Wasif's World

Hello, New York ... wait, wait, don’t close this window! I just wanted to talk to you for a moment.

I know you’re going through a rough patch right now and the last thing you want is a Boston fan rubbing it in. But I’m not here for that. Really! (There will be plenty of time for that in the coming months.)

This is more a time for me to extend to you my deepest sympathies. I’m from Boston. We’ve been there. We’ve felt the sting of rejection, of failure, of the ship leaving the port without us. So we can relate to your current situation.

It is certainly an interesting twist. Call it fate, a deviation from the standard, climate change, whatever; it’s not something we’re used to seeing.

The Yankees lost out on a player, who took less money to go somewhere else. Usually an agent will use other teams to drive up the price on New York! The Yankees are usually the last one an agent calls. In this case, the phone rang almost two hours away, in the home of the Liberty Bell.

So you lost out on Cliff Lee. The San Francisco weak-hitting Giants shelled him. You don’t need that kind of pitcher. Save your money. Heck, we’ve all seen CC Sabathia pitch on three-days rest. Just have him do it all season. (For what he gets paid, you should pitch him on no days rest.)

I mean, that was pretty harsh, when Lee chose tens of millions of dollars less to not sign with you. The nerve of that guy! He thought your fans were worse than Philly fans. That’s outlandish! (Most reasonable people just have you two at a statistical dead heat.)

Think of that for a moment! To say that Yankees fans are thugs and then sign with Philly fans?! (Apparently, he’s never been immobilized by a neck injury and booed for holding up the game.) Word is his wife didn’t like your fans and the way they treated her; all for a little spit and bile. Some people can be so sensitive.

And even those New Yorkers who are not necessarily Yankees fans have been affected by this news. Mets fans, I know you had been hoping for winning the division sometime again this decade, but well, success is overrated. Lots of pressure comes with it. Remember the flack you took when you blew that division lead in September a couple of years ago. Now, when you get mathematically eliminated in June, no one bothers you. That’s the life! Just think extra long vacations.

There are those who hoped a “Cliff-Lee-to-the-Bronx” report would put a sheen (Martin, not Charlie) on an otherwise tarnished outlook for the rest of the city’s teams, such as the Jets. They started out strong, but now are so lacking that they need their strength coach to help out on special teams. And Mark Sanchize is back to being an almost was.

But Rex Ryan’s good for you. He’s brash, he’s conceited, and he promotes a tough, no-nonsense attitude. It’s just that his team wears the Jets uniform. That thing works like “the Mask” did in that Jim Carrey movie (“Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”), only in reverse. Any incredible things you may do are dulled by futility.

Oh, and to you Knickerbocker backers, Carmelo is coming ... maybe, someday. For now, you’ve got Amar’e and the team has won seven in a row (at press time, though that was sure to come to an end at the hands of Boston on Wednesday evening).

Hey, let’s not forget about the New York (football) Giants who still have a shot at the Super Bowl, just as long as Eli Manning doesn’t try to run for a first down.

Now might be a good time to start following one of the lesser sports leagues. There are the New York Red Bulls (even though they’re in New Jersey), the WNBA’s entry, the New York Liberty, and the New York Titans of the National Lacrosse League. They are all very, very competitive in their respective –- what’s that? ... oh, the Titans moved to Orlando? ... well, they sucked anyway, right? Good riddance to bad rubbish.

The point is that this isn’t the end of the world. The Yankees will still make the playoffs (a 70/30 chance), you’ll still get chastised for your indignant and entitled attitude, people will still annoy you by deriding your team’s overspending, and you’ll still berate and verbally abuse visiting player’s wives when they sit nearby. Nothing really has changed ... well, except your odds of winning a World Series before the Red Sox and Phillies do. That hope is pretty much deep in the sewers of Manhattan.

Chins up, New Yorkers. Just think happy thoughts and try to put that lump of coal to good use. Happy Holidays!

Growing up the son of a milkman and C.I.A. operative/P.T.A. treasurer mom in suburban Boston, I remember going to Fenway Park and seeing the lettering on the padded wall behind home plate that read, “No Pepper.”

Today, it’s gone, but there’s no truer statement to reflect the current state of what is frequently referred to as “the greatest rivalry in sports” and what is less frequently referred to as “so boring, I would rather watch a bird pick mites out of his feathers than tune in.” But the prevailing mindset may be shifting.

