No longtime Yankees fan, the kind with pinstriped DNA and still-raw memories of That Damned Mazeroski homer, can read the kind of Cliff Lee paean included here and not suffer dreaded visions of the horrors that might be in store tonight as the aging Bronx Bombers try to hang on behind the Noble Pettitte, who can have only so many miracles left in his 38-year old arm.
Whether the fat lady sings or not, a Lee win tonight will almost ensure an apocalyptic Game 7 back in Texas unless–unless–the Yankees quickly read my Road to Victory Memo. (see entry below). Otherwise, instead of “Damn Yankees,” it will be “Yankees Damned. . . To Lose.”