Beginning Labor Day, Scylla and Charybdis await us, and how did we get here?

Behold, the whirlpools of September...

Six games, four commencing after bedtime, against teams on the upswing, suddenly vaulted into a Wild Card race they hadn't planned in April. One of those dreaded West Coast trips, the kind that historically undresses an overrated and ill-fated Yankee team... perhaps like this one.

Scylla and Charybdis. Death and Taxes. Brad and Angelina. Oakland and Seattle. 

Until two weeks ago, the narrative of 2018 portrayed the Yankees and Redsocks scrapping through one of those great traditional rivalries, hearkening back to the turn of the century. Then Boston crushed us, an embarrassment and a humiliation, which stems from their ownership's willingness to spend money. I don't begrudge Boston's advantage. It's not as if John Henry has more money than the Steinbrenners. He simply wants to win.

For the last 10 years, ever since Food Stamps Hal took the reins, the Yankees and their YES propaganda machine have carped relentlessly about luxury taxes. Slowly, their whines prevailed upon an increasingly vulnerable, financially distressed NYC sports media. Somehow, we all came to believe that if the Yankees didn't lower their payroll, the billionaire Steinbrenners could not afford to continue. This, of course, is ludicrous.

The Redsocks ($233 million opening day payroll) continued to spend, luxury taxes be damned. The Yankees scream about wasted money on Jacoby Ellsbury (though nobody forced them to give him such a ridiculous contract), yet his deal  pales compared to Boston's washouts for Rusney Castillo, Pablo Sandoval, Hanley Ramirez and Dustin Pedroia. (I'd add David Price at $30 million through 2022.) Yet at the deadline, they grabbed Steve Pearce and Ian Kinsler. It's only money.

Yankee fans are supposed to take solace in the fact that our payroll has been cut, so we can spend more freely next winter? Huh. So... what exactly is the plan? 

We'll sign Manny Machado and Bryce Harper, each to massive 10-year-deals, the kind that are guaranteed to backfire within five seasons, so Cheapo Hal can blame the players and revert back into Austerity Mode? 

Comrades, we are staggering into the darkest road trip of 2018, and our rightfielder could be Shane Robinson. The Yankees won't even add a decent replacement for fear of tripping luxury taxes that couldn't affect Hal Steinbrenner's lifestyle if they ran a thousand years.

We haven't won a fucking thing since 2009, yet the Yankees give themselves plaques in centerfield, and the media touts our front office for Cooperstown. 

Death and Despair await us. Beware the trials of September. Maybe it's a mercy killing that we won't get to watch.