The "Who Gives a Good Gosh Darn" Series
Well, curses live, bullies thrive, Goliath stomps on David and the World Series begins.
Unless someone is born in pinstripes, or lives in Miami under the shadow of evacuation route signs on every corner, the World Series this year is about as uninteresting a matchup as possible.
This probably wouldn't matter a whit except for the thought of what could have been.
The Billy Goat Curse. The Curse of the Bambino. It would be enough in any given year to see one of these teams go all the way, to get to the series and do battle with the other team and the ghosts of the past.
But this year, held out for all true baseball fans to salivate over and dream about, was the grand possibility of the Series to end all Series. That Battle of the Cursed, The Goat vs. The Bambino. Two teams synonymous with futility and improbable disaster fighting it out for the whole ball of wax, to exorcise their demons while all of baseballdom watched. No matter who won, the Baseball Gods would lose, because they would have to give up one or the other of their downtrodden and miserable souls. One of them would have entered November as the champs. The World Champion Chicago Cubs, or the World Champion Boston Red Sox. It wouldn't matter. All of fandom would have been enthralled, picking sides depending on who was down at the moment. It wouldn't matter.
Instead, the otherwise cynical world learned that curses are real, ghosts never die, and futility is only as far away as the next pitch. Instead the Baseball Gods decided to show just who was boss and prove that they really do hold all the cards.
Instead we have Goliath vs. The Fish. The Evil Empires vs. Desperately Seeking an Identity.
Sure, the Yankees are a magnificent, storied franchise. Sure, they've played in 1/3 of all the World Series played, and won 1/4 of all the World Series ever played. That's the problem. It's nothing new. What the hell is Joe Torre crying about? Because even he's tired of seeing the same old pinstripes in the World Series? Because even he is hoping for a real postseason story rather than the same old crap with a couple of name changes? Possibly. Or perhaps he's still upset over the Pedro vs. Zimmer thing. Whatever the case, only New York gives a rat's ass, because everyone else has already seen it before.
But there are still the Marlins, right? Big whoop. Who the hell are the Marlins? Sure, it was mildly interesting when they became the youngest franchise ever to become the World Champs. But then Wayne Huzienga, the charlatan he is, had a fire sale and made a mockery of the Championship, his franchise, and Baseball. There's no storied past, no history, no ghosts to chase away. Just a bunch of cocky brats who may have bitten off more than they can chew.
Not that anyone cares either way.
I suppose that, in the end, I hope the Yankees lose, because their history of making everyone else's life miserable is longer and far more insidious than the upstart Marlins. Yet, the cockiness of the fish (America's Darlings now? Puh-leeze!) makes me want to whap them with the handle of my knife and throw them on the grill.
A little garlic and butter, a cold brew, or at least a Diet Coke, and we're ready for some football.