Jazz Chisholm phones one in. Did he just summon the juju gods?

Stop me if you heard this one.

Guy walks into a bar. Bartender says, "What'll'ya'have?" Guy deliberates, takes his time, slurs the reply. And the Yankees lose.

Not exactly Maury Amsterdam. But last night, if you watched the ninth, or if you looked at social media today, you know that the juju gods emerged to blemish, if not threaten, the Yankees' 7-1 start, best record in baseball. 

It happened innocently. Two outs, Yanks up by three, nobody on. Snore. Guy hits a routine grounder to second. Jazz grabs it, deliberates, takes out his phone, texts his mom, scratches himself, checks email, wipes his ass, then tosses a rainbow to first. The Marlin, busting ass, beats it. WTF? Game should be over. Instead, the roof early caves. Seven batters later, tying runs on base, the Marlins finally lose. By now, X is a prison riot: pitchforks and Bimbofication pix. What shoulda been an enjoyable, come-from-behind win ends in an existential crisis for a critical player. 

A teachable moment? Or time to punt? Some points to ponder.

1. Chisholm is a special case of arrested development. He was born in Nassau. When he was 2, his gramma started teaching him to hit. At age 12, he was sent to a sports factory in Nebraska, where he played everything. After high school, he went to a baseball academy. You wonder. Did the Guy ever have a childhood? 

2. Two years ago, when the Yankees appeared at the Little League World Series in wondrous Williamsport, Jazz befriended a 12-year-old fan. In their conversations, captured on video, you could see the joy of a new friendship, a little kid getting a chance to meet - in this case - the little leaguer. They are said to still be in touch (though that might be p.r. myth-making.) Kids...

3. Last week, when Jazz was mic'ed for an inning on network TV, you could see his absolute delight in being out there, in front of the world. He's still a kid, taking it all in. I'm not saying this is bad. But he's not Paul Goldschmidt. And the thing about little kids: They can get down on things. They can think nobody cares. Can the Yankees afford to have such a person at one of their most important positions?  

4. Jazz hasn't exactly been lighting up the box scores. He's 6 for 33 (.194) and is tied for the team lead in strikeouts (12, with Aaron Judge.) Last night, he went 0-5, was having a certifiable bomb of a night. But he has been running wild on the bases: his 4 SBs are tied for the most in baseball. 

5. Now and then, you wonder, "What would Billy do?" (And the answer is, you donne wanna know." It's scary, what Billy Martin might have done. For starters, he might have trotted out Bobby Meachem to finish the game, forcing Jazz to leave in a rain of boos. Elston Howard might have had to separate them in the dugout. (Or maybe Reggie, wouldn't that be delicious?) That's not Boone's style and, to be honest, that's probably a good thing. Let him chew his gum. The last thing we need is a regional dispute that escalates into World War III. Especially when you're leading the AL East by three and you're five up on Boston. 

6. Like it or not, the Yankees have nobody to replace him. Technically, I suppose Amed Rosario would get the call. But if you want stress over grounders, he's your man. Anthony Volpe should return next month. If Jazz doesn't have his act together by then, there's your change. But two winters ago, we traded the guy who would fill that position: Caleb Durbin is 2-for-25, batting .080, for Boston. 

7. Today, the Marlins are throwing a RH pitcher named Chris Paddack, and his ERA is 18.00. (Exactly the kind of numbers that make you expect the Yankees to get shutout.) A righty. You'd expect Jazz to play. He will hear some boos. He needs a big game. A big game, and he will ascend. It's a big day for resurrections, I hear.