Four hours before first pitch, the latest Horseman of the Baseball Apocalypse is out on the Rogers Centre field, trying to get a sense of the new turf.

Later, he's schlepping his stuff back to his locker.

Jose Bautista spots him and – in a very un-Bautista-like way – rushes over for a squeeze.

Story continues below advertisement

"KAWASAKI!" Bautista shrieks.

"What's up!" emergency infielder Munenori Kawasaki says. He doesn't say it like it's a question. I'm not sure Kawasaki understands exactly what "What's up?" means. He just knows it's the polite thing to say when someone screams your name.

The crowd roared his arrival. He was 0-for-3 with one absolutely humiliating strikeout. By the end – a 4-3 loss to the Seattle Mariners – the dozens on hand had forgotten he was alive. And so it goes.

Going into the season, the Blue Jays had four possible outcomes – good, not-so-good, bad and things-have-gone-so-wrong-we-have-to-start-Kawasaki.

It's the equivalent of the Maple Leafs putting Carlton the Bear on the first line. Now we know for sure – it's all over.

Toronto has a herculean capacity for self-delusion. The Jays use that tendency as fuel. They're still only a few games out of it, but this team is failing the reverse-Thomas the Apostle test – Blessed are they who have seen, and know they'd be complete dummies to still believe.

You knew something was wrong during spring training because everything felt so right. That was the first Horseman – Hope.

Story continues below advertisement

So many sexy new(ish) names, all of which are already being temporarily blotted from our memories – Aaron Sanchez, Daniel Norris (ed. note: How come nobody wants to talk about living in the van any more?), Colt Hynes, Miguel Castro, Dalton Pompey. That was the second Horseman – Youth.

Wasn't it possible they could all be hybrid Sandy Koufaxes/Willy Mayses? I mean, not likely – and here we all stood up à la Henry Fonda and planted a switchblade into the jurors' room table – but wasn't it possible?

This is where a neutral third-party should have sat us down for a talk about probabilities. Would we have listened in any case? The hell we would.

The team started rattling shortly after leaving the garage in April. It spent the next seven weeks popping rivets as if it were a poorly built clown car.

The Jays are riding last in the American League East, a division sliding toward the worst in the majors. They're one or two pitching injuries from being forced to roll the ball up to the plate. They hit a ton, but not every night. They're already freaking out in public – a local specialty usually reserved for September.

We've got used to the Jays being out of it by then. Unless they start making immediate and widespread change, this team may not make it to summer.

Story continues below advertisement

On Friday night, the only unexpected bright spot on the roster, rookie second baseman Devon Travis, was blotting out any residual rays of sunlight.

"The last couple of days have been pretty dark for me," Travis said.

Once we lose this kid to existential despair, the rest of us might as well start filling our pockets with rocks and looking for a lake to wander out in to.

Travis got hit when he took a hard, wonky bounce to the collarbone two weeks ago. That injury has somehow spread to his shoulder. He's finally been benched.

His temporary replacement: Kawasaki.

"I don't know how anything works at all," Travis said.

Story continues below advertisement

He was talking about the timing parameters of the 15-day disabled list. That line could also work as a team motto.

More good news in the pregame when manager John Gibbons announced his best player, Josh Donaldson, is already hurt. He's struggling with a calf injury and was given the night off.

"His body's beat up," Gibbons said. "But there's not all the drama about him."

What about us, John? We're beat up, too. Is it okay if we have a whole lot of drama? That's sort of what we do.

Under current management, this team has always given off a calming sense of purpose. They have a plan. They've never let us in on it, but every once in a while it'll throw up such a pleasant surprise – trading Brett Lawrie for Donaldson, for instance – you feel you owe them a little faith.

The downside to that tendency is long stretches of what seems like complacence.

Story continues below advertisement

The U.S. press is filling up with anonymously sourced stories about the pitchers Anthopoulos is interested in. That's because he's interested in all of them. He spends more of his life on the phone than a 1950s switchboard operator.

All that activity often amounts to little real action.

This has got to be that moment. The end is nigh. There's something freeing about entering a death spiral this early. It allows you to be reckless.

The pointless thing would be firing the manager. It's not Gibbons's fault the pitchers can't pitch. You can't motivate players into having talent. Unless he's practising voodoo on the sly, he's not to blame for the injuries.

Anthopoulos, Gibbons and team president Paul Beeston – they arrived together. If they have to go, they may as well leave together. And if they have to leave, they may as well do it after lighting themselves on fire.

Since everyone's getting sacked, why not use this time – when there's still a chance – to turn the focus back on team owners, Rogers.

Story continues below advertisement

There's money to spend. Why not spend it immediately? If they won't spend it, why wouldn't Jays execs begin wondering in public about the reasons for that miserliness? Is it the NHL TV deal?

That suggestion would land like an atomic PR bomb. I suspect Rogers would do just about anything to avoid that.

Beeston, in particular, has been treated shabbily by his bosses. He's edging into retirement. Why would he be above a little principled blackmail?

It's a significant personal risk. But if the men who run this team won't take one of those on behalf of their paying customers, why should fans continue pretending to believe in a season they know is already over?