Frickin Tim McCarver wins frickin Frick Award

Like every doddering old Fox Sports toadfart who thinks kids today are overpaid, uppity hippies, Tim McCarver has always hated the Yankees.

I think he hated us because we signed free agents to huge contracts, ruining the game for its all-wise and totally cheap-ass owners, for whom McCarver gave voice.

I don’t ever recall him whining about the money made by an owner. But a player? My god! They’re never worth it. And in the old days, if a gold-necklaced hotdog touched his junk at the plate, why, the next pitch — in the ear, Theotis! And nobody wore batting gloves! Nope. In the old days, batters used callouses. And the Yankees? Evil incarnate. Because they cheat! They spend all that money. It’s not fair. If the Yankees acted like other teams and didn’t want to win, what a perfect league it would be!

That’s what baseball honored today.

But something else happened. Deadspin - of all the sites in the world - did a wonderful thing. It sabotaged the McCarver news conference by printing media access codes, so any wanton terrorist – like you and me — could ask the great and powerful McCarver a question. The first one came from the hell pool: "What, exactly, is your vendetta against the New York Yankees?"

What a question. And where do you start? 

Let's remember that McCarver made his bones as Bob Gibson’s personal catcher in the 1964 World Series against the Yankees. He came to hate the Yankees like snakes hate mongooses, if not consciously, at least on a lizardlike level within his brainstem.

Aww, why bother to complain? This was inevitable. At least he hated Manny Ramirez. And maybe this is the gold watch that signals the end. Back in the old days... you win the award, and you're gone! Show up next day, and bam... right in the kisser. We should hope.