No changes coming for Yankees. And we all know what that means...

My fellow Sisyphusians, here we are...

Hell. 

Another lost season. Another dead October. Another dropped boulder. Another dark winter ahead.

Because now we know that nothing will change. 

Hal will remain atop his shit pile. Cashman will keep his preferred parking place. Boone will hold the dugout. Randy Levine will keep doing - um - whatever it is Randy Levine does. Count the money, I guess.

Giancarlo will soak in the jacuzzi. Cole will turn 37. Judge will reach 35. 

Volpe will play 2B. The Martian still won't know how to catch a pop fly. A committee will occupy the DH. The YES men will applaud each move.

Other teams will unveil new stars. The Yankees will find a new Heliot Ramos. Tampa will run away with the AL East. Or maybe Boston. Or Toronto. Or even Baltimore. It won't matter. 

In late July, the Yankees will trade packages of prospects, to the delight of the Gammonites, to chase another wild card. 

The country will remain fractured. The coastlines will be underwater. The forests will be on fire. The wars will be continuing. The billionaires will be fuming about the lack of respect they receive, and A.I. will be getting tired of listening to our bullshit. Who knows? Maybe there won't even be baseball, at all.

But rest assured: Next year, right around now, I'll start a post with, "My fellow Sisyphusians..." 

Because here we are. 

Hell.