The son is about to find out what's in a name. As much fun as he's had sitting in the old man's office and answering the phone when the tabloids called, Hank Steinbrenner's vacation is over.

He knows it's taboo to talk about next year in New York, as evidenced by what he said last October, the day after he let his father's manager for the previous dozen seasons, Joe Torre, walk: "None of us think we can win the championship every year, but that's the goal. Period."

Yet here it is, not even October, and there's precious few signs of life between the lines and zero hope of making the playoffs. Though the body is still warm, the post-mortem has begun, because that's the Yankee way, too. Not to be outdone, Steinbrenner provided the Yankees beat writers with his assessment of the team after a loss to the Red Sox last Wednesday at home all but sealed their fate.

"They sucked," he said, for once eschewing use of the royal "we."

There will be enough finger-pointing and personnel changes this offseason to give new meaning to the term "hot stove."

A season after they scored nearly 1,000 runs, they'll be lucky to see 800. Alex Rodriguez, re-signed at $27 million per year to anchor the batting order for the next decade, was undone by Madonna, or nerves, or both. He's hitting less than .250 with runners in scoring position and two-thirds of his homers have come with the bases empty. He routinely gets booed, but here's a comforting thought: A-Rod is under contract until he's 42.

The young pitching arms the Yankees were counting on nearly fell off. Phil Hughes and Ian Kennedy are both 0-4 with ERAs nudging toward double digits. Promising outfield prospect Melky Cabrera, whose name also turned up in a few proposed deals that might have landed Johan Santana, is languishing in the minors after hitting just .242 with eight homers and 36 RBIs.

Just as he had countless times with King George, general manager Brian Cashman tried to make himself the fall guy.

"We're scuffling," he said, "and we're not doing a very good job of doing something about it."

But it's too late for that. Pushed by competition from the free-spending Red Sox, he made a series of bad choices on the kind of aging starting pitchers the Yankees once plucked with immunity and great results. Burned by Carl Pavano, Kei Igawa and Randy Johnson, Cashman abandoned George Steinbrenner's philosophy of hiring mercenaries and decided to go with a youth movement instead.

The Yankees will move into their new, $1.3 billion pleasure palace across the street next season, and like the neighbors down the block, they'd be wise to devote more time and energy to where they plan to be than where they are at the moment.

Between position players Jason Giambi, Bobby Abreu, Pudge Rodriguez and pitchers Mike Mussina and Andy Pettitte, among others, the Yankees will be able to clear close to $90 million in contracts off their books before next season. That means they can take a run at CC Sabathia, Milwaukee's rent-an-ace, and maybe even his Brewers sidekick, Ben Sheets. Mark Teixeira, too, might be in play, as a quick upgrade for Giambi.

But no matter where the Yankees look, they can count on seeing the Red Sox hovering nearby. Boston has become the Evil Empire North by doing business the way the Yankees have for years, except as two World Series titles in the last four years prove, they've been doing it better.

To Cashman's enduring credit, he could point to devastating injuries throughout the lineup all season long, but hasn't. Maybe because the Red Sox have suffered just as many, and while they haven't kept pace with surprising Tampa Bay, they've clung to a wild-card spot with jerry-rigged lineups by alternating stars and fill-ins they developed themselves. The two best position players the Yankees farm system turned up recently have been Cabrera and Robinson Cano, and their long-term prospects are far from guaranteed.

This is where Hank and his brother Hal come in. Hank has learned to yell and flog the team and leave Cashman to take the blame. Hal has been hiding in the background.

What neither has figured out is something the old man learned long ago. When Joe Torre ran the show, George supplemented homegrown talent with free agents and spent the bulk of his payroll on a succession of Hessians like Roger Clemens on the mound. Lately, they've opened the checkbook to land a string of high-priced sluggers for the batting order and tried to get by with bargains in the rotation.

George may have only so much say about the direction his sons take the franchise from here, but these few words of advice should serve as the family's motto: "It's the pitching, stupid."

Jim Litke is a national sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to him at jlitke@ap.org