Right now, no Yankee lead is safe, and the ninth inning has become The Abyss

It's a familiar picture: Sweat droplets leaping from the brim of Aroldis Chapman's cap, like mice fleeing a shipwreck, as our all-star closer stares into The Abyss. He is lost inside some delirium. El Chapo has walked the bases full, put the tying run in scoring position, with pitches so far out of the zone that Austin Romine had to stand to snare a few. He's hit a batter. Romine jogs out to the mound, and now here comes Larry "the House of" Rothschild, waddling out to dispense incredible wisdom such as, "Throw a fuckin' strike, for kricesake." Somebody - the last Yankee pitcher on the roster, a Shreve, a Cole or a Holder - is warming in the pen. But it's too late. Shoveling gum into his mouth, Aaron Boone is facing a firing squad. Five minutes ago, the Yankees had this game on ice. Now, chaos has arrived. Everything is in peril.  

It's the new normal: a heart attack ninth, regardless of the Yankee lead. And here's scariest part: Often, for Chappy to escape, opposing batters must swing at bad pitches. If you're facing a smart team - say, Boston, as opposed to cream puffs - good luck with that. Any veteran batter who can flick a foul ball or two will win a walk. And if this happens to be the playoffs, forget it.

Wonder what The Abyss looks like? Stare into Chapman's recent stats:

Some might see hope: Chapman has endured meltdowns before. And come October, if the Yankees reach a meaningful post-season, he will either be unhittable, or a complete stooge. The Yankees have him for three more years - (he has an opt-out clause after this season, but at $17 million per, I kinda doubt he'll invoke it) - and it's hard to imagine three more ragged Augusts like this.

So, naturally... the Yankiverse yesterday received a double-dose of nightmare: The wheels fell off Zach Britton. After retiring the first two batters in the seventh, he gave up an infield hit, a single, and then contracted Chapmanitis: he couldn't throw a strike. Britton was the big Yankee acquisition last month. We arguably gave up as much for him as for JA Happ and Lance Lynn, combined. 

And now we have Abyss No. 2 - Britton's recent numbers.

The worst part of these abysses? Come tomorrow, it won't matter that Britton and Chapman appear to be milk carton lost children. If the Yankees lead in the seventh, Boone will launch his countdown clock, starting with Britton, flowing into Betances, and finishing with El Chapo. It was supposed to be a psychological barrier to the opposition: the notion that three shutdown relievers are on the way. Now, it's The Abyss, and we are staring into it far too often to think that anything - including a post-season - is assured.