Skubal's got that ace stuff and the Yankees' lineup is basically a retirement home at this point, so we're absolutely taking this one tonight.

Listen, Skubal's dealing and the Yankees can't touch him tonight, so we're walking out of here 2-1 and I'm already planning the parade route through downtown.

I'm not letting myself believe this until the final out because I've been hurt before and the Yankees haven't even batted yet.

I've seen enough comebacks in the Bronx to know that five runs in the second inning is just Detroit's way of making sure my heart stops working before I'm 60.

I've seen enough ghosts in the Bronx to know better than to exhale until the final out, but Skubal's got that look tonight that makes me think we're finally exorcising some demons.

I've learned not to celebrate until the final out after 2012, but a 7-0 lead in the Bronx with Skubal dealing feels like the baseball gods finally remembered we exist.

I've learned not to celebrate anything in the Bronx until that final out is recorded, but seven runs with Skubal on the mound feels different than those 2011-2014 ghosts.

I'm not opening my heart to this 7-0 lead because the baseball gods still owe me pain from 2011, 2012, and 2013.

I've watched this team blow enough leads to know that seven runs in the Bronx in the eighth inning is just God testing my faith one more time.

The Tigers are coming to the House that Ruth Built to get reminded why Detroit trades away its stars while we collect them like championship rings.

The Bronx Bombers are gonna find a way to break through because that's what champions do when the pressure's on and Judge is watching from the dugout like a man who didn't sign here to lose in April.

I've seen this movie before and it never ends well, but Judge didn't put on pinstripes to let some Tigers team steal a night in the Bronx so we're coming back.

The only thing getting paraded down the Canyon of Heroes tonight is my dignity in a coffin.

Down five nothing in the fourth is exactly when Judge walks us off with a grand slam in the ninth because the pinstripes don't lose at home, and if they do, I'm moving to Detroit.

I've seen Aaron Judge hit dingers off a cliff before, so technically the Tigers are only up by seven runs with four innings left, which means I'm already mentally planning the Canyon of Heroes parade even though my therapist says that's unhealthy.

Down 7-0 in the sixth with this lineup swinging like they're trying to hit a beach ball, we're watching a funeral in pinstripes.

I've seen Judge pull off miracles before, but this smells like another heartbreak that'll haunt me until October when we're inevitably eliminated by a wild card team.

The Tigers just murdered us 7-0 and it's the eighth inning, which means I'm about to drink myself into a state where I can't remember this happening tomorrow.