"Here's the three-one. Swung on- THERE IT GOES! DEEP LEFT! IT IS HIGH! IT IS FAR! IT IS GONE! HE'S TIED THE BABE!"

Great win, last night. Great 60th HR call by The Master. Great lead, today, by the Gray Lady's Tyler Kepner: 

It was one of those nights, the kind that reminds you of the fundamental rule of the last baseball century: There are the Yankees, and then there is everyone else.

Yep. Great. All around. Hoorah. For the rest of our lives, we'll relive it on Yankee Classics. 

But I'm not sure how it will age. Will it be the game when the fabled '22 Yanks finally righted themselves? When Harrison Bader arrived, when Aroldis Chapman returned, when Giancarlo Stanton broke out, when Aaron Judge made history? Or will it be the grand and glorious peak of hope before another disappointing October? Did it foretell greatness or a looming Yankee meltdown, like those ones that have haunted us for the last 13 years?

I know, I know... why can't I just fucking enjoy a win? Damn. We should all be wise enough to appreciate a great moment, to celebrate when we can, and to not dwell upon the disappearing twilight up ahead. Raise a glass, comrades: Aaron Judge is the greatest slugger of our time! He has beaten both Babes - the historical one and his modern incarnation - and it happened last night on a magical stage, as if scripted by Spielberg on a flowery bed of Katy Perry lyrics.  

Alas, this we know (or, at least, I suspect):

1. Last night, we glimpsed Boone's playoff lineup. It means Oswald Cabrera in LF, Josh Donaldson at 3B, and DJ LeMahiue in the dugout. Obviously, this will depend on LeMahieu's barking big toe - and whatever injuries detonate before Oct. 3. But even when he fails, Oswaldo seems to always give us a quality at-bat, and Donaldson looks good in the field. (Last night, his breakneck snag and throw in the eighth - barely nipping a speedy Pirate - turned out to be pivotal.) It's hard to imagine the Yankees without LeMahieu out there, somewhere. But let's say its late and a game is tied: He bats for IKF or the catcher, and if he gets on base... Locastro! 

2. Last night's heroics obscured the Yankee bullpen's inability to shut down the third worst lineup in baseball - an undisciplined lot that allows a mediocre hitter to stand and admire his first-row, Pennant Porch HR. Even as they seemed to take command, the Pirates were embarrassing themselves. And they almost won. 

Neither Clay Holmes nor Jonathan Loaisiga could hold the line. For Loaisiga, part of the problem was a defensive breakdown - Anthony Rizzo botched an easy play, perhaps a DP. That said, who closes? Soon, it won't be Pittsburgh. 

This remains an existential team crisis. Last night, El Chapo pitched a somewhat hopeful ninth - (it must be noted, the game seemed out of reach.) His fastball clocked around 97 mph, and the slider he's worked on since forever - well, let's just say it stymied Pittsburgh. Against Toronto? We better alert NASA, that it won't be meteors streaking across the night skies. 

Unless Holmes figures this out, I fear we all know how 2022 will end. If so, it will make last night's Classic forever bittersweet. Damn. I just cannot shake that feeling. Forgive me, Mr. Kepner, but in the matter of recent disappointments, there are the Yankees, and there is everybody else.