The Red Sox-Yankees rivalry needs spice! There’s no pepper, nor is there paprika, oregano, parsley, sage, rosemary, and there’s definitely no thyme.

But you know what they say, there’s no thyme like the present. [Ahem] You’ll graciously excuse my horrendous pun. Thank you.

There’s no time like the present to fix this. We know of the history and its explosive elements between the two teams, and subsequently their fans, but it quickly morphs into ancient history. And baseball is about entertaining people, correct? Unfortunately, the baseball season is so long, they’ve run out of story lines and we've become nonplussed with much of what we see.

It’s like the news. They’ve got to come up with stuff every day, which is why news bureaus send employees out from time to time to start fires or kidnap a baby or something like that.

Baseball needs to start manufacturing some excitement. Like the WWE (or the NBA) writing its own material, so, too, should baseball. In fact, why not hire their writers for a season or two to get you going?

Imagine a scenario where at one moment during the All-Star game, Derek Jeter and Dustin Pedroia are turning double plays together. They're high-fiving like best pals impressed by their grace and synchronicity.

Then, all of sudden, the next moment, when Pedey suddenly notices that Jeter’s getting more applause than he is, his jealousy takes over. The next time Jeter stands at the bag to turn two, instead of a lightly tossed ball right into his glove, he gets a rocket fired at his head knocking him out. He comes to with the diminutive Red Sox second baseman on top of him unleashing a fury of lefts and rights to his noggin as the crowd counts them out, “... SIX ... SEVEN ... EIGHT ...” as a couple of umpires stand harmlessly by pleading with the him to stop.

That, my friends, would get the rivalry started again.

Oh, and he could have like a signature finishing move where he puts a Yankee in a headlock and holds one of his rank workout T-shirts in his face until the guy turns green. He could call it “The Green Monster.”

The whole issue speaks to the flaws of the unbalanced schedule and interleague play. Back in the old days, the teams met each other a uniformed four times, for three games at a clip (barring the ol’ twi-night doubleheader). Twice at home, twice away; twice before the All-Star game, twice after. That's how it should be.

Either go with 12 games a year or 162 with no in between.

If you have the two teams face each other 162 times a year, they’ll start to hate the way A-Rod adjusts his batting gloves or Papi’s spitting will start to make their stomachs crawl or just Posada’s ears will piss them off. There will be blood.

Brandon Phillips has the right idea. He hates the Cardinals. I mean, really hates the Cardinals. You can just tell he does by the way he tells you he does.

However, it really doesn’t carry much past that. Because it’s the Cardinals. Their fans are so nice, they’ll probably offer to take Phillips out on the town to show him the amenities of their city.

The fans aren’t going to get into it. And Cincinnati doesn’t even have its own airport. It’s in Kentucky. That’s not going to be good for a rivalry. No one wants to fly into a different state just to cross the state line to go torment and harass Reds fans.

Boston fans used to believe that Yankees fans would shut their collective holes if the Red Sox won. Well, they did, and it didn’t happen. Now they’re resigned to living with them like some ingrown toenail that hurts when they walk.

And Yankees fans, well, they really haven’t changed. They’ve just ratcheted up the murder of Red Sox fans in the last decade from zero to two. So don’t mess with them.

But that’s off the field. We need to get that kind of stuff on the field. (Um, not the murder as that is wrong in most circumstances pertaining to sports.)

We need to get back to the old days. Carlton Fisk didn’t need a reason to beat the crap out of

Thurman Munson. He just needed an opportunity. Pedro Martinez probably would’ve thrown Don Zimmer down after the game in the street if he didn’t get a chance on the field.

Remember when Clemens threw a ball up by Manny’s head and Manny shouted some things to him while pointing and approaching the mound? We need that type of emotion; almost an unnatural level of emotion.

I’m just spinning here, but what if we introduced some sort of synthetically-engineered substance that causes flashes of anger along with enhanced athletic performance?

Nah! That’s just crazy talk.

Maybe add one Pakistani player to one team and an Indian player on the other. Those countries hate each other so that might start some hate. Or add a kid. When a sitcom starts to fail, they always add a kid which makes it – er ... fail faster. (OK, forget the kid.)

