Friday, April 20, 2007

Let's Do This!

The Yankees head into Fenway with some momentum, despite throwing a couple farmhands out there against Socko, Blistery and Douche-K. Winning one out of three would be just fine, but if Andy Pettitte can nail down a win tonight, and if Jeff Karstens can keep the team in the game tomorrow, you have to wonder if last August's remarkable five-game sweep will start to get into the heads of some Red Sox players.

Regardless, it's the first game of 19 this year between the two biggest rivals in American sports, and I couldn't be more excited.

In the past, when I've written about Boston, I've tried to show a modicum of respect for their passionate fans, deep-rooted sports traditions and unique ballpark. But frankly, I'm sick of showing any semblance of objectivity about that godforsaken city, its hideous sports teams, its offensive local media, and the millions of Massholes that populate its dirty, traffic-ridden streets.

So, Yankees, beat the Red Sox tonight.

Beat them for Don Zimmer.
Beat them to show them we're still their Daddy, 2004 be damned.
Beat them to show Trot Nixon that ARod is a true Yankee now.
Beat them to shut the Sports Guy the fuck up. And his idiot wife.
Beat them to send Seth Mnookin running for his list of excuses.
Beat them to send the message that in the Bronx, we don't throw pizza, because our pizza is actually edible.
Beat them so badly that Curt Schilling retires, runs for office, and discovers nobody on the planet likes him or respects his views on anything.
Beat them to send Tim Wakefield crying to his buddy Brian from Average Joe.
Beat them so David Ortiz remembers that his future looks a lot like Mo Vaughn's.
Beat them for Jeff Nelson and Karim Garcia.
Beat them so that Manny being Manny stops being charming, and starts being a drag on team morale. Again.
Beat them to show all the newborn Yankees fans across the land, who weren't there for Bucky or Boone, that this is their motherfucking birthright.

I guess what I'm trying to say here, albeit in a roundabout, long-winded way, is this: fuck Boston.