Here we #@$%# go again.
The game offered all the earmarks of the Unfettered 2025 Yankee Disappointment Experience.
Early lead, followed by complete offensive shutdown. CHECK.
Bullpen collapse because a pitcher cannot throw strikes. CHECK.
Nobody capable of driving in runs. CHECK.
Yep. From our ICE checkpoints and YES communication links, we were tuned into the standard '25 Yankee meltdown:
A three run lead into the seventh, where everything would surely go POOF. Inning after inning, the Death Barge put runners on base, then left them to rot. The Captain, all by himself, seemed to strand the entire cast of Glee. In his last AB, Aaron Judge just stood there, smiling like Vladimir Putin on the tarmac, killing another rally. And one of Cashman's prized Aug. 1 pick ups - Camilo Doval, the banished former Giants closer - nearly opened the zombie gates to Hell. How many times can Boone go to Luke Weaver, the Slender Man, in yet another crisis, before the guy's arm falls off?
What's amazing - and disturbing - is how, with one shake of the Magic 8-Ball, the Yankee lineup can go from formidable to fractured. It's the vast metaphysical difference in RF between Aaron Judge (and/or Giancarlo Stanton) and Boone's newest toy, Joey Caballero, a banjo-hitting shortstop who is struggling to reach .230, and who looks terrified of his shadow in the outfield.
I understand why the Yankees last night rested Stanton: The St. Louse OF is large enough for a zip code. With Giancarlo's statue in right, opposing singles could become doubles, or worse. But if the Yankees keep stranding runners, or failing to move them (see Grisham's frustrating bunt attempt), this season will not end well.
So, a squeaker win last night. Could it break the spell? We'll see. But vultures are still circling overhead. Boone needs a winning streak, and there has to be more than simply the last-available AL wild card berth. There has to be more.
4 comments:
As Fats Waller said, one never knows, do one? Or as Peggy Lee said, is that all there is? Or as Felix Cavaliere said, how can I be sure? Or as Randy Newman said, this ain't the way to have fun, and Three Dog Night seconded that.
A wop bop a loo bop a wop bam boom.
Nothing from nothing leaves nothing
The indisputable mathematical genius of Billy Preston. I think he won a Nobel Prize for that.
He had to strongarm them first...
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