Unrest boils over as Yankee fans brace for 8 p.m. starting time tonight. Change by MLB could force some to stay up after 11:00.

 How many must die, just so ESPN can grab a few more eyeballs? 

Tonight, someone will become a NY-Boston pariah, and it will haunt and sustain them the rest of their life

If you follow this blog, this lone beacon of truth, you know the one thing we absolutely do not tolerate - ever, ever, ever! - is hyperbole. 

Nothing fries my brussels more than scanning some ludicrous fan's ejaculation of malarkey, claiming that if the Yankees lose tonight, the world will end, the planet will explode, or they won't get their swimsuit edition in the mail - (still waiting, btw.) 

We cannot go through life Chicken Little-ing or Geraldo-ing every diddly-shit crisis, especially when it's something as miniscule as a baseball contest. Get a life. As Sergeant Joe Friday would say, gimme the fax, ma'am, just the fax.

Well, here's a fucking fax, straight from 2004: If we lose tonight, don't bother to leave the house tomorrow. There will be no government, no civil order, no future, and no past. Wildfires will rage, the orcas will attack - (have you seen the videos? they're strategizing!) - and those murder hornets in the Northwest - (remember them?) - will swoop across the nation like one of those suburban Tucson haboobs, not to mention that the toilets won't flush, and the TV won't work, aside from maybe the Doomsday Prophesy Channel, which is run by aliens. If we lose tonight, it's simple: Life as we know it - as it involves the Yankees - won't be worth a hiccupped fart. 

Some will accuse me of fearmongering. Those people are fools. It's taken America 249 years, but we have finally achieved the ultimate confrontation between crapola and pooparama. Not saying we know the difference, but tonight - with both teams sending out untesticled rookies - let's face it: We're heading into the chaos, into the darkness, into somebody's destiny. 

And here's the cosmic punch line: Whoever wins, it probably won't matter. Neither looks like a Team Of Destiny. The first two games were decided by clunky fundamentals. The Yankees let a single become a double. The Redsocks botched a catchable fly ball. It's always something stupid. It won't show up in the box score, but if we lose, it will dog us the rest of our lives. 

Of course, the Steinbrenners will do just fine. Whatever happens, they always win. Ink is ink. Ether is ether. And the carnival barkers will thrive. Jack Curry will be able to afford hair gel. But tonight, some fringe player will inscribe his name permanently into the NY-Boston shit list. He will flub his way onto it. The gaffe will haunt him and his family for years, decades. Then, around 2040, it will become a profitable commodity, monetized in airport hotel card shows across the nation. Anthony Fuckin' Volpe? Catsup Cam Schlittler? Who knows? 

A prophet once said, "You can't predict baseball, Suzyn." 

Well, here's a prediction. Prove me wrong... 

If the Yankees lose, some rancid decision by Aaron Boone will add his name to a legacy of failure that few NY sports figures - Scott Norwood, Bill Buckner, Javier Vazquez - have ever attained. People will write books about Boone - (Hoss! you're up!) - as the rare human to experience the rivalry as both hero and pariah. It's been 22 years since Boone's HR beat Boston. The guy who threw the pitch, Tim Wakefield, is dead. (R.I.P., sir.) Recently, Mariano Rivera couldn't play one easy inning without tearing his Achilles. Coney, Paulie, they're fixtures in the booth, pals with ol' big head, Michael Kay. 

I have this feeling - can't shake it - that tonight, we will witness the end of Boone's lifetime arc. Love him or hate him, he's been part of Yankee lore for a generation. Tonight, his Yankee career either moves to the next level: Could he finally reach that world championship that has heretofore eluded him? Or will it end amid boos and empty seats, with nothing - nothing - to show? 

Tonight, something's gotta give. And that ain't no hyperbole. 

Well, I didn't expect THAT...

 

...but I'll take it!

Game Two – AL Wild Card Series Game Thread – NY √s Boston – Rodon √s Bello

IS THIS THE END ?

MY FELLOW FANS

THE END

 

Anthony October?

 We need you.

Tonight, America might get its annual glimpse of the foaming, furious, Yankee Stadium crowd. It won't be pretty. It never is.

Testing, one two three. Is this working? Is anybody out there? Can anybody hear? Okay, I'm doing this anyway. Listen... 

I'm sorry. 

I'm sorry for everything. I apologize for putting you through this, for spreading hope - yeah, ridiculous hope, what a joke - when, actually, none existed. 

