In re-enactment of grand tradition, Yankees screw Kansas again

With great sea-salty tears of nostalgia, New York City yesterday christened the new Yankee Stadium with its first raw and uninhibited public screwing of Kansas, upholding a grand tradition as old as time itself.

Once again -- in the names of Brett, Maris, Damon and Cone -- the Yankees invited Kansas City folks to Gotham and then stole their wallets while they stood up to cheer.

Most refreshing was the stunning and creative new format: the post-touchdown, celebratory game-ending hosejob.

For those of you with lives, or who didn't care about two teams with records worse than the unspeakably rancid and earth-embarrassing NY Giants... here's what happened.

With seconds left, Kansas State scored a touchdown to come within two points of Syracuse. In the end zone, the SU defensive back shoved the wide receiver, seemingly an unsportsmanslike conduct penalty. The Kansas wide receiver turned to the crowd and gave a military salute. Briefly. That was it.

At that point, manager Billy Martin erupted from the Yankee dugout and demanded that referees check the ball for pine tar. They found some in the area of the stitches and assessed a 15-yard penalty, requring KSU to attempt the tying two-point play from the 15 yard line, instead of the three.

Folks, it was like beating on Kansas City back in the days of Manny Mota.

In fact, it reminded us of an old IT IS HIGH poem...

Kansas City

We'd never lose another game,

How great our starting nine would be!

Each member in the Hall of Fame!

If all we did was play KC.

Old Jeet would have a million hits,

A 12-year, non-stop hitting spree,

We'd blast their bullpens into bits!

If all we did was play KC.

Our teams would top all "Greatest" lists,

Each game showcased on Fox TV,

We'd watch McCarver slit his wrists,

If all we did was play KC.

Our Pentagon would drop no bombs,

No body counts, no war decrees,

No more Iraqs, no Vietnams,

If all we did was play KC.

To loss, we'd never be resigned,

How great our Presidents would be,

This time, no children left behind,

If all we did was play KC.

Perhaps some day we'll make that deal,

One foe, throughout eternity,

But Satan's grin might shine surreal,

When George Brett bats for old KC.