Getty/AP/Ringer Illustration It's the hope—and the embarrassing meltdowns—that'll kill ya. Let's say goodbye to a team talented enough to get there, but too foolish to do anything when they did. The topic is foolishness. Men hacking at cork and cowhide with twigs. Who will whiff slightly less often? Who's missteps won't lead them to more pitfalls? On the diamond, everyone eventually gets got. Even all-time deities are dispatched more often than not. The winner is the loser who foils enough failure. That's baseball, Suzyn. A monument assembled in anguish. A perfect joke. One team goes home happy. Many others lose. Few lose in this way, at this stage, with this cast. The New York Yankees fell apart. Come October, the print is never particularly fine. No ring-fittings if you can't hold steady. No matter the opponent. No matter the moment. No matter the odds. The 2024 Bombers could summit many heights but never proved quite capable of fulfilling that end of the bargain. Strip away the static. Forget the names and the mythos and the long-inherited fury they provoke. Whittle them down, past artifice, past expectation. Their flaws were right on their pinstripes. You could see them...