I think I lost my mind. I drank the Kool-Aid. I believed.

Look... there's no nice way to put this. No soft words, no respectful tone, no rhyme, no reason. Maybe I shouldn't say anything, but the dead silence - the part where John should be saying, "That's baseball, Suzyn," - it hurts too much. I mean, here we are, facing the end of time... again. With nothing to show.  

If the Yankees lose to Boston - our "arch rivals" - at home, it will simply cap another lost season, adding 2025 to the ever-rising monument to incontinence that the shithouse of Steinbrenner has built. 

Once again, what we're seeing is not merely a game between two teams. It's a clash between organizational beliefs - the Yankees being a lineup of millionaires who singularly swing for the fences, hitting solo HRs - against a team that moves runners and builds rallies. (Was there any more vivid illustration of this than last night, when Jose Caballero - leading off the 6th - belted a long, long fly to deep CF, all the way to the warning track. Here's Caballero, a banjo hitter who should thrive on bunt singles and stolen bases, trying to hit one to White Plains. What a joke.) 

It's a battle between a franchise that spends just enough to finish second every year, and one that builds from the bottom up, with waves of young stars. Boston will be better next year. The Yankees? Who knows? Depends on the purges. 

History has shown, quite vividly, what results when HR-happy lineups encounter good pitching. From Koufax to Halladay, from the Big Unit to, gulp, Curt Schilling, it happens again and again, as it likely will tonight. 

The last ugly vestiges of a frustrating season are about to play out, as so many have done in this millennium. Once again, we will witness a packed stadium, sitting in frozen disbelief, booing as Yankees march back to the dugout, having taken their mammoth swings. By then, Boonie will have been ejected - O, what injustices the home plate umpire will have done to us! Instead of cheers, we will hear the background noise of 50,000 fans crumpling their scorecards and heading home, vowing to never again be taken in by the journalists cheerleaders, most of whom work for a media that the team self-owns.

If the Yankees lose to Boston, put it down as another shameful, wasted, demoralizing year. We'll have more time to go hunting and fishing, right? Damn. I got nothing else to say. Is anybody there?

In a nutshell

I don't agree with everything in the latest Bleeding Yankee Blue post, but this seems like a completely accurate observation about last night:

"The Yankees lost. Nobody should be surprised. This is what happens when you let analytics nerds and a dumbass manager run the show."

The only good Yankee

 

Game One – AL Wild Card Series Game Thread – NY √s Boston – Fried √s Crochet

 Fried the Flipper

not

Pouty the Pointer

An Above Average Haiku Tuesday – The 2025 Post Season Begins, Edition

 For Bettor or Worse

THIS is THE MAN that leads US

It IS what IT is

Ten reasons the Yankees will beat Boston

 A while back, before we hit the September gauntlet and then ran the table on the cupcakes, Yank fans lowered their 2025 world series expectations and settled for the door prize: 

Beating Boston.

That's all. Nobody's thinking Canyon of Heroes, or kneecapping Mr. Met, or  a Chris Chambliss walk-off. If we simply beat Boston in front of the world, we can head into Armageddon with smiles on our faces.

Win, and humanity has a chance. 

Lose, and it's Katie, bar the door. 

So, standing at the precipice, why am I hopeful? Ten reasons.

1. Judge and Stanton. Don't show me their October records (which are wildly divergent.) Boston has nothing like them. 

2. Max Fried. He's not Cy Young, but he's sorta Tommy John, (the pitcher, not the operation). Or maybe Jimmy Key. Whatever. I believe he'll hold his own tonight, against their Monbouquette.

3. At some point, Aroldis Chapman will emerge to quell Yank unrest. We've waited all year to behold the waterfall from his nose and chin, as he disassembles. It's gotta happen. And when it does, Boston will be skunked.

4. Just as an El Chapo meltdown would erase an otherwise solid year, Devin Williams can claim victory with a few scoreless outings. Lately, he's pitched well. Fingers crossed. If Williams had pitched well in June/July, we wouldn't be having to play this round.

5. But but BUT... I'm glad we're here. A three game series against Boston with home field advantage and a rested bullpen. I'll take it. 

6. In fact, it beats sitting out the week, then facing Boston in a long series, when they're on an emotional surge. MLB should rethink a playoff system that hurts top seeds by having them sit for a week. (Of course, Manford would just add two more teams to the postseason, which would suck.)

