Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Joe Torre is Coach Taylor!

In that he was complicit in the dishonest dismissal of his predecessor. Coach Taylor let Buddy Garrity do the dirty work for him, and Torre let Dodgers GM Ned Colletti be the bad guy. The difference: Coach Taylor at least feels bad about it.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Scenes From a Parade

The Red Sox victory parade crawls down Boylston Street. Three Red Sox fans stand on the sidewalk pounding Sam Adams Lights as the floats pass them by. It's 11 a.m.


Smitty: Fuck yeah they do! YANKEES MUTHAFUCKING SUCK!!!

Sully: Holy mother of fuck do the Yankees fucking suck!

Fitzie: Dude, check it the fuck out: It's Youk! On that float!



Fitzie: (pulls off his "Derek Jeter is a Gay" T-shirt; pours beer down his chest) Is it just me, boys, or does the Samuel Motherfucking Adams taste a little bit sweeter today?

Smitty: Fuck yeah it does (smashes his beer bottle at the feet of two high school girls standing nearby) What? What the fuck you looking at? You gotta fucking problem?

Fitzie: (grabs genitalia) You want some of this, ladies? Huh? Yeah, that's right, run away. Fucking bitches.

Sully: I think right now the Yankees suck harder than they ever sucked, kid.

Fitzie: YANKEES SUCK!!! How's ya big payroll now, Yankees?

Smitty: Dude, there goes Coco Crisp. Look at that cocksucker, smiling like he fucking did something. What did you do, Crisp?? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?

Sully: I swear to God, that guy might as well be a fucking Yankee.

Smitty: Holy fuck, there's Jacoby. Jacoby! Ovah here! Ovah here! I fucking love you!

Fitzie: Goddamnit, he won't even fucking look at us. Jacoby! Bastard thinks he's too good to have a drink with some regular Boston boys.

Smitty: Fuck you, Jacoby, you fucking stuck-up piece of shit! We're trading you to the Yankees!

Sully: YANKEES SUCK!!! (punches random black person who happens to be walking by)


Sully: Dude, do you know what is so fucking sweet?

Smitty: That fucking ball girl on the right field line's ass?

Sully: That too. But I mean how we were able to win this fucking thing even though we're not some gay-ass big market team like the fucking Yankees.

Fitzie: For real, kid.

Sully: We won this thing cause Theo's a fucking genius, and Dustin Pedroia has the heart of Stone Cold Steve Austin and the Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels combined.

Smitty: (singing) I'm just a sexy boy!

Fitzie: The fucking Yankees can spend all their money all they want. All it buys them is Gay-Rod (five minute break while he laughs hysterically at the nickname, then composes himself) who goes like one for a million in the playoffs.

Smitty: But wait a second. Gay-Rod (more giggling) ain't a Yankee no more, so maybe we can't hate him. What if Theo signs him?

Sully: DO NOT WANT! That kid is fucking gay. And he has purple lips! That's gay!

Fitzie: We fucking hate gays! YANKEES SUCK!!!

Smitty: Hey guys, this parade looks wicked sweet. Do you think we should pay attention instead of spending one of the only good moments we'll ever have in our lives talking about the Yankees? Should we let our hatred go?

Sully: ...

Fitzie: ...

Sully: Why are you talking like a fucking fag?

Smitty: Fuck, kid, you're right. (smashes Sam Adams bottle) YANKEES SUCK!!!

Fitzie: Hey, what do you want to do after this? Besides drinking more sweet fucking Sam Adams of course.

Sully: I heard Gone Baby Gone's playing at Kendall Square.

Smitty: Sweet. Let's hit that, then the strip club, then we'll go back to Fitzie's place and draw some sweet fucking pictures of Andy Pettitte making out with Mike Mussina.

Los Angelenos All Come From Somewhere

Joe Torre and the Dodgers deserve each other. A manager who's too lazy and apathetic to get off his ass even when his star pitcher is being swarmed by MOTHERFUCKING BUGS in a playoff game is perfect for a fan-base that arrives in the 3rd inning, leaves in the 7th, and spends the in-between period texting and making phone calls.

The 2008 Los Angeles Dodgers -- League leaders in truly not giving a fuck. Too bad J.D. Drew's not still around.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Yankees Make an Offer to Joe Girardi

And, at long last, for the second time, the Curse of Don Mattingly draws to a close.

