I’ve been learning more about fantasy baseball lately, trying to wrap my brain around how, if at all, fantasy team ownership changes a fan’s approach to the game.

Take the aforementioned outing against the Mets, which I attended.  Whether you were there like I was or watching from the comfort of your home (or gym — whatever your preference), if you’re just a regular run-of-the-mill fan, the things you’re apt to remember about that game are the agita; the feeling of dread when Frost-Tip popped up with two outs in the 9th; the overwhelming shock and delight at watching Luis Castillo bungle the play, handing the Yankees the game; and the injustice of K-Rod having earned a blown save — his first as a Met — on a little league-type error.

On the contrary, if you’re a fantasy player, you score an error for Castillo (though, it’s hard to imagine who would draft him) and a blown save for K-Rod. You grumble, but at the end of the season, these just factor into each of your respective players stats for the year.

In yesterday’s somewhat more dignified outing against the Mets, Yankees fans will recall our awe and glee at besting Santana.  Johan Santana –the Finnish Gift from God, for the love of all things holy.  They will also remember the thrill of the nine-run fourth inning, including two-run dingers from both Robbie and Upper-deki.

Fantasy players will mark down a loss for Johan, cursing the game’s effect on his ERA and WHIP.  If Cano or Matsui happen to play for your team, you get to add last night’s home runs and RBIs to their tally, adjust their batting averages, and feel a little bit cocky about your vision as an owner.   Again, at the end of the day, or the season, rather, it will all boil down to the effect of this game on each player’s statistics for the year.  The game itself won’t much have mattered.

That said, while the manner of the win or loss seems important when you’re watching as a die-hard fan for any given team, the reality in fantasy ultimately isn’t so terribly dissimilar from the reality in baseball.  While the emphasis may be different, the focus in fantasy on individual players rather than a team allegiance, the stats mattering more than the wins and losses, there is a common thread. Unreasonable though it may seem to anyone who was watching both Friday’s and Sunday’s games, each boil down to the same one letter — W.  This refers back to something I’ve said before: It doesn’t matter how you play the game, it’s if you win or lose. In a pennant race, a 15-run rout means the same thing as a W that was less earned than given to us by Luis Castillo.  For fantasy players it all comes down to the points you earn in your four, five, or sixteen categories — whatever the case may be. Period.  For baseball fans, all that really matters is your W-L ratio.  Period.

On the flip side, despite the fact that it’s all about the numbers, fantasy does not necessarily preclude players from investing in the drama.  Sure, whatever way you slice it, they’re thinking about the stats.  However, at the end of a season, if a fantasy owner was to lose his league by an incredibly slim margin, he might look back on the coulda shoulda woulda outing that turned to be the difference.  If the closer for your fantasy team is K-Rod, it would be all but impossible not to look back to Friday’s game and moan about the blown save, how it unduly effected your season.   Similarly, Mets fans are apt to look back on that game and grouse about what coulda shoulda woulda been if, as it turns out, their playoff run comes down to a single game.

One fantasy player commented astutely that being an owner was not so terribly different from being an agent.  Your focus is not so much on the performance of an individual team but more on the performances of your various players.  One thing is certain in both cases, though, when you win, if you win, all that’s going to matter to you is that you won.  Period.  There’s apt to be little reflection on the games where you got lucky on a bad call or an error or a lousy outing from the opposing team’s starting pitcher.  On the other hand, when you lose, if you lose, there tends to be a lot more of that kind of reflection.  A lot more contemplation of the bad games, the close calls, the injuries, the ways things should have gone.

In theory, it may not matter how you played the game, but it sure as hell feels like it when you don’t end up the winner.  People can say what they will about the fundamental differences between fantasy and real baseball, but this is a truth universal to both.

I’m sorry.  Now I’m totally confused.  Was the A-Rod we’ve been experiencing up until now the A-Rod who had been trying to be likable?

In this same interview, A-Rod also said that he did not want the names of the other 103 players who tested positive for the use of performance-enhancing drugs in 2003 to go public.

If you believe that, I’ve got a GNC supplement to sell you

The spring got off to a shaky start, for reasons primarily related to A-Roid, and I confess that I was feeling more than a little bit disappointed.  It seemed like the majority of the team fell into one of three categories-coming off a surgery and only questionably healthy, too new to be considered part of the family, or A-Roid.

Yes, A-Roid is a category unto himself.

