FIFTY THOUSAND MOONS
Sunday, August 9, 2015
Posted by el duque at 6:57 AM
Ah, but who are we kidding? Everybody can sense it: The Collapse. She's here, she's undressing, she's unhooking her bra and leaning to kiss us on the mouth. Oh, the humanity. The ancient prophesies are coming true. We face the Four Secondbasemen of the Apocalypse: Drew, Ackley, Ryan and Pirella. The Beastmaster has arrived, and she looks like the offspring of Jose Batista and Meghan Kelly. Her skirt is rising, like those recent floodwaters in Anaheim, and our esteemed manager has countered with - huh? - Branden Pinder. Uh-oh. She's reaching down, she's unholstering our Yankeehood and - dear God, people, DEAR GOD, four runs in four games - so do the only thing we can do: Close your eyes and think about Yogi!
Yes, Yogi. The greatest Yankee legacy of hope, of trust, of honor, of everything good. In times like this, it's important to have a sacred rock that you long ago stashed in a shoebox deep in the closet. You take it out and hold it, and you think about Yogi.
Yes, today, the prophesy arrived. Bill Madden wrote his column saying the Yankees should have traded for David Price. As sure as the east sets in the west, the NY writers were eventually going to attack Cashman for not trading away the farm. It's called "pronouncing Aaron Judgement." I don't even blame Madden. You can't blame the alligator for eating the elk. There's a million years of evolution involved. When the Yankees lose, the teeth come out. Close your eyes and think about Yogi.
Today's game is everything. Win, and we staunch the bleeding. Win, and we go to Cleveland on a one-game winning streak. Lose, and we were swept at home in the first critical series of the season. Lose and... well...
IF WE LOSE TODAY, GIRD YOUR LOINS, BECAUSE IT WILL BE TIME FOR A JUJU INTERVENTION, THE FIRST OF 2015.