How about if the Red Sox name former pitcher Bill "Spaceman" Lee their manager and the Yankees can hire Graig Nettles to be their manager? “Spaceman” hates the Yankees. And he reportedly carries a baseball card of Nettles in his back pocket so the former Yankees hot corner attendant is constantly kissing his rear end. Nettles, by the way, wasn’t waiting for any invitation to slam Lee to the ground damaging his pitching shoulder. It’s just the way it was back then.

Sure, it could be cyclical, but do we really want to wait another 20 years to see an on-field battle? What would we tune in for? Baseball? Ha! Get serious.

Dustin Pedroia, what do you think?

“Let me tell you somethin’, Wasif! All the fans in all the bars in all the towns of Red Sox Nation are lookin’ for me to take out the Evil Empire. And that’s what I’ve been thinkin’ about for a long time. And you know what I’m gonna do? DO YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GONNA DO?! I’m gonna unleash a double play combination of rights and lefts on those little pathetic pansies. Whatcha gonna do, New York Yankees, when the Green Monster comes crashing down on you?!”

Now that's some spice.

The miracle team of the year has been the Boston Red Sox, or should I say, the Boston Red Cross Sox because of their inability to stay off the disabled list. Their manager, Florence Nightengale a.k.a. Terry Francona, continues to piece together the framework of a team from used rags and twine. For much of the season, their outfield has consisted of their utility infielder and two minor leaguers.

Currently, their starting left fielder is out, courtesy of a collision with their third baseman; their backup outfielder is out; their second baseman and the Papi-noted “heart” of the team broke his foot hitting a ball off it; their starting catcher caught a foul tip on his thumb breaking it; their most successful pitcher up until now, after getting his first major league hit, couldn’t decide whether he wanted to break up the double play at second or just cede the out so he pulled up lame instead with a hyper-extended knee; and two more of their starting pitching staff have been on the D.L. most of the season. Oh, and their best middle reliever has a strained right forearm and is now on the D.L. too.

Everyone of the injured who doesn’t pitch has a broken bone. And their starting right fielder, J.D. Drew (or “D.L. Drew” as someone corrected me while I attended the Red Sox-Giants game last week), gets a hamstring pull twice monthly.

In the past week alone, they’ve lost three of these players, including both of their catchers. Even football players are reading this and saying, “Golly, they sure get injured a lot in baseball.” (Because that’s how footballers speak.)

The season, especially this past week, has been like a horror movie where some mysterious entity is killing off everyone, one at a time. OR ... is it being done by someone from within?! [Dun dun duhhhhhh!]

You’ve seen the story before – a group of friends walks into the woods and then one of them has to “drain the weasel,” so he goes off. A few minutes later, when he doesn’t come back, another guy says, “Oh, what a clown. He’s just messing with us. I’ll get him.” Then he doesn’t return. This causes someone else to get suspicious when he realizes something weird is happening.

One of the girls lets out a little whimper and moves closer to the brave leader of the group (also the most handsome), who suggests that everyone stays together right before deciding to split into pairs to look for the missing hikers. (Apparently, staying “together” can be done separately.) So when one pair loses a member (usually due to that person’s clumsiness and perhaps some rudimentary squirrel-catching device), the remaining member runs back to join the other pair, only to find that THE ENTIRE TEAM IS BASICALLY MADE UP OF CAREER MINOR LEAGUERS AND SOME JOURNEYMEN!!!

At the beginning of the year, everyone thought it would be a “bridge” year, a season of futility before their highly-touted prospects (one of whom recently had brain surgery after doctors discovered a cavernous malformation in his brain stem) were ready for the show.

They adopted a philosophy of pitching and defense, which is now coming to fruition, only the inverse of it. They are tenth in the America League in E.R.A. while their hitting and offense puts them first in runs scored. Explain that one, Bill James!

To give the appearance of competition, they signed defensive whiz Adrian Beltre (who leads the team in errors), a 37-year-old centerfielder who began the year by passing a kidney stone and then getting a sports hernia, and a shortstop who had a career year in 2009 at 33 years old (who’s second on the team in errors).

Through all this, with a lineup consisting of only two regulars from last year’s playoffs-reaching team, they are knocking on the door of the Yankees for the best record in the division, let alone the entire major leagues. How is this possible?