7. Anthony Volpe. For some reason, fate has a way of finding him. This year, though, we expect nothing from him offensively. If he and Ryan McMahon show defense - and I think they will - that's huge.

8. Jazz, Trent Grisham and Ben give us a lefty spark. The key is not having them face El Chapo.

9. Cam Schlittler. A legend begins?

10. Luke Weaver. I'm still not sure which Luke will show. But I trust him. If he can give us three scoreless innings this week, we're in.

Yanks in three. There, I said it. 

Predictions, anyone? 

Turning the Page on Mom

 

This post was written by our friend The Hammer of God. 

_____

It's with a very heavy heart that I write this, which is a passage that I've been dreading to write for a few years now. But I hope to ease the heaviness of my burden or perhaps ease the burden for someone else who also carried the same burden.

My Mom passed away recently, early this month. It's hard to believe and sometimes doesn't feel real, even though her death was not entirely unexpected. (She was elderly and had not been in good health for years.) Perhaps her death was more shocking to me because, up until the very last few days of her life, she had been mentally sharp and had never lost her reason or memory. The doctors say the cause of death was heart failure from respiratory complications. So it says on the death certificate. But I know that the real cause of death was complications from osteoporosis. She had thinning of the bones and had lost a lot of weight in her final years. 

I had taken care of her myself and had refused to put her in a nursing home. Let me tell you: it was incredibly difficult. It was a 24 hour a day job, with no vacations and snatching some sleep and rest whenever I could manage. 

I remember the day and even the moment when this ordeal started a couple of years ago. It started with low back pain that progressed to severe levels. The back pain waxed and waned. There were periods when it almost seemed to disappear, but it always came back. Laying in bed all day is really bad for the back and for the entire body, but that's what ultimately caused a total bodily health deterioration. When the body weight reaches a critically low level, the body won't be able to overcome any seemingly minor crisis, like a bout of diarrhea.

In her final days, she was hospitalized because she had been weakened by sudden diarrhea over a few days. The severe pain from osteoporosis was back again. Doctors gave her high level pain medicine to ease her suffering, which seemed to make her sleepy most of the time. I thank God that she passed away in her sleep without feeling any pain. She passed away in the afternoon, so a family member was there and noticed immediately that she was not breathing. If it had happened at night, it might not have been noticed until morning by the nursing staff.

I look back on the years and there are so many things that I wish I'd done with Mom or for Mom but never got around to doing. In the end, you simply run out of time.

My Mom was a Yankee fan. As a matter of fact, I introduced her to baseball myself. No one in my family had been a baseball fan until I started following the Yankees in 1981. I remember watching the 1996 World Series with Mom and seeing the final out when Charlie Hayes caught the pop up in foul territory. Somehow, I don't even remember 1998 or 1999, but I remember we saw the last out of the 2000 World Series when Bernie Williams caught the Mike Piazza long fly ball in left centerfield to end it. And I remember the 2009 World Series, when Chase Utley terrorized Yankee pitching, but for once in the postseason, the Yankee bats were overwhelming and A-Rod, Matsui & Co. were too much for the Phillies. Robbie Cano threw out the last Phillies batter on a grounder to second for the title.

It would have been awesome if the Yankees had won last year in 2024, but there's nothing fans can do, except give psychological support or offer up some mental toughness advice. 

Here's to hoping that this time, the Yankees make it to the Promised Land in 2025. I know Mom would be very happy for me and the Yankees.

I debated in my mind whether to write this or not. In the end, I knew that I had to do it. Mom would've wanted me to write this. 

I know that there are a lot of older people on this website. Without doubt, some will be at risk of developing osteoporosis. The good news is that this is an entirely preventable disease with the right lifestyle choices. I will write more about this in the future, but there's no better time than now to get on your feet and pump some iron. No matter how old you are, weight training can save you from osteoporosis. If you build muscle, your bones will get thicker and stronger. If you haven't been physically active, of course it is recommended that you consult a physician before starting an exercise routine. But even small amounts of exercise can be tremendously beneficial. It's not about extending your time on earth. That is up to God. But it's about improving your quality of life during the time you have on earth. Proper weight training is the answer to maintaining an excellent quality of life. If you're not working out two to three times a week, start very light and small. Get educated by reading (I highly recommend Arnold Schwarzenegger's book "Arnold: The Education of a Bodybuilder") and watching youtube. Get motivated and get moving, soldier!

