Aroldis Chapman's miracle ninth inning is new lowest point of Yankees-Red Sox rivalry

The New York Yankees have not won a playoff series against a non-AL Central opponent since 2012, when they defeated the Baltimore Orioles in five games. They've won a playoff round, beating the Oakland A's in the 2018 Wild Card Game. But a game is not a series. And there's no reason to interrupt a perfectly damning stat by inserting the 2018 Oakland A's into it.

The 2012 Yankees were powered by CC Sabathia, Derek Jeter, Alex Rodriguez, Nick Swisher, and Robinson Cano. And Mariano Rivera. And Raul Ibañez. They were the last gasp of a second version of a dynasty. They might as well have played baseball 50 years ago. We're now in Year 8 of Aaron Boone facing off with rivals in October and losing to them. Losing to them in different manners. Losing to them in different heartbreaking varietals. Losing to them on quiet nights. Losing to them in last-second reversals. But, most importantly, losing to them.

We're also in Year 22 of the Yankees and Red Sox's rivalry being forever flipped. In 2003, the Yankees used possibly their last gasp of rivalry magic to send Boston packing after manager Grady Little stuck with an exhausted Pedro Martinez and almost singlehandedly ushered in the analytics era with his thunderous firing. Aaron Boone drilled that home run. He also pulled his ace Max Fried at 102 pitches on Tuesday night, saving him for an ALDS start that will likely never come. We can't be Grady Little, after all. Can't risk it.

From that moment forward, when the Yankees held a 1-0 lead, Luke Weaver walked Ceddanne Rafaela, who never walks, on 11 pitches. He allowed a hustle double to Nick Sogard, who hits .197 in limited duties against righties. He got hunted by Masataka Yoshida, who drove them both in.

The Yankees let Garrett Crochet, struggling with his own pitch count, throw a six-pitch seventh, which allowed him to blow Austin Wells away in the eighth, which set Aroldis Chapman up for a dramatic final out after misremembering the balk rules. For an hour and a half at the end of this baseball game, not a single thing went right for the New York Yankees.

Which led to a new nadir in a Yankees-Red Sox rivalry that will never return to its roots, I fear. In the 22 years since 2003, the Yankees watched Dave Roberts steal and David Ortiz walk them off. They tore down their stadium, and won a title in Year 1 in the new building, quite possibly only because Boston was out of their path. They played "New York, New York" in the halls of Fenway and lost Game 3 at home 16-1 when their ace forgot the game's start time. They rallied, too little too late, against Craig Kimbrel. A hamstrung Gerrit Cole got rocked in another Wild Card Game — not a round, but a game. And a horrid one. As always.

The final bad thing to occur on Tuesday was the rivalry's new valley. Chapman, throwing 95 instead of 101, gave up a single to Paul Goldschmidt, then another laser to Aaron Judge. Cody Bellinger carved one into the gap. The bases were loaded with no outs, down two. Some might've been thinking about a miracle on the horizon. I was thinking about Kimbrel. Specifically, I was thinking about how much more awful it would feel to rerun that Kimbrel ninth inning from 2018, but with Chapman on the rubber this time. With all his baggage. With all his smirks. With all the times he walked the bases loaded and flop sweated Yankees leads into Red Sox victories when he wore our uniform.

He found 100. He found the strike zone. He found it immediately. He got redemption — for what, exactly, I don't know. And Red Sox Nation, as always, wiped their brow instead of questioning their existence. That's our lot in life these days. 22 years.

This isn't your grandparents' Yankees-Red Sox anymore. It's much, much worse. It's scripted torture.

The Aaron Boone Yankees have been eliminated in October by the Astros, Red Sox, Astros, Rays, Red Sox, Astros, and Dodgers. Tomorrow night, we'll learn if we can add the Red Sox a third time and Alex Bregman a fourth. The Aaron Boone Yankees have never eliminated any of those teams.

Twenty-two years ago, Chapman might've thrown a too-slick baseball to the netting, then been stung by a Jazz Chisholm Jr. liner on a hanging slider. Now? He just forces you to chase. Chase visions that never manifest. Chase the ghosts of the past. Chase your new reality: swing and a miss.