The Abyss is here: Yank loss column lead now down to five

Well, well, well... look who's here: Our old friend and captor, The Abyss. 

Welcome home, sir. Can I call you Mr. Abyss? Or Abe? We hadn't seen you for a bit, almost started worrying. But last week, we heard you were asking about us, and - hey - here you are! 

Don't mind the broken furniture. We've been, um, refurbishing.  I see you've lost your chin. No problem. The Yankees ban facial hair, but management is okay with dangling eyeballs and cheekbone decay - both preferable to an infected tattoo. (Inside joke.) Also, about your zombie limp: I hope it's not plantar. (Another one; got a million.) 

What's that? You cannot speak? Your throat caved in while cheering the Jordan Montgomery trade. I get it. We were all similarly affected. 

Fun fact: On Aug. 1 - when Cooperstown Cashman, a future 7-foot statue in Monument Park, spun his magical web of trades -  the Yankees sat three games ahead of Houston for the league's best record, and Tampa stood in 3rd place within the division, 16 games behind us. We held a 10-game lead over second place Toronto and were a shoe-in for a postseason bye. 

Now - well - we face the possibility that, when our savior, Harrison Bader, returns in mid-September - we could be looking up at Tampa and seeking to stave off Baltimore. I sure hope Bader brings his .256 batting average, because we'll need that offensive jolt for which he is so famous. (Another joke.)

Hey, did you see the Mets game last night? They beat the Dodgers - aka the "good LA team," with bearded Joey Gallo. When the Mets called in their closer, a trumpeter played live his entrance music, the Theme from Narcos. It was wild. The whole stadium exploded. It was so much more exciting than anything that was to come later on YES - another string of Yankee zeros. I haven't seen anything as electrifying since the early days of Mariano. It fucking popped. And then the Yankees fucking popped - up. (Another joke.)

Last night, Aaron Boone played Aaron Hicks in CF and benched Oswaldo Cabrera, the lone crumb of excitement (after Aaron Judge) on this sad, rapidly plummeting roster. Tonight, we might feel a secondary pang when Ken Waldichuck - a young lefty we traded for Sonny Montas - makes his MLB debut with Oakland. It certainly would be icing on the cake if Waldichuck becomes the pitcher that Montas used to be.

So, Abe, I notice that your arm just fell off - I can send you to Michael King's doctor - but first, a question: 

Do you know of any active quicksand pits near NYC? In the movies, there are quicksand bogs everywhere, and everybody knows that, once you're in one - the more you struggle, the faster you go down. Nowadays, aside from with existential metaphors, you don't hear much about quicksand. So I wonder: Are we better off struggling, or simply accepting our fate, and smiling as the elevator goes down?  

Friday, we go to Tampa - the hateful, sinkhole- and python-infested knockoff of Sarasota - where the Rays will seek to take us down. If they sweep us - that is, bring your buddy, Ryan McBroom - our lead will be two, which is like being down a basket in an NBA game. 

So... hello, darkness, my old friend... We've waited a long time, and now you're here. Are we better off struggling, or should we just hold our breaths and wait?