Bassman18
10-22-2004, 05:38 PM
I had a feeling this was going to happen. A sweep would have been too easy, and in the back of my mind I sort of knew that this Boston team was capable of getting the better of us. I tried all sorts of sitting positions and hand-clasping variations, all sorts of game-watching locations, but ultimately all my supersitions ("if I can eat a whole hot dog before the runner gets to first, he'll score) were naught. Everything happens for a reason though. I don't know how all this can fit into a plan for the greater good, but I guess we'll see. I am VERY disappointed, and even a little heartbroken (don't misunderstand me, though. I realize that it's been much worse for you Bostonians. But I DO know what it's like to root for a losing team. I'm a Knicks fan. And I also suffered through Super Bowl XXXV (Final score: Baltimore 34, Giants 7)).
So here is what I hope you can all consider the NY response to the historic four-game comeback: congratulations. It was a hell of a series, and your team had more of what it took to win it, and no incendiary slogan on a T-shirt is going to change that. You deserve to be happy about it, and I am happy for you.
Actually, let me amend that slightly.
I'm not happy for all the fans in Metcalf Hall who chanted "Yankees Suck" instead of "Lets Go Red Sox" when it was 8-1 and mocked a saddened little kid that appeared onscreen during one of Fox's audience pans. I'm not happy for a freshman girl from North Carolina or Ohio or Texas or wherever who bought the Red Sox hat because she ended up going to BU and immediately jumped on that often-hateful bandwagon. I'm not happy for all the guys who first called up their friends to meet them in Kenmore Square to get wasted and riot instead of first calling their dads. I'm not happy for Pedro Martinez, because he is a dirtbag, plain and simple. And I'm not happy for "Brandon" Arroyo, because those cornrows look ridiculous.
I AM happy for any 86-year-old man with a Sox cap sitting in a lawn chair in the middle of a North End street. I'm happy for Frank, my floormate, who has continually shown class, good humor and support for his team simultaneously. I'm happy for Mike Perkins, A co-worker of mine this past summer in Cape Cod, who, despite being from Worcester and spending summers in a breeding ground for the extremist form of Red Sox fandom, is intelligent and good-natured when we would talk about baseball. I'm happy for College of Communications professor Cavalieri, who has a small shrine set up in his living room that features an actual bat used by Tony Conigliero, his boyhood hero. I'm happy for Terry Francona, because he's a genuine baseball guy who shows up, does his job, ignores all the window dressing and hype and gives it to the press straight, regardless of how many times his moves have been criticized. I'm happy for David Ortiz's management team, because when Big Papi becomes a free agent and commands a salary bigger than his belt size, the Bronx will hopefully look appealing to them. And I'm happy for Ted Williams if they thaw him out and re-attach his head so he can throw out the next ceremonial first pitch.
So, once again, on behalf of Yankee fans and New Yorkers in general, let me say "congratulations." And if it's not asking a little too much, I'd like it if this little piece did it's part to inspire tolerance and camaderie amongst us true baseball fans of all geographic origins. Our country is divided enough without whole regions being at odds over a game.
So here is what I hope you can all consider the NY response to the historic four-game comeback: congratulations. It was a hell of a series, and your team had more of what it took to win it, and no incendiary slogan on a T-shirt is going to change that. You deserve to be happy about it, and I am happy for you.
Actually, let me amend that slightly.
I'm not happy for all the fans in Metcalf Hall who chanted "Yankees Suck" instead of "Lets Go Red Sox" when it was 8-1 and mocked a saddened little kid that appeared onscreen during one of Fox's audience pans. I'm not happy for a freshman girl from North Carolina or Ohio or Texas or wherever who bought the Red Sox hat because she ended up going to BU and immediately jumped on that often-hateful bandwagon. I'm not happy for all the guys who first called up their friends to meet them in Kenmore Square to get wasted and riot instead of first calling their dads. I'm not happy for Pedro Martinez, because he is a dirtbag, plain and simple. And I'm not happy for "Brandon" Arroyo, because those cornrows look ridiculous.
I AM happy for any 86-year-old man with a Sox cap sitting in a lawn chair in the middle of a North End street. I'm happy for Frank, my floormate, who has continually shown class, good humor and support for his team simultaneously. I'm happy for Mike Perkins, A co-worker of mine this past summer in Cape Cod, who, despite being from Worcester and spending summers in a breeding ground for the extremist form of Red Sox fandom, is intelligent and good-natured when we would talk about baseball. I'm happy for College of Communications professor Cavalieri, who has a small shrine set up in his living room that features an actual bat used by Tony Conigliero, his boyhood hero. I'm happy for Terry Francona, because he's a genuine baseball guy who shows up, does his job, ignores all the window dressing and hype and gives it to the press straight, regardless of how many times his moves have been criticized. I'm happy for David Ortiz's management team, because when Big Papi becomes a free agent and commands a salary bigger than his belt size, the Bronx will hopefully look appealing to them. And I'm happy for Ted Williams if they thaw him out and re-attach his head so he can throw out the next ceremonial first pitch.
So, once again, on behalf of Yankee fans and New Yorkers in general, let me say "congratulations." And if it's not asking a little too much, I'd like it if this little piece did it's part to inspire tolerance and camaderie amongst us true baseball fans of all geographic origins. Our country is divided enough without whole regions being at odds over a game.