These Red Cross Sox never cease to amaze us. They’re constantly writing tales of the incredible, from the 2003 playoffs to the 2004 playoffs to the off-season their general manager Theo Epstein had to leave his office in a gorilla suit, stories that any self-respecting Hollywood producer would quickly say, “No one would believe a word of this! It needs more monkeys and midgets!” (Because that’s how Hollywood producers speak.)

They’re like a beer commercial.

It is said their walk-off home runs can feed an African village for a week.
The sun rises in the East, unless the Sox are on a West Coast swing.
News channels follow them twenty-five/seven.
They can sell out Fenway Park on a travel day.
New born babies are named after the team’s equipment manager.
They are ... the most interesting team in the world.

Voiceover: “I don’t always drink be-ah, my friends, but when I do, I drink Sam Adams ... and a lot of it ... with a cup o’ chowdah.” (Because that’s how Bostonians speak.)

I had the honor and privilege the other day to meet a real pioneer, a hero to many, and one of the most judicious legal minds out there – Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor, the first Latina named to the court.

I found her to be an extremely wise and charming woman, personable and down-to-earth. Knowing she’s from the Bronx, I told her of (READER ALERT: SHAMELESS PLUG COMING) my new book Red Sox Fans are From Mars, Yankees Fans are From Uranus (due in stores April 25, but available on Amazon now).

The lifelong Yankees fan responded with a smile, “We’re nicer fans.”

What?! Well, of all the ignorant, judgmental, biased statements ... “Are you saying Red Sox fans are more aggressive and reactionary than Yankees fans?!” That’s ludicrous! I should have punched her right in the – er, uh, what I mean to say is, I think her viewpoint is slightly askew.

“Objection, Your Honor!” I would like to appeal your decision to a higher court ... what’s that? ... Oh, YOU’RE the higher court? Crap. Well, what about Justice Breyer? He’s from Boston. Maybe he’ll compose the majority opinion on the matter. Where is he now? ... What do you mean he’s recused himself because the bullpen blew another lead?! Can he do that?”

All right, so I guess I must present my case alone. And such is the story of how the case of Nation v. Empire was finally heard by the Supreme Court. Allow me to commence:

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Court,

Are fans of the Red Sox and Yankees different? Fans of Boston will respond “no,” whereas those backing the Bronx Bombers would say, “Hell, no!” thus exhibiting the only similarity betwixt the two.

When speaking of major market teams, these two really are unparalleled. They represent the crème-de-la-soul. Yet their payrolls are roughly $44 million apart (depending upon which figures you use), more than the entire payroll of the Pittsburgh Pirates who reside in the No-Chance-in-Hell-of-Winning Division. And the Yankees claim they spent more responsibly this year, “lowering” their payroll to a mere $206 million.

As Oakland GM Billy Beane said (and I’m paraphrasing here), “That’s like cutting calories by having a five-course meal, but passing on the dinner mints.”

The Yankees are the instigators. Meanwhile, Boston merely has a responsibility to keep up with the Yankees, so the Red Sox went out and signed John Lackey. Of course, New York had to keep up with Boston’s two championships by buying Teixeira, Sabathia and Burnett last year. Hmm, let's just strike that from the record, shall we?

It is only with a comparison of the other 28 teams when you see that these two are similar. But are the fans?

Again, many would see them as cut from the same cloth, but anyone who has spent time with both can clearly differentiate. Those who think they are the same are uninformed.

Yes, there are obnoxious fans on both sides, as there are those of the fair-weather variety, but the same could be said of the White Sox, the Angels (those that show up), the Phillies (they’re in a league of their own), the Mets, et al.

One might claim that Red Sox fans are, indeed, more rude, crude and aggressive (I’m looking at you,

Sotomayor, don’t act like you’re looking for your gavel), but I contend that until two Yankees fans are killed by Red Sox fans, it’s a moot point. Yes, in 2004 and again in 2007, the rivalry turned homicidal.

Forget about 27 championships, how about mentioning the two murders?

Now, I don’t condone trying to even this score. The worst I’d suggest is using my book to give them a paper cut and pouring lemon juice (sold separately) on it ... but only if they really ask for it.

I think there lays the most glaring offense – a Yankees fan’s claim of 27 championships. It’s like an introduction for them. “Hi, my name’s Dave.” “Hi, Dave, I’m a fan of the 27 Championship Yankees.” The only thing that would be more egregious is if they had trumpeters announce their arrival and team’s accomplishment.

