Special “I can’t take another first-round knockout” Yankeetorial: Here we go again: Win game one, then sleep, child, sleep

Waitaminute. I’ve seen this movie. Bruce Willis turns out to be dead, the hot chick is a man, and our thirdbaseman is unmasked as Celerino Sanchez. Peter Parker gets bitten by the spider, and Natalie Portman’s hands bleed up to the point where she accepts the Oscar. Watch for the cat: Every time he pops up, the alien is near. And you thought there was a limit to Adam Sandler poop jokes? What if there are two Adam Sandlers, a man and woman!

Yeah, we’ve seen this movie, and – trust me here – the ending sucks. The Bronx Bomb. It stars the aging, tired, and clutch-crippled New York Yankees, the worst comedy ensemble since “Ishtar.” Imagine “The Expendables 7,” with Arnold and Sylvester in their eighties, and you’ve got it. We know how it ends. We win the first game, botch the second and then – poof – the chick’s a man, and it’s “Crying Time.”

You can see the lost signs in our batting order, like hidden cryptographs found on a History Channel documentary. Here’s Curtis Granderson, second in the league in home runs, batting eighth. Why could this happen? Did the ancient astronauts do this on purpose? No. Grandi just strikes out like a guy who should bat eighth.

And how is it that a utility infielder Eduardo Nunez is the mighty Yankee DH, batting ninth? What ever happened to the Chili Davises and Bob Watsons that once roamed the Yankee Serengeti. Well, we had one. His name was Andruw Jones. We spent the whole season – from March to October - trying him out for the job, and in the last week, we decided it was a failure.

Ah, but back to the movie theme. Folks, we hit the iceberg last night, and now it’s everyone for himself. Now, Baltimore has an advantage in pitchers. That kid Gonzalez is being called “The Yankee Killer.” And Tillman isn’t far behind. We offer Kuroda and Hughes, and if there is a fifth game, we turn it over to CC, while they’ll have a rested arm. Damn, I hate this movie. I can’t take another first round knockout. I’m telling you, I can’t take another first-round knockout. At least the Redsocks will retool in the off-season. If we slink forward after a first-round knockout, we will still be taking water, with Sylvester Stallone batting third, and good grief, we know what happens, folks, Leonardo freezes to death so James Cameron can live on and travel to the stars.

If you’re looking for hope, I’m sorry. Seriously, I apologize. Maybe there is a hero in that lineup somewhere. Maybe Arod will magically return. Maybe Ichiro can lift us, or maybe Boone Logan will shut them down from the sixth to the eighth. But if anybody told me that Andy and CC would pitch great games, I’d have bet my tent on us being up 2-0. They did, and we’re going home for a two-out-of-three series. Who’s the hero in there? I see dead people.