But over the past few weeks, things have started coming together to allay my anxieties.  First of all, there was the A-Roid injury-perhaps the best of all things that could have happened.  With the three-ring circus that is A-Roid out of the clubhouse, it’s been easier to pay attention to the more substantive issues.  Like, you know, baseball-related issues.  Given the fact that all our communication with A-Roid has happened via Cashman via text, it’s not totally impossible that Cashman’s seen to it that A-Roid be locked in some sort of Yankee holding facility somewhere until things settle down.  But, whatever.  It’s getting the job done.  And I’m sure it’s fine with A-Weird-as long as there’s a mirror.

The injuries?  Two days ago, Jorge threw out 3 of 4 guys attempting to steal.  My feeling about that guy is that, when the time comes, we’re going to be dragging him into retirement with him cursing at us in Spanish all the way.  Jorge’s tough.  He refuses to quit.  And he loves to curse at people in Spanish.

Matsui is also on the mend-looking solid in his new role as DH.  If anything, the problem is that Matsui is feeling a little too recovered for his own good.  Girardi recently scolded him for shagging fly balls in the outfield and putting his knee at risk.  Matsui can’t not work harder than he’s supposed to though.  It goes against his entire system of values.  Love him.  And his system of values.

Mo hit the ground running.  He had a perfect frame on his first day back last week, including two strikes out.  But I was never worried about Mo.  He comes from that weird planet of perfect, adorable pitchers who preach the gospel.

As for the news guys, the longer they hang around, the more I like them.  Sure, I was familiar with all of the big name players before they came on board but I didn’t really know them-I certainly didn’t know what to expect from them in the clubhouse.

Teixeira’s was an immediately grounding presence.  Maybe I’m a chump, but I like the “Gee whiz, aw shucks” manner in which he discusses the unlikelihood that he would ever take a PED.  Given the state of baseball at the moment-of professional sports in general-I don’t take issue with a guy like Teixeira for being a family man and a little bit of a Pollyanna.

Then we have AJ, who I liked from moment go because he had the decency to go on the Mike Francesa Show and tell us he had signed with the Yanks because they offered him the most money.  I knew that, you knew that, and yet so many other players would have tried to convince us that money was a secondary concern.  I like when people don’t insult me. Burnett also has a Bruce Lee tattoo on his arm that he credits with protecting him from a line drive a few days ago.  Not quite sure how that works, but whatever is keeping him healthy, I’m not asking any questions. Seriously, if that guy stays healthy and keeps up the good work, hell, I’ll get a tattoo to match his.

Then, of course, there’s CC, rapidly emerging as the newest leader of the pack.  He plans cute group excursions to basketball games, gets the boys together for epic X-box game tournaments.  If there’s one thing that’s been sorely lacking in the Yankees clubhouse in recent years it’s any kind of cohesion.  Jeter is a great leader, but he leads by example-he inspires.  He doesn’t give speeches, bring people together.  So I’m hoping CC could be that guy for us.

So, that’s the synopsis, and I’m feeling good. (I’m sure it doesn’t hurt my mood that we beat the crapelbon out of the Chowdas yesterday. 7-1. In your Chowda faces.) That being said, notwithstanding the fact that he posts insane numbers, I would be just as happy if A-Roid were to just stay gone forever. It’s harder to feel good about the team when he’s around.  I want to feel good about my team.  And from I gather, it’s also harder for the team to come together and do their thing when he’s around. The way I see it, we’re not the Reds.  We have a lineup that can more than hold its own without him.  And sometimes the sacrifice on the field is worth the benefit to the clubhouse.

If I was A-Roid, I would fake an injury until the day I died to avoid walking into that clubhouse and facing everyone after the humiliation of the mirror porn.  True, to do so would defy the Principle of Try Your Hardest. However, I believe there is another principle that overrides this one in importance.  That would be the Principle of Don’t Ever Be Seen In Public Again Once You’ve Been Photographed Making Out With a Mirror.  For those of you who have read To Kill A Mockingbird, think about it: what do you think really happened to Boo Radley?

You never really know a man until you look in his mirror and make out with it.

Himself.

On behalf of everyone with eyes, I just want to say, “EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.”

Of course, A-Roid is the guy who taught us that when you lay your bed you have to sit on it. So, I guess, in his universe, it would follow that when you look in a mirror you have to kiss it.

Still, EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Forgive me. I would write more. But it’s hard to type when you’re hiding under the covers.

That actually has less to do with his commitment to environmental friendliness than it sounds.  It’s just a cutesy putesy (stupid) way to refer to his decision to take a middle-of-the-road course of action–arthroscopic surgery.  It’s less aggressive than his other surgical option but obviously more aggressive than rehab without surgery.

