The other night I lay in bed, watching the Sox melt down in
Seattle, giving up yet another lead late in the game. "This is
it," I said aloud, "I can’t take it anymore. If the Red Sox
blow this game I am never rooting for them again."
"I
have my tape recorder going" my wife murmured sleepily from the
other side of the bed.
"No, I’m serious this time. A hundred million dollar payroll and they
can’t even make the playoffs. It’s pathetic."
"So you’re giving up baseball?" she was waking up again, unfortunately. Any
minute now she would ask to change the channel to watch her "Amigas",
the Golden Girls. But I had to take the bait.
"Well, I’ll root for somebody else. I’m tired of rooting for losers"
I groused petulantly.
 "Hah! So, who? The Yankees?"
I almost physically gagged at the thought, which delighted my wife to
no end. Since her name is Norma Yvonne, she feels some sort of abbreviational
affinity to the Yankees, although she understands nada about the game.
On the screen the Sox closer, Korean B.Y. Kim was streaking submarine
pitches past Seattle superstar Ichiro Suzuki from Japan. It looked
like a death penalty debate from my foreign lawyers class. Suzuki cut
a fine figure in his gray and black uniform as he extended his arms slowly,
pointing the bat directly
at Kim and sighting down its length like a Samurai sizing
up a worthy but doomed opponent down the length of his sword.
"I will be a fan of whichever team wins this game. Let the
record show."
Norma Yvonne didn’t answer. She had nodded off again and I was left
to watch the rest of the game, which the Red Sox hung on to win, in sleep-soaked
silence. And
thus I am cursed to still be a Red Sox fan as the boys head into the
Bronx tonight, sending Pedro to the hill against the Damned Yankees.
Why do we hate the Yankees so? 26-0 is why, as in number of World Series
Championships won since Harry Frazee sold Babe Ruth to New York in 1918.
Which brings me Dan Shaughnessy in today’s Boston Globe, with a
bit of revisionist history about Frazee, and the Bambino, and the Curse.
In Boston, we are weaned on the curse. Frazee sold Ruth to pay for a
failed Broadway musical called "No, No, Nanette" Turns
out, as most things do, to be not quite that simple. Shaughnessy’s article
enlightened me to at least two extenuating circumstances which make Frazee’s
move something more than a blind and malevolent blow to the psychic well-being
of Boston.
One, Frazee as owner in those days was personally responsible
for getting his players to the ballpark and more often than not, Harry
and [general manager Ed] Barrow had to lock Ruth in his room so he wouldn’t
go on all-night drinking, fighting, and womanizing sessions right up
until the next game. And we consider Manny a problem!
Two, Frazee at that time was engaged in a battle with American League
president Ban Johnson regarding the future of the American League.
So maybe we should lighten up a bit on poor Mr. Frazee. Still, just
thinking about being a Yankees fan gets my gag reflex going.
From the Boston Globe
|
Interesting article, i have bookmarked your site for future referrence 🙂