But how many championships have each of these individuals been around for? The next time a Yankees fan says that to you, ask him or her how the 1932 team compared to the ’58 squad (the ’32 team was the last of their first run of crowns and featured Babe Ruth’s alleged “called shot”); or who the manager was in 1947 (Bucky Harris); or where the parade was held in 1961 (Mac Goldberg’s Upper East Side townhouse)?

The beauty of any championship is the nostalgia, the memories created by a successful conclusion to your team’s season, the seeds of loyalty blooming ceremoniously for you to enjoy the fruits of your support.

Just showing up and claiming victory isn’t right. Who else does that? But I invite Yankees fans to claim anything they’ve experienced, even if they were too young to consciously remember it. For instance, if one was born in 1970, then he gets to claim seven championships. Only those seniors born prior to 1923 are allowed to talk about all 27.

Joe Girardi doesn’t help matters by constantly changing his uniform number to the next championship it would be should they win again. I think he could cut the animosity shown to him a little if he changed his uniform number to $206,000,000. At least then people would say, “Well, at least he understands the major reason he’s winning.”

Red Sox fans are whiners (note the payroll crack one paragraph earlier), which can become annoying, but we’re not obnoxious. Yes, there was the potential for the Nation to usurp Yankees fans as the most hated in the league in 2008 as their 21st century trophy count ballooned to two-to-nothing over New York, but given the torment we’d been put through, we ask the court to disregard any transgressions we may have had.

When the Sox won in October 2004, people asked the question, “What will become of Sox fans’ identity?” And there are many Sox fans today who don’t follow the team with the same desperate nature of previous campaigns; because it’s been done. The quest has been achieved.

Many believers (die-hards, not just “pink hats”) would not have minded if baseball just closed up shop and went home after 2004. Let the Sox be the first and last winners of the World Series. And so now, the goal isn’t to win once to shut Yankees fans up, but it’s to consistently keep Yankees fans from crowing. Any poor qualities we may show are done as a reaction to those of the Empire.

Then from 2004-2008, the Yankees were floundering (floundering being a relative term) and the Red Sox were doing well. Others outside the Nation and Empire began to confuse the two fan bases. Again, there are similarities, but still differences which must be acknowledged by outsiders. There was the threat of Red Sox fans “becoming” Yankees fans, in the sense that they would exhibit the same entitled attitude.

But alas, it didn’t happen. Boston fans always had it in the back of their minds that there was another shoe to fall. It’s how we were bred. And that shoe did fall with a Game 7 loss to the Tampa Bay Rays and a Yankees World Series victory last year.

And so with a Yankees team on top and a Boston team positioned as the perennial challenger, we may seem similar, but one still comes up short in terms of the most-hated fan base. And that fan base is drinking Sam Adams.

In conclusion, Your Eminences, I believe I have proven without a shadow of a doubt (and with no help from Breyer) that it is, in fact, Red Sox fans who are nicer and less obnoxious, even if only by the width of the foul line, than Yankees fans.

The defense breasts.

There have been rumors floating around recently that Major League Baseball, in an effort to maintain a competitive balance, is considering floating realignment which, as I understand it, will rotate the teams in each division based on a number of factors.

Now, as much as I think the competitive balance is fine -- all six pro teams like Boston, New York, Philly, Los Angeles, Chicago have a legitimate chance to win every year, and if they can't, they have no trouble grabbing a player midseason from one of the 24 farm clubs out there, such as Pittsburgh or Kansas City -- I decided to look into this.

So I got a hold of the proposal from league offices. These aren't the final plans, mind you, just a version considered by the think tank that is the mail room staff at MLB in NYC, but it seems to make a lot of sense. And the theory behind the plan is quite simple.

Here, let me explain in layman's terms (as I am a layman much as my father was a layman before me and his father was a layman before him and his father's father before him was a blacksmith) the rules of realignment:

First off, the Yankees will be in their own division; the Red Sox will as well. The Red Sox will still be in the AL East, but the Yankees will move to the AL Not-Quite-As-Far-East.

The Pirates will be moved to the International League in Triple A and will be the farm system of the Phillies. The Phillies will be the farm system of the Mets.

Detroit will be in the new AL South Division every other year and the rest of the time, it will be in the Western Division of Major League Soccer.