This statement comes on the heels of the statement that A-Roid was going to try to avoid surgery if at all possible.  That statement, of course, came on the heels of another statement that he was most likely going to have surgery. And all these statements happened within the span of a week.

So many statements.

This begs the question:  Why not just make the statement that you’re going to reserve all statements until you have a good enough grasp on the situation to just make one statement–one final statement?  And when you are prepared to make such a statement, why not just avoid having anyone related to you communicate that statement to the world?  Even if that person is your brother and not your cousin.  At this point, the world is just plain old wary of anyone related or supposedly related to you.

When asked about how his main pain in the asset was handling the decision, Cashman seemed to think The Roid was taking it all in stride.  He commented, “When it first happened, he (Alex) said he was ‘bummed.’ That was the exact word.  Alex texted me and he was really positive. He is excited. This is what he wanted to do.”

First of all, if bummed is all A-Roid could muster or even pretend to muster about this, then that guy’s worse than I thought.  Seriously.  “Bummed” is how I’d feel if my coffee shop stopped using soy milk.  Bummed is this week’s episode of House is a rerun.

Second of all, what’s the deal with all these pro athletes having all their important conversations via text message?   I definitely get not wanting to talk on the phone.  Probably more than the next person.  But I’m also not communicating with ESPN about my impending decision to unretire.  Nor am I communicating with the GM of the Yankees about a surgery that’s going to put me out of commission for several weeks.

According to Girardi, Cody Ransom is likely to fill in until A-Roid gets his groove back.  And, honestly, I say to Alex, “Don’t let the door hit you on asset on the way out.”  I don’t care what kind of numbers that guy posts.  I’m sick of hearing about Frost Tip. And I can’t imagine he’s not a distraction in the clubhouse.  So, maybe this is all for the best.  He disappears for a while, the boys get their rhythm, and by the time he comes back all of the scandal surrounding him has died down-including the impending, inevitable scandal that will certainly come with the release of the Selena Roberts book.

The real tragedy here is that when you look at a guy like Alex Rodriguez, you should just see a winner.   Somehow, though, he has managed to whittle away at all that talent and potential until all that remains is a guy who’s kind of a loser.  Sure, you can laugh if you want.  I’m just the blogger who’s making no money and talking smack from the safe enclave of my room and he’s the guy with the $272 million contract.  But tell me; is the big contract all one really needs in order to be considered a winner?

When I look at A-Roid, all I see is a guy who came to the Yankees to get a ring and has since never been able to even see the Bombers to the World Series. A guy whose talent will always be questioned because of his using of performance enhancing drugs. A guy who left his wife and kids to be with an aging pop star who was only with him to increase her tour’s sagging tickets sales. A guy who is so obsessed with public opinion that it inhibits his ability to perform under pressure.  A guy with a freakishly large hip cyst, the drainage of which the whole world got to hear about.  A guy who waits until halfway through spring training to address this hip cyst and, as a result, fails to see the underlying problem.  A guy who frosts his tips. A guy with all the natural ability in the world who still manages to look like a loser to me. That’s a feat.

I don’t like Manny Ramirez, but Manny Ramirez is not a loser.  Manny Ramirez is a winner.  He wins at life. Dustin Pedroia is the definitive ass clown.  Yet, he wins at life.

Well, it’s like he said. A-Roid laid his bed.  Now he has to sit on it. Lucky for him he can afford to buy sheets with a high thread count.

The latest is, of course, that A-Roid has a hip injury which may or may not require surgery eventually.  Initially, the only problem that anyone was aware of was a freakishly large cyst, which until now he failed to mention for whatever reason.  The Creature commented, “The cyst he has got to the size that was extraordinarily large and it finally brought him to the point he needed to get medical attention.”

Seriously?   I don’t know much about cysts.  However, I’m pretty sure that for a cyst to grow to be “extraordinarily large,” it would have to have taken at least a few weeks-possibly months.  If you’re Alex Rodriguez, and you have so much as a hangnail, don’t you just like go to the doctor?  Immediately?  Because you happen to be one of the people in the country who can afford good health coverage and because your career depends on your physical well-being?

But, whatever.  The cyst? That’s old news.  The new news is what lies beneath that cysty veneer-namely, a torn labrum.  And while A-Roid and the Yanks were not aware of the specific diagnosis, it turns out that they have been aware of an issue in the hip region since as late as last season when Alex  went in for an MRI for a strained quadricep.

