Ugh.

OK, let's be done with this: UGHHHHH.

There. I belched it.

Done. Out of my system.

We can't pound through 2106, and maybe 2017, clutching our billiards in despair, whenever Yoan Moncada - the one who got away - hits a dinger for East Turpentine in the La Leche League. Let's accept that the Gammonites of Boston - the most Gammonitic Gammonites in the world of truth-lite journalism - will forever tout this guy, as if he hatched from Lady Gaga's egg, if only to remind us of our Beaver Cleaver-haired, trust-funding, boy owner, who squeezes money like a six-grader clutching his cards in an Airport Ramada Pokemon tournament.

Let's do this. The last painful time... let's imagine for a moment that Food Stamps Hal Steinbrenner hadn't finished second in the Moncada auction, roughly one year ago...

So... it's that alt-universe: We're coming off a string of Best Farm System rankings, which put us in the Top Five, rather than the middle-of-the-herd. Moncada is viewed as as our Top Prospect, and the best Yankee third-base hope since Donald Trump was doing Marla Maples. You have to go back to Mike Lowell to find a decent 3B grown on the Yankee farm. Now, we have our man.

The four-year deal with Chase Headley doesn't look so scary. We see Headley holding 3B for maybe one year, until Moncada arrives - rather than three more nightmare seasons. We don't have to ponder the creeping terror: That Headley's laser throws into the first base seats are not early warning signs of Chuck Knoblach/Steve Sax-disease - the festering yips that seem to burst out in pinstripes like sweat pores on Marco Rubio's forehead.

Nope. The buzz out of Tampa is "the next M&M boys," Moncada and Jorge Mateo - our second best prospect - are the 3B-SS duo in Trenton this year and - who knows? - maybe even Scranton, and a cup of September coffee. The trading of Eric Jagielo - (he went in the Aroldis Chapman deal) - doesn't sting, even with Greg Bird out for the year.

Nope. The Yankees might not win in 2016, but the future looks bold... with the M&M Boys.

Of course, one downside. The Steinbrenners are down $60 million. That puts their personal wealth around - what - $5 billion? Ten? Twenty? Infinity-minus 60...

Ugh.