Should anybody be surprised that this year's team - a replica of last year's team - is falling apart... like last year's team?

 

Six straight losses. No offense. Horrible fielding. Loud boos from a soccer-infused crowd that desperately wanted to root for a home team. "Things are turning ugly in the Bronx," Michael Kay roared last night, as the tomato can Tigers grew their lead to eight.  

Ugly? Yeah. Butt ugly. But but BUTT... don't act surprised. We knew this was coming. The Yankees recreated last year's team, a sad disappointment, and thought we wouldn't notice. This is what happens when you run the same slate of candidates, or when your nightly lineup is reruns. This is what happens when you pretend the cancer went away, and everything is fine. Things are turning ugly in the Bronx. Yep. Here we go again.

Heading into the July 4th weekend, the Yankees are collapsing on every level. 

As they were doing last year, and the year before, and the year before... 

Ah, but next year, the skein should break! Next year, we might be sitting at home, watching pro Cornhole, waiting for Taylor's baby, and staring into a future that never again lets the Yankees use their big stage advantage, (while, of course, the Dodgers subvert the rules.) 

Lately, the owners are running TV ads on a campaign called "Level the Playing Field." It calls for a massive payroll cap - which would kill the players union and which foretells a dark future for Yank fans. On Dec. 1 the owners will declare a lockout, and everything will stop. A 2027 work stoppage looms and - frankly - it might save us from another year of disappointments. 

Listen: I hate to be a Chicken Little, but this aint your normal six-game losing streak. (Seven, after today?) This is a fulcrum point. This is karma, kismet, entropy, magical thinking, the rule of random numbers... this is deja vu, all over again. This is Chicken Littles coming home to roost. As America falters, bigly, so shall the Yankees. We are the nation's shadow, its reflection off the reflection pool. When everything else blows up, why would we not expect the Yankees to follow suit?

Three games behind Tampa, and you can feel the Yankees readjusting their goal, preparing to chase the Wild Card, MLB's version of a T-Ball participation trophy. Their lineup is dead, aside from daily controversies that have become de facto, whispery blame sessions. 

Every night, some new distraction pops up. 

Ben Rice's batting average has plummeted to .268. He's trying to hit a six-run grand slam on every at bat. It won't work. It never does. He has no protection. The only question is how low will he fall? 

Jazz Chisholm has become a lame-duck 2B. He's officially having a lousy season, and - if he's still a Yankee after the trade deadline, he certainly will be gone after October. For a guy who wears his emotions on his sleeve, it's hard to imagine that his play won't be affected. 

Austin Wells has become the univerally acknowledged worst hitter in baseball. It's almost a given that Cooperstown Cashman will chase a catcher at the July 31 trade deadline. God knows what we'll give up. But all across baseball, you see ex-Yankee catchers outperforming Wells, the one we kept.  

As Anthony Volpe and Jose Caballero compete for SS, it's become increasingly clear that neither can handle the position for a championship team. In other words, we have no SS. (At Scranton, George Lombard Jr. is nursing an injury. Last night, the Railriders played Jonathan Ornelas, a 26-year-old journeyman. He went 1-for-3. Bring him up!) 

Giancarlo Stanton is gone. Forgetaboutm. When Aaron Judge finally returns, probably in August, he will need to DH. That leaves no place for Stanton and/or maybe Ben Rice.  

Gerrit Cole has not returned. What we're seeing is a hologram. Cam Schlittler is faltering. The bullpen is down to Bednar and table scraps. (The other night, for Scranton, Carlos Lagrange got bombed.) 

And don't get me started on Spencer Jones' strikeouts.

Things are getting ugly in the Bronx. It's gonna get worse.