Open letter to the Redsock Nation

Dear Madam or Sir,

I know you're catching boatloads of crap these days, much of it from the hand-wringing, smart-alecky, gasbags on the know-it-all Internet.

Well, speaking on behalf of the Yankees, I say it's time you catch some hard-edged truth:

You can't frikkin have it both ways.

You can't be the long-suffering tribe whose heart is constantly broken by its heros - AND also win the World Series every four years.

Nope. Sorry. Uh-uh. Sorry, Dr. Leaky, the bones just don't fit.

Nobody wants to hear how tough it is - how noble it is, how artistically human it is - to tromp around singing "Yankees suck" on behalf of a team owned by "That 70's Show."

Long ago, Yankee fans learned this. We don't flail around in front of Pirate or Brewer fans, expecting sympathy. We take the mallet, straight to the head. We take the ridicule. We suffer the smirks. And believe this, Bostonians... after a loss, nobody takes more shit than a Yankee fan.

Ten years ago, you chose to become "the official team rival of the New York Yankees." You declared jihad. And you succeeded. You adopted the Yankee ways. You became us. And even though you may not view yourselves as a fun-house mirror image of the Bombers, let me render unto this revelation: Everybody else does.

So... what do you do? Buck up, for kricesakes. You came one pitch from the playoffs. Who knows what would have happened with a day off and a second chance? So it's over. Wanna clean house? Go to it. Want heads to roll? Fine. Just don't expect the world to weep for your plight.

In a week or two, the Yankees could be in the same place. We won't expect kindness. We know how things work. We root for the Yankees.