This was exactly as it should be. The Yankees were down to their last out of the game, their last gasp of the AL Championship Series, their last breath of baseball season. In what had been a relentlessly depressing weekend, a ceaselessly discouraging week, there was this one last hope.
One last time, here came Aaron Judge.
All across the summer this had been the fuel that propelled the Yankees, the most fearsome presence in the sport. As often as not, Judge delivered. He would rescue the Yankees. He would electrify Yankee Stadium, and add a few more pages to his legend and his legacy.
But that was summer, and that was a player who hit 62 home runs, drove in 131, compiled an absurd slash line of .311/.425/.686, an OPS+ of 211.
This was October. And as he stepped to the plate Judge was 1-for-15 in the ALCS, 5-for-35 in the playoffs. This was an imposter wearing a No. 99 jersey. There would be no rescuing the Yankees this time. There would be no redemption for Judge. He swung at a 1-and-2 pitch, grounded it feebly back to the box.
And the sweep was complete. It was 6-5, Astros, for the game. It was 4-0, Astros, for the series. And it is 4-0, Astros, in four postseason encounters going back to 2015.
“Anybody else who celebrates on that field,” Judge would say later, inside a funereal Yankees clubhouse, “it’s not fun to watch.”
Backdropped against that at-bat was a difficult reality: This could well have been Judge’s final swing in pinstripes. It is still hard to believe that Judge will leave the Yankees, that the Yankees won’t unearth every necessary nickel to make Judge a Yankee For Life, that Judge will walk away from all the perks and possibilities that go with that daunting designation.
Hard to believe. But not impossible.
“Hopefully we’ll see him for years to come in pinstripes,” Yankees manager Aaron Boone said. “I don’t even want to think about the alternative right now. He means a lot to a lot of us in that room.”
There will be suitors, maybe from the Yankees’ deep-pocketed neighbors across the Triborough, certainly from their ancient rivals now based in San Francisco, possibly from one of the usual-suspect big-market behemoths in Chicago or Los Angeles. Judge placed a king-sized bet on himself and it turned out to be the smartest and savviest wager since Mike McD went all-in on Teddy KGB at the end of “Rounders.”
“I’ve never been a free agent,” Judge said. “We’ll see what happens.”
On Opening Day, Judge turned down seven years and $213.5 million. On closing day, he trundled with his teammates down the long, lonely tunnel connecting the Yankees’ dugout and their clubhouse, listening to the Astros — those infernal Astros — celebrating another trip to the World Series, at the Yankees’ expense.
In between, Judge had a season for the ages, a season that stands up to any and all seasons by any of the deep roster of Yankees icons — put it up there with anything Babe Ruth or Lou Gehrig ever did, any season Joe DiMaggio or Mickey Mantle ever had, any numbers Don Mattingly or Alex Rodriguez ever produced.
He’s earned this open-air auction for his services, and every dollar that it’ll take to keep him. But there’s something else: For all the promise Judge inspired as the face of the Yankees the last few years, for all the heights he reached and invited Yankees to ride shotgun alongside him, he has never reached a World Series.
“Getting the chance to wear pinstripes and play at Yankee Stadium has been an honor I never took for granted; very few individuals get a chance to do that. I kick myself for not bringing home that championship.”
That is never one man’s fault, and despite Judge’s .063 batting line for this series that wasn’t all on Judge, either. The Yankees’ litany of shortcomings lined up to the Astros was significant and, ultimately, insurmountable. For 29 other teams, Judge’s legacy would be secure no matter what he decides in the coming weeks.
For this team that is not enough and for this player, and this talent, it will not be viewed kindly. Judge was always expected to be more Jeterian than Mattinglyesque, a star who delivered titles, not one who tilted at windmills, however star-crossed.
How much will that affect his decision? Only he knows that. But this just doesn’t seem right as an epilogue. After 220 home runs as a Yankee, after six playoff appearances in six tries, Judge’s final picture in pinstripes should be something more than a 1-3 in your scorecard. Maybe it won’t be. But it sure might be.