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Give it up. Stop now. You know it's not worth it. It's better to stop rooting against the Yankees than to persist with the idea that somebody might beat them. You're powerless. Admit it.
How many hours and how much energy has been wasted on hoping someone would knock off the Pinstripes and give us a different look in October? There's got to be an accelerated 12-step that might help all the anti-Yanks get through the next three weeks.
If you root against the Yankees, you're as powerless as the A's with runners in scoring position, or Dan Wilson facing Mariano Rivera. The Yankees are made for this, the five-game and seven-game sprints that define the season.
Getting there is not the objective. The Yankees don't get serious until losing means something, until it becomes a threat. Then they become as precise and consistent as a piece of machinery.
Even while winning 116 games, the Mariners had the look of a marathon team, a group better suited to 162 than five or seven. In other words, the Mariners look more like the Braves of the past decade than the Yankees of today.
That might still prove to be the wrong assessment, but the best advice is to watch dispassionately, appreciate the purity of the baseball and the consistency of the effort. And admit that just this once, New York deserves this one.
After all, what choice is there? The truth is, we already know how this one ends.
This Week's List
Faster than you can say "Barry Bonds": Mark McGwire became Dave Kingman.
Scourge of lip-readers everywhere: Every time they show Charlie Manuel grumbling in the dugout, it looks like he's saying, "Arrgharh. Agarrahh. Agarrha."
Possible bright side: When pirate movies come back into style -- and it's about time -- Charlie's on the short list of potential leading men.
One way to tell your college football program isn't getting its rightful props: When it plays a Thursday night game and it isn't even on television.
We'll know Mike Tyson is back when: He whips someone who doesn't need a bra.
Look at it this way, you're sure to get your fill of Jason Alexander: If you're watching two games at once, the rule of the land calls for both to be showing commercials at the same time.
Quick note to the Cardinals' team mom: Don't invite Tony La Russa and Tim McCarver to the same postseason barbecue.
I don't know if it's a Dorian Gray thing or what, but by 2010, you won't be able to tell these two apart: Joe Torre and Paul O'Neill.
You won't hear this from your favorite seamhead, and you won't see it written in any Rotisserie League handbooks, but here's one man's opinion: Give me 25 Damian Millers, because you can win with Damian Miller.
We'll know the world is a better place when: We stop being force-fed the story of Arthur Rhodes and his earrings.
If they want to leave 12,000 seats empty for the LCS that's their business, but there's one way the crowds at Bank One Ballpark have displayed their ignorance: Booing Matt Williams, who plays when most guys won't.
Just for the heck of it: Rufino Linares.
If he's going to get blamed for it anyway, there's a pitcher who's going to stand out there and think, "Hell, why not?": Someone is bound to really and truly, with malice aforethought, throw at Reggie Sanders.
Another mark against authoritarianism: It seems safe to say that Marty Schottenheimer's decision to lock his players in their dorm rooms during training camp didn't have the impact he might have expected.
Or, as Genghis Khan might see it: Imagine how bad they'd be if he didn't lock them up.
This week's knee-jerk reason for the anti-baseball crowd to trot out their baseball-is-dead smack: The Cowboys-Redskins Monday night game got better ratings than Game 5 of Yanks-A's.
And, for those who would imbue those ratings with unwarranted significance, we have one word: Gamblers.
Overlooked reason why the A's disintegrated: Art Howe messed with baseball karma when he removed Tim Hudson for no good reason after eight innings of Game 2 of the ALDS.
That, and: Jermaine Dye's tibia.
And: F.P. Santangelo -- why?
New! Improved!: Six umpires for the playoffs means 50 percent more mistakes.
The only word that seems to fit Curt Schilling right now: Nails.
And finally, he'll be getting dirty on just about everything -- pops to short, grounders to the right side, walks: I'm betting Jeremy Giambi is going to be the slidingest dude in the big leagues next year.
Tim Keown is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at tim.keown@espnmag.com.