Let it rain

This is as dark a day as the Yankiverse has seen, since Mustang and I launched this blog in 2007.

Everywhere, we see sadness, anger and disillusionment - and the sense that a great Yankee era has passed - (actually, it ended two years ago; we just didn't know it) - and a long, barren stretch lies ahead.

We've been free-falling now for so long that we've forgotten what it's like to actually be in a pennant race.

At some point, we must hit bottom.

At some point, we need more from the Yankees than nostalgia tours.

At some point, the Yankees system must yield more than one 28-year-old middle innings reliever.

At some point, we need a team whose average age is closer to 20 than 50.

At some point, we must stop falling.

I'm not sure this is it.

Tonight, Yankee fans deserve a starry sky, a warm breeze, a walk-off home run, a final tip of the cap, a series of loud and emotional chants and - yes - tears.

But the Yankee franchise - and the Faustian deal it made with Steiner Collectibles - deserves something else.

The Yankees deserve a hard, torrential, freezing rain that blows through the luxury boxes and shake the foundation of the new stadium - the fraudulent facsimile for the house they razed on the whims of billionaires. The Yankees deserve a flood of Biblical proportions, which washes the inherited detritus of the crony-fattened front office down through the dugouts and deep into the Hudson River, to finally bob up and go out with the Icelandic tide.

If you have tickets, may you enjoy a perfect night.

Truth be told, I hope it rains.