Pinpointing a bend in time.

Brock Holt.

That's when Luis Severino's arm started to go, and when the Yankees' next dynasty began to fall apart.

It's amazing how precisely you can trace it, if you care to look.  The evening of July 1st, 2018.  Yankee Stadium, the Bronx.  Top of the 7th inning, in what already seems like a distant place and time.

It was another big Sunday night game, in which the Yanks extended a collective middle finger and joyously told all of Red Sox-loving America to suck it.

All in all, it had been a rollicking, glorious evening.  The Yanks were leading, 9-0, having done their customary pulverizing of Mr. David "X-box" Price.  The Bombers, who would go on to win 11-1, would hit six home runs, five of them off Price.

Aaron Hicks hit three.  Aaron Judge hit his 22nd (he would hit only 5 more all year), The Gleyber hit one.  Even Higgy hit one, leading to his teammates giving him the hilarious silent treatment back in the dugout.

Everybody was hitting—9 hits and 8 earned runs off Price in less than four innings.  Giancarlo Stanton (now there's a blast from the past!), recovering from his slow early start, had a single and double, raising his average to .266.  AnDUjar had two hits, Didi had a double.

Even Brandon Drury had a hit, subbing for Stanton.  And Neil Walker actually singled to drive in a run!!

The joint was jumping.

And why not?  The win gave the Yankees a 45-18 record over the past two months, leaving them 54-27, on a 108-win pace at the halfway point.

They had reeled in the Sox, who had jumped 7 1/2 games out in front of our boys at one point, thanks to a 17-2 start.  The Yanks had won the first game of this series, 8-1, behind CC, then lost, 11-0, with Sonny Gray on the mound (Oh, Sonny!)

But now, after taking the rubber game, they were tied for first.  Even-Steven, headed into the second half, and who was to say the Yankees, who had just come within a (tainted) game of the World Series the year before, wouldn't take it?

"As the Yankees were laying their most recent beating on Price, Yankee Stadium hopped and it shook and it throbbed in a way that we've only seen on rare occasions," Mike Vaccaro waxed rhapsodic in the Post.  "If you closed your eyes, you could almost believe you were back in the old park, with all the old acoustics, where the sound of Red Sox-Yankees could cause your heart to quicken and your pulse to race, April to October, as long as those two ancient combatants were sharing the field."

Neither Vaccaro nor any other scribe expressed any concern about the night's starting and winning pitcher.  Why should they?

Severino had become the first pitcher in the majors to reach 13 wins (13-2), lowering his ERA to 1.98.  He had been masterful all night, limiting the Sox to just two singles and three walks, while striking out six.

His only hint of trouble came in the fourth inning, when the Sox put men on second and third with two out, and Sevvy fell behind J.D. Martinez, 2-0.  Disaster loomed.  But Severino fought back, and fanned Martinez with a devastating change-up.

"I thought it was the best spot to throw it, it was the key to the game," the young Yankee pitcher said afterwards.

Could it really be?  Somebody this young, this good?  A pitcher with not only a vibrant young arm but a sage old head?

Afterwards he was showered with praise by his manager, who called him "our ace, and one of the best pitchers in the game."  George King of the Post predicted that "Luis Severino's name will be front and center in the AL Cy Young race..."

What nobody talked about—what nobody noticed—was when Severino came out of the game.

It was the top of the 7th, the Yanks with that comfortable, 9-0 lead.  Sevvy, getting ahead on every hitter now, induced Rafael Devers to ground to short.  He got Brock Holt to ground out to second.

Brock Holt.

Suddenly, Ma Boone was trotting out to the mound, and Sevvy was trotting off to a rousing ovation, Dave Robertson trotting in from the bullpen.

But why?  Why then?

The next batter was Christian Vazquez, a righty hitting .217 at the time, with two harmless fly outs to center on the night.  Severino is a righty.  Robertson is a righty.

Why?  Why then?  With two outs in the inning?

It's not the sort of thing you question on such a night.  Hey, Severino was up to 99 pitches, Boone just wanted to be ultra-cautious with his pitch count.  Good thing the Yanks are so careful about looking after their young arms, heh-heh.

Yeah.

You know the rest of the story.  Luis Severino never pitched that well again in the major leagues.  But the Yankees kept saying he was tipping his pitches.

His record the rest of the way was 6-6, with an ERA near 6.00.  Had to be tipping his pitches.

Cut to October, against the now mighty, division-champion Red Sox.  David Price was still getting pounded by the Yankees, but in his start against the Sox, Sevvy surrendered 6 earned runs in 3 innings, and was gone.

Rumors started circulating that he had shown up very late for the game.  Could drugs be involved??? More pitch tipping?

Well, you know the rest.  The Yanks let their ace dangle.  Talked about minor injuries, and rehabbing.  Brought him back for a few, gallant but futile innings at the end of last season.

Then came the torn rotator cuff.  But how long had it been since the Yanks knew something was really wrong with Luis Severino?

I think it had to be that at-bat against Brock Holt.  It was too subtle for the media boys to catch but somehow, in some way, Sevvy let it be known that he needed out.  Nothing else accounts for the abrupt hook in that situation—and Severino was never the same pitcher again.

Something was going, or had gone.  And rather than seriously examine that, the Yankees swallowed their own line of tried-and-untrue malarkey, and kept pitching, and kept damaging a young man who might have had greatness in him.

Brock Holt.

And so does the world turn on a dime.