Sunday, September 26, 2010

A One Line Saturday Post?

Picasner a man of few words? Who would believe it? Then again, what more needs to be said about yesterday's fiasco?

C. Picasner and I are are decidedly very different kinds of Yankee fans. When I was a kid in the early 50's, not the 1850's as Chad would have you believe, I was a Brooklyn Dodgers fan. When O'Malley followed the dollars to the west coast, I, like many others was heartbroken and could not easily transfer my allegiance to LA or to any other team, particularly the hated Yankees.

I had no further particular interest in MLB until the '61 home run battle between Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris and none again until the Amazin' Mets 1969 run. I casually followed the A's during their rowdy boys seasons. You had to love a team that sported halloween costume uniforms and some of the wildest mustachios since the Civil War. I even followed the Red Sox during one season of Sparky Lyles' tenure in Boston - another great mustache.

There were always individual Yankees that were special to watch and appreciate; Thurmond, Reggie, Greg Nettles, and the late '90s teams had a special chemistry. The current crop has Jeter, Mariano, and the prodigal Andy Pettitte and how can any baseball fan not appreciate what Mark Teixeira and Robinson Cano do in the field day in and day out.

But when the Yankees play the Blue Jays or the Rays, once again, for me, its a flashback to 1955 and at an atavistic level, I'm pulling for the competition to beat The Corporation and the super-sized-ego Steinbrenner clan. Why the Jays? LT and I love going to Toronto for baseball. An incredibly friendly park staff and a great downtown neighborhood make for fine weekends. And Tampa, aka St. Pete? Always plenty of inexpensive seats even when the Yankees are in town early in the season. And I just can't help deriving some enjoyment from insufferably rabid Yankee fans who were moved to defend a convicted criminal owner and see apocalyptic omens in every loss. They need either a large dose of sarcasm or a crowbar upside the head. So if I poke a stick in Picasner's nose from tim to time its only to save him from crowbar induced dementia. A fair trade, don't you think?

When all is said and done, though, what's the point of watching a World Series without the Yankees? The only plusses: 1) no Girardi pointlessly boring post-game interviews, 2) no extended close-ups of A-Roid chewing and spitting pounds of shells or grabbing his balls, and best of all, 3) no need to suffer the McCarver Ordeal.

So that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Note: I need your help in convincing the P to attend our 50th Oswego High School reunion scheduled for August 2012 and expect help from our Oswego and Connecticut readers. While P and I can identify hardly a dozen people that we would like to see this is a rare event no one should miss if still alive and mobile. Last time I checked the P was both. And, as we all know, its not a party without Picasner.

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