I love Donnie Baseball as much as the next guy, but look at the team's success in the years he wasn't associated with the organization, beginning with the Babe Ruth era:

1921-1978: 22 World Series titles
1996-2003: 4 World Series titles

That's one championship every 2.54 years when Don Mattingly's not around. From 1979, the year Mattingly was drafted, until his retirement in 1995, and during his stint as a coach from 2004-2007, the Yankees won zero titles in 21 years.

In that light, I'm kind of happy Joe Girardi's our guy.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

The Good News for Yankees Fans

Now we can go right back to hating ARod. The natural order has been restored. Rooting for that faker felt just as false as rooting for Randy Johnson. It's like having to root for America in unjust wars. You feel obligated to, but your heart is never really in it.

ARod Leaves With His Tail Between His Legs

Dear ARod:

Congratulations. You're now joining the fine, proud company of Ed Whitson, Kevin Brown and Chuck Knoblauch as players who simply couldn't handle New York.

Now matter how much money you make, no matter how many MVPs you win, it will always be part of your legacy: you're a choker who couldn't come through when it counted, and who took the first chance to slink out of town.

Thanks for the first-round losses, champ! I think we'll survive without you.



Wednesday, October 24, 2007

An Ode to Dustin Pedroia's Grit

O! Wee second baseman, you've made a city fall in love
Despite your non-existent power and mediocre glove
Your eye black shines just so in the sacred Fenway lights
A testament to hustle, to playing the game right

You've a heart the size of Eckstein
Leadership like Lo Duc
A gutsy mentality, a gritty vitality
And the feisty toughness of the Youk

But still, young Dustin, one puzzlement remains
One befuddlement that lingers in my brain
Yon Coco Crisp has your same set of skills
The steely eyes, the love of bunting drills
Yet young Mr. Crisp will soon be run out of town
For, alas! Alack! His skin is brown

Monday, October 22, 2007

Thanks, Hank

Welcome to 1985, folks.

Congratulations to the Boston Red Sox

I hope you enjoy the 1.5 million fans from around the country you won over last night, who will all be wearing those awesome green St. Patrick's Day Red Sox shirts in a few months.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Bye Bye Johnny, Johnny Bye Bye


Joe Torre has turned down an extension to continue managing the Yankees. According to Peter Abraham, Torre was offered a $5 million deal, with an additional $3 million in incentives. I guess at this point in his career, Torre didn't want to take a potential pay cut.

Now we all have to cross our fingers as we venture into the great unknown, and we get our fist new manager since 1996. Changing managers used to be as common for Yankees fans as meeting at the giant Louisville Slugger, now it's a shock and we don't quite know what to do with ourselves.

Don Mattingly does not seem like the right man for the job, but I'm not sure about Joe Girardi, either. I know I don't want Tony LaRussa.

Either way, Torre is able to leave with his dignity intact, resigning rather than facing the axe.

I Told You I Was Sorry About Breaking that Lamp During Game 2

Someone found their way onto this blog recently via a Google search for "How 2 break up with a psycho."

Hi, honey, is that you?

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Douche-K Update

Red Sox apologists have given up arguing that Dice-K is a great pitcher; no rational argument can be made to that effect.

They have recently taken up the case, though, of claiming that if the dicey one can give them a few solid-to-good post-season starts, and help them win a championship, he will have been worth the $100 million.

So much for that theory, huh?

Monday, October 15, 2007

And He Said Rhiannon...Stay

Is Joe Torre staying after all?

The Yankees have announced that Hank and Hal Steinbrenner are effectively taking over operations from the team. I can't think of a solid reason why this announcement would need to happen right now, unless the Baby Bosses are planning to retain Torre.

This announcement is their way of saving face for their Dad, so it doesn't seem like his announcement that Torre was managing for his job in the ALDS was empty bluster. Now, they can paint it that when the sons took over, they decided to keep Torre, whereas George had been planning to fire him.

At the very least, the dark princes now have an excuse to do whatever they want without it seeming contradictory to past statements. They've given themselves options.

