Three games left against the hateful, odious Blue Jays. In the name of Love, let's beat them.

One of the consequences of publicly loathing someone is that they might return the favor. 

This week - aside from padding personal stats, and the unyielding glory of representing Starr Insurance - the Yankees have little reason to give a flying shit about much of anything. They'll miss the '23 postseason and go down in the fiery furnace of flameout failures as a team that squandered a Cy Young winner, that chewed its young talent into bits, and that went months without even one LH hitting threat... in Yankee Stadium, no less. Yolanda Vega, pulling ping pong balls out of a leaf blower, couldn't have designed a worse Yankee roster. It's almost over, thank God. Sooner the better. Calgon Beauty Beads, take me away!

In a normal late-September-and-out-of-it delirium, we'd forfeit the final seven games and play for the higher draft pick, whether it exists or not. If there is a shred of honesty within this team, it should finish below .500. It deserves no better. The front office deserves no better. The owner deserves no better. Frankly, I spent last week rooting for Ophelia. The Weather Channel deserved better.

But sadly, there remains a tongue-flick of unfinished venom - three games against Toronto, a team built with the bricks and mortar of tenacious Yankee hatred. 

It's led by Vladimir "I'll Never Play for the Yankees!" Guerrero Jr. , who - spoiler alert - will play for us when he is 41 and hitting .144, because, hey, don't they all? 

There is Bo Bichette, who watched his brother Dante Jr. - a former Yankee first round pick - rot on the vine in the Death Barge's farm system. We drafted the wrong Bichette, and this one has done nothing but torture us. Apparently, it runs in the family.  

There is Mean Chad Green, who we jettisoned last year, and who has every legitimate reason to hate us, though he probably doesn't, because unlike the Yankees, he has class. He should be Serene Chad Green. 

There is their bench coach, Don Mattingly, who is too righteous a person to sustain hatred, though in pure moments, he surely knows he is - and always has been - the rightful manager of the Yankees. So why, why, why did the Yankees fail to see this? The guy retired from playing 28 years ago. He was managerial material then. How did the Yankees manage over overlook him for nearly 30 years?  

Today, against the Diamondbacks - (a permanent IT IS HIGH shit-list Security Council member, by the way) - we are said to be throwing Clarke Schmidt, the number two starter. This is stupid. Give Schmidt an extra day of rest, and start him against Toronto, along with Gerrit Cole and Michael Kay, our best three. And then, exhaust the bullpen, whatever's left of it, against these miserable Canadians. Our final three games are in Kansas City, and if anyone out there can think of one reason in this world to care about them - (the George Brett Revenge Ship sailed long ago) - you are an angrier fan than I.  

This week, the Yankees need to beat the Blue Jays - proving once and for all that the power of love shall always defeat hatred. (And, on that note - really, couldn't we muster anybody cool enough to date Taylor Swift? Used to be, we had Joe D. Now, what? Higgy?)