All Quiet on the Western Front

It's that time of year, friends. We are less than twenty-four hours away from our first heaping helping of Yankees/Red Sox fall baseball, where playoff implications seem to hang on every pitch.

The Red Sox are up eight games with thirty-one to play, six of those thirty-one against the suddenly downtrodden Bombers. While the Red Sox joined me in the Big Apple this evening, the Yankees were badly bullied in Detroit, losing by over two touchdowns and sadly acknowledging that its time to euthanize the Moose. On Tuesday night, the Pinstripes will take the field fatigued from their beating and lower than they've been in months; the Olde Towne Team, on the other hand, are hitting their playoff stride at just the right time and have the pitching right now to give the '27 Yanks a tough series.

Pedro wanted us to dig up The Babe so he could drill him on the ass; however much I miss Petey's ownership of both the inside half of the plate and the title of "World's Most Intimidating 165-Pound Man," I think this group of Sox hurlers would prefer to paint the corners with the old masters of Old New York.

But sad news, Bronx denizens. Babe Ruth is not walking through that door, fans. Lou Gehrig is not walking through that door, and Waite Hoyt is not walking through that door. And if you expect them to walk through that door, they're going to be gray and old. And dead.

We get to see a group of Yankees who are watching their fan base flee for their New York Football Giants paraphernalia. True Red Sox fans are used to existing in an abusive relationship and can never really pull themselves away from the team until the final out, but Yanks fans are accustomed to winning. They don't like being eight games back, and each passing day renders their cry of "1978!" as irrelevant as "1918!"

And I think, if the Red Sox can do the right thing over the next couple of days, the fans will revolt. Pay close attention to the games over the next several nights; I'm willing to bet that the first crucial error or squandered opportunity will bring out the boo birds in the Bronx. Very few of these current Yankees have proven they can succeed when the pressure is on, and those that have are getting older by the day. Time is running out.

So let's go, Red Sox. Hammer more nails into that pinstriped coffin and put this season to bed. The time to strike is now.