Depending on record, the best team in the NL Central will play in the AL West the next year and the winner of the AL West will get a year off.

Both Chicago teams will play in a league that only faces both Los Angeles teams and both New York teams.

The Texas Rangers will align back to Washington and the Washington Nationals will realign back to Montreal.

Los Angeles and San Francisco will switch places.

Kansas City and St. Louis will compete in the new "Baby Back" Division. Pitchers on their teams will be able to use barbecue sauce in lieu of the rosin bag during games.

Expansion teams will be in a division all their own, but will need to be contracted. After contraction, baseball will introduce these teams as new expansion teams.

Some divisions will not be set until the season is underway. For instance, the last team to win ten games will realign into the same division as the first team to reach 30 wins.

All teams with animals, reptiles, birds and fish will be in one division while teams named with colors or geographical land masses are to be in another.

Teams with Cuban defectors on their active rosters are put in the Cuban division.

Cursed teams, likewise, are put there. This division will not be eligible for the playoffs ... or food rations ... or toilet paper. They must live in squalor.

Teams with offensive mascots such as the Indians and the Braves must play in their own division. They will be allowed to open and operate casinos at their stadiums, however.

Should a team have three rainouts in the first month of the season, it will be realigned to a sunnier division.

And finally, as payroll is a constant issue among competing teams, the highest salaried teams will be scheduled to play each other 100 times a year and will play the remaining teams twice a year.

If this passes (and I gotta tell you, at first glance, it makes a lot of sense) I predict we'll see some much more exciting baseball, especially during the playoffs ... except for the teams in the Cuban division, but that's only common sense.

After rigorously defending the fact that the decade has one more year in it, I have nonetheless decided to abandon my cause and write my End of the Decade blog. (Expect another one next year.)

Though for the record, decades end in 10. Let’s review the facts: When the Julian and Gregorian calendars switched over to Anno Domini – or Adrian Dantley as is the English translation – they did so at Year One. There was no Year Zero. Hence, the first new year’s celebration was January 1, 0001. And ten years later less one day, the decade ended on December 31, 0010. So we’re jumping the gun a little bit.

Although on the surface, it seems an inconsequential argument, but look closer to witness its necessity in navigating the all-too-important matter of how many championships the New York Yankees have won this decade in comparison with the total for the Boston Red Sox. As things currently stand, the tally is Boston, 2 – Yankees, 1. (Argue this fact if you will, but as we know, the Julians and Gregorians were never wrong ... except for that whole overreaching of the Roman Empire thing ... and probably also for betting long on the Latin language instead of short selling it.)

Anyway, it’s still been nine years since the last time we looked back a ways, so it got me thinking that I should open up my time capsule (a “Welcome Back, Kotter” lunch box in the back of my closet) to look at what I said about the impending “oughts.” Here’s the letter I wrote and stashed away on December 31, 2000 (the end of the 90’s, according to the early Italians):

12/31/2000
Dear Self,

Hey, how’s it going? Are you over Becky Lantana yet? Boy, you really screwed that one up, didn’t you?

Okay, enough small talk. I really didn’t think we’d make it through the decade. I mean, how many times can one person watch the Yankees win the World Series without taking his own life in the most disgusting manner possible? It’s just not fair! Spread the wealth a little bit, huh? The Red Sox and Cubs and White Sox haven’t won in over 80 years. You would think that at least one of them could win, even if only by accident!

(Though I’m not sure, but some of those Yankees looked to be on some sort of chemical substance that helps athletes perform at a higher level unnaturally. Hmm, well, I’m sure I’m just being paranoid. The increase in offense can most likely be attributed to better training and keeping the baseballs in a humidor.)

Seriously, I can’t take it anymore! For the sake of my health and my sanity, I am hereby renouncing my allegiance to the Red Sox. I know that I do that every year, but this time, I mean it! What more do I have to give? How can one fan be so unlucky?

[Disclaimer: In the event of an ownership change and comeback from 3-0 playoff series deficit, all claims, decrees, and statements regarding allegiances are to be rendered null and void.]

Look at my track record: I follow the Red Sox – 82 years without a title. Oh, but hey, they always make sure to get our hopes up before dashing them, so that's nice.

