No Joy in Mudville

This isn't a sports blog, especially since the guys at Bronx Banter do it so much better, but since I spent most of last night watching Yanks-Angels (with occasional breaks for the "Firefly" DVD so I could skip through the commercials and Tim McCarver), I felt like I had to say a few words about the Bombers.

I hate that we have a crotchety, irrational owner who considers anything less than a championship season to be a colossal failure. I hate that his expectations suck the joy out of watching this team, so that I only feel relief when they win and dread at how Steinbrenner will overreact when we lose. I hate that I couldn't really enjoy the Yankees improbably push for the division crown because all I could think about is how this would affect the stupid organizational civil war between New York and Tampa. I hate that a team that used to be both rich and smart is now just rich, and throws bad money at bad solutions like Tony Womack and Jaret Wright. I hate that the morning after the season ends, I have to see articles like this, this, this and this.

I know, I know, cry me a river. My team's been in the playoffs every year for a decade, they've won four championships, and I even got to see them win the first one in person. I've certainly got it a lot better than, say, a Pirates fan. But mornings like this ain't fun.

Ah, well. On the bright side, I don't have to get an extra VCR just to keep up with the playoffs and all the good Tuesday shows.

Congrats to the Angels, who were the better, more consistent team throughout this series. Wait 'til next year...