Lucy the Blog

I (Heart) Melky

melky hits a walk-off and the (sort of) crowd goes (a little) wild

The last few years have not been kind to Yankees fans.  And for those of us living among the red-faced Sullys and Murphs of greater Boston, with their pink-hatted muffin-topped tramps, it’s been an even rougher ride.

Not that long ago, or so it seems, I was walking into the Evil Tribune newsroom with my chest puffed out, basking in the afterglow of Aaron Boone’s moon-shot off of Tim Wakefield.  Who knew that in the days to come, they would pull up oh-so lame against the Marlins? 

And who could have imagined the collapse of 2004, made worse not only by the fact that it came against the Red Sox, but by the fact that it made a legend out of chubby turd Curt Schilling.  The aging process and years of soft-core drug use have made it difficult for me to generate hatred toward my fellow man.  But Schilling is the exception.  I will go to my grave hating that phony.  I hope bad things happen to you, Curt Schilling.  Very bad things.

The losing has, of course, continued, and it’s been a bit strange.  Sometimes I haven’t cared as much as I thought I would because they’ve lost with some real losers.  I don’t quite buy into that “true Yankee” thing.  But it was never easy to root for Gary Sheffield, Randy Johnson, Kenny Lofton, Kevin Brown, Kyle Farnsworth, Carl Pavano, etc.  (Some might add Jason Giambi to that list, but I always had a soft spot for Giambi simply because he didn’t seem to take himself too seriously.)

More recently there was the steroids shit, first with Roger and then with A-Rod, two Grade-A frauds right up there with Schilling.  If you give all of your kids names that start with K, then it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much an asshole.  And Roger is pretty much an asshole.  I hate that he was a Yankee, and I hate that he won a championship with them.  I hated him when he was winning and I hated him when he was losing.  And most of all, I hate that he exerted his evil influence over Andy Pettite, a lovable chap who is clearly susceptible to too-good-to-be-true schemes (see: steroids and wild affection for Jesus Christ) and is also probably not too bright (see: he comes from Texas).

leave us alone. please. just go away.

As for A-Rod, I had almost started to forget about him this season.  And what a pleasant respite that’s been.  This fruity bitch has single-handedly almost ruined baseball for me.  And to think that they could’ve gotten rid of him a couple of years ago!  Now we’ll have to deal with his pussy shenanigans for the next decade, including what will surely be a gloomy and torturous march toward the home run record.  It’s almost too much to bear.

Thus far this season, as with every season, it’s been quite fashionable to bash the Yankees.  Wang sucks ass.  There was a 29 to -6 game against the Indians, or whatever the hell it was.  CC has been mediocre.  The bullpen has been less than mediocre, aside from Bruney and Mariano.  And there’s the not-so-small matter of no one being able to afford to attend games in the new Yankee Stadium.  That ocean of empty blue seats does indeed look pathetic, at least on television, which is the only way I’ll ever see it.  And there doesn’t seem to be much energy at all in the stands, though hopefully that’s because it’s only April.

Yet, with all of this, I’m more excited about the Yankees than I’ve been in a long time.  CC and Texeira seem like good guys, and AJ’s been far more likeable than I’d anticipated.  Nick Swisher’s easy to root for.  Brett Gardner remains both gutty and gritty*.  And there’s not a ton of back-page drama.  

But then the camera cuts to A-Rod, with his stupid purple lips, lurking in the dugout during the Tampa Bay series.  Goddamn I wish this douche would just go away.  I’d rather lose 162 games with Cody Ransom than win with A-Rod.  But there’s still a few games before he returns, so I plan to cherish what little time remains.  This weekend brings the first Red Sox series, and I can cheer unabashedly for Joba and Hideki and The Captain, without groaning each time #13’s turn comes up in the order.

As silly and trivial as sports are, it’s fun to love your team.  Excluding a rabid teenage obssession with the NBA, I feel like I’m more into sports now than I ever have been.  It’s one thing that still makes me feel young, and as my head gets grayer and my armpits get stinkier and Nola gets bigger, it’s nice to feel young once in a while.  It’s nice to see Melky hit a walk-off homer in the 14th and celebrate at home plate like a little leaguer.  It makes me feel like a little leaguer myself, except without the wetting my pants on second base part.  And that’s nice.

So in summation, go Yankees.  Take your time coming back, Alex.  And suck it, Curt Schilling.

*If you’re into Yankee reading, you should follow the great and prolific Peter Abraham at the LoHud Yankees Blog.  He will keep you updated on all that is gutty and gritty about Brett Gardner.