Friday, October 12, 2007

The Mind is Strong but the Heart is Feeble

I have campaigned for Joe Torre's dismissal for nearly four years. When he brought Jeff Weaver into Game 4 of the 2003 World Series instead of Mariano Rivera, I considered it an unforgivable mistake that cost the team a championship. It was a fireable offense, and I spent that off-season telling everyone who would listen that Torre needed to go.

Not a brilliant tactician in the best of times, Torre seemed to throw more and more wins away because of bullpen neglect with each passing ring-less season. His refusal to bring his best reliever into a tie game on the road is as well documented as it is foolish. Compounding the problem, he picks one or two relievers each season to wear down to the point of exhaustion or injury, so when anyone other than Rivera is brought into a close game after June, the results are likely to be ugly.

Torre's other in-game management strategies have also failed him in this dim century. He favors "small ball" over sensible ball. He bunts too often, in the wrong situation. He plays the wrong guys (see: Womack, Tony) and mismanages his bench. He seems incapable of catching up to modern baseball thought and employing new approaches, though the same can be said of all but a handful of current managers.

The conventional wisdom on Joe Torre is that his skill handling the New York media and massaging the egos of his star players atones for whatever strategic shortcomings show up during games. But in recent years, the clubhouse has fallen apart, and the tabloids have piled on the Yankees, leaving Torre's worth questionable at best. He failed to quell Hurricane Sheffield, he let players snipe at each other in the press, and worst of all, he let the Alex Rodriguez situation spiral out of control.

ARod is a lightning rod for attention and criticism, so no matter what Torre did, ARod would have dealt with some backlash in New York. In 2006, though, Torre allowed the wildfire surrounding his struggling star to spread and engulf the team. Whether out of misguided "tough love" or genuine ineptitude, Torre submarined ARod in an infamous Sports Illustrated article implying the third sacker didn't have the faith and support of his teammates and manager. Then, in self-destructive move of shocking naivete, Torre batted one of the best hitters of all time (in his prime) eighth in a playoff game against Detroit. This was unforgivable move number two.

Playoff results rely largely on luck, but the Yankees' lack of success on that front, coupled with Torre's obvious procedural shortcomings, seems like clear evidence he should be replaced. Finally, after many years of nightmares in which I'm screaming my throat bloody but no one can hear me, Torre's demise seems imminent.

And I don't know how I feel about it.

Initially, I assumed my mixed feelings were sheer sentimentality, which I needed to vanquish. Torre was around for the best sports era of my life, and he's part of a million fantastic memories. Despite his faults, I once had genuine affection for him, and I realized that when he was gone, I would miss the old goat.

I can't deny that it got to me when he said, after Game 4, "The 12 years just felt like they were 10 minutes long." It all came rushing back to me, flooding my eyes with tears: Paul O'Neill's lunging catch, Joe Girardi's triple, Chuck Knoblauch's bubble, Derek Jeter's flip, Chad Curtis's home run, Jim Leyritz's happy shrug, Mariano Duncan's T-shirts, Don Zimmer's cheeks, Ramiro Mendoza's posture, Scott Brosius's leap, David Cone's perfect game, Mariano Rivera's raised arms.

The champagne, the parades, the ad hoc T-shirt shops set up at corner gas stations the week after the World Series, the newspapers saved under the bed, the sheer fucking joy.

Joe Torre was part of it. And he's one of the last gunfighters still standing. Jeter, Rivera, Pettitte, Posada and Torre. That's it. All of a suddent, next year, it might just be Jeter. What if Torre gets fired, and Rivera, Pettitte and Posada leave in protest? Will a new manager be worth it? Maybe not.

Especially when you start considering possible replacements: Joe Girardi is the best option, but he wore out some young arms in Miami. Don Mattingly has no track record, there's no reason to believe he'll be better than Torre. Tony LaRussa is an egomaniacal dinosaur, stuck in his tropes from a pre-Jamesian era.

Perhaps I'm just getting cold feet. Perhaps I can't bear to say goodbye to one of the last remnants of the glory days. Or perhaps I've been wrong all along, and Torre brings more to the table then he takes away.


Thursday, October 11, 2007

Still Not Ready to Talk About It

Look, Weblog that Derek Built, I get what you're saying, and Scott Raab does seem like he's caught a touch of doucheitis. Fans of teams that beat the mighty Yankees are always insufferable immediately thereafter.


