Yank fans, don't despair over yesterday's doubleheader debacle. Just turn to the Book of Pedro.

Well, so much for Houston...

Okay, you expect a doomsday rant? Calls to hang Mike Pence, as we scroll through our collective demons and digest the humiliation of being Ryan McBroomed by the Astros - the lying, cheating, garbage can -lidded Astros?  Well, sorry. I'm holding my yellow water and channeling the Book of Pedro: 

What can we say? Just tip our hats and call the Astros our daddy.

That's how Pedro did it, long ago. He said the Yankees were his daddy, and so what? We howled our derision, and then came 2004. The last laugh. And that's all that anyone will remember, come October...

Yesterday, in its 107 degree furnace, Houston beat us like a western omelet. We never led, not once. We flopped in the beginning, in the middle and at the end. The new Domingo German? Looks suspiciously like the old one. Our bullpen couldn't hold them. Matt Carpenter went 0-6, suggesting a looming second-half correction? (His batting average, according to yesterday's stupid Microsoft Bing box scores: 0.000.)

So - no, I won't hang Mike Pence, not even from the Joey Gallows, or Cooperstown Cashman, whose time in the NYC gauntlet is surely winding down. We can't beat Houston in the regular season - they are our daddies. But if/when we face them again, it will be in the ALCS, and both teams will be different. 

For starters, the injuries. Who knows where the tweaked gonads and pulled pork elbows will leave us? Same with Houston. They're getting back Lance McCuller's kid, but will Verlander still be standing? (Remember: He's 39.) Three months from now, yesterday's lineups might belong in a time capsule. 

Then, the trades. I choose to believe that, come Aug. 3, we won't have a certain LF hitting .160. Whatever we get for Joey Gallo - a Zolio Almonte or a Colter Bean - our chances will improve. We will surely pursue a CF, another starter and a bullpen arm. But for now, a huge shadow extends over every deal: 

What impact will Juan Soto have on MLB trades?

Right now, Soto is the Great White Whale. He is Thanos. He is Professor Plum in the conservatory with the candelabra. Until Soto is traded - if he is indeed traded - all deals shall wait next to Vecna in the upside-down. (Note to cranky oldsters: Know your pop culture. dammit.) He's that enormous. The Yankees cannot send, say, four prospects to Pittsburgh for Brian Reynolds until they are absolutely sure that Soto is off the table in potential deals to Boston, Toronto, Tampa or the Mets. (Maybe we should add Baltimore to that list?) 

Until the Nats decide to keep Soto, or trade him to - say - San Diego or Milwaukee, some team we'll only face in a world series, Cashman cannot pull the trigger on lesser deals. Same goes for Houston, the Dodgers, and virtually every 2022 contender. Soto is the Four Horsemen, combined. He's the alien ship hovering over the White House. He's Lady Gaga, offering to cut an album with you. Yes, he is Mrs. Death.

The Yankees can offer Gallo for prospects. But who bites? As long as they're in the bidding for Soto, will the Padres trade anybody for Gallo? Once they get him, they've undercut their position in the Soto sweepstakes. And they don't want the Dodgers or Giants to get him. I don't see the Yankees acquiring Soto - they won't reboot this team, not with a 12-game lead - but Cashman cannot let Soto go to an AL East rival for a package of prospects that the Yankees could have beaten. That's a generational gaffe. 

I have a feeling everything will be decided around midnight Aug. 2. Then, we'll have a sense of where 2022 is headed. In the meantime, we're just spinning on the Peloton. And yesterday's doubleheader - however ugly and painful - will soon be forgotten. Nope. I'm not panicking. The Book of Pedro has the answers.