Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Be gone, Yankee hell spawns. Spare us our dignity, and leave us in peace...

I feel like shouting at this team:

"GO AHEAD, LOSE! LOSE TONIGHT, LOSE TOMORROW, LOSE THEM ALL!  SET ME FREE, YE DEMONS FROM HELL!  I SHRINK FROM THINE, WRETCHED PITIFUL SIGHTS!  BE GONE, SPIRITS OF MORDOR, BACK TO FROM WHENCE YOU HATH COMED!"

But they won't leave.

No.

They shalt linger outside my window pane, tap-tap-tapping at the glass, suspended in the night air, singing their haunting dirges of desperate temptation. No. They will not leave.

Soon, they will win four games in a row, and I shall rise from my YES-wired chamber to drunkenly chase them through the forest by the moon's unearthly glow, directly into the quicksand bog... where we shall sink together in our fates...

As The Master would declare, "Down four in that all-important loss column..."

All hope is gone. Only the humiliation remains.


2 comments:

joe de pastry said...

I feel exactly the same way about this frustrating team.

Ken of Brooklyn said...

Me too, and this is what we have to look forward to next year as well,,,,,