Monday, April 21, 2014
Posted by el duque at 6:54 AM
Last week, after the Yankees took three from Beard Town, and then stomped the Tampaoans in game one, I found myself so confident about this team that I actually pondered the possibility of winning six in a row. What absurdity! What hubris! I was drunk and stoned, babbling like Sally Field, incoherent from a cocktail of Ecstasy, Oxycontin, Boddington's and Yangervis. Most of all, I was sure we would win Friday.
Idiot. That's what I was. A pro-Yankee clod.
Sunday, after being flogged for 48 hours, and watching Ivan Nova board the Chien-Ming Wang train to Nowhere, I was sure the Yankees would lose to Tampa in some excruciating, permanently traumatizing way. I watched the late innings with remote in hand, prepared to snap-off the TV before the Tampa home run even landed. I paced the house, formulating acid-laced blog posts, planning to boil the entire Steinbrenner family in oil, condemning the Yankees in boldface italics! On this Easter Sunday, a day reserved for families, the Yankees were going to know that each of them was a disappointment to his parents.
And we won.
So... I go this.
If we think this team will win, it will lose.
If we expect it to lose, it will win.
That doesn't mean we have to constantly spit negativity. After Yankee victories, I can't always do that. But we must prime the pump. Once the juju is flowing, it moves on its own. That's how Boston won last year. You didn't find Redsock fans in April breast-beating over their team. Nobody claimed Johnny Gomes as lord and savior. They expected fourth place. That's what we must do.
If we don't believe we can win this thing, we can win this thing!
We don't have to scream about how bad the Yankees are. We can celebrate victory. But personally, privately, I am going to steel myself - discipline myself, like a great martial arts warrior - to not believe in anything hopeful that I write, even in the aftermath of a great Yankee victory. (Note: Every Yankee victory is a great Yankee victory.) For example, Dean Anna yesterday inscribed himself into Yankee lore. If he never does anything else, come 2030, there will still be lines of Yankee fans in front of his table in the Ramada, where he is signing 8x10 glossies. And Foghorn Claiborne might be sitting next to him, while a video loop shows Ichiro catching the final out. I have no doubt that these two career role players saved the entire Yankee 2014 season. Until tomorrow.
So, you are asking: Why does el Duque sound so happy and buoyant about the Yankees? That is a ruse, of course. From now on, even in the big bang euphoria of a Yankee triumph, such as yesterday, when we write and say good things about this Yankee team, we shall be secretly without hope. If we quietly expect defeat, we will win! Dammit, we can do thing! But we won't. But we could! But we won't. BUT WE COULD! (But surely we won't.)