No big deal, but this weekend, the Yankees might just restore order to the universe

First off... last time the Death Star landed in Boston, we lost Game 1 by a score of 19-3, then dropped the next two, forcing an International Juju Intervention, which led to us winning 9 out of the next 10 and effectively salting away the 2019 AL East.

Secondly... the First Rule of Juju thusly states: If you have a positive thought about your team, keep it the hell to yourself. Never - EVER - blather aloud something hopeful about your team. Nothing good can come from it.

That said, this weekend represents our greatest opportunity yet to reset the Yankee-Redsock rivalry and restore order to the universe, which has been corrupted since the nightmare of 2004. 

That terrible October, the burst of Redsockian entropy overwhelmed the Curse of the Bambino, which had protected humankind for nearly 100 years. It led to the invasion of Iraq, the economic meltdown, Justin Beiber, and the rise of disunity, which pushed the world to the brink of madness. It has left us searching in the darkness for one joyous light, one illuminating voice, one perfect human form around which to rally. That beacon of negativity - through his mastery of Rule No. 1 - was always right in front of us.

Yes, Alphonso... the snapper of chains, the lifter of legs, the goosher of cans, the breaker of winds, who never - EVER - speaks a hopeful word about the Yankees. I salute him - and each of you - for a season of tireless depression and disillusionment, which has carried us to this incredible precipice. 

This weekend, we can end the madness. We can effectively eliminate Boston from the 2019 Wild Card race, and crush once and for all their dreams for a dynasty. Unless they rise up, sweep us and win the next 10 - and it could happen, people, it could happen - but unless it does, they face a future as murky as Bill de Blasio's presidential bid. 

I present to you a real chart of the salaries that Boston must pay in 2020. 

They have David Price - currently hurt - for three more years at $32 million a shot. They have Nathan Eovaldi - usually hurt - for three more, at $17 million per. Then there is Chris Sale - perhaps really hurt - for five more at $32 million. That's $79 million for three pitchers who might together throw 100 innings. Add the Prince of Pawtucket, Rusney Castino, and the Kung Fu Panda, neither of whom will swing a bat for the mother ship, and that's $100 million going straight to the composter.

Meanwhile, Mookie Betts will hit arbitration - he made $20 million this year - Xander Bogaerts is a free agent, and - oh, did I forget the $13 million going to Dustin Pedroia, our version of Iron Man Ellsbury? 

Last winter, Boston went for broke, seeking to launch a dynasty. And don't get me wrong, juju gods: I'm not declaring anything over, no way. Rafael Devers is the real deal, and Andrew Benintendi always kills us. But come November, they will face harsh economic realities. In the past, they have used tear-downs to rebuild. Another might be coming.

So, tonight's the night. Win tonight, and Boston's fantasies of a resurgence will collapse like the pockets around Eli Manning. Take the weekend, and who knows... maybe this mad, mad, mad, mad world will start to heal. Dare we believe? All I know is this: