We live in complex times.  Things are complicated, and nothing seems to be black or white. A lot of gray area. Baseball is an exception.  There is no gray area.  Fair or foul, strike or ball, win or loss…Red Sox or Yankees.  It is well documented just how much I loathe the “Evil Empire”.  From George Steinbrenner all the way down to the guy who cleans the bathrooms at Yankee Stadium.  No exceptions.  What has really gotten to me lately is just how many celebrities are Yankees fans.  A-listers like Billy Crystal and Denzel Washington wearing Yankees caps while watching their beloved team of villains.  OK, so I’ll never watch a rerun of Soap or St. Elsewhere.  I can live with that.  Washington does make some good movies, but I’ll manage.  I never liked “When Harry Met Sally”, anyway.  This might be a tough one for my daughters, but life ain’t always a bowl of cherries.  They love the Jonas Brothers as much as they love the Red Sox.  Nick Jonas, the teen heartthrob, says he loves the Yankees.  I have purchased Jonas Brothers concert tickets in the past, (for Eva and Carly) but NEVER again.  Bruce Willis couldn’t hang onto Demi Moore, but he loves the Yankees.  Willis is overrated- (sarcasm goes only so far with me)  I will never root for the Cleveland Cavaliers or the Indianapolis Colts.  LeBron James sports a cap with the dreaded NY on the front and despite his wondrous talent, has alienated me for good. (He already did that when he failed to shake hands after the Magic elimnated the Cavs from the playoffs this year).  Dwight Freeney, the Colts All-Pro defensive lineman had the audacity to wear a Yankees hat on Sunday Night Football this week.  It’s easy to root against Indy, no biggie.  Paul Simon, the singer, not the senator has made some beautiful music over the years with or without Garfunkel.  He had Mickey Mantle appear in his video years ago, “Me and Julio Down By The Schoolyard”.  I have never purchased a Paul Simon CD and seeing him in a Yankees cap makes me crave only one thing from him- The Sound of Silence.   So far, I’m doing alright, but it does get tricky.  When Derek Jeter broke Lou Gehrigs’ team record for career hits, actor Steve Schirippa (Bobby “Bacalla” Bacallieri) from the “Sopranos” was sitting in the overpriced front row at the Stadium, cheering for #2 (very appropriate).  I watch the reruns of the HBO classic on a regular basis so it does present a dilemma.  Jack Nicholson, perhaps America’s most well-known actor (apologies to De Niro, Pacino and Hoffman) cuts me to the quick with his love for the Los Angeles Lakers.  I can handle that, but I can’t handle the truth that he is a Yankees guy.  On my Bucket list, no more Nicholson flicks.  Chris Rock and Adam Sandler, two of the most successful alums of Saturday Night Live are both Yankees fans.  Rock, the most brilliant standup comic today makes perhaps the worst movies, ever. (Pootie Tang, Head of State).  I guess I’ll watch his comedy specials alone, after everyone else has gone to bed.  In the dark.  Sandler always makes me laugh.  As “Opera Man”  on SNL, with the “Hannukah Song”, or in “Happy Gilmore” wrestling with Bob Barker, the goof ball actor is funny.  But, as he taunted Barker with these now-famous words in that movie, when you love the Yankees, “The Price is Wrong, *****”.    I can live with the fact that America’s most famous backup dancer, Kevin Federline (the former Mr. Britney Spears) likes the Yankees, or even that my stepson, Drew, exceptionally intelligent in every other facet, is a Yankees fan.  I just can’t root for or wish any Yankee apologist well.  I suppose that if Rudy Giuliani is someday elected President of the United States, I’ll support him (You must respect the office).  My father watches Westerns.  The old ones where the good guys wore the white hats and the bad guys wore black.  No mixed messages, no crossed signals.  Here’s the biggest moral issue I may ever have.  Tom Brady, quarterback, hero and MVP of my beloved Patriots wears a “bad guys” cap.  Alright, here’s the deal.  I’m only going to root for him on Sundays in the fall.  And sometimes on Monday Nights. Just promise me you won’t tell anyone.  Nothing black or white about it.  Even for me. 


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