Then there’s the Patriots – oh, that’s a real treat. They make the Super Bowl only as a punching bag for the eventual winners. And they hired a guy who resigned as head coach of the New York Jets at his introduction press conference! Oh, yeah, that instills confidence. I give him two years, tops! And didn’t this guy fail in Cleveland?

I will admit, I don’t know what the Celtics are doing these days since I won’t watch current games, but choose to pop in old videotapes of the "Big Three" from the 80’s into my VCR instead. I wish there were some channel on television that showed classic sports events from the past just to protect me from having to witness such a monumental fall from greatness.

Oh, and lest I forget, the one chance I had to pick a team on my own, one that would be mine through thick and thin – I was born in Boston so I was forced into that family – I had to go out and accept Syracuse University’s offer to attend college there. And what happened the night I sent them my enrollment letter? They become the first No. 2 seed to lose to a No. 15 seed in the NCAA tournament. If that’s not a bad sign, I don’t know what is.

It’s gotten to the point where I’m considering going to grad school just to have another team to root for. Maybe I’ll go to Notre Dame. They’re a lock to be great every year!

Aside from my own miserable fortune, there are some things around the sports landscape that have caught my eye. For instance, I’ve been very impressed with Tiger Woods. I mean, this guy is perfect at everything. Does he have any flaw at all? If he does, I’m sure we’ll never see it ... on the golf course, at least.

On the tennis courts, I enjoyed watching Agassi play his guts out in the last few tournaments, especially during his Australian Open win over Yegev -- Yevgev -- Yagenvy – uh, over Kafelnikov. Andre was amazing! He played like a meth addict out there.

And I think now that the Rams have won in St. Louis, it would be hilarious if the Baltimore Ravens would win the Super Bowl. (Take that Los Angeles and Cleveland!) But they’ve got Trent Dilfer at quarterback and we all know from last year that offense ... wins ... championships!

Not that I’m big into the whole college football scene, but I gotta say that this BCS system really seems to be taking hold. I think the powers that be finally got things right. I love the fact that virtually any team with a reasonably decent record can claim a share of the national title.

All right, that’s all I got. Enjoy New Year’s Eve in this hopeless town with hopeless teams. Just remember, tomorrow is another year and with it, more hope for a positive outcome. You know what they say, “You can’t spell hopeless, without hope.” (Or is it “Hope is halfway to hopeless?”)

Oh, and give it a couple of months. Maybe Becky will forget what you did.

Yours truly,

You

I found it ironic on Sunday that I, being a Boston fan, would have a funeral to attend just after the Red Sox lost to the Angels. The service was solely for a dear family friend, but my thoughts stole away from her for a moment to grieve briefly for Boston’s Olde Towne Teame (the extra “e” is for excitement).

It’s what we, as Red Sox fans, do. The team dictates our moods, our actions, our prayers. We are a passionate (READ: obsessed) fan base. And in one 24-hour span, the two fan bases generally regarded as the most knowledgeable saw their seasons come to an end at the hands of Southern California teams. St. Louis and its more belligerent, yet equally intelligent brethren, Boston, were forced to put their rally caps and replica jerseys in the closet for another year.

For they had ceded victory to a region that doesn’t get a lot of recognition as one that has great fans. But this is not to diminish their fanliness or bring into question their fanhood. On the contrary, they are their own kind of fans, dedicated in their own way, focused in a manner uniquely West Coastian.

Certainly to the rest of the population consisting of Tomahawk-chopping Braves fans, Homer Hankie-having Twinsies, not-showing-up Marlins fans, et al., the dance card is filled with teams that aren’t deserving. But fanatics of the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Near-But-Not-Actually-In-Los Angeles Angels contend that their reasoning is both near-sighted and myopic without being the least bit redundant.

But is it? I mean, if baseball games started in the third inning and ended in the seventh, they might have a case. Or if the term “true fan” meant someone who rooted for their teams only when they were doing well, they would certainly enter the discussion. But for now, that’s not the case. However, those sterotypes may be unfairly attributed to these fans as a consequence of many of them being Lakers fans.

With that said, let’s meet the fans that will be rooting on their teams in their respective league championship series this coming week:

Los Angeles Dodgers
In the National League, there are few teams that have as great a history as the former Robins of Brooklyn. Outside of the Giants and Cubbies, no team has won more games. And they’ve been to the postseason more than anyone except their former cross town rivals, Los Yanquis, having won the most pennants in the National League.