The Yanks claim that they didn’t want to rock the boat last season because Frost Tip was asymptomatic and, well, it was the middle of the season.  Fine.  But, uh, what about all frickin’ winter when no one was playing baseball?  Wouldn’t that have been a good time to look into the situation?

Faced with the prospect that A-Roid might have to have surgery, forcing him to sit out several weeks of the season, Brian Cashman says that he’s a little bit taken aback.  Having initially assumed that they’d be dealing with a cyst, this is just a lot for him to handle so early in the year.  He said, “To be honest, it’s like drinking from a fire hose.”

To be honest, I can relate because that’s sort of how I felt when I found out that no one had considered A-Roid’s irregular MRI from 2008 an issue to address over the offseason.

Despite initial reports, it looks like A-Roid won’t be having surgery for now.  Instead, he will see if he can get away with rehabbing the injury and addressing it more seriously next winter if necessary.  Though, it’s official that he will be sitting out the Classic.  But fear not, Dominicans.  In an effort to find someone equally as winsome to take his place, Felipe Alou has moved Miguel Tejada over to third base.

He’s the other pride of the Dominican Republic.

That or a cyst.

A-Roid’s latest display of acrobatics came yesterday when he was in the middle fawning over Jose Reyes.  And, look, if the guy wants to talk about his man-crush on Jose, there’s nothing wrong with that-in theory.  Except why can’t A-Roid ever say anything nice without saying something not nice at the same time?

Like, remember that time he tried to compliment Bubba Crosby for hitting a walk-off home run, but was only able to do it by first saying how it was the last thing you’d ever expect from Bubba Crosby?  Nothing against Bubba.

Well, similarly, in this latest installment of “A-Roid: The Backhanded Compliment,” our boy, in his infinite creativity, found a way to alienate teammates in an effort to praise a player for a different team entirely.

No wonder he hurt his hip.  That requires a lot of flexibility.

When asked about Reyes, A-Roid responded, “I wish he was leading off on our team or playing on our team. That’s fun to watch, any time you have that type of speed. I mean, we have a guy in [Brett] Gardner that’ll be fun. That’s probably the most you can have, watching those guys run.”

Reyes plays shortstop.  If I recall, the Yankees already have a shortstop.  He’s our team’s captain.  As for leadoff, that would be Damon.  A-Rod’s jackass in arms.

I’m sorry, A-Roid, but how hard is it to say that Jose Reyes is fast and good at baseball without creating any more discord in the Yankees clubhouse than you have already?  Seriously.  If you can’t talk without saying something dumb or accidentally insulting someone, stop talking.  That plan has my vote.

Not surprisingly, Damon was more than understanding. He said in response, “I’ve just got to go out there and prove to Alex what I can do.  Alex and I are very good friends, and I think over his whole ordeal, we’ve gotten closer. We’ll talk when he gets back.”

I don’t know what’s going on between those two, but I predict that it’s a friendship that will eventually go up in flames.  I can see it now.  Damon, the consummate loyal sidekick, is eaten up by his resentment.  What about him? When’s it his turn in the spotlight?  The dynamic starts to unravel.

Mark my words.  I am prescient, after all.

As for Jeter, he’s already reached the end of his very rapidly fraying rope where A-Roid is concerned.  When asked about the comment, he couldn’t even muster his typical Jeter-like diplomacy, responding instead, “I’ve got nothing to say, man.”

And, whatever.  Actions speak louder than words.

I’d like to see just how well the Yanks would do without Captain America at the helm to lead them.  Not so very well, if yesterday was any evidence. Jeter and Team USA took the Yanks 6-5 in an exhibition game.

OK.  That might have had a little something to do with the fact that A-Roid and Cano were among the missing.  And that Team USA is comprised of some of the best players currently in MLB.  But Jeet did drive in two of the winning runs.

So, you know, suck on that Reyes.

For starters, if you have some highly illegal, super scandalous, unfit for public consumption steroids trainer on your payroll, don’t you make some sort of effort to keep your relationship and maybe even his existence totally top secret?  I mean, sure, maybe during the “loosey-goosey” days, it was less of an issue.  He could roll with your crew, no questions asked.  Because, well, “loosey-goosey” days are “loosey-goosey” by definition.

And, hell, let’s just say that if you ever set foot inside a GNC c. 1999, you’ve seen some things.

But what about later?  Once the whole steroid thing became more of a taboo.  After they had actually started testing-or even seriously discussing the possibility of testing-for performance enhancing drugs. At that point, did it really still make sense to roll out your steroids peddler at special black tie events?  To do sleepovers with him on road trips?  To make him in any way a part of your public life or inner circle?

