The "Game of the Year" comes with some caveats

It shaped up as the season's worst loss, the potential turning point of 2019, the first tremors of the Grand Canyon super-quake. You could feel the TV shaking. The phrase "excruciating loss" would be an understatement. Obviously, we'd lose tonight's finale, and then go 0-for-4 in Fenway, unleashing Brian Cashman to trade our farm system for the reanimated corpse of Hideki Irabu, which would then beget a late-season collapse that would make 2013 - the year of Pronk and Lyle Overbay - seem a pleasant memory. 

Last night, as El Chapo blew another save - (walking the bases full will do that) - we stood on the precipice overlooking a Stygian darkness. As "Ray" Nietzsche once noted, "If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes back into you." We would be hanging over the edge, taking a selfie. 

Turns out, we won, thanks to a miracle catch that - for the first time, as far as I can tell - will inscribe Aaron Hicks into Death Star folklore. Over the years, Hicks has seen his ups and downs, but until last night, I could not summon one hit, one HR, or one great defensive play that will air as his name is announced on Old Timers Day. Now, we have it. The wonks say Hicks' ran faster - (27.4 feet per second!) - chasing down that line drive than he's run all season. He capped it with a full-out dive. It was spectacular. It was for the ages. Ladies and gentlemen... Aaron Fucking Hicks!

But games like this - however heartening - leave us needing a stiff drink. I offer  three takeaways, each requiring a bite of Wild Turkey:

1. In the post-game blather, Aaron Boone pretended that El Chapo's blown save is a rarity, something that just happens now and then. Nope. That's not true. It's happening all the time. Chapman seems incapable of a 1-2-3 inning. Right now, any lead looks shaky. I shudder to think of him entering a game at Fenway with anything less than a five-run lead. Even then, he could blow it.   

We've seen Chapman ride the roller coaster before. He goes through stretches of dominance and misery. Hopefully, he'll pull out of this malaise. But right now, he's terrible. 

2. Gary Sanchez tweaked a gonad, which means... hope! Last night, while the Yankees were piling up 14 runs, Gary contributed another 0-5, lowering his On Base Percentage to below .300. That's flat-out horrible. He has the lowest batting average and OBP of all regular starting catchers. Statistically, he's no all star. He's a pug. He's going on the IL? Hooray!

I say this not to demean Gary. My guess is he's been playing hurt. But by doing so, he's done us no favors. Last night, with the bases loaded and two outs, he swung at a ball four that was a foot off the plate, then popped up on the following pitch. You watched the game go down the drain. 

You could argue that the Yankees only won because Gary left with an injury, and his replacement, Austin Romine, delivered a single. Otherwise, Gary would have gone 0-for-6. 

So, arguably, the best thing that could happen... happened. Sanchez will miss a few weeks (maybe a month, which would not be good.) Romine can show why he is so valuable, and instead of draining the farm for a Coulter Bean, maybe Cashman can find a lefty-hitting catcher in his vast database of the scrap heap. 

3. Finally, this must have been the Twinkies' most devastating loss of the season. They blew an 8-2 lead. They blew a game in each of the last five innings. They blew it. They're young and will surely come out blazing tonight, but they can't turn back time: They. Blew. It. As the season progresses, this game will be their Babadook. You can't threw it away. It just comes back.  

It's the third full-blown shootout the Yankees have won this month. (They took two in London.) It's great to win, but there's something unnerving about shootouts. Before your very eyes, your pitching staff breaks down. It's like watching your dad get sick. Last night, only Tommy Kahnle pitched well. Going into Boston, our staff will be decimated. (And don't expect help from Scranton; Chance Adams has been getting pounded down there.) We didn't dodge the bullet. Aaron Hicks simply caught it. AARON FUCKING HICKS!