(no subject)
You know how when you're a kid and you play against your dad in some game and he doesn't let you win, how you're always trying as hard as you can to beat him but you always come up short? And then one day you finally do beat him. You beat him at his specialty. You catch a bigger fish or you beat him at football or something that he always won at. And you feel ecstatic that you won. And then you play again and you win again. And it gradually dawns on you that he's never going to beat you and that whatever it was that he was so amazing at once before he can't do anymore. And you feel bad for having tried so hard to take that away from him. You gave him a concussion and then told him to go fuck himself on national television right before he was taken off the field on a stretcher, never to play again. And you wish he could still put up a fight like the good ol' days. That's how I feel about the end of the Yankees dynasty last night. For years I complained about that asshole kid who reached over the wall to pull back that home run and prayed that Bernie Williams would go to hell for breaking up Mike Mussina's no-hitter in the ninth inning with one out on that bloop single that fell in in left field. I was ecstatic when the D-Backs rallied against Mariano Rivera in 2001, even though my mom told me I should root for the Yankees because of 9/11. Now all those evil people that gave me people to rail against as a child are wondering if they'll have a contract for next year.
Who wants to live in a world where Philip Hughes throws out the first pitch on opening day to someone not named Jorge Posada? A world where in the ninth inning of a big game, Joba Chamberlain comes out of the bullpen instead of Mariano Rivera. A world where Joe Torre is a color commentator for Fox Sports.
If you look in the mirror in the morning and can say to yourself with a straight face "I enjoy a world where the Boston Red Sox are continually dominant thanks to big-money deals for underproducing stars over the age of 30, and where the Yankees struggle to win 80 games because of no pitching, then I don't know what to say. In my paradise, the shortstop for the Orioles is named Cal Ripken and he takes part in epic battles with The Evil Empire for a trip to the World Series. Today I mourn that that world, and the role it played in my childhood, has ended. It's hard growing up.
Who wants to live in a world where Philip Hughes throws out the first pitch on opening day to someone not named Jorge Posada? A world where in the ninth inning of a big game, Joba Chamberlain comes out of the bullpen instead of Mariano Rivera. A world where Joe Torre is a color commentator for Fox Sports.
If you look in the mirror in the morning and can say to yourself with a straight face "I enjoy a world where the Boston Red Sox are continually dominant thanks to big-money deals for underproducing stars over the age of 30, and where the Yankees struggle to win 80 games because of no pitching, then I don't know what to say. In my paradise, the shortstop for the Orioles is named Cal Ripken and he takes part in epic battles with The Evil Empire for a trip to the World Series. Today I mourn that that world, and the role it played in my childhood, has ended. It's hard growing up.