I can’t quite tell what that is-hubris or just plain old stupidity.  Or maybe they just need to build an extension on the lake house to accommodate all of its residents.

At this point, all we can say for sure about Angel Presinal, the character most recently introduced in the tragic-comedy otherwise known as A-Roid’s life, is that he’s not to be trusted.  How do we know this?  The guy’s been banned from the Texas Rangers clubhouse.  And they’re one step away from running an ex-con reformation and rehabilitation program in there.

Other reasons to give us pause are his link to an unmarked bag of steroids at the Toronto airport in 2001, his freakishly large and disproportionate muscles accompanies with the mysterious absence of a neck, and rumors that he’s referred to as “The Cleaner”-which is less about some kind of OCD-like interest in tidying than it is about the fact that he’s the guy who supposedly knows how to cover up a positive pee test.

Everybody’s got a skill, I guess.

Presinal appears to have had a relationship with just about every major Dominican player to have ever graced the field in recent years, and all of them have been his staunchest defenders.  David Ortiz, who claims never to have received or discussed steroids with Presinal, is among his backers.  I don’t presume to know whether or not Ortiz has always played clean, notwithstanding the hard line he recently took against steroids.  However, even assuming the best about Papi, I find it hard to believe that he was totally oblivious of the nature of Presinal’s operation.

(Though, Papi is the guy who said, “My name is Big Papi.  Because everyone calls me Papi.  And I’m big.” So anything’s possible.)

I know we’re all sick of talking about this, but the unwavering defense of Presinal even in the face of all this public scrutiny concerns me.  This is a guy who is well-known for ingratiating himself with young Dominican kids who want to make good.  In most cases, impressionable kids with limited resources.  I would suggest to these veteran players that they can do one of two things at this point: Invest the energy into protecting the future of their country’s more valuable asset-it’s young ballplayers-or go out on a limb to protect Angel Presinal and his asset.

If you ask me, I’d say that guy’s eaten more than his fair share of free lobster already.

That didn’t take long.  But I guess we knew it wouldn’t.

So far, this is what we’ve learned about Yuri:  In addition to having been A-Roid’s drug mule for three years, he was also the guy who paid the bills, made the reservations, cleaned up the messes and, if I had to guess, put the mint under the pill.

Oh, yeah, and the guy with the bad fortune to have a name that was spelled “Yuri” but pronounced “Judy.”

You know what he wasn’t?  The guy making $25 million a year to play baseball. And presumably not the guy coming up with all the bright ideas. 

True, none of this absolves him of his role in all of this.  But Jude isn’t the famous person in this scenario.  And since he doesn’t reap the benefits of being the public figure, he shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences.  Not to mention the fact that it sort of sounds like his life has already been unfortunate enough on account of his relationship with A-Rod.  I feel no need to exacerbate the situation.

So, we have two choices:

1) Keep digging in an attempt to dredge up every stupid detail about this poor dumb schmuck’s life, or

2) Let it go and save the sports coverage for the people who actually play sports.

Why do I have a feeling that I’m not going to be the majority vote on this one?

No, believe it or not, Tim McCarver was not the one to bring that particular truth bomb to the world. Johnny Damon was. 

Yesterday, in that display of Yankee support we’ve been hearing so much about, Damon spoke out in A-Roid’s defense, saying, “Yeah he did some bad things. He took a steroid. Definitely do not condone that, at all, but there could be a lot worse things he could have been doing out there. He hasn’t done a crime. So there’s worse things that he could have done but you know I’ve known Alex since he was 15 and he’s always been super nice to me and so I’m going to support him and try help him through this time.”

When asked what would have been worse, I can only imagine Damon sense of self-satisfaction when he came up with his answer: “Murdering someone.”

Oh, SNAP.  In your face, journalist.

And a lesson to us all.  Don’t judge the morality of a person’s actions in isolation-only in comparison with other, much more heinous actions. 

(But note to Damon: A-Rod actually has “done a crime.”  It’s called the use of illegal steroids.  Thanks for playing though.  You’ve been a great, albeit, borderline brain damaged contestant.)

But, still, Johnny Damon did not defend A-Roid’s steroid use.  Like he said, he definitely does not condone it at all.  And you want to know what I do not condone at all, Johnny Damon?  Your use of hair product.  I mean, oy vey, man.

I know that you mean well, Johnny, but I think that A-Rod is managing this particular situation without your “help.”  If A-Rod needs someone to say something stupid in his defense, rest assured that he can say it himself.