Five hard losses plunged the Jeep-driven Voice of the Yankees into projecting suicidal overhead thought bubbles through the radio waves, while loyal Suzyn chewed tobacco and made sure his scoresheet was touched by nothing sharper than an aqua Crayola.
Today, in off hours, they'll regain focus: maybe drive to Mark Teixeira's house to see the new riding lawnmower or stay in the hotel and model slutty clothes.
A five-point-five won't cut it. We need a walk-off 7.25. We need Sterling hurling into the apocalypse. We need a hero.
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