Friday, September 28, 2007

Cause Sometimes Friday Night is Just a Slice of Pepperoni and Some Diet Coke

Since for the first time in six months I don't have to hold my breath and pray with every pitch as my Yankees have wrapped up their playoff spot, I have directed a lot of my energy towards cheering on the Mets disastrous collapse. Cackling with glee as each Mets fan tightens the noose around his own throat in the shower. Fuck 'em I say; they start the season with Glavine/El Duque 1-2 and they think they got some juggernaut? Every day on the radio, some numbfuck screaming it's their town now, not the Yankees. Fucking idiots. Play in the abysmal NL, squeeze out 87 wins and don't know why we're not calling them the 1927 Yankees.

While I am not normally a big believer in karma I am a recovering Catholic, meaning that I can maybe believe in it if it means it's gonna be bad for myself. So now I'm wondering if my negative cheering towards the Mets will come back to bite me in the ass a la another first round nosedive by the Yankees. Should I be worried?

Also, one thing about being a Yankee fan I hate is hearing myself speak of another team's player in hushed tones "oh yeah, he's a Yankee killer." Like that's the ultimate compliment a player can get. Not that he's a great player, or a clutch hitter, but that for some reason the powers that be deign him to get a few hits against my squad. All season he trips over the lines and guffaws through strike three, but for one brilliant moment the rings of Saturn allow him to shine at The Stadium. Ugh. Will make a note not to say that next season.

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