We’re still in that Yankees-before-it-starts headspace where everything feels loaded but untouched. No losses yet, no excuses yet, just a roster you keep staring at like it’s going to blink first. Every conversation somehow circles back to the same things. Is Judge going to look like Judge right away or do we need to survive a slow April without losing our minds. What does the rotation actually look like when it’s real and not theoretical. And how long before the new pieces stop feeling new and start feeling judged.

You can feel the Gerrit Cole absence hanging over everything even when nobody wants to say it out loud. Every pitching discussion quietly bends around that reality. Who steps up. Who gets exposed. Who suddenly matters more than planned. Spring performances get overanalyzed, dismissed, then overanalyzed again depending on the inning.

The lineup feels dangerous in a way that makes you nervous. A lot of power, a lot of expectations, a lot of pressure packed into those first few home games. You start picturing the Bronx crowd already. How fast it turns when strikeouts stack. How loud it gets when one swing changes the temperature of the night.

The early games sneak into your routine like they always do. A chilly night where you convince yourself the cold keeps everyone sharp. A weekend afternoon that feels bigger than it should because it’s the first real look. You watch body language closely. You notice who looks comfortable under it and who doesn’t.

Being there at the start is about seeing the tone get set. The first time the Stadium exhales together. The first time it tightens up. Before narratives calcify. Before the season decides how heavy it’s going to feel. When everything is still possible and also already being measured, and you’re in the building while it all starts becoming real.