First game victory? Bah. Means nothing. Nada. Zilch. In fact, if you're a Yankee, it means time to worry.

Last year, in the first playoff game, we snapped the Tigers' spines so hard they thought one of those hybrid battery plants just exploded back in Detroit. We scored six in the sixth to beat Cy Verlander. Cano homered, and the series was over. Everybody knew it. 

Yeah, right.

Remember October 2010? Maybe you blotted it out. In game one, we scored five in the eighth to stun Texas, 6-5. They had led all game. They were practically peeing in their Stetsons. Suddenly, CC beat Wilson, Cano homered, and the series was over. Everybody knew it.

History can be a root canal, eh?

If it tells us anything, it's that we should worry. This is when the Yankees go into our dressing rooms to powder our faces for the Canyon of Heroes. This is when we punch out. We won the first round. Where's the buffet?

Remember 2006? We beat the Tigers in game one. Never won again.

Well, but what about 2005? Mussina shut down the Angels in game one. Then... (poof.)

Do you want me to even mention 2004? No. Trust me. You don't. Let's just say we won games one, two and three.

So... WTF? You cannot predict baseball. The Master tells us this every night. But something's happenin' here, and you don't know what it is, do you, Mr. Girardi?

What is it? How about this: For all the talk of Yankee toughness, experience and pride, we have a tendency to pull up on the gas pedal, whenever we are in the lead. We did it in August, when we were up by 10. We do not possess the furious hunger, full bore-intensity of young teams, once they taste our blood. We let up, and suddenly, it's over.

You could look it up.

Be afraid, folks. Be very afraid. We won game one. Iceberg dead ahead.