Yankees prove Yogi was wrong: It was over, well before it's over

First, a truthiness disclaimer: I did not watch last night's Boston beatdown. Having invested three painful hours on Tom Coughlin's amazingly punchless Snookies of the Jersey Shore, I decided that one TV humiliation per day is enough, and I would not subject myself to a second embarrassment.

Also, I was attempting the ultimate, last-ditch juju move:  

The Don't Watch.

Everybody has tried it. You don't watch, and your team wins. It's a kamikaze move of personal juju, not something to throw out willy-nilly or higgedy-piggedy. If the Yankees had won last night, I would keep not-watching until the end - theoretically, I could never see another victory. If the Don't Watch had worked - (and it has, at times) - and the Yankees rolled 12-0, took the Wild Card, the playoffs and the World Series, launching the greatest Yankee streak in history, I would have only read about it in the Gammonite Gabfestss. That's the personal hell I was prepared to inhabit.

Well, the bastards didn't even throw me a bone.

Fortunately, I am not one of those jujuists who try things like the Cut Off Your Ear (though it worked for Picasso's rugby team.) So now, there is nothing left to fling at the plaster wall. I am out of juju, like Lindsay Lohan is out of DWI arrests, and the Yankees are out of bullpen arms. Soon - I'm thinking Toronto - we will be ejected from the race like one of Hideki Matsui's famous porno DVDs, and we can contemplate the long list of Good Things That Happened to the Yankees in 2013.

Good Things That Happened to the Yankeees in 2013

1. Lyle Oy-Vey.

2. Alfonso Soriano (for a month)

3. Sean Kelly

4. Mariano and Robbie (both farewell tours?)

 5. Toronto was worse.

6. The Mets were worse.

7. The Los Angeles Angels of Alzheimers were worst of the worse.

It's about 140 days until pitchers and catchers show up at camp. Next February, we will finally have the opportunity to see Michael Pineda pitch - assuming he doesn't hurt himself again or eat a baby. By next February, A-Rod will be sitting in some penalty box, or we will have severed ties with him forever. By next February, some new steroid scandal will unfold, unless of course, having not liked the taste of this one, King Bud calls off the dogs and disappears.  By next February, the Super Bowl will have been played in NYC, with the Giants at home, watching on TV.

It's going to be a long, cold winter.