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Whatever happened to raining games out?

Yankee fans, you might want to look away from the page. Scroll to a different tab. It’s OK. There’s a lot going on, you’ll still be entertained elsewhere.

One of the Kardashians is dating Tristan Thompson now. That’s pretty cool. Go read about that, I won’t mind.

OK, any of you still here? Got it. Brace yourselves: if not for three of the most mismanaged, nonsensical, interrupted, unfair, unconscionable baseball games I can ever recall, the Yankees would be sniffing first place in the AL East right now.

Not the first Wild Card. Actual, genuine first place.

If not for, you know (clear throat): the time the Yanks had to wait nearly two hours in a downpour against the Rangers with a 1-0 lead in the ninth, and Aroldis Chapman had to turn into Kirby Yates. Or the time Aroldis Chapman had to sit through an hour and a half monsoon with a 1-0 lead in the eighth in Baltimore, just chewing gum and biding his time before striding to a sopping wet garbage mound for an eternity. All he had to do to protect the lead was something he’d never done before ever. Seems fair.

Or how about the time Michael Pineda was cruising along with a 6-0 lead through five against the Blue Jays, then the skies opened, then the umpires decided they’d definitely rather watch the Blue Jays win and demanded Anthony Swarzak come out from the bullpen?

Wow. Those three games were all utterly terrible and never should have happened.

Remember rainouts? Those used to happen. Like, all the time, actually. I remember driving to Yankee games all throughout elementary and middle school, looking up, noticing horrible, foreboding skies, and getting terrified my incredible night was about to be ruined by the elements. I became an expert in dark clouds, tracking their motion, trying to see if there were any cracks in the enamel for sun to poke through. It’s not a bad one, I’d think. You can see the sun behind it. We’ll play.

Because, you know, there was a genuine threat of not playing.

Apparently, we’ve decided no one will ever benefit from the rain ever again. Two hours of horrifying, lightning-fed thunderstorms between 11:00 PM and 1:00 AM? Sure. No problem. Make ‘em wait. Send ‘em to the clubhouses with their phones so they can check Instagram. Force ‘em to pop out of that two-hour haze on a whim, shift on a dime, and start playing an impossible, high-level sport mid-morning, instead of just calling it a night.

This makes sense to me. Yes. This is what is good.

And, Yankee fans, it actually could’ve been worse. They could’ve, and should’ve, lost under similar circumstances a few weeks ago in Kansas City, when everything changed. If Dellin Betances didn’t demand to return at 12:15 AM on Friday (Saturday morning) to clean up the runners he’d put on base, we’d be screaming and crying all over again.

So, I guess this whole thing sort of turned in our favor once everything began to turn in our favor. And forgive me if I’m salty about the past, but I’m definitely salty about the past. Being forced to watch people who should by no means be on the field ruin the hard work of people from hours earlier is incredibly frustrating.

Especially when my whole childhood used to be tormented by rainouts. Can’t the rain help me, a nice guy, one time? Pick a direction, umpires. Be reasonable. Once the game is official, choose cancellation.

As long as the Yankees are winning, of course. No remorse.