Right now, there are no lines at the gas pump, no strange lights in the sky - just an orange-skinned alien running for President. That happens every four years. It's only April. But everywhere, you see fools. And omens...
The Yankees have lost six games. They have made six errors. Their best hitter is Ronald Torreyes. He is batting .666. Their best pitcher is Johnny Barbato. He has thrown six innings. His WHIP is 0.666.
We may be seeing the long-prophesied Yankeepocalypse.
It's too soon to panic, right? Tell me it's too soon. Tell me A-Rod will soon start hitting like it's 1999. Or that Beltran and Sabathia will peel back 10 years? Or that Chase Headley isn't the biggest free agent dud since Steve Kemp.
Tell me the son is not fated to make the same mistakes as his father.
Tell me Hal Steinbrenner did not inherit just dad's money... but his hubris.
OK... maybe it is too soon to loot the local Wegman's. Last April, Didi Gregorius was an abomination. This year, he's our best player. Still, we look like the exact same team that fizzled in 2013, 2014 and 2015... except we're even older, slower, more decrepit.
Is this the year it happens? Is this the year, the Yankees completely collapse? It isn't here yet, but you can see it. Considering Cashman's monstrous ego and Hal's penny-pinching, is there a mechanism to rebuild? Or will they set their sights on the last Wild Card slot and try to save the team at the trade deadline?
I look at the country, the mammoth social forces coming directly into opposition, and I wonder: Is this the year the big shitpile topples?
Once again, the Yankees are mirroring America.
John Mellencamp has a song that goes, "It aint the end of the world, but you can see it from here." It should be A-Rod's walk-up music.
Don't shoot the dog yet. But definitely, count the bullets. And remember: The last one is for you.