned. Where would the former be today if he’d kept himself in some sort of Christ-imposed cock cage?

Frankly, this entire thing stinks like the most cynical of publicity stunts, and the saddest thing is the Tebow farce threatens to overshadow the improbable return to Wild Card contention by a team that’s shown so much resilience and fortitude since the so-called experts left them for dead just a few short weeks ago. But enough about the 2016 New York Yankees, while we’re taking aim at our 28th World Series victory, the long-suffering Jay Horowitz will be reduced to begging TV outlets not to broadcast Tebow’s laughable attempts at throwing a baseball — or did the Mets forget they’re in the National League?

My own alma matter, George Washington University brought an end to the football program in 1966, and it’s just as well. It’s a brutish game, played by hulking unsophisticates, the likes of which I’m routinely having tossed from NYY Steak. A dullard like Tebow has no more business on the baseball diamond than CM Punk in the Octagon, Martin Shkreli in a rap battle or Nick Swisher in a public library. But since I’m as magnanimous as I’m brilliant, I am fully prepared to honor Tebow for his contributions to NYC sporting culture once he’s been waived by the Mets. I don’t know if we’ll be the first club in the big leagues to produce a bobblehead doll featuring a chastity belt, if Rob Manfred has a problem with it, we’ll just make our Staten Island Single-A affiliate do it. They seem desperate enough for attention, kind of like the Wilpons.

see you in October,
Randy L.