Saved by the Bell: Yanks For Nothing

These are very trying times. In the last few weeks, we’ve wrestled with anguish and uncertainty we never thought we’d have to deal with.

At times like these, we find ourselves groping in the dark, searching for answers, wondering how to feel and appreciating spots of assurance wherever we can find them. At times like these, it is important to remember that certain things haven’t changed. And contrary to what the FOX network might have us all believe, at least one thing remains the same.

It’s still okay to hate the Yankees.

It’s still okay, even though the Fenway faithful found themselves singing “New York, New York” during the seventh-inning stretch mere weeks ago. It’s still okay, despite the Yanks’ miraculous comeback against the Chokeland A’s Monday night, despite the way they “won one for the city” and the way their triumph temporarily displaced the anthrax scare on the front pages of New York City tabloids. It’s still okay, despite the way the Yankees have worn armbands to honor the city’s rescue workers.

Love the armbands. Hate the Yankees.

Hate the Yankees, at the very least, because so many actual New Yorkers still do. Think about all of the Met fans who are treated like second-class citizens in their own city, who have to put up with unrelenting strains of a Sinatra classic with which they can no longer identify because it has become the Yankee theme song. Think about what it will feel like for them—for us—when Mayor Giuliani, a lifelong Yankee fan, gives them the Bronx Bombers the key to the city and thanks them for bringing the city so much joy in its darkest hour. Ugh. Watching his courage and leadership during the past month, I’ve found myself wondering why Giuliani’s image on television always made me want to punch him in the stomach. As I watched him frolic on the field after Monday night’s win, it all suddenly started coming back to me.

It comes back to me every October.

Hate the Yankees because so many of their fans suck.

Granted, some of them are the real deal—obnoxious Bronx natives who sit back calmly after the A’s take a 2-0 lead because they know that Paul O’Neill’s selling his soul to the devil will pay off in the end. I can respect them.

But then there are the people who don’t even know who O’Neill is. These are the bandwagoners, the same folks who had the guts to root for the Cowboys and the Bulls in the 1990s. These are the wannabe New Yorkers who aren’t gritty enough to latch onto lovable losers like Rey Ordonez and Timo Perez. These are the same followers who were attracted to the Yankees by their “classy uniforms” and “winning tradition,” and by “how hot Derek Jeter is.” These are actual quotes, friends—quotes from people who think Andruw Jones is a typo and “Giambi” was the Robin Williams flick with the magic board game.

Speaking of Giambi, hate the Yankees because everyone signs with them. Jason Giambi has openly courted the Yankees through the media over the last few months, and will probably sign with them during the offseason. Mike Mussina, the best pitcher in the American League who isn’t hurt every year, did the same last season. Players join the Yankees now because it’s an easy way to get a ring, and the Yankees have the resources to make it happen. And if they’re underachieving halfway through the season, they simply trade for another superstar midway through.

To that end, hate the Yankees because they don’t play by the same rules as everyone else. It’s more than the fact that they’ve had the highest salary in baseball for several years running. The products of their farm system are hideously overrated.

Who haven’t the Yankees been rumored to acquire—Sammy Sosa, Juan Gonzalez—for little more than Alfonso Soriano and various other Triple-A All-Stars? “ESPN is reporting that the deal between the Yankees and Heaven to put lefthander God Almighty in pinstripes has hit a snag, as the Yankees have been unwilling to include third-base prospect Drew Henson in the deal.” Sheesh.

Hate the Yankees because you hate manager Joe Torre. You know you will later. Sure, he looks harmless enough, almost cuddly. And he’s a good story—a below-average manager and a nice guy who had the good fortune to join the Yankees when the payroll hit $100 million. But then he’ll put Derek Jeter—who had a mediocre season—on the All-Star team ahead of Oakland’s Miguel Tejada, and invite about 80 other undeserving Yankees to the Midsummer Classic, and you’ll remember that he isn’t that hard a guy to dislike. Yeah, you’ve got to love the fact that his brother beat cancer when they won in ’96. But it’s getting to the point where you’ll also see Frank Torre on the All-Star roster next year ahead of Jason Isringhausen. Give me a break.

Hate the Yankees because they’re just too damn perfect. Hate how much of a jerk Roger Clemens is, how much of a pretty boy Derek Jeter is, how cushy a job Don Zimmer has.

Hate the way Scott Brosius—Scott Brosius—has won three championships with the Yankees while great ballplayers like Tony Gwynn have retired with none. Hate Mariano Rivera’s sub-1.00 postseason ERA. Hate The Curse. Hate Tim McCarver’s obvious broadcasting bias. Hate how the sportscasters fawn over what class acts the Yankees are—as if Seattle’s John Olerud and Edgar Martinez ran around strangling cats in their spare time.

Most of all, hate the inevitability.

Let’s face it. It doesn’t matter how hard you root for Ichiro and Scratchy-ro and Ouchie-Ro and Hoochie-Ro, the 116-win Mariners will lose in six—again. And then, in the most boring World Series ever, the Yankees will steamroll past the Atlanta Braves and win their 27th World Championship.

Feel free to boo them anyway. After all, at times like these, we need villains we can have fun rooting against.