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— Johnny Damon

I think Hot Stove season stinks. Really and truly, I do. Yeah, I know, you could argue it's better than a cold stove or no stove at all when the long winter freeze sets in, but it honestly doesn't do all that much to warm my soul.

Give me baseball games, any games, and I'll be a happier dude. Say, a bare bones broadcast from the Arizona Fall League so I can see how Phil Hughes is pitching with my own eyes rather than rely on the assessments of lazy scouts I don't trust. Or, say, a camera crew in Puerto Rico so we can see how Robbie Cano does playing Latin American winter ball.

See, Hot Stove is a waiting game. And, as an author, I spend an inordinate — or, more properly, unbearable — amount of time waiting for stuff that's beyond my control.

Usually it starts with my agent. What happens is I call him with a brainstorm, or he calls me with one, and maybe asks if I'm interested in a idea that an editor's gotten in touch with him about. If it sounds like something I can see myself doing, we get pumped. We are brothers-in-arms heading into battle with manic optimism and enthusiasm.

And then he tells me how long the proposal has to be. And reminds me that I have to write a sample chapter. And that it has to be done by next week before everybody at the publishing house splits for Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's and Saint Swithin's Day, and then maybe gets tied up at a sales conference in Alaska or South America between Martin Luther King Jr. Day and President's Day.

So I hustle to write the proposal. Plunk down in front of the computer before dawn, do 10-to-12-hour shifts, work till I stink like a hamper full of dirty clothes. Finally, when I'm done, there's a rush of pride an accomplishment.

And then the miserable lulls begin. I wait for my agent to read the proposal, and when he does — and hopefully moves forward without asking for numerous revisions, which is rare — there's an extended period of waiting for reads by editors, and editorial assistants and publishers and sales and marketing people ....

Before long, the awareness that a given project can be killed at any stage of the reading and acquisition process has transformed my enthusiasm to utter dread. I wait for the phone to ring. And wait some more. And then anxiously call my agent and ask what's behind the waiting. Relax, he tells me. One guy who needs to read it was on vacation. And his boss was on the lam from the Feds but is now out of custody and will get around to it any day now....

During baseball season — real baseball season, as opposed to Hot Stove season — there's plenty to keep me from staring at the phone with my eyes as big as poached eggs and my hair standing straight up Eraserhead-style. At least one game is worth watching every single night, for instance. And plenty of columns and blogs to write for this website while I wait for the rest.

But Hot Stove season ... like I said, its just waiting on top of waiting. You wait and try figure out what a team or player is going to do based on incomplete or downright inaccurate information. You wait for this or that deal to materialize. Somebody, please tell me: How's it different from everything else that goes on in my life?

Where's the bloody relief?

STUPID-TRADE CALLERS
What I hate most of all about Hot Stove season are dumb radio calls from backseat general managers who don't seem to grasp the difference between swapping baseball cards, fantasy baseball and real-world trades.

You know the type. I can imagine 'em wasting airtime on WFAN ....

Caller: "Yo, Mike. Big Mets fan here. How about Delgado for Pujols, straight up?"

Francesa: "Are you nuts? Why in the world would the Cardinals give up Pujols?"

Caller: "Well, uh, a couple years back, I read on the Internet he doesn't get along with La Russa."

Or ...

Caller: "Here's a great one for ya, Mikey. Solves a bunch of the Yanks' problems. The Yanks trade Igawa and Kennedy for David Wright. Then they put Jeter in the outfield and move Rodriguez to short —"

Francesa: "Whoa, whoa! C'mon gimme a break! Why do you think the Mets would give up Wright for those two guys? Or that the Yanks even want him?"

Caller: I got it figured out. See, the Mets think Wright's a choker and the Yanks want to get younger ..."

To quote Olaf the Swede from the old Blackhawk comic book series: Py Yiminy! And the saddest part is that I'm so desperate to avoid hearing any more about the financial crisis, I actually listen to this stuff.

MOOOOOOSE
Congratulations to Mike Mussina on a brilliant career. For the past eight years, I always considered it a treat when the day for which I had game tickets coincided with Moose's turn on the mound. Like a gazillion other Yankees fans, I'll never forget his near-perfect game at Fenway Park in 2001, his incredible shutout of Oakland in Game 3 of that year's ALCS, and his masterful and magical three innings of relief against Boston in Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS.

I've heard a lot of people correctly state Moose was the team MVP last year. But it shouldn't be forgotten that he was the Yanks', ah, horse of the pitching staff for more than one of the past several seasons.

