GETTING IT OFF MY CHEST

November 5, 2009

No, I am not happy that the Yankees won the World Series.  No, I am not going to congratulate them.  If that makes me a poor sport, so be it.  The 2009 World Series has come and gone and I can tell you that I did not watch one minute of it.  The thought of watching the Evil Empire was more than I could take.  In their lavish new stadium, a tribute to excess, they won the Fall Classic.  You had the feeling they clinched the Series when they signed Mark Texeira and C.C. Sabathia.  They overcame a slow start and methodically put away the Sox in the regular season, the the Twins, the Angels and Philly.  As a kid, good sportsmanship was preached to me along with good hygiene, being polite and drinking my milk.  Well, I don’t drink milk, I might not always be polite (my brother says I am a real-life Larry David), I do shower and brush my teeth, so I guess I’ve got that going for me.  No way can I congratulate the bane of my existence for the last 40 years.  Now that it’s over, it’s time to move on and think about 2010.  Theo Epstein, I am talking to you.  Dump Varitek, re-sign Bay, make another run at Hanley Ramirez and find a solid fourth or fifth starter.  Kate Hudson, I am talking to you.  Ditch A-Rod.  It got you a lot of face time on Fox, but really, can’t you do better than that.  Before this playoff, his track record with women was the only thing worse than his batting average in October.  Mariano Rivera, I am talking to you.  Retire.  Ride off into the sunset.  If for no other reason, so you can’t continue sticking it in the ear of the Sox any more.  You’re a freak of nature and I say that with grudging respect.  Jorge Posada, I am talking to you.  Haven’t you made enough money to get those ears pinned back?  It looks like someone left the car doors open.  Joba Chamberlin, I am talking to you.  Don’t change a thing.  Continue to under-achieve and drive Yankees fans crazy.  And make sure you go visit your mom in prison.  C.C., I am talking to you.  CELEBRATE!  Eat anything you want.  Drink all you can.  Gain another 20 or so pounds so they’ll have to roll you out to the mound on opening day.  Jeter, I am talking to you.  Wipe that look off your face.  As irrational as it seems, the very sight of Derek Jeter throws me into a rage.  Men I know and respect like Dustin Pedroia sing his praises.  Everyone says that he embodies what baseball is all about.  How many times have I heard-“You can hate the Yankees, but you can’t hate Derek Jeter.”  Yes, I can.  Who is he, not to be hated?  Albert Schweitzer?  Mother Theresa? It is my inalienable right to dislike Derek Jeter and I will exercise that right until the day I die. (After that, I’ll probably still hate him.  With my luck, Hell is Yankee Stadium, Satan looks like Steinbrenner and Jeter would live in the fiery cave next door.)  I don’t know what is worse.  The fact that the Red Sox aren’t champions, or the Yankees are.  I think it’s the latter.  I could live with the Phillies or St. Louis as king of the hill, but I will not be able to sleep a wink or eat a morsel until the Yankees have been de-throned. (Boy, is it going to be a long year??!!)

Written by mlblogsshyderblog1 Posted in Dailies