Four weeks left. Nineteen games. Humanity awaits. And here comes Judge...

It will happen Tuesday, around 3 p.m. The Yankees will post their starting lineup against Colorado. Within milliseconds, the news will ricochet across the globe.

Batting second, playing RF, will be Aaron Judge. 

The internet will stop. Social media will explode. Disbelievers will say it's A.I. slop - (or A.L. slop, considering the state of the league) - and that Judge belongs in a minor league rehab assignment. The gushingly hopeful among us will note that playing the Rockies - 33 games below .500 - amounts to a minor league rehab. 

Judge's presence will tweak the Yankee order, like a burst of high-octane gasoline. He'll be sandwiched between lefty hitters - Ben Rice, Cody Bellinger and Luis Garcia Jr. Heliot Ramos will take a seat. And someone - probably Jasson Dominguez - will board a bus to Scranton.

Around 7:05 p.m. the stadium's notorious Bleacher Creatures will launch their roll call. They will scream with a doomsday fury, creating a stadium-wide cascade of noise. Immediately, Judge will doff his cap, hoping to quell the explosion. It won't matter. They'll keep chanting his name, anyway.  

Around 7:15 p.m., in the bottom of the first, Judge will come to bat. Everyone in the stadium will already be standing. The sound will be heard across NYC.  

He will probably make an out. It's not easy to return after three months. But the crowd will understand. What matters is that he will be back. 

If the Yankees have any chance of catching Tampa, they must sweep this series against Colorado. There is no alternative, no Plan B. And Tuesday's game won't hinge on Judge. He'll likely play five innings and then be replaced by Ramos. It's a long, long drop. 

But but BUT... if Judge catches up to a fastball, if he connects, if he launches a high drive to the seats... Yankee Stadium will levitate 20 feet into the night sky above Gotham, signaling hope for humanity and an end to war. 

If he homers, floods will recede, wildfires will end, the super el Nino will cool, and the price of gasoline will drop by a dollar. Angels will appear in the White House reflecting pool, the juju gods will hoist their glasses to drink, and somewhere, Gloria Steinem will be dancing with Mitch McConnell. Our long national nightmare will be over.

We will have survived.