He's right about the 7th-inning stretch thing. It's time for it to go away.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

It's Harder Now That It's Over

I'm genuinely sad for Joe Torre today.

But that doesn't mean he should stay. This team is quickly becoming the Braves of the '90s. Three straight ALDS losses. 4-13 in their last 17 post-season games. Stunning strategic blunders. It's time for a new era.

Maybe with a different manager, the Yankees don't make the playoffs this year. But maybe, if they get in, they actually win the World Series. I'm ready to take the chance.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

Take a Bow, Mr. Hughes

The savior lived up to his moniker tonight, literally saving the Yankees season. Hughes showed tremendous poise keeping the Yankees in the game after Cy Old staked the Indians to an early lead.

If Bruce Froemming had an IQ over 45, this series would be 2-1 Yankees right now.

One note: Joba Chamberlain looked genuinely tired in his second inning, with his velocity significantly down. I know this was an elimination game, but did he have to go two innings? Now he can't pitch tomorrow night, when it might actually be a close game.

Nice Play, Captain Intangibles

The good Captain has sucked just as hard as Arod in the playoffs lately.

And what will it take to get Joe Torre to bench Matsui? Apparently, threatening his job doesn't even work. Dinosaur.

And now he hits into a double play. Choker.

Meanwhile Chip Caray, the poet laureate of baseball, just called Jhonny Peralta "Johnny on the spot" for making that play. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.

What a sad waste of a season.

UPDATE: Jeter is now 0-2 with two inning-killing groundball double plays. Yankees fans should be booing him to show ARod it's nothing personal. Jeter really is killing this team right now.

Saturday, October 6, 2007

The Wonderful Dreamland of Cleveland

After the ridiculous bug incident, the Cleveland scoreboard flashed "Bug off Yankees!"

HA HA HA HA HA Cleveland. Thank you for showing your world-renowned sense of humor that has given us such wonderful treasures as Arsenio Hall and Drew Carey. You really are a bastion of culture.

Umpires are Morons

From AP:

Umpire crew chief Bruce Froemming said he never considered stopping the game."It was just a little irritation," he said. "We've had bugs before. I've seen bugs and mosquitoes since I started umpiring. It might not be a perfect scenario."Within about 45 minutes, basically they were gone. There was just about a 10-minute period where everybody was lathering up," he said.

Yeah, you fucktard, a 10-minute period that just happened to decide the game and probably the series. Hmm...I wonder if delaying the game for those 10 minutes would have been reasonable? Nice logic, you fucking half-wit.

Friday, October 5, 2007

Motherfucking BUGS!!!!!

Seriously, Cleveland? We all know your fucking miserable city isn't worth a dime to anyone, including its own residents. But you can't keep fucking bugs out of your Major League Baseball stadium?

Fuck you, fuck the umpiring crew, fuck fate, and fuck whatever else causes this biblical plague upon Joba Chamberlain and the Yankees. There has never been a bigger screw-job in post-season history. Not even Don Denkinger. The Yankees season was derailed by poor insect control.


Cleveland doesn't deserve to exist. Ohioans ruined this country with the 2004 election, and now they've ruined baseball. Congrats, fuckers.


You have got to be fucking KIDDING me.

Bring Me Chip Caray's Head on a Stick

Eephus Pitch's Emma Span has a write-up of Game 1 over at Spanning the Playoffs, her new Newsday blog (which hopefully won't be ending Sunday night).

She rightfully calls Chip Caray to task for the horrible, biased abortion of a play-by-play job he did during last night's game. My TV was on mute by the 7th inning.

I would take it even further, though, and say that Tony Gwynn is pretty worthless in the booth. He seems like a nice guy, but he brings nothing but the most rudimentary game analysis to the table. And Bob Brenley's a hack. He was awful as a Fox announcer in the late '90s, he's awful as the Cubs announcer now, and I've hated looking at his ugly, Cowherian chin ever since the unfortunate events of 2001. Brenley isn't capable of providing deeper analysis than your average Little League coach. He's strictly by-the-book.

Meanwhile, Craig Sager is a fool, and the crew actually missed bits of the game for his inane interview with the douche who bangs the drum in the stands. Give me a break. I love Freddy Sez, but I don't want to miss pitches in a playoff game to hear his prescient analysis, either.

