Nyea nyea ne nyea nyea, Boston won, the Yankees lost. Ha! To the smug faces of New England, I say: “eh, so what.”
That’s what we do. You beat the Yankees? So what. Avenged your 2003 Game Seven meltdown? So what. Absolutely hammered our pitchers, sent Kevin Brown off to go punch another wall, maybe breaking the entire left side of his body this time? So what. Hey, It’s about time. It’s going to take a couple of lifetimes before Boston can build up the kind of World Series experience that takes away that out. We can always fall back on the time-tested comebacks like “It’s about time”, “took ya (youse) long enough”, the elegant single-word “Buckner”, etcetera. So you see, Yankee fans are above all the petty nonsense.
I guess the upshot of all this is that Mel Stottlemyre will now be instructing his pitchers that walking the leadoff hitter is now the second worst cardinal sin in pitching. From now on, the first cardinal sin is giving up towering home run blasts to the goddamn leadoff hitter(s).
But now it is time to get some sleep, let the Lesser League fight out their own little showdown, and then settle in for a World Series that should be great, although I don’t know how it can match the drama of these two playoff series. But Fox keeps telling me that you can’t script October, and since they are fair and balanced, I must blindly accept that fact and hope for the best. And when the WS starts on Saturday night, who to root for? As much as I hate Boston, I gotta go with them. First off, the American League rules. (I’m not going to get into a debate about the zero-weight argument of how the DH weakens the strategizing in AL games, so just shut up about it already.) Second, the Red Sox are the ultimate underdogs, and everyone loves an underdog. People seem to forget that in 1996 the Yankees were underdogs, and what a great series that was. Besides, with the Yankees out, Boston takes on a new status. They are now the Team That Must Beat The National League, and so I must root for them.
It won’t be easy.
I’ll still cringe when Johnny Damon’s cro-magnon man face appears on the screen, but I’ll be pulling for him to get a hit. But I can’t escape the feeling that Damon would be scared & bewildered if he saw an airplane flying, or say, fire.
Manny Ramirez is another one who may induce occasional channel surfing. Hey Manny, the amount of pine tar on the helmet, while indicative of your let it all hang out philosophy, is now officially over the top, and your pals are following suit. When John Wetteland had the ‘96 WS patch sewn onto his sweat/salt stained cap, we all thought it was quirky and cute. But in your case, you look like a friggin’ slob, and all that gunk is covering the esteemed Red Sox logo to boot. A little Simple Green oughta clean that right up, bucko. Wax on, wax off.
Oh, let’s not forget that needy little hooligan Pedro Martinez. Matter of fact, the love train stops here. I’m pulling for at least two Red Sox defeats, at the shaky hands of Pedro. Sorry, I just hate that guy.
On to the World Series. Let’s go… Red Sox?