Power hitters hit in the middle of the lineup.

Enough. 

Enough with the great home run race, which is not only actively hurting the Yankees as a team now, but also pulling down Aaron Judge's chances to win other prizes that seemed all but clinched just a few days ago, such as the Triple Crown and the MVP. 

When I say, "hurting the Yankees as a team," I don't mean to imply that I really care all that much about your 2022 New York Yankees, the single most un-clutch, unengaging, unlikable bunch I have ever seen in the Bronx.

You thought "the Bronx Zoo" guys were tiresome with all their feuding? You got tired of Alex Rodriguez and all his nonsense?

Hey, they were pure bliss compared to following this crew  

The 2022 Yanks never seem to get untracked. Incredible, inspiring ninth-inning comebacks? Wild, extra-inning wins? 

Meh. It means nothing the next day. Clueless Aaron Boone mentioned it a couple weeks ago, remarking, with a note of astonishment in his voice, that the Yankees had seemed "flat" that night. 

It was like watching a man stick his toe in the ocean and exclaiming, "Hey folks, this stuff is really wet!" These Yankees are always flat. Flat is their default position. They are flatter than flatbread, flatter than flat feet, flatter than Flattop, flatter than the Flat Earth Society. 

Sure, periodically, they look alive for a game or two—usually when they get a new player, or when Judge does something heroic. Then it's straight back to Snoozeville.

Duque worries that they could lose the next six games. Sure they could. These Yankees are fathomless.  There is no bottom.

They could easily lose all nine remaining games in the season, 1964 Phillies-style.  Though it doesn't matter because they have already clinched a postseason berth, under MLB's inimitable new parody parity program.

With these Yankees, it doesn't even matter when the Fat Lady sings—to use a copyrighted Yankee expression. A piece of scenery falls on her head mid-aria, or somebody yells fire, or Siegfried vomits into the orchestra pit. 

It's never over—not this interminable "pennant race," not the quest to best Ruth, not the effort to put an uninjured lineup or pitching staff out there. 

Michael Kay, our local MLB propagandist, was raving a few days ago about "everything that's going on in baseball, with all the playoff races, Pujols, Judge..."  In fact, even at the time, virtually every playoff spot had already been clinched for a couple of weeks. I can't begin to tell you excited I am that MLB has decided to allow the juicing Pujols to go after the home run mark they would not let the juicing A-Rod pursue...and then there's The Judge.

Really, enough already. 

I can understand the inclination to help him in his chase of the Real Original Home Run Record by batting him first—particularly when the shenanigans of MLB's ant TV overlords deprived him of at least one at-bat.

But surely after six straight, homeless games, the illogic of the Sabremetricious must be all the more evident. Batting in the first spot, Judge has fewer chances to drive in runs than ever. 

AND, BECAUSE he's batting first, it's easier than ever for pitchers not to pitch to him. 

With runners already on base, pitcher do not pitch as well. Period. They have to throw out of the stretch, check the runners, and deal with added pressure not to allow a run. 

With runners already on base, they usually do not want to put more runners on base. Or they have nowhere to put them. Obligating them to throw strikes to the hitter.

Granted, with LeMahieu, Beni, and PornStache still injured, there are precious few people on this miserable collection of ballplayers in the Bronx who are capable of ever getting on base. But batting Judge third or fourth would still give him more at-bats with people on.

I know this won't happen. But the best thing to do for Aaron Judge—the best thing to do for all of us—would be to stick him in the four spot and pretend he's going for his 31st home run, not his 61st.