Fans of “Los Doyers” are the most true blue, literally. They “bleed Dodger blue” and not only because of a congenital condition that changes the color of their hemoglobin. The fact that they are routinely late to the games is simply due to traffic and the logistical nightmare they have trying to cram 50,000 fans all driving alone to the ballpark up one road alongside a mountain.

Of course, one of the most famous shots in the history of baseball came in the 1988 World Series by their hero Kirk Gibson. Arguably, the most memorable visual of that moment came of the cars in the parking lot trying to beat the traffic home screeching on their brakes when they heard the radio broadcast announce that Gibson won the game on a home run.

Some might say this enhanced their reputation as bad fans, but could you really blame them? The game was out of reach going into the bottom of the ninth as the A’s held a seemingly insurmountable one-run lead.

Philadelphia Phillies
These guys are hardened. They were the first fans to endure their team losing 10,000 games. And they got blown out in 9,500 of them. Each one of those has stayed with them and added to the resentment of all those other teams that won. Until last year, they were the most futile city with a team in all four major professional sports, having gone without any championship for a quarter century since Dr. J cured those loser blues.

It’s taken its toll, however. These fans from the “City of Brotherly Love” will throw rocks at Santa Claus; they’ll cheer when opposing players get injured; they’ll even punch a nun in the face if she’s going for the same foul ball as they are.

A trivial side note is that one of the cities delicacies is called “scrapple.” This is the stuff that isn’t deemed worthy enough for hot dogs. And they eat that. A lot of that. (I’d repeat that for you, but I’m too busy inducing vomiting.)

So keep that in mind and treat them with kid gloves. After all, with all the scrapple and cheesesteaks they eat, they don’t have long to live. It’s science.

Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim
The team that switches its locator name every several years, the Angels, is the youngest team at this party. They’ve only been playing for 49 years. And their fans have only been watching them play for seven.

It was in mid-2002 that this breed of fan was discovered. Before then, if you went to a game at the “Big A,” their fans were the needle to the visiting teams’ fans’ haystack. Even Hall of Famer Rod Carew played some games for them wearing his Twins cap.

But then Mike Scoscia’s boys got hot and people started showing up. Still, they weren’t sure of fan etiquette. Fairly new to this sport of baseball, the Orange County residents looked for guidance on when and how hard to cheer. That guidance came in the form of a monkey. Not just any monkey, mind you, a rally monkey. And not just any rally monkey, but a celebrity rally monkey. They hired Katie the



Monkey, (who is on the Internet Movie Database. Look it up.) with a resume that included a role on “Friends” as Ross’ simian friend Marcel, and, most famously, as the ebola monkey from “Outbreak.”

So they’re taken cheering advice from her because they don’t want to get sick. Incidentally, unlike Dodgers fans, Angels fans are late to the games because they still aren’t sure when the games start.

New York Yankees
What can be said about these fans that hasn’t been graphitized on their stadium’s walls? Strangely enough, they’ve had the opposite history of the Phillies yet end up in the same place; they’ve won so much that they are also angry. They are also an entitled bunch.

Anything short of a championship is a complete and abject failure, which they’re getting used to. They continue to make the most of it, however, by opening their purse strings and snatching up whichever free agent has the best stats the previous season. And yet with a half billion dollars on their payroll for the next few years, they’ll continue to defend any accusations of “buying championships.”

As Anaheim wavers about their name, Yankees fans, too, are confused. Is it because they haven’t succeeded in winning any championships lately? They’re having a crisis of confidence and need you to lend them a sympathetic ear. I’m not talking about letting them suckle from your teat, but let them gloat. It’s what they do best, when they’re not bashing on A-Rod. And they have gone so long without something about which to gloat.

(If you’re hoping to attend a game at Yankee Stadium, by the way, you should know that great seats are still available and probably will be available through Games One and Two of the ALCS. They’re directly behind home plate and evidently, from the looks of things during the recently transpired ALDS, are being kept empty just in the event you decide you want to take in a playoff game there.)

So strap yourself in for a fantastic fortnight of baseball as we narrow down the contestants, and subsequently the fans, to one from the American League and one from the National League. It will be a Freeway Series, I say, thus marking the first time in history that the World Series games will start in the third inning.