Anti-Yostian feelings are coming back to the surface now that we've hit .500. Given how much he was reviled last September, it makes sense. I got into a discussion last night about how much Yost is really to blame for what's happened thus far. My take is: not much. He didn't blow out Gallardo's knee, or put a hex on Rickie's bat, or not offer a slightly higher contract offer to Cordero so we wouldn't be stuck with a slovenly, post-'roidal, sub-par closer who now leads MLB in blown saves.

I honestly don't think that Nedward has done much to negatively affect the team thus far. He's been flexible enough listen to the stat-heads about batting the pitcher eighth (although I'm not sure if he had much choice in the matter), and been flexible enough to tweak the Braun/Fielder and Hart/Hall configurations in the lineup. Ned clung to Turnbow in a few instances where it hurt us, but it's not as if there were incredible options elsewhere in the 'pen.

Then the question was raised: Even if Yost isn't to blame for .500, is he capable of doing anything positive at this point to turn the team around? And the more I thought about it, the more I lean towards no. It seems like there are only two areas where Yost could potentially make an impact, and he comes up short in both. 

The first would be the tactical department, an area where, as we saw last season, Ned proven to be severely lacking in the skills needed to manage a pennant race. The number of outcomes a manager has influence over might not be that high -- correct me if I'm wrong, but even The All-Knowing LaRussa admitted in Bissinger's book that his preparation may only come up huge in a handful of games each season -- but still, it's pretty unlikely that Ned is going to outsmart many other managers. The stubborn and scrappy parts of Ned's brain block out whatever genius might be hiding up there.

The second, and I think this might actually be more important, is the motivational department. I know, I know -- if Prince ends up with 45-plus homers this season, it won't be because he was inspired by a good pep talk. It'll be because he simply started acting like the hitter he was statistically projected to be in '08. But there is still something to be said for having a clubhouse atmosphere where the players want to win for their manager, and I've always had the suspicion that there's somewhat of a disconnect between Yost and the young core of the team.

The Brewers, if one goes strictly by everyday position players, are (I think) the blackest team in MLB. This, to me, is really cool thing -- in an era where we always hear how the U.S.' best African-American athletes are shunning baseball for basketball and football, Milwaukee trots out three young black talents in its infield (Prince, Rickie and Bill Hall) one veteran in its outfield (Mike Cameron), and has a possible future starter (Tony Gwynn Jr.) on its bench. And Prince, a soon-to-be 24-year-old phenom, is the jolly-when-they-need-it, serious-when-they-need-it leader of the clubhouse. The team feeds of Prince, and he knows this.

Yost, on the other hand, is a 52-year-old good ol' boy who loves NASCAR and hunting, and was a freakin' taxidermist at one point. And so when Nedward decides to bring in a celebrity guest to entertain his troops, he naturally chooses who? His old friend Larry The Cable Guy.

Yost brought in Larry earlier this season, and there was Fox Sports Net-Wisconsin footage of LTCG taking batting practice in a cutoff No. 1 jersey. A friend who's around the Brewers told me recently that this is not the first time Larry has been in the clubhouse. Larry The Cable Guy, if you're not familiar, is regarded as America's No. 1 redneck comic, and he is perhaps the worst form of man: not even a real redneck, but rather a redneck impersonator who makes boat-loads of money off of rednecks, by pandering to themes they love, such as racism, xenophobia and anti-intellectualism.

Here are a couple of pertinent lines from a Slate.com article on Larry from 2005:

[Redneck] comedy speaks to a broadly American condition: the feeling of being left out. Blue Collar was mounted as a rejoinder to The Original Kings of Comedy (2000), a film directed by Spike Lee that featured four black comedians.

Redneck comedy—the creation of a cretinous, backwoods alter ego—was once useful in maintaining the delicate social fabric of the South. According to James C. Cobb, a history professor at the University of Georgia, the redneck comedian provided a rallying point for bourgeois and lower-class whites alike. With his front-porch humor and politically outrageous bons mots, the redneck comedian created an illusion of white equality across classes. Thus united, Cobb explains, Southern whites could better band together against common "foes"—newly enfranchised blacks, Northern carpetbaggers, and so forth.

I'm aware that this is a completely anecdotal argument. But if you're a proud African-American like Prince, Rickie, Gwynn, Hall or Cameron; or a Jewish product of L.A. like Braun or Kapler; or a Mexican immigrant like Gallardo; or a Domincan like Villanueva, aren't you at least a tad insulted -- even if you won't ever say it to the press -- that Ned brings that kind of comedic crap around the team, gives it a jersey, and lets it take BP? It's as if Ned hasn't looked around and realized that he's not with John Rocker and the Braves anymore. The Brewers hardly have any real Southerners on their roster; only Ben Sheets and Corey Hart really qualify in that department. If you wanted to bring in a celebrity comedian that the team would actually like, you'd get Chris Rock.

Now, Larry the Cable Guy isn't the reason we started 16-16. Neither is Ned's lack of managerial skill. But we can't exactly just print out every player's PECOTA projections for '08, tape them up in their lockers, and say, "You're supposed to be doing THIS!" There's some intangible, emotional element to this as well. Someone will need to motivate them out of the funk, and motivate them through the All-Star break, and try to make a semi-improbable run at overtaking the Cubs. That someone will need to be a good baseball mind AND be able to connect with the kids, not insult them. Let's be proactive and acknowledge that that someone is not Ned.