For a decade, the Yankees and their fans have been punks. Winning punks, but punks nonetheless. You’ve been arrogant and abrasive and dickish, if that’s even a word. And it hasn’t helped that our team has sucked in the last decade. You’re the big brother we wanted to grow up to be like — and here it is, now. We’ve grown up.
Caution: You guys are getting your asses kicked by the Orioles this weekend.
Here’s to hoping we run up the score on you this weekend. If it’s 9-1, I say go with the double-steal and try to tack on a couple of more runs. Play the infield in, Buck. Don’t let those scallywags get one more run than they deserve. I hope we giggle our asses off all weekend while we pound you and your pinstripes into submission.
For once, the Orioles are on top. And I say: It’s time to pile on.
I really hope there’s no let-up. I’d love to see Joe Girardi shed a tear or two. It would warm my heart to see A-Rod down in the dumps. I am an unabashed Derek Jeter fan — one of the best gentlemen I’ve seen in sports over the last 15 years — but I’d laugh my ass off if the manager tells The Great #2 to take a rest in the 7th inning of an 11-1 blowout loss on Saturday evening at Camden Yards. I’ll take Nick Swisher and Robinson Cano on my team any day, but it sure would be a pleasure to see them miserable this weekend, looking at called third strikes that probably didn’t crease the corner of the plate but were called strikes nonetheless.
If we’re really fortunate, the air conditioning at your posh downtown Baltimore hotel goes out this weekend and you’re all miserable in both your rooms and at the ballpark. Maybe the hot water stops working – like your pitching has – in the visitor’s locker room at Camden Yards and it’s cold showers for everyone. I won’t stoop so low as to wish food poisoning on the whole team. But maybe half the team…
The Yankees and their insufferable legion of fans have made baseball fans in Baltimore miserable for a decade or more.
Now, it’s your turn to see how the great unwashed lives.
This visit to Baltimore reminds me of the final scene in “Training Day” where Ethan Hawke shoots Denzel Washington in the rear end while the two fight over a bag of money that Washington needs to pay off a do-or-die debt.
Washington challenges Hawke by saying, “Go ahead Jake, shoot me…go ahead…I don’t think you got it in you, Jake. Shoot me…shoot me…”
Well, Yankees, I say: “I don’t think you got it in you…”
I guess I’ll see over the next four days, but I’m thinking your clock is just about ready to hit midnight.
Take this weekend ass-whipping like a good boy, Joe and A-Rod and C.C. and Derek and Robinson and the rest of you who have used our ballpark as your own personal playpen since 1998. Don’t be throwing at our hitters when you’re getting bush-whacked in these four games. Take your beatings like a professional.
When you pack up your stuff after Sunday’s game at Camden Yards, the Cleat of Reality will have finally delivered a September message to you that we’ve grown accustomed to accepting over the years: You can’t win ’em all.
Enjoy the collapse, New York.
You’ve earned it.