Just got back in from watching the Red Sox-Yankees game. I sat in a bar with cats from the department watching the Sox mollywop the Yankees, and it felt good. It was a moment that brought people of divergent backgrounds together in one place, sharing something so strong that it can never be broken.
That something is a severe distaste for the New York Yankees. God bless hatred…it’s the scotch tape that holds this tattered world together.

Sure, hatred has also brought on lots of atrocities, but this is that fun kind of hate.
Actually, fun ain’t the word. Hating the Yankees isn’t a game.
And this isn’t “playa” hating. Since that term has become universally accepted, people mistakenly think that hating someone implies jealousy. No, I just hate those jokers, and that’s that. In the immortal words of Common, “if I don’t like, I don’t like it, that don’t mean that I’m hating.”
I’m not hating. I just hate ’em.
It has nothing to do with Steinbrenner spending all that money. It has nothing to do with the pennants. It has a lot to do with them beating the Braves in the ’96 World Series, but it’s got more to do with those Yankees fans.
You know, the ones that will have you think that the mid-to-late-eighties never happened, when they could barely beat a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.
But it’s the ones that know so little about baseball, but they’ll be quick to tell you why your favorite team is terrible.
Actually, it has little to do with baseball. It’s got a lot more to do with New York. I’m too damn Southern to be caught supporting the Yankees. I won’t even be caught with a Pepsi in my hand, so I have no idea how someone thinks I’ll be down with the Yankees. We used to make cats take their Yankees caps off when they came to the room in college.
No love for the empire, jack. And now they’ve lost. This is proof that God don’t like ugly. Good riddance, jack. Good riddance.
And yes, I know that saying this simply means they’ll win 140 games next season after Steinbrenner trades Bernie Williams, Kevin Brown, and the ghost of Lou Gehrig for Barry Bonds, Satchel Paige, and a player to be named later. The devil, from what I hear, looks at ugly differently than us good folks.
Anyway, back to the original point…it was so strange to see how a distaste for the Yankees brought people together. Even stranger was how passionately people were rooting for the Red Sox, even though I live almost a thousand miles from Boston. Sports can be so divisive, so the best move is to stay away from people that root against you. That’s how fist fights get started. Stick with folks on your side…especially in a bar. I saw cats ready to fight over the Super Bowl in January, and I was watching that game in London.
Yeah, the London in England. Yeah, the England in Europe.
Sports are tricky like that. I don’t watch debates, but I don’t miss playoff baseball games for anything. Misguided priorities? Possibly. Most of us have something utterly stupid that we let govern our lives. It’s better that my addiction is baseball than, I dunno, rocks.
World Series is coming…as it approaches, look out for something on why I love Pedro Martinez. If it doesn’t run somewhere that pays, I’ll put it on here.
No playlist. Why? Because my mp3 player is broken. I’d rather my A/C go out in the summer than have the Nomad give up the ghost. Instead, I’ll recommend two fairly obscure albums for you to check out–Theodore Unit’s “718” and Faith No More’s “Angel Dust.” Peep and enjoy.
Also, here’s a plug for Lorrie Guess, an artist that lives in these here Cackalacks. I just bought one of her prints for my house, so I figured I’d hit you with a link to check her stuff out. Buy enough of it and she may be able to quit her day job. Don’t buy it, and she’s stuck at a desk. Since you don’t know her–at least I doubt that you do–keeping her at the desk would make you the bad kind of hater.
Either way, check her stuff out at www.cafepress.com/lorrieguess. And if you’ve got some good stuff you’re trying to shill, hit me up and let me check it out. Slide me a hookup and I might rename this site after you.
Next time, column entry and I’ll try to get into Rashad McCants’ comment about being in “jail” by playing for UNC.