HoraceClarke66: “I’m Not There.” Or here. Or anywhere, really.

 From the tortured homelife of HoraceClark66...

With apologies to Bob Dylan.

 Yesterday’s defeat at the hands of the Mariners was more than just another, numbing loss to a fellow contender in what has become the eternal Yankees race for a Wild-Card Play-In spot. 

 It was lost because the two men who were supposed to be the pillars of the next Yankees dynasty played as though there was somewhere else they would rather be and something else they would rather be doing.

 First there was Gleyber Torres, injuring himself—perhaps badly—by sliding into second base, hand-first, in the fourth inning. This was despite the fact that there was no throw on the play. And despite the fact that The Gleyber has already hurt himself, badly, by sliding headfirst, delaying his entrance to the majors by a year and perhaps costing us the 2017 World Series.

Next came Aaron Judge, taking the scenic country route to a flyball that Lou Piniella would’ve put in his pocket, and letting it fall for what proved to be the game-winning hit. 

 Judge ensured it would be so an inning later when, as the tying run at the plate, he calmly regarded a ball right down the pike to end the game.

 There were plenty of other contributors to yesterday’s loss on this thoroughly unmotivated Yankees team, including Rougned Odor dropping a one-hop grounder to his glove, and Lucas the Lassitudinous Lugnut turning in his usual, sterling performance.

 But Gleyber and Judge were supposed to be the next superstars, the guys who carried this Yankees team to glory.

 It’s becoming clear that’s never going to happen. Torres is simply terrible, his mysterious decline stretching to almost two seasons now. Judge, by contrast, has proved to be a good, all-around ballplayer (when he can stay on the field).

 But it’s hard to believe that either one of them will ever carry this team—that they will ever give us those big Babe/ Lou/ Joe/ Yogi/ Mickey/ Reggie/ Jeter moments needed to take these Yankees to the next level.

 Sure, time and legend exaggerate, and there were plenty of games in which Reg or The Mick or even The Bambino went for the big, game-winning homer and ended up fanning the air.

 But they were in there swinging. They had their heads in the game, instead of…wherever. They didn’t lead a disinterested, distracted, disengaged team that only seemed to reflect their own inattention.

 Maybe it will turn out that both The Gleyber and Judge have some terrible things going on in their private lives that keep them from paying much attention to their day jobs. If so, I will feel terrible (I won’t, really, but I’d like to think I would.).

 But our attempt to import leadership in the form of Anthony Rizzo has already failed. It’s past time for one of our supposed superstars to step up and play like they really mean it.