By the time we get to Phoenix, they'll be rising. They'll find the note left hanging on their door. They'll laugh when they read the part that says we're leaving, cause we left that team so many times before.

Yesterday, it was nice to have the reactive Joe Girardi in the bullshit booth, positing in real time to Michael Kay that something in the Yankiverse appeared to be horribly askew.  

It happened in the 6th, when Aaron Judge didn't come to bat with two runners on base. Judge had fanned in his previous two at-bats, but nobody cared. He's Aaron Fukkin Judge, and this was Minneapolis, the Yankees' City of Perpetual Rebirth. Judge had homered the night before, and surely, another was coming. 

Then, instead of Judge - whose statistical doppelgangers include Hall of Famers Ralph Kiner and Willie McCovey - out popped Heliot Ramos, he of 55 career HRs, a recurring mathematical incarnation of Darryl Motley. You remember the Mot-Man, right? In essence, that's who we have to replace Judge.

"Very concerning," said Girardi the prophet. "Very much concerning. "

At that point, everybody in the world - except maybe MBS, the Saudi crown prince, who has other worries, such as the sound of approaching machine guns - collectively feared that Judge's recently fractured rib had begun to bark. If so, 2026 was probably lost.  

With Judge hitting, the Yankee lineup only blinks with Austin Wells and Ryan McMahon. 

Without him, they're the 1983 Runner-Up Royals, home to Motley, Don Slaught and Buddy Banancalana. They are a team a few games above .500 in a league where mediocrity makes the postseason. It's a terrifying difference.

The Yankees don't play today. (Thank you, scheduling gods.) They'll fly to Arizona, where the D-Backs - 7 games above .500 - probably won't reach the NL postseason. Judge's problem - if the Yankees can be believed - is right leg "tightness." If it's a muscle issue, the Sonoran Desert could be a good fit. The entire city of Phoenix is a sauna - weekend highs at 98, overnight lows in the upper-70s - a far cry from wool-socks-and-Carhartts Minnesota. 

Suddenly, the AL East race looks like a joke. Let's stop kidding ourselves:  The Yankees won't sweep Tampa. They're more likely to get swept. And Boston has accepted its three-game blood match, which will pit Cam Schlitter against Garret Crochet. In that game, every run will contain the consequences of a point in soccer. Two runs will make a game feel out of reach.

So, we can watch Friday night knowing that nothing matters, aside from the heat pad on Judge's leg. Today, that's the state of the Yankees. Very concerning, says the prophet. Where's Glenn Campbell?