The motherflippin’ Psycho Fan, that’s who. After a long off-season of discontent, it’s spring (though not in Chicago) and optimism is in the air (though not in America).
I didn’t write about the Yankees this winter because the day-to-day news surrounding the Yankees was miserably depressing. 2007 ended with a pathetic whimper, much like 2006, 2005 and 2004. The Torre-led Yankees showed no fight and no pride while playing matador to the charging bull of Chief Wahoo. After the ancient Mr. Torre sat on his ass while Joba Chamberlain was being attacked by a Hitchcockian plague, the Yankees laid on their backs and put four paws in the air. And then some other animal metaphors.
The embarrassing Mitchell Report (embarrassing to Bud Selig, George Mitchell and the media, NOT the players named in that fraud of a document) darkened every other baseball story this off-season. Who cares if Jorge Posada signs a new, four-year contract when our entire national pasttime is being disgraced in Congressional hearings?
This past winter has been baseball’s darkest moment of my lifetime, excluding the unforgivable 1994 World Series cancellation. (Seriously…think about that for a minute: The WORLD SERIES WAS CANCELLED. Under Bud Selig’s watch. And now he’s being lauded by some as a good commissioner? Give me a ginormous fucking break.) In addition to the ongoing steroids fiasco, the evil Red Sox won their second title in four years and talk of a dynasty has begun. Hank and Hal Steinbrenner had their bloodless coup. (Does anyone else envision the Hankster beating Brian Cashman to death with a bowling pin in a few years?) The Yankees were able to do nothing to improve their team, succeeding only in not trading away their valuable young pitching.
In short, things sucked. And no one, including me, had anything new or interesting to say about any of it.
But the season starts tonight. And hope is rekindled...blah blah blah. Sorry, my stomach can't take that kind of saccharine garbage. Let's just hope for a win.