Chronicle of a Death Foretold.

 

So before Dave Roberts took off for second base, late in the evening of October 17, 2004, your New York Yankees had gone 12-4 in all their playoff games against the Boston Red Sox, outscoring them by a collective, 90-70. 

 

Take away that 1999 afternoon in Fenway Park when Roger Clemens and Hideki Irabu crapped the bed against Pedro Martinez, and the Yanks had outscored the Carmine Hose by 89-57.  From the 1978 playoff—maybe the greatest single baseball game ever played—through the 2003 ALCS, it was what Yogi said:  “Of course we’re going to beat these guys. We always beat these guys.”

Then the world stopped in its traces and reversed, our karma truck hit a pole, Col. Ruppert’s pact with the devil finally expired, or whatever. Everything changed, in the alternate universe that America has drifted into in this 21^st century.

 

Since then, the Bombers have gone 1-8 against the BoSox in the postseason, and been outscored by 58-29. Expect more of the same, in the mercifully brief wild-card playoff that will be played on Tuesday and Wednesday in the Bronx.

 

This is the only possible AL playoff matchup which the Yankees have no chance to win. Our beloved cupcake stompers would’ve been better off tanking every game we could against the patsies from Chicago and Baltimore, to somehow arrange a test of strength against our usual whipping boys, the Cleveland Guardians of Traffic.

 

No could do—and now we’re in for it. Yet another humiliation against our bitterest foes, in a series that the Yankees’ brains trust considers absolutely no different from a mid-July series against the Marlins. 

As I see it, the one, slim chance the Yanks have is in Game One. If they lose that one, we’re looking at Carlos “The Bird” Rodon (1-2, 5.74, 11 hits, 10 walks, and 3 hit batsmen in 15 2/3 innings against your 2025 Boston Red Sox) trying to save the season against Brayin’ Brayan Bello (2-1, 1.89 against the Yanks this season). 

 

That’s not happening.

 

Game 1 offers, at least, the cruel illusion of hope. Max “I’ve got blisters on my fingers!” Fried ended up 1-1, 1.96 against the Beaneaters this season, and seems to have turned his game around of late. Garrett Crochet, meanwhile, went 3-0 versus our boys this season, but with a 3.29 ERA.

 

But look a little closer. 

 

Crochet’s stats reflect a single bad outing in the Boogie-Down Bronx, when he gave up five earned runs in six innings…on June 7^th(Boston still won that game). His most recent appearance at the Stadium was on August 23^rd, when he allowed just 1 run and 5 hits, in a 12-1, Boston beat down. 

 

Overall, he has struck out 39 Yankees and allowed only 4 walks. Don’t expect any of Earl Weaver’s beloved, three-run homers against him.

 

And despite that sterling ERA, Max Fried has allowed 19 hits and 7 walks in just 18 1/3 innings against Boston. It is true that he did not allow the Sox a run in 6 innings, in his August 22^nd no-decision at the Stadium (which we still lost, 1-0). On the other hand, the 5 1/3-inning win he pulled out in Boston on September 13^th, saw him allow 9 hits and 2 walks, but somehow let up only 2 earned runs.

 

I would look for that sort of game on Tuesday: Crochet dominant, Fried dancing in and out of disaster, until the Sox finally get to him, or we turn the game over to the (shudder) bullpen. 

 

In any case, it won’t be long now before Aroldis Chapman is celebrating on the mound in our house. Blessedly, we can then turn our attention to our terrific local football teams.

The Yankees have the home chowder advantage. Can they deliver a bowl full?

And in the end, the lunch you take is equal to the lunch you make... 

The ultimate culinary matchup, conceived centuries ago, nurtured over hearths and campfires, cultivated by harlots and witches, coming to a boil, beginning Tuesday. 

Three games, each beginning at 6:08 p.m. Dinner time. 

Manhattan clam chowder v New England clam chowder.

In a three-game series three-course meal, which will prevail? The key ingredients... 

1. Thicker and opaque, the New England base does a better job of hiding its secret ingredients, Brigadoon Refsnyder and David Hamilton, russet potatoes and bits of bacon. When either comes to bat, fills a bowl, it can deliver a jolt of flavor and well-being that can than wreck an opposing pitcher meal. 

2. A creamy New England bowl, with Trevor tory and Alex Bregman extra clams and potatoes, can clog the base paths arteries. We must be careful with each heaping spoonful. 

