Bye George (Pt. 1, let's hope), or, Yankees Go Home

Has anyone seen George Steinbrenner lately? Or Pedro’s midget? Maybe they’re hanging out together. Anyway, while I must confess to not feeling any sort of personal joy over the Red Sox victory over the Yankees, their comeback certainly is a historic feat worthy of admiration. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind the Yankees losing, though an obvious defect in my character doesn’t mind, and even enjoys, heartless dominance. I liked when Tiger Woods dominated the field, and especially Phil Mickelson; likewise I got a kick of George Steinbrenner going out and fielding a team that dominated baseball, damn the whining of others. Perhaps it afforded me some sort admiration of smug arrogance that I’ve never been talented enough to enjoy in real life. But if you think about it, the Yankee mystique is somewhat gone anyway, this being the 4th straight year they’ve crumbled without winning the World Series. They’re almost becoming the Atlanta Braves. But I still don’t think I want the Red Sox winning the World Series. I know they might, and I don’t mind any specific New Englanders finally tasting the joys of victory -- though 2 of 3 Super Bowls should somewhat void the Red Sox championship void, though I know it’s not the same -- but there’s just something about the whole wretched, cursed, downtrodden Red Sox Nation that just bugs me. And they just shouldn’t win before the Cubs. It’s not right, this year’s abominable North Side demonstration notwithstanding. OK, you got me. I like the Red Sox curse and I don’t want it to end. The 1918 chant will live on at Yankee Stadium if the Red Sox don’t win the World Series, so I’d like to see Roger Clemens and the Astros beat them in Game 7 at Fenway. Some things just aren’t meant to change.