One of my favorite Mussina performances came back on May 7, 2005, while Carl Pavano was busy working on his unforgettable no-show Yankee career and Kevin Brown was bathing the Bronx in sunshine while throwing bushels of elevated sinkers to salivating batters. That Saturday, Moose threw a nine-inning shutout against Oakland for a 5-0 win while I watched from as close to directly behind home plate as I've ever sat. On a damp, chilly Friday night preceding that game, the Yankees suffered a tough extra-inning loss in the series opener, bringing their record to a dreary 11-19 to that point. It was Moose's big win that turned things around that season and jump-started the Yanks' eventual playoff run.

I'd been having a miserable weekend — personal stuff combined with the Yankees stinking up the place. On Saturday, the guy sitting next to me was a French tourist who kept yakking my ear off about the 9/11 terrorist attacks being staged. Moose's wizardry on the mound not only made me forget my problems for a while, but might havve stopped me from making an indisputably real attack on the guy and getting banned from the Stadium for life.

And before I change the subject:

New York Daily News sports columnist Bill Price does not believe Mike Mussina belongs in the Hall of Fame. Of his possible qualifications, he writes: "Many Moose supporters will bring up his 270 wins, but if you're gonna use that as a barometer, then Jim Kaat (283), Burt {sic}Blyleven (287) and Tommy John (288) should go in ahead of him."

Ah, c'mon, Bill. Here's the all-important win-versus-loss breakdown as far as the four hurlers' careers:

Jim Katt: 283-237
Bert Blyleven: 287-250
Tommy John: 288-231
Mike Mussina: 270-153

Anybody notice a glaring difference between Moose and those others? In 18 seasons with Baltimore and New York, he won 117 more games than he lost for a .638 winning percentage. Only five pitchers in history have as many victories with an overall higher winning percentage. Two of them threw in the modern era: Roger Clemens and Randy Johnson.

Price believes Pedro Martinez and Curt Schilling should arguably go in ahead of Mussina, and he's obviously as entitled to make his case as anyone with a forum. But he should play fair with readers while doing it.

ONE LAST RAZZ
Regular readers of this column know I was never keen on Darrell Rasner holding a fairly regular spot in the Yanks' 2008 pitching rotation, injuries notwithstanding.

Well, it looks like I won't have the Ras-man to razz anymore, since the Yankees have sold his contract to the Tohoku Rakuten Golden Eagles of Japan's Pacific League for a million dollars. Rasner reportedly signed a two-year deal that will pay him over a mil in his first year with the Eagles and escalate up to a possible three million dollars-plus for his second.

This is good for Rasner and his family. Good for me, too, since it will likely spare me some conniptions in 2009, although I wish Kei Igawa had been part of the deal so I can get off nerve medication. But it does beg the serious question:

If Rasner, a pitcher whose skill set barely qualified him for the Major Leagues, can command that kind of cash in Japan, what additional proof need there be that Japanese baseball is essentially quadruple-A ball, with only a few standout players worth importing at high prices?

Yankee scouts in Asia, please take note.

TEX ARCANA
Reader-slash-pal Chelsea writes in an e-mail:

So what's with the Yanks and Swisher? Are they planning on using him as Tex's [Mark Teixeira] and the rest of the infield's backup? I hope so.

I really hope so too. The Betamit-Swisher trade was a good one for the Yankees. But as I wrote back, in part, to Chelsea, Swisher would be a fine utility player and a reasonable fallback if Teixeira opts to stay with the Angels or go elsewhere. His acquisition also would be useful in contract negotiations with Scott Boras insofar as making the Yanks' need for a solution at first base appear less dire, perhaps reducing Teixeira's price somewhat. But it will a huge mistake if the Yanks pass on him to concentrate exclusively on pitching. He is a durable, clutch player who's consistent at the plate and defensively superb. The Yankees need him — now and in the future.

Chelsea also asks:

And what is with CC waiting for another offer? Is he expecting a 700 billion-dollar bailout or something to bail him out of the NL?

Such a kidder, she is.

MVP DUSTIN
I hate Dustin Pedroia. Hate him, hate him, hate him.

If he was on the Yanks and not the Sox, I'd love him.

Thus, I'm hatefully glad he's the 2008 American League MVP, because he deserves it. And because his success demonstrates that talent, guts and determination can be a blade that cuts through the worst kind of obstinacy and rigidity of thought.

Lazy baseball scouts in general take note.

Back in a couple. A happy and tranquil Thanksgiving to all ... and please be safe.

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