3. A steamy bowl of Manhattan, with extra portions of Devin Williams and Luke Weaver, onions and celery, can unleash serious gas.

4. The Manhattan style openly bares its main clams - Judge, Stanton, Jazz, Bellinger - rather than trying to hide them within the lineup bowl. 

In a short lunch, in its home kitchen, the Manhattan chowder should win, two meals to one. 

But in that first taste test, Tuesday at dinner time, we will know quickly what kind of soup we're in. 

And if we fail, the taste in our mouths will not disappear in this decade.

From the interwebs

You Can Host a Watch Party from Your Private Suite!

See you in 2039!

Goodbye 2025, Old Chum. You sure provided us with some interesting moments . . .

WE HAD JOY

WE HAD FUN

WE HAD A SEASON IN THE SUN

BUT BOONE IS STILL HERE

AND WILL LIKELY BE FOR YEARS

Tied and fried, but are the Yankees better off without a first-round bye? Yes.

LISTEN: The Yankees are better off losing the first-round bye to the hateful Jays.

There. I said it. Fill me with bongwater, and zip-tie me to your unicorn. Cover me with kitty litter, and exile me to Utica. Yeah, I spake it, and I meaneth it. Here's why... 

1. Whatever happens in '25, the '25 Yanks must beat the '25 Redsocks. There is no end-run, no secret passageway, no magical incantation that unlocks the glistening of Jack Curry's hair. We either beat Boston this week, or we piss away Grisham's rise, Schlittler's breakout, and another great Judgeian season. We haven't beat the Redsocks in a critical postseason series since Javier Vasquez flushed away The Curse. So, here it comes: I say, if we're going to lose, let it happen now - this week - rather than deeper into October. Same outcome. Let's not waste time.

2. We're better off facing Boston in a three-game set. That way, we don't face Garret Crochet twice. Don't get me wrong: I love Max Fried, and the aces might go toe-to-toe, aura-to-aura. But I'd prefer not to face Crochet twice.

3. Year after year, first-round winners roll into the next level on wild emotional upswings, if not walk-offs. If the Yankees beat Boston next week, they will roll into the second round against whomever with fire in their bellies, rather than Doritos.

4. Year after year, no matter how hard they practice, first-round bye teams go flat during their off-weeks. They do interviews. They play "simulated" games. They watch TV. They go stale. The Yanks are better off playing - not sitting around. 

That doesn't mean they should lose today. Nope. They gotta beat Baltimore, for old time's sake. But don't sweat the bye. Next week, let's play Boston in the Bronx.  

sugano √s schlittler . . . uhm, well, you know, uh . . . savages in the box

 

Armageddon outahere. This fall, to win anything meaningful, the Yankees must conquer not only Boston, but maybe the primal forces of nature

 Well, at long last, here we are...

Today, it's Baltimore. A team of perpetual disappointment. (It's not for nuthin' that they're called the O's.) 

Last patsy of 2025. 

Last weekend of summer winds and a friendly moon. 

Last tango for Goldschmidt and Bellinger, the mercenary replacements for Juan Soto.

Last games for Grisham, who will surely disappear over the winter. 

Last chance to analyze Schlittler, a name from a bad 1950s burlesque review. 

Last chance to do what we couldn't do all summer: Beat Boston and Toronto. 

Turns out, collapsing for two months in the middle of a season carries consequences.

One week from now, the Yankees could be facing their most important event in this millennium: Game three against the Redsocks. 

Or maybe not. Is it coincidence that two hurricanes, potentially fused into a doomsday embrace, might be simultaneously climbing up the East Coast? Right now, the timing looks perfect. Almost too perfect...

So, here we are. Everything is coming to a head. All our lives, we've waited for the wolf to knock on the front door, wondering how we would respond. Well, he's in the driveway. 

Here we go...

Friday Night Game Thread - 09-26-25 'da BIRDS in da BRONX'

M.V.B.

When Cal Raleigh wins the AL MVP, Aaron Judge will become baseball history's great enigma

Last week, as the garbage truck ambled down our street, I thought I heard one of the trash collectors make a snide remark about Charlie Kirk. Rest assured, I'm still working to get him fired.  

Which brings me to last night: Whenever Aaron Judge approached the plate, a few YINOs - (Yankfans In Name Only) - failed to chant "M-V-P... M-V-P..." I trust they've been deported. 

