Yuck the Fankees…And the Red Sux


Day 346

I used to be a baseball fan; now I’m more of a crestfallen, half-assed spectator.  By half-assed spectator I mean if I happen to turn on the nonexistent TV in my house, or walk into a bar I no longer go to, and a game is on, I’ll root-root for the home team.

That said – I’ve never been a fan of the Yankees, which according to my geographic is the home team.  Erroneous.  I don’t like the Yankees for the same reason I don’t like the Red Sox anymore (or any major leagues) : lots of sports, no real teams.

The first time I fell for baseball was 2004.  My mom’s boyfriend at the time was a Red Sox fan; he gave me the lowdown of the players, the history behind their curse, and the unconformity of the Soxs’ raggedy scraggly ways.  As a 16-year-old pothead-wannabe-anything-chameleon-outcast, I could relate to their rebellious “we don’t wear pinstripe” ways.  Pinstripes to me were the equivalent of Vineyard Vines, and since I really needed things to hate besides myself, the Yankees and popped collars seemed like good places to start.

The year 2004 was the beginning of my dedicated relationship with drugs, alcohol, and a balanced diet of Beerio’s and bong rips for breakfast; “Beerios” being Cheerios with beers in the place of milk…ok I never did that (in high school) but you get the idea.

Anyway.  I came to know the players that season. I came to love the game.  And then…THEY WON!  The curse was broken! Red Sox for life, bitches!  Yuck the Fankees! Johnny Damon was my hero!  Beers and bongs for everyone! And then!!!……He joined the Yankees.


What kills passion quicker than a paycheck?

That was my first and last affair with “pro” sports.  Doesn’t sound very “pro”fessional to me, nor inspiring.  I could probably trace my rock bottom nearly 365 days ago to Johnny Damon’s soul selling contract in 2005.

…..Clearly I forgot to put some people on my 4th step.

There’s a point to all this, and that is, Johnny Damon is just as bad as A-Rod.  The End.

Ok just kidding. This was intended to be a post on the similarities between A Rod and alcoholics.  (Now that I’m an alcoholic I get to point the fingers at everyone else) but my emotional wounds of MLB are still open.  (Insert crying emoji here.)

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