My angry post last night was an example of Reverse Rizzutonian Juju, an extremely volatile and dangerous weapon, which denotes the seriousness of the event

At times, sitting in your Yankee game chair, or pacing the war room with your most powerful juju Spongebob pillow, is just not enough.

Last night required desperate measures.

I'm not proud of how it looked. But dammit, we won. Dammit, I'll do a Jeterian dive into the Dumpster of Hell to win a ballgame, and, dammit, maybe a few of you out there ought to take stock of your stone-cold, sniveling weanie testicles now and then -- to decide whether you've got what it takes to be a 27 World Championships Yankee fan.

Dammit, it was 11 o'clock. Did you know where your juju was?

As some of you know, Alphonso is THE master of Reverse Rizzutonian Juju, submitted electronically to the Juju gods, (who are known to read this website.) In R.R.J., the idea is to speak negatively of the Yankees, which coaxes or humiliates the gods into taking action.

We have documented anecdotal proof that RRJ works.

Last night, I saw no recourse but to throw a Hail Mary percussion jujubomb into the Yankiverse, and then stand back and deal with the consequences. It worked. 

Before you say, thank you, el Duque, may I have another! Know this.

My soul is drained. My account at the First National Bank of Yankee Juju is probably in the red. There are no Tarp bailouts in baseball. Today, it's possible that my car will not start, or the toilet will overflow, or some evil Redsock fan will subscribe me to one of those awful girlie magazines  -- it's happened before!! -- because of what I did last night.

But dammit, we won.

And that's how you win in October.