But something hideous and divisive - the super-honed instincts of a snow-shoveling upstate NYker - is screaming from the Don Zimmer memorial steel-plate within my head: TOO EASY, TOO EARLY.
Take last night. Hollywood comeback. If that's a playoff game, Teixeira's HR goes up there with Robert Redford's fireworks shot in "The Natural." We snapped California's spine like a Hershey bar. They should not show up today. They should go back to wherever they came from. Hell, I guess. It should be over. Goodbye. so long, farewell...
But it's what, July 14? We still have to survive the Olympics and then the horrible, miserable, Star Trekkie-level conventions. It's a 500-mile hike to Sept. 1. Too easy, too early. We gotta save some Leyritz sauce for later.
We've done everything possible to blow it. Andy Pettitte threw himself into a liner just to make us use Freddy Garcia. Brett Gardner is drinking Boddingtons on a beach somewhere, just so Andruw Jones can trot around in the outfield. God knows Girardi didn't expect Dewayne Wise to be the Second Coming of Roberto Clemente. Nothing has worked. We keep winning.
Too easy, too early?
Aint complainin'. Just worryin.' Zim is talking to me. Bevare.
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