It's time for Yankee fans to channel Ed Ames

There's this existential song that Ed Ames - (yes, Mingo!) - recorded in 1968, called "Who Will Answer?" It was originally written by a Spanish poet and translated into English, one of those hippie-era downer tunes - (i.e. "Is that All There Is?" by Peggy Lee) - that sorta sums up human history. Here's my fave verse...

High upon a lonely ledge
A figure teeters near the edge
As jeering crowds collect below
To egg him on with "Go, Man, Go,"
But who will ask what led him
To his private day of doom,
And who will answer?

Okay, I know what you're thinking: The 2025 Yankees, right?

Listen: Every now and then, the universe blows its nose with you. Last night, for example, when all of NYC realized it's time for Jason Dart. Today, we're out on that ledge.

Make no mistake: Boone is a dolt, and Anthony Volpe may suck - (last night, he added to his list of maladies, "CAN'T BUNT") - but our 2025 apocalypse is the bullpen. 

Last night, on full display, came a meltdown worthy of Chernobyl, if it hosted the New York State Fair. The seventh inning became an hour of torture that, in terms of jaw-dropping awfulness, rivals a Morris Dancers street show I witnessed 20 years ago, which still pops up in nightmares. Nope. In the circles of Hell, last night falls near the 2024 World Series Game 5 Inning 5, which peaked with the Pointer Sister, Gerrit Cole, teaming up with Anthony Rizzo to egg us on with "Go, Man, Go! 

Nine runs, all earned, on five hits and five walks, in one inning. Most came with no outs, as the Yankee bullpen sank without a bubble.

Last night, we saw our destiny.  

In three weeks, this creaky roller coaster will slide into the postseason, probably against Boston, and it will require somebody - God knows who - to get the last nine outs of multiple games. The bullpen phone will ring - at one end will be a shrieking, murderous Aaron Boone - and we must wonder: Who will answer?

I believe it will be Mingo. Take it away, chief...

'Neath the spreading mushroom tree
The world revolves in apathy
As overhead, a row of specks
Roars on, drowned out by discotheques 
And if a secret button's pressed
Because one man has been outguessed

WHO WILL ANSWER?

Donno. But it won't be Mark Leiter Jr. I can tell you that.