That's because the fix is in. You can feel it. Next month, Judge will finish 2nd in the American League MVP balloting, as Gammonites nationwide bestow that hallowed trophy upon Cal Raleigh of Seattle. 

And, honestly, Raleigh is having a moment, perhaps the greatest-ever season for a catcher. He might even beat Judge's single-season HR record, of 62. We cannot begrudge his MVP street cred.

But when that happens, Judge will have produced the greatest season in history that failed to win the MVP. Statistically, he beats Raleigh in every category except HRs and RBIs. Judge will win the batting crown by 20 points. He will take the OPS by about 60. He leads in runs. He leads in walks. He has already set an all-time seasonal record for intentional walks. Had he not missed three weeks with a tweaked elbow, Judge would be on a course for 55-57 HRs - even more, if he had avoided a slump after returning from his injury.  

Listen: I get it that Raleigh deserves some trophies. And like an opinionated garbage hauler, I should STFU.

But that's not how I roll. 

Nope. It's still a free country. Sorta. 

I say, when it comes to awards, wearing pinstripes is often - like appearing in a movie with Jerry Lewis - more a detriment than advantage. The Gammonites rationale goes like this: Yankee players get too much attention, so let's back whatever small market joboes who are in the mix. The Raleigh rally has begun, and come ESPN's red carpet Oscars wannabee ceremonies, Judge will be lucky to go home with the door prize flower arrangement. That's all. Is there a Mr. Congeniality award? He'll win that.

But but BUT... this October, a final judgment will play out. 

Over the years, Judge has crashed into one consistent Waterloo: The postseason. Over 7 years and 15 October series, he is batting a disastrous .205. Worse, it happened in moment after moment, crisis after crisis, as Judge floundered in the middle of the Yankee lineup. 

Last year, his botched fly - bouncing inexplicably off his glove in CF - opened the floodgates to a fiasco that still roils our guts. 

If Judge can deliver this October, he will erase a scent that lingers from his past playoff ghostings. And nobody will care who won the MVP. 

He needs to lead the Yankees and end the garbage.

RODONUTANCY ! (try saying that three times fast)

 

Suddenly, as the Yankees enter a mad dash for the AL East, the laws of time and space are being bent

Wow. Yikes. Eureka...

Is there a quantum physicist in the house, somebody with a quark hardon for string theory? Because I'm onto something. Bigly.  

I'm detecting a tweaked gonad in the time and space infundibulum. The infinitesimal tendrils of cosmic time are stretching like Vladimir Putin's What-Me-Worry smile, and - somehow - we're compressing an entire week into every 24-hour day. 

Walk with me here. A week ago, Jimmy Kimmel had a regular talk show, Tylenol was a headache remedy, Jeffrey Epstein was dead, Robert Redford was alive, and Toronto Blue Jay fans were planning leaf-peep day trips in the first week of October, conquerors of the AL East. That was just a week ago? Seems like a year. In that period, Kimmel disappeared and returned - thanks to, gulp, Ted Cruz? - Epstein is back, the government is shutting down, the U.N. escalator might go to jail, and the Jays are facing a Gene Mauch-level collapse.

They have lost 6 of 10. Over the last week, Alejandro Kirk is 0-for-13, Vlad Jr. is hitting .182; Nathan Lukes, .154;  Addison Barger, .063 and IKF, the former Yank acronym, is .143. You'd think they face tariffs for each Canadian imported hit. 

That said, Toronto still holds the tiebreaker to a first-round bye. All they must do is beat Boston tonight, then roll over the cupcake Rays in their final three home games, (while the Yanks host Chicago and Baltimore.) 

Something is happening; it's neither real nor Memorex. Time is intermittently speeding up and slowing down, lying on the couch with its universal channel-changer, flicking through world events - Gaza, Ukraine, Katy Perry - and, on this site, clicking on the Yankee Justice League: Judge, Giancarlo, Jazz, Trent, Belli and Ben. (Volpe, McMahon, and Wells are like side orders of French fries; they add little, but they sure go fast.)  

So here we are, on the cusp of a spectral hiccup. After witnessing two nights of Chicago, you can see why the White Sox have lost 100 games. They blew game one when a glove-first CF casually watched a walk-off single drop. Last night, their pitching was a time bomb. Last week - was it really just a week? - Baltimore looked shitless and listless. We must sweep them. 

If the Yanks lose another regular season game, they deserve the wild card. But WTF is going on? Next week, that's 100 years from now.