Why We Hate the Snakes.

 

As the World Series moves back to Phoenix for the first time since that fateful, awful night in 2001, we must revisit the reasons why every Yankees fan wants to see even a team from Texas mash the snakeheads into the dust.

Sure, the juju gods were out in force that night, setting up about as awful a loss as they could imagine (at least until they outdid themselves three years later). 

Their handiwork can be seen in so many freakish things that went wrong:

—The little desert storm that blew in and knocked down what everybody on the field thought FOR SURE was Shane Spencer's three-run homer in the 7th inning, a ball that would have put a nail in the D-backs. Apparently such thunderstorms are unknown in Arizona in October...but this was November 4th, thanks to the hiatus necessitated by the 9/11 attack.

—Said storm also left the field wet for the 9th inning. That's apparently what went wrong when the Great Rivera, usually an outstanding fielder, picked up Damian Miller's bunt and threw wild to second. Miller had rolled the bunt straight up the vestigial dirt path from the plate to home that had been installed as a little perk in the Arizona ballpark by...old friend, Buck Showalter (The juju gods grind slow, but they grind fine.).

Instead of getting a dry ball that Rivera could have turned into an instant DP, leaving the Snakes with two out and none on, he pick up a sphere encased in dribbly goo, and threw wild to Jeter. This left two on, none out—and disaster at the door...  

—Disaster in the form of Tony Womack, a singular flop with us, hitting a broken-back double two batters later.

The game was full of other, unforced errors by the Yankees themselves, of course:

—Paul O'Neill in the first inning, running on the emotion of his last game ever, and getting cut down trying to stretch a double into a triple.

—Scott Brosius, in the 9th, hanging onto the ball after getting the first out of the inning at third, instead of going for a sure-fire DP by throwing back to get Jay Bell at first.

—Joe Torre once again pushing Rivera to his limits and beyond at the end of a season, having him throw two innings when Ramiro Mendoza—who had allowed 1 baserunner of the 9 Diamondbacks he'd faced that Series—was fresh and ready to go for the 8th. (Which, again, he might have, if the Yanks had had a 5-1 or 6-1 lead...)

But then there are the Snakes themselves, starting with Luis Gonzalez, the man who had the game-winning "hit" in Game 7. Gonzalez was, obviously, a classic juicer. For the first 8 years of his career, he was a .266 hitter who never managed more than 15 homers in a season. 

Suddenly, in Arizona, he became something else again. At 31, all of a sudden, Luis Luis Luis became a power AND high-average hitter, a transformation that just doesn't occur at the age without the use of, shall we say, medicinal supplements. In 2001, he had 57 homers, 100 extra-base hits, 142 ribbies, a .325 BA, and a 1.117 OPS. 

Well, it's hard for the Yanks to complain too much about THAT, considering that by 2001 we had the pied piper of steroids on our team—and pitching a terrific Game 7. But still, it's hateable—particularly since, thanks to the usual hypocrisy, no one is ever allowed to mention Gonzalez's obvious cheating.

But the real reason to hate the Diamondbacks comes down to this guy, their founder and owner, Jerry Colangelo.

Sure, Colangelo had a hard-on for hating Mad Old George Steinbrenner. Perfectly understandable. Hey, who didn't most of the time, including many of us? 

But what he did—and what Bud "Handmaid to the Wealthy" Selig did—to make his Yankees-beating dreams come true, made Jose Altuve look like an altar boy.

Colangelo rushed Arizona—which had only entered the NL in 1998—to the top of the charts by signing Randy Johnson to a massive contract, and doing the same with Curt Schilling, after acquiring the latter from the Phillies for four non-entities. 

Exactly how was this operator from a relatively small market able to outbid everybody else in baseball for two of its best pitchers at the time? The answer, it was soon revealed, was that he had borrowed at least $20 million from MLB, and maybe more. (https://www.espn.com/mlb/news/2000/0815/685667.html) 

Just how did this figure? Why was Arizona favored over all other teams in the majors? And why didn't the owners of the other clubs raise bloody hell about this? What, the Mets couldn't have used Schilling and Johnson? The Phils suddenly didn't need a top starter? Seattle, which had been forced to give up The Big Unit for lack of cash?

Nope, no one said a word. It was all in the name of parity and expansion and what have you—just some more of MLB's sleazy, underhanded dealings—and as a result, the D'backs had their night in the desert...which they celebrated by immediately playing a mocking rendition of Sinatra's "New York, New York" over the loudspeakers.

You stay classy, Arizona. And drop dead.