This is what catastrophe looks like

Well, we are here...

Our nose is pressed to the microwave window, the power is on full, and the aluminum foil is starting to spark.

Yesterday, A-Rod diddled an oblique. He follows Aaron Hicks, who jammed a shoulder. That's what the Tower of Power is telling us. Of course, the Yankees so comfortably lie about injuries that nobody - not even the breathless, lapdog courtiers of YES - believe them anymore. The two bats who were going to save us from lefty pitching - they're out, and it's still April.

Last winter, the Retrieval Empire boasted two stockpiles of young talent. First, was the list of outfielders at Scranton, which would rescue us when Gardner,  Ellsbury and Beltran inevitably went down. We had Slade Heathcott, Mason Williams, Ben Gamel, Aaron Judge and Jake Cave - so many OFs that they overflowed to Trenton.

Gone.

Right now, replacements for A-Rod and Hicks have boiled down to the aging, creaky, Kardashianesque Nick Swisher - who in the last two years hasn't hit higher than .208 - and/or Lane Adams, a 26-year-old career minor league hubcap. Everybody else is hurt, left-handed or not ready. (Judge fans 31 percent of the time.) We're already turning over rocks. And it's still April.

Our other talent overload was the "Scranton Shuttle," the young arms who would yo-yo back and forth, (there's a reason the team is called the Railriders) whenever the bullpen went poof. We had a pile. Not anymore. It looks like Brandon Pinder is following Nick Rumbelow and Jacob Lindgren to surgery, while Tyler Olsen is getting relentlessly hammered, and Scranton is so thin with pitchers that yesterday, it trotted out 28-year-old Tyler Cloyd and 29-year-old Richard Blier, to throw the entirety of a 7-4 loss. And it's still April.

As we wait for Aroldis Chapman, it's time to wonder where this team will be after the next nine games, all on the road, against Texas, Boston and Baltimore. We can't hit lefties. We can't hit situationally. We have one consistent starting pitcher. The injuries are just beginning. Nobody in the minors is breaking out. And it's April, still April, dear God, it's still April.

This is what catastrophe looks like.