SCHLITTLER CARRIES THE YANKEES TO THE ALDS!

Tonight, the Yankees did everything right.  The only thing I would have done differently would be to let the kid Cam Schlittler get a complete game in this Game 3.  Other than that, the Yankees understood the mission and everyone did their jobs.  I have zero complaints.  

Schlittler wasn’t pitching tonight—he was performing surgery. Eight innings, five harmless hits, zero walks, and 12 Red Sox hitters sent trudging back to the dugout with their pride in pieces. That’s not just a gem, that’s a historic line: no pitcher in postseason history has ever gone eight frames without a walk while striking out a dozen. And here’s the kicker—he’s 24. Twenty-four! At that age most people are still trying to figure out their Netflix password, and this guy is out here breaking playoff records like it’s just another night in the Bronx.

From the very first pitch, you could see it. Schlittler had the kind of focus that makes hitters feel like they’re swinging in a blackout. His fastball had zip, his breaking stuff had bite, and his mound presence screamed “don’t even bother.” The Red Sox looked like they were reading from a script that only ended in strike three. It wasn’t so much domination as it was humiliation—Fenway turned into his personal playground.

The Yankees needed this kind of performance, not just to win, but to send a message. October isn’t about pretty baseball, it’s about survival, and tonight they had a 24-year-old leading the charge. He didn’t just carry the Yankees, he put the entire roster on his shoulders, looked Boston dead in the eye, and said: Not today.

And now, it’s wheels up to Toronto. The Blue Jays—those smug holders of the AL East tiebreaker—are waiting as the No. 1 seed. Game 1 of the ALDS is Saturday, and you can bet the Rogers Centre is going to be loud, hostile, and covered in powder-blue jerseys. But if Schlittler keeps throwing like this, Canada might want to pre-book therapy sessions for their lineup.

So here we go: Yankees vs. Blue Jays, October baseball at its most unforgiving. The Sox are toast, Schlittler is a star, and the Bronx Bombers are still swinging.

And hey—are you proud of me? Because I just wrote all this without blasting Aaron Boone. That’s basically a postseason miracle in itself.