You may have noticed that I have said nothing about my boys, aka the Yankees, for awhile. It's because they're killing me. Killing me! I find that when I try to speak about them, nothing comes out except for "I just... I can't.... I, I, I....."
The Times' headline about last night's game is "Sinking Yankees Nearly Hit Bottom." Nearly? Dude, they hit bottom a few days ago. And then the bottom dropped out and they kept on falling.
Phil says it's about time the dynasty crumbled... all while saying it's only May, blah, blah, blah, maybe they'll turn it around, blah blah blah, don't be fickle, blah blah blah. Easy for him to say - the Mets are at .500. I will admit that the Yankees, and stupid stupid Steinbrenner have had this coming, ever since he decided that it's actually the 1980s. I wish he would do something really wrong and get suspended from the game, so that maybe we would have a chance of building up from the bottom again. God, I am totally rooting against Bellamy Road this Saturday.
Pretty soon, my sincerest wish, other than that the Yankees will miraculously start kicking ass, is that B-more will crush the BoSox. Go O's!
I am going to a game at the end of this month and we'll be sitting in the bleachers. One false move from the Yanks, and I will be booing my little heart out, which sounds downright therapeutic right now.