Moments When Marcus Stroman Wished He Hadn’t Spoken About the New York Yankees

The Bronx Bombers shimmer like a mirage in the desert to Marcus Stroman. After two nomadic Chicago Cubs seasons, the allure of New York, a city that both amplified his talent and fanned the flames of his feuds, beckons him back. He’d let the New York Yankees know, in hushed tones, that he wouldn’t mind wearing their iconic stripes in 2024. But the Pinstripes, so close he could almost taste the salty tang of victory parades, remain stubbornly out of reach.

Sure, Bombers need pitching, desperate for an arm to bolster their rotation. But Stroman isn’t exactly the flamethrower they crave. His finesse, his ground ball artistry—it feels more like a crafty magician’s sleight of hand than the thunderous artillery they yearn for. Besides, there is baggage—a steamer trunk overflowing with past barbs and braggadocio.

Marcus Stroman’s New York Yankees pursuit is in danger, all thanks to his frivolous past

The Bronx pine for pitching—a gaping hole in their diamond heart. Jordan Montgomery, once a pinstripe prince, emerged as the perfect suitor, but the ghosts of bitter goodbyes danced between the teams. Stroman, the free agent firebrand, had fanned the flames with his Twitter fury, each tweet a searing indictment of the Yankees’ bloated budgets and empty trophy case.

“Nah, I’m good,” spoke his GIF reply when he’d once scoffed after being photoshopped in pinstripes, his laughter echoing across the internet. His adamancy didn’t end there, unfortunately.

Yet, beneath the online facade of bravado, a flicker of intrigue remains. The Bombers, desperate for a reliable arm, can’t ignore Montgomery’s talent. Brian Cashman, the architect of the Bronx empire, faces a choice: swallow his pride and mend fences or watch Montgomery waltz to another team, the sting of Stroman’s barbs echoing in his ears.

Could bygones truly be bygones? Could Montgomery weather the Bronx’s unforgiving spotlight with Stroman’s shadow looming large? Or would the Yankees, forever haunted by the words of this jilted pitcher, find a last-minute answer in Marcus Stroman’s flame-throwing arm?

Is he a good fit for the New York Yankees, putting aside a messy past?

Talent knows no allegiance, and Stroman’s is undeniable. A ground ball artist extraordinaire, he coaxed outs from the dirt with the cunning of a master pickpocket. A 3.95 ERA last season, 25 starts under his belt, and the durability to weather Yankee Stadium’s pressure cooker—on paper, he is the perfect Cole companion.

The market seems strangely lukewarm, leaving Stroman’s price tag of $44 million for two years (per MLBTR) surprisingly affordable. Could the Yankees bury the hatchet, swallow their pride, and scoop up the ace they so desperately need? Or would the ghosts of past feuds haunt the deal, the echoes of Stroman’s taunts bouncing off the monuments of Yankee history?

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The Bronx holds its breath, the decision a knife’s edge between championship aspirations and reigniting a years-old flame war. Marcus Stroman, meanwhile, awaits, his Twitter fingers twitching, poised to either celebrate a new chapter or unleash another salvo in the ongoing battle of the Bronx.

The choice, it seems, isn’t just about pitching; it is about pride, about forgiveness, and about proving who owns the narrative in the ever-theatrical stage of New York baseball. The curtain, for now, remains stubbornly down.

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