Between Sager and Ernie Johnson in the studio, it seems that TBS was too lazy and/or cheap to actually hire a baseball crew, so they just paid their basketball guys a little overtime. The boys in the booths in the other series don't seem impressive either, and Dick Stockton for the Cubs/Dbacks series is particularly gruesome.

Where are you, Rick Sutclifffe? Krukie? All is forgiven. Come home.

Thursday Night CF

I don't understand why Phil Hughes came in for mop-up duty in a blowout, when he might be needed to relieve Roger Clemens in Game 3, or start Game 4.

And I really don't understand why Robert Dunder was manging last night's game.

Game One Analysis

Why did ARod pitch so terribly? Choker.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

The Ghosts of Octobers Past

In the glitter-strewn twilight of my youth, early October was always the pinnacle of the year. The crisp Northeastern chill in the air led to the breaking out of jeans and light jackets for the first time. More importantly, the playoffs were about to start. My Yankees hat would affix to my (then-thicker) hair, not ready to come off until the Yankees had won a championship. I wore a different jersey or T-shirt each day, dependent entirely on superstition and nonsense. I planned my days and weeks around the games — where I would watch them, and with whom. The entire town buzzed with a newborn excitement that somehow still seemed fresh with each passing season and banner.

And the games...those epic, thrilling games. The nights were alive with endless possibilities of comebacks and champagne-soaked celebrations. The games were tense, nerve-wracking, but ultimately inspiring, because the good guys always seemed to win. Over a five-year span, I even grew cautiously confident, ready to let my superstitions slip away and acknowledge the possibility that the roof might not be caving in.

Then, the roof caved in.

Beloved icons of post-season clutchness retired, got traded or declined. (What's that? Clutch doesn't exist, you say? Well fuck you, I say. And stop interrupting.) The new crowd seemed to be missing something, and the team started losing. Every. Single. Year. Sometimes quickly, without putting up a fight. Sometimes at length, remaining in the death rattle for hours and days, breaking your heart in every way imaginable.

And now, that cautious confidence has given way to simmering dread. I'm still thrilled that the Yankees are in the playoffs, still fighting while most other teams are home, but I no longer expect them to win. I no longer look forward to the games, counting the seconds until they begin. I watch them out of duty, though I expect the most painful outcome possible. I don't believe in this team, and I haven't since 2004, I suppose.

I can't plan my life around the playoffs anymore either. I have a real job, and I have to miss the beginning of early games, which feels like blasphemy. I can't wear my Yankees hat to work, so it sits in the car from 8:30-5:00, lonely and betrayed. I haven't stayed true to my younger self, I guess. I've let that guy down. And the Yankees have let their younger selves down too. And they let me down by losing, and I let them down by caring a little bit less than I used to.

And October's just another month.

I Hate TBS

Seriously, TBS? 6:30/5:30 Central start time? For realsies? And tomorrow's game starts at 5:00?? People with any kind of commute will miss half or more of the game.

I never thought I could miss ESPN so much.

Also, all of your play-by-play men are horrible, and Frank Thomas seems illiterate in the studio.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

I May Be Right; I May Be Crazy

Time for some accountability. Before the season started, I made a few predictions on how the divisional races would turn out.

I was a little bit wrong, a little bit right, and a whole lotta rock and roll. Let's see how I did, shall we?

A.L. East
More on faith than reason, I bet the Yankees would finish ahead of Red Sox and capture their 10th straight divisional crown. Other than that, I got the order right.

Most prescient statement — "[Tampa Bay's] team E.R.A. won't break 5.50." Actual team ERA - 5.53.
Most inane statement — "Erik Bedard is not an ace." Umm...A) What's an ace? B) Bedard's ERA+ was 141, and his K/9 was 10.9.

A.L. Central
Nailed this one, one through five, though the Royals gave me a late-season scare that they might slip into 4th place.

Most prescient statement — "Ozzie Guillen is an idiot who thinks his patented brand of small ball was responsible for the 2005 championship (instead of a season of good and somewhat fluky pitching). The salad days are over on the South Side."
Most inane statement — "Luckily, [the Tigers] have Jeremy Bonderman poised to have a massive year and a great bullpen."

A.L. West
Too much confidence in Rich Harden and Billy Beane led me to pick the A's over the Angels, and I completely dismissed Seattle, who ended up being decent.

