Yankee baseball in mid-October! Who figured? Well... certainly not me.

At some point, after the dust settles, I will dig out the most wrongful, ignorant, blasphemous and puke-worthy things I said about the 2017 Yankees, (and believe me, there are some doozies.) Then I shall begin my Walk of Atonement, mandated by the High Sparrow. I shall march naked down the Canyon of Heroes, while citizens of the Yankiverse hurl feces and shout, "Shame, shame, shame!" Children will run up and tweak my gonads. I will probably crawl the last half-mile, bleeding openly, leaving a trail of tears and shmegma along the glass-strewn gutters. At some point, I will be beaten senseless by the mob and flung into a dumpster. And, all the while, nobody will be happier! 

Listen: Regardless of what transpires on the Texas flood plain, the 2017 Yankees are now an officially certified IT IS HIGH TEAM OF TRIUMPH (TM), which means the owner is entitled to lucrative tax breaks and the benefit of the doubt in future trades. The Yankees are a source of pride. Let me say it aloud: I was wrong about Castro, wrong about El Chapo, wrong about Joe and wrong about - gulp, excuse my retching - w-wr-wrong about Mr. B-B-Brian Cashman and - deep breaths now - wrong about the Wise Supreme Prince Hal Steinbrenner, son of George, breaker of chains, defender of the realm, bastion of the blood line, the rightful and true king of kings! I kneel before thee and beg forgiveness, bahhh, bahhh, bahhhh...

But but but, wait a minute, but but... I'm not yet ready to throw myself into New York harbor over the Toddfather and/or Sonny Gray deals until the last precincts have voted. That means waiting a few years to learn what we surrendered, and my guess remains that a couple emerging players will make those deals hard to stomach, long after Todd's Toms River Little League jersey is retired. (Remember: When he homered in the 2010 ACLS, we thought Lance Berkman was worth it, and then, we slowly watched the rise of Mark Melancon and Jimmy Paredes.) But today, playing ball in mid-October, everything has worked according to plan. And if we get past Houston, it will be hard to argue against any of Cashman's deadline deals without sounding like an insult clown perched on a midway dunking booth.  

Today, New York revolves around the Yankees - though, sadly, this doesn't take much to do. The other main components of NYC sports long ago punted - in the case of the Jets and Giants, literally - leaving only the Yankees as a source of civic pride. It's amazing how bad the Knicks can be; at some point, the law of random sequences should bring about a decent team. The Mets and Jets defy history with their perfect mediocrity. I blame the old money owners - the Dolans, Maras, Wilpons, good god, the Trumps, the Pruits of Southhampton, etc. - whose mediocrity of the soul infects the entire organization. Again and again, we see front offices full of hubris, instead of hunger. But the Yankees are different. Sort of, anyway.

Let's not forget, it took the Yankees a three-year colonoscopy to abandon their moronic policy of perpetually trying to win with over-the-hill stooges - and finally to rebuild with youth. Hal famously said the Yankees will rebuild and contend - far tougher than it sounds. I hope that stays committed to that plan - by continuing to rebuild, and not returning to the Pronks and Vernon Wellses. (A quick sign of this will be whether we re-sign Todd Frazier.) The Yankees have several veterans in need of a new franchise, and their solid autumns should increase their market value. We must always seek to get younger. 

But hell, what do I know? I picked this team for third. I had Tyler Austin pegged for stardom. I'd write more, but I gotta go work out, lose a few pounds. You know how it is: You want to look good for your Walk of Atonement.