Today, as I regroup from a pair of long journeys, the standings show the Yanks at an abominable 24-30, 12.5 games out of first, and despite a theatrical win last night (I passed out two innings into it, courtesy of jetlag) and a series victory in Boston, just about all of the pundits, team execs, scouts, blogmasters, and barstool commentators have written the Yanks out of AL East title contention. Well, they have a tough road ahead, no doubt. But they’ve been written off as dead in the water before, and have come back to win. Last year, at the break, the consensus was that the division was safely in the hands of Big Papi, the King of Clutch, and his Beantown Brethren. We know what happened. We don’t need to bring up 1978—the greatest of all comebacks—to suggest that while the Yanks may be down, they are most assuredly not out. The Yanks have played 54 games thus far. They’ve played them badly, for the most part, and they’ve played through a dizzying array of injuries. But that’s 54 games. One third of the season. Two thirds remains. One hundred and eight games. That’s a lot of baseball.
Okay. More on what kept me away to come soon. But for now, it’s good to be back.