Eight game lead in loss column, magic number down to six, and yet the pressure only increases

What a night! The only problem: Aaron Judge's epic, electrifying, late-inning, 404-foot blast died at the CF wall. Damn. I thought it was gone. So did the crowd, the camera crew, and the Fox midway barkers. For maybe two full seconds, the world thought his HR- chase was over, he'd done it, and Yankee Stadium was about to go up like Krakatoa, East of Java. 

A two-second glimpse into Pandemonium. 

Damn. It's been a long time since NYC lavished unconditional, all-out love on a single Yankee, (who was not waving goodbye and walking into the sunset.) You go back to the moments after Jeter's dive, or maybe Coney's perfecto, or Reggie's third homer, or the death of Thuman, when Bobby Murcer took over. Surely, I'm missing a few, but for an incredible two seconds last night, I felt the Yankee Rapture. I leaped from my seat and shouted. Few events in this world elicit such a response. 

Hopefully, Judge will do it tonight - no. 61. If it wins the game - dear God - it will become one of those memories we take to St. Peter, to let him know that - heaven or hell - we'll at least have a story to tell. 

In the meantime, this we know:

1. I cannot get over the resemblance of Roger Maris Jr. to his dad. First time I saw the guy, I thought Roger was alive, though I knew otherwise. I hope the family is enjoying this, though they hardly look jubilant when the camera finds them. Last night, as Judge's rocket soared to CF, the wife grabbed her husband's hand, and it looked like a "Thank God this is over!" moment. I would think this is getting stressful and, perhaps, painful. I wish them the best.

2. Bear with me here. I'd like to remember their father. I was nine when he broke Ruth's record. By then, I'd been programmed to be a Yank fan. My favorite cartoon stars were Mickey Mouse and Yogi Bear, and how could I NOT root for "the M&M boys?" In Waverly, NY, a nowhere town between Elmira and Binghamton, the local cable TV outlet broadcast that fateful 154th game - Ford Frick's dirty trick with the asterisk - and my dad that night let me stay up late to watch. 

Maris had 59 HRs and one night to beat the Babe. At one point, he blasted a long HR that curved foul. Then he hit a towering fly that - just like last night's - died at the track. In the final inning, the Orioles brought in Hoyt Wilhelm, the famous knuckleballer, to pitch. The announcers rattled off an incredible stat, how Wilhelm never gave up HRs. I thought it so unfair. They brought in their best pitcher, just to make sure it didn't happen for Roger. 

He tapped a slow roller to first, then hung his head running to first. As he turned to the dugout, the entire Yankee team rushed out to hug him. I started crying. That night, I couldn't sleep, too filled with hatred for Baltimore, for what those bastards did. (Thirty years later, I watched every episode of The Wire, thinking - "Suck on it, Baltimore; how does it feel now?") I still remember the feeling in those moments when that long fly ball looked like it was gone... damn, like last night. 

3. Okay, I cannot ignore yesterday's secondary news: The end of Miguel Andujar's Yankee era. At first, I was angry. I still believe Miggy will hit. Some team will give him a chance, and he'll be a late-bloomer - a Bill Robinson, a Jose Bautista, a Dante Bichette - and the Yankees will once again look like the cruel, billionaire-owned, dehumanizing corporate entity that - well, basically - they are.  

But look: I get it. Andujar was not going to get a shot this season. By next spring, he would be even further down on the depth charts. He had no hope as a Yankee. But it hurts. 

He was gonna be a great one. We followed him for 10 years, back when fake scouts were touting his radar gun numbers on throws to first. The thing about the Yankees is that - for every great moment, like the ones listed above, there are generations of future stars who collapsed in front of us. They gave everything they had. It wasn't enough.  

I wonder sometimes: Is it us? Do Yankee fans simply put too much pressure on them?

4. Which brings me back to Judge. Dear God, the pressure. You felt it every time he came to bat - Pandemonium as a five-tool monster. The five-tools: 

a. The homer chase.
b. Yankee Stadium
c. The Redsocks
d. Clinching the division.
e. Win the Triple Crown

Oh, regarding the Triple Crown, here's where he stands...

But wait... then - here's the truly, nastiest trick - THEN, when it's over - assuming that he sets the record, that the Yankees advance, everything - THEN COMES OCTOBER. His mission will only be starting. If he goes 0-20 in the ALCS, that's what they'll talk about next spring. 

Roger Maris learned this. His hair fell out. He chain-smoked. It led him to an early grave. 

Dear God, let Judge have a better fate.