John to Suzyn: "How low can they go?" Boone to world: "We're sick animals." Yanks to Angels: "Pardon our Tankathon dust"

It's all over but the booing, the mockery, the brooding silence of a pissed-off capacity crowd.

It's Roger Maris #61 Bobblehead Day - a heavily hyped promotional giveaway, devoted to the long-ago debunked notion that Maris enjoyed his time in NYC, that he wasn't continually ripped by a fanbase and media simply because he had the nerve to chase Babe Ruth. 

Today, the real bobbleheads won't be given away. They are the Yankee ownership and front office, who have ground a once-proud legacy into a toxic stench that would make a West Virginia cow pasture seem like Malibu Barbie's perfumed Zino corn removal pads.

It won't get better. 

If you're a Yank fan, you've already received mocking calls from Boston frat boys, offering crocodile condolences. You've already made new plans for Labor Day, for September, for October, and for next spring in Tampa. The Yankees have abandoned NYC. They've gone to an alternative universe, one where losses should be celebrated for creativity, and where mediocrity must be saluted. This is a team that will be remembered for its lineup of zeros - for two-hitters pitched by journeymen, for fanning 17 times against bums, for squandering leads, for meaningless solo home runs, and for a clueless manager, a detached owner and a front office that never pays for mistakes. 

Yesterday, I listened to John & Suzyn call the final two innings. They might as well have been covering a funeral. They drifted in and out of the game, speaking instead to the immensity of the meltdown unfolding before them. John wondered how this could be happening? Suyzn responded gruffly: "They don't hit," she said. "That's all. They don't hit." 

They talked about next winter. "A lot of changes," The Master said. "A housecleaning," his acolyte agreed. 

Nothing will change. The front office cannot trade players with the bloated contracts they have accumulated. They can hype prospects - revving the old media machine, the one thing the franchise still does well - and pretend the Yankees are the only team with a farm system. Come December, they will sign a few players who were good in 2019. They will do the same things that got them here.

Well, yesterday we leap-frogged the Angels in the 2024 draft Tankathon. Next up, Cleveland. 

Today, there is nothing to be gained by beating Boston. The Redsocks aren't going to win anything this year, and another loss will hardly diminish our ongoing disgrace. The Yankees are not chasing a wild card berth. They are individually seeking to pad their numbers, to survive the coming winter of barn sales and scapegoats. When the race was on, they didn't hit. Now that it's over, they don't need to start. What about fan loyalty? Shouldn't we cheer them anyway? Yeesh. I don't even know where to start. We came in last with them. We can come in last without them. 

And on Roger Maris Bobblehead Day, excuse me if I do the unthinkable. Excuse me if I root for Boston.