Yankeetorial: We lost Saturday's game before it started

This is what we know. Ellen Degeneres will never eat at Chick fil-A. Dick Cheney will never die. And the Yankees will never score a run off Felix Hernandez. Ever. The world will end first. The big bang will run its course, time and space will begin to contract, and all matter - except for Dick Cheney - will be repressurized into a spec that is roughly the size of Rupert Murdoch's heart. And we will still be looking to score one run - just one - off King Felix.

That's OK. Dominating pitchers come and go. Frank Larry used to be known as "the Yankee Killer." The 1961 Yankees, greatest team ever, couldn't hit him with tennis rackets. We've seen Koufax, Gibson, McLain, Palmer, Clemens, blahblahblah all the way to Cliff Lee and Verlander... and now this: King Felix, who not only shuts us out, but hits Arod and puts him out for six weeks.

In that sense, we should be grateful about yesterday's shutout: Felix didn't put anybody on the DL for a month.

But there's something else here. The Yankees yesterday didn't seem to try anything new. They just strode to the plate, took their medicine, and walked back to the dugout. This season, we've heard some sanctimonious lines from Granderson and Teixeira on how they tried to adjust to the overshifts, but it only made matters worse -- so they just returned to swinging away, and it worked out. I get this. It's not easy to change. Both have boosted us to first place. Who can complain? WHO AMONG US HAS A RIGHT TO WHINE ABOUT A TEAM THAT IS IN FIRST?

Me. That's who.

We all know when a Felix Hernandez pitches, we can't touch him. But we don't bunt. We don't steal the base. We don't try to hit to the opposite field. We just lose. Take our cuts and lose.

And everybody knows where this goes on Oct. 4.

If we don't figure out those overshifts, if we don't come to grips with our shortcomings, the playoffs will be short. And Dick Cheney will laugh.