Dear Madams or Sirs,
Congratulations to your fine organization on its fine season.
Because there's nothing like a fine season!
In a fine season, players have -- well -- fine years. As did your fine players. Because they are fine players. As you are a fine bunch. Which is fine with us.
And today, congratulations on your spiritual ascent: You are starting to understand what it's like to be a Yankee fan.
Welcome to Hell.
Yep, all those seasons when you thought being a Yankee fan was easy... all those years when you pointed to us with moral contempt and said, "They buy championships, they never feel pain!" all those years, you said, "They have no heart, they're the evil empire!"... all those years you sustained yourselves by closing your eyes and clutching that golden, hardon of hatred...
And now you know how it feels to have had a fine season...
With nothing at the end.
It's like sleeping with someone 165 nights, then getting dumped.
Welcome to our universe.
You are learning the secret of our society:
If you don't win the ring, you suck.
Sorry to say it, friends, but this is truth.
No ring? You suck.
Yep. Now it's your turn to debate whether you should have traded Jacoby Ellsbury for Johann Santana, your turn to re-think the Manny deal, your turn to think about all the money wasted on Curt Schilling, your turn to ponder the outside corner that the ump gave Matt Garzas all night.
And for all the thinking you do, it won't change the outcome.
No ring? You suck.
But hey, you sucked fine. You beat the Yankees this year. Let that give comfort. Hell, you can be the first fanbase in history to remember who came in second! And Dustin P might win the MVP. So he can join other fine MVPs, like that guy from Minnesota, whats his name? The firstbaseman. Or ours. You know who we're talking about, eh? Fine players.
Because you are a fine team. A truly fine bunch.
Congratulations, fellow suckees.
PS: NOTE TO YANKIVERSE: Write this down. As soon as we blogged about rooting for the Redsocks, they lost. Ha! Maybe we've cracked the code.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Open Letter to Redsock Nation: Congrats on your fine season utterly wasted
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A REPORT FROM BEHIND ENEMY LINES:
"THE DAY AFTER"
By IIH, IIF, IIc correspondent Shamus
CAMDEN, MAINE -- As the sun rises on Red Sox Nation this morning, I am reminded of a scene from one of those destruction movies, such as 'ID4', 'Cloverfield' or 'I am Legend.'
Cars are burning and overturned, bodies clad in Red Sox apparel lay motionless everywhere, and the distinct smell of raw pork hangs in the air.
Yes, fellow Yankees fans and readers, Red Sox Nation is in ruins, like the Romans at the end of their run, after Joaquin Phoenix killed his dad, Caesar, and wanted to sleep with his hotty sister.
I am eerily reminded of 2003, after getting punched in the mouth by that upstart, uppity southern Florida team, the Swordfish. Or Sea Bass. Whatever they hell they were called.
I specifically woke up at 5 am to listen to their desperate pleas fill the radio waves, as they call into the Big Jab (95.5 fm/ Portland Maine) and WEEI, aka Al-Soxzeera.
Some are near suicide. Some are in shock. Many are still drunk.
On a troubling side note, with the economy in the dumper, last night didn't help one bit, b/c today none of them are going to their jobs at bars, strip clubs, McDonalds, trash collectors and plumbers. It seems all of RSN is taking the day off to lounge around the double-wide trailer and watch infomercials on NESN all day.
Some want Theo fired for his Manny debacle. Some want Tito Francona fired for his misuse of the pitching staff. Many are clamoring for them to sign and trade their way out of this nightmare.
You know its trouble when Sox fans are asking on broadcast radio if St. Louis would accept Coco Crisp, Mike Lowell and cash for Albert Pujols. Or if they can sign Peavy when he hits free agency next week.
(I know, as well as you educated Yankees fans, Peavy could only be acquired via trade, but, I digress...)
I've even heard the impossible and imporbable: Sully, still hammered at 5:15 am, called WEEI while getting dressed to go to work as a trashman, and asked "what it would take for Manny to come back."
I know, I know. Things haven't been great for the Bronx Bombers since 2000. In '01 and '03, we had reason to cheer. But on the whole, we haven't had much to be happy about.
Here's what I figured out, listening to these tortured souls this morning:
We created this monster. All the years they watched us, the late 90's, etc. They wanted to win, so they sold their souls to the devil and bought the 2004 championship. After getting swept in 2005 in the first round, they spent even more money (Rice-Cake, Nancy Drew, etc.) and won it in 2007.
They have become a little version of the Evil Empire. A 'Mini-Me' of sorts.
For a team that has known nothing but losing for so, so long, to win twice and resort back to losing, you'd think they'd remember how it feels.
Sox fans always tell me, a Yankees fan caught behind enemy lines, in the Red Neck Backyard of Red Sox Nation, 'hey, we've won the Series twice in the last four years."
I always correct them by saying: "No, you've won two Series in the last 90 years, and yes, I want plastic, not paper please."
More reports will follow, deep in the lion's den. Deep behind enemy lines.
This is Shamus, signing off.
It is not enough to succeed; your friends must fail.
Or, if you fail, your enemies ought to fail too.
Either one is fine.
P.S.
What makes this even better is that the Pats are in the crapper too, with Golden Boy Tom Brady being out for the year (He is a Yankees fan!)
So instead of turning to football, they have to watch basketball and hockey until Marh...
LOL...
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