Since there are yankee fans that read this site, I'm assumming that you know that both of you are inviting Indians or Sox pictures to be posted when one of your teams lose. I know Jay would be able to take it, but Eric? Will you throw one of your "That's just plain hurtful" tantrums?
Speaking for all Yankee fans, let me just say that we have seen the light, albeit through the prism of Red Stocking and American Native Peoples' supporters. Since I started rooting for the Yankees on October 23, 1996 and up until the point I really didn't care that much anymore, November 3, 2001 I have learned many things about this team and myself.
I am a front running, capitalist pig. I had thought that this may be a possibility as I always found myself interested in money, personal possessions, acquiring same, and winning baseball teams, specifically the yankees, only when they were winning of course.
I decided to overlook this point because I derived so much joy from my faux superiority complex through these tainted yankee victories that I was willing to accept whatever attendant complications arose surrounding my character.
As the days turned into seasons, and the seasons turned into more tainted world series championships I began to see that I had no character, none beyond that of a vainglorious, dunderheaded lout. And If I needed proof of my morally deficient composition all I needed to do was to look to the wit and wisdom of various internet message boards, the emminently, fair-minded Boston sportsguy, and of course many of the gentlemanly and true fans of the opposing ball clubs who would routinely chide me for selling my soul to beelzebub in exchange for a few cheap game winning singles by the very gay derek jeter. The crowds would lustily chant, "Mr. Posada engages in lewd sexual conduct with Mr. Rodriguez," or something to this effect. I would attempt to laugh off these good-natured, family friendly barbs, but there was no denying it anymore.
The yankees were not a baseball club. The yankees were not even human. The yankees were and still are dispicable, evil, robots made of cursed, Spanish gold that Pizzaro used to pour down the throat of Incan peasant baby girls. How could this be true? Why had I aligned myself with this darkness? Did I too wish to kill peasants?
Sadly I did. Like my yankee brethren I was going through life as a pinstriped conquistador, indiscriminately chopping the limbs off of the noble and true-hearted peasant teams' fans. Had we no conscious? Did our love of money and illicit performance enhancing drugs know no bounds? Only sad, pitiful losses to teams far less monied than our sinister robots could finally break us from our stupor, and make us realize our evil ways.
But now that the yankee money can no longer buy me the happiness I desire I must root for that most sympathetic of teams, the boston red sox. For we all know that while overzealously and unfairly buying championships nearly every year is tacky, doing so nearly every 86 years is legendary. Go sox!
i probably could support a jab at the yanks expense, but not one that it tied to an extremely tired ad campaign that is so obviously struggling to maintain the fresh perspective (and success for MasterCard) it brought a decade ago. yes, our friends at wiki show us that the campaign first aired during the 1997 World Series. the ad man in me simply can't get behind this.
6 comments:
You forgot
28 Million dollar .500 pitcher with leg and elbow problems
Since there are yankee fans that read this site, I'm assumming that you know that both of you are inviting Indians or Sox pictures to be posted when one of your teams lose. I know Jay would be able to take it, but Eric? Will you throw one of your "That's just plain hurtful" tantrums?
Asking a Cleveland fan if he can take insults on his sporting teams is like asking John Pinette if you can make fun of his weight.
Uh yeah, never heard that before....
Speaking for all Yankee fans, let me just say that we have seen the light, albeit through the prism of Red Stocking and American Native Peoples' supporters.
Since I started rooting for the Yankees on October 23, 1996 and up until the point I really didn't care that much anymore, November 3, 2001 I have learned many things about this team and myself.
I am a front running, capitalist pig. I had thought that this may be a possibility as I always found myself interested in money, personal possessions, acquiring same, and winning baseball teams, specifically the yankees, only when they were winning of course.
I decided to overlook this point because I derived so much joy from my faux superiority complex through these tainted yankee victories that I was willing to accept whatever attendant complications arose surrounding my character.
As the days turned into seasons, and the seasons turned into more tainted world series championships I began to see that I had no character, none beyond that of a vainglorious, dunderheaded lout. And If I needed proof of my morally deficient composition all I needed to do was to look to the wit and wisdom of various internet message boards, the emminently, fair-minded Boston sportsguy, and of course many of the gentlemanly and true fans of the opposing ball clubs who would routinely chide me for selling my soul to beelzebub in exchange for a few cheap game winning singles by the very gay derek jeter. The crowds would lustily chant, "Mr. Posada engages in lewd sexual conduct with Mr. Rodriguez," or something to this effect. I would attempt to laugh off these good-natured, family friendly barbs, but there was no denying it anymore.
The yankees were not a baseball club. The yankees were not even human. The yankees were and still are dispicable, evil, robots made of cursed, Spanish gold that Pizzaro used to pour down the throat of Incan peasant baby girls. How could this be true? Why had I aligned myself with this darkness? Did I too wish to kill peasants?
Sadly I did. Like my yankee brethren I was going through life as a pinstriped conquistador, indiscriminately chopping the limbs off of the noble and true-hearted peasant teams' fans. Had we no conscious? Did our love of money and illicit performance enhancing drugs know no bounds? Only sad, pitiful losses to teams far less monied than our sinister robots could finally break us from our stupor, and make us realize our evil ways.
But now that the yankee money can no longer buy me the happiness I desire I must root for that most sympathetic of teams, the boston red sox. For we all know that while overzealously and unfairly buying championships nearly every year is tacky, doing so nearly every 86 years is legendary. Go sox!
If it makes you feel any better, I hate both of your teams.
that priceless line is awesome. very original.
i probably could support a jab at the yanks expense, but not one that it tied to an extremely tired ad campaign that is so obviously struggling to maintain the fresh perspective (and success for MasterCard) it brought a decade ago. yes, our friends at wiki show us that the campaign first aired during the 1997 World Series. the ad man in me simply can't get behind this.
i forget...what happened in that series?
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