Most prescient statement — "Oakland's season rests on the fragile right arm of Rich Harden."
Most inane statement — "The M's might be worse than the Royals this year."

N.L. East
Like a lot of other people, I picked the Mets. I thought some things would go wrong with the Phillies, and they did. But more went wrong with Team Randolph. I also never imagined that Washington would find a way to finish in front of Florida.

Most prescient statement — "OK, the Mets have absolutely no starting pitching. None. The decaying corpse of Tom Glavine might be good for 12 wins, but he's not an ace by any stretch of the imagination. "
Most inane statement — "Washington won't see a fourth-place finish any time in the next three years, at least."

N.L. Central
I knew the division would be awful, so that's something, I guess. Otherwise, I pretty much butchered these predictions, calling for the Brewers to win, followed by the Cardinals and then the Cubs. Stupid Chris Capuano.

Most prescient statement — "Despite the monumental heart, grit, soul, determination and whiteness of David Eckstein, the Cards just aren't very good."
Most inane statement — None. Other than the standings, I was pretty much on the money.

N.L. West
I gave the flag to the Padres, and completely wrote off the Rockies. Whoops. At least I thought the Diamondbacks would be decent.

Most prescient statement — "If Jake Peavy ever stops rubbing IcyHot on his crotch in an effort to be Roger Clemens, and actually learns how to pitch with two strikes, he can become the second best pitcher in baseball."
Most inane statement — "When contraction talks pop up again in a few years, allow me to humbly submit the Rocks for consideration. Discussion of altitude and failing curveballs and humidors has grown tiresome. Close up shop and admit their best shot wasn't good enough in Denver."

So, I only got 1 of the 6 division winners right, but I barely missed on most of the others. I'm no PECOTA, but I'll get by.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

The Awards Idiocy Begins

We're all used to being stunned and horrified by who moronic writers pick to be Cy Youngs, MVPs, etc. (Justin Morneau...really?) But now they've even gone and screwed up the Comeback Player of the Year Award.


Congrats and all to Carlos Pena for winning the A.L. half of the honor. But isn't the idea of the Comeback Player Award that you were once good, then sucked, and are now good again. Well, Carlos Pena was never good. What is he coming back to, exactly?

A Black Mark on Bud Black

I'm thrilled that the Rockies beat the Padres last night, because Pads manager Bud Black didn't deserve to win. He managed the game dreadfully, with no creativity or logic.

1) Black pulled the ultimate Jeff Weaver, surely making Joe Torre proud as he held his best reliever back for 12 long innings, parading a string of lesser arms out there in situations where one mistake would have meant a Rockies' win. The game was in the hands of Doug Brocail and Joe Thatcher, and if either of them had yielded a run, Trevor Hoffman would have been left rotting on the bench, just like Mariano Rivera in Game 4 of the 2003 World Series. Black was saving Hoffman for a save situation that might never come. Ironically, or course, the Padres did get the lead and watched Hoffman promptly blow it. Hell's bells, indeed. Instant karma, meet Bud Black.

2) In the top of the 11th inning, with a runner on 1st and one out, Black had Kevin Kouzmanoff sacrifice bunt. The runner got to second, Kouzmanoff was thrown out, and the Rockies intentionally walked the next hitter, Adrian Gonzalez. So, with one idiotic move, Black took the bat of the hands of his two best hitters in the 11th inning of a must-win game. Well played, sir. Khalil Greene promptly hit into an inning-ending double play.

At least Joe Torre's not the only manager around who can't wrap his head around the complications of in-game strategy. I guess there's some comfort in that.

Monday, October 1, 2007

Sorry, Guys

I can't help but feel horrible today for the New York Mets, a team I once hated but have since made my peace with.

After a historic collapse, something to which Yankees fans can certainly relate, there's nothing left today but the cold void of unfulfilled promises and an empty off-season schedule.

For Willie Randolph, for Jose Reyes, for El Duque, fuck it - even for Pedro, I'm truly sorry. I hate to see you go out like that. And to Mets fans everywhere, better luck next year. The Yankees' and Mets' seasons ran on reverse tracks this year, and it easily could have been us left on the outside looking in.

Pretty happy to see smug Tom Glavine get a comeuppance, though. Can't lie.