There may not be a World Series this year. If the Braves and Yanks are in it, it won't exist for me. Especially if the Yankees win it. I'm not looking forward to hearing how they did it for NY when this New Yorker hates 'em. I'm not looking forward to the sight of Giuliani's dumb-assed mug's comb-over bedecked in Yankee cap. He smiles dickishly from the podium built tearfully close to Ground Zero. His steady lispy voice declares the Yankees synonymous with the “New Patriotic Resolve and Spirit of American Will to Win.” An unstated feeling that my Yankee hatred makes me less American.
There'll be cops and firemen with Yankee insignia on their uniforms and
helmets cheering gratefully with their children and talking about their lost
brothers who loved the Yanks. (Yes, that will bring tears to my eyes, too.) Jeter
will don a fire helmet saying “This one’s for the department” and donate his
salary to the cause. (It's a good idea.) The final feel-good moment of
Giuliani's long, mostly hateful regime. I'll look on silently puking with a
pang of guilt from the smiling faces of the newly fatherless children meeting
the players. No, better to watch a movie instead.
I can feel good for those fans who, having lost a great deal, need a
diversion from the pain of Sept. 11th. Even if they are Yankee fans. But the
smirking condescension will take on a patriotic flag-waving element that will
be more annoying than ever. It'll be like a red, white and blue painted
Worst of all will be Roger Clemens declaring how much
respect he has for all New Yorkers. (Except for Mike Piazza,
for whom Clemens has through his actions shown nothing but immature aggressive
contempt.) His carpet bagged rings and bean balls get privately flown back to
Texas and forgetful Yankee fans—who last year claimed they hated his guts—now
kiss his ass because they couldn't do it without him.
No, better to ignore it all than give them the finger and end up on the list
of “Un-American Activities.”