Remember this day and keep it holy.

Yes, it is Bucky Dent Day, kicking off Holy Month for our New York Yankees. (October 20th: Mickmas!)

We have been binging on schadenfreude these days, me as much as anyone. First the Metsies finishing up another inexplicably disastrous, last-place finish. Then the Sawx.

After the last game of the Wild Card series, I actually went on the Son of Sam website for the first time since 2003. Heh-heh-heh.

I was watching the 1978 playoff game in a college dorm, and was infinitely more nervous than I have ever been, watching any sports event—and enduring almost anything else in my life (okay, it's been a pretty nice life). 

A friend who knew very little about baseball (hey, I have them!) walked in, saw Dent up, heard us all grumbling and nay-saying (yes, I was already doing that, too), and said:

"Hey, maybe he'll hit a home run."

"He has about as much chance of hitting a home run as I do," I snorted. Which, of course, proved to be untrue.

But when it comes to the home run, I have to admit that what I remember and cherish most of all is not Dent's swing, or his romp around the bases. It is Carl Yastrzemski's legs buckling, and his falling to one knee by the Green Monster.

Horrible, I know. I am a terrible human being. Yaz was a great ballplayer (and nearly a Yankee, incidentally), and saddest of all, in a 23-year career he ended up not only never winning a ring, but also making the last out in both World Series he was in.

And...in the Bucky Dent Game.

Sad, but true. 

And it brings out the bone-marrow-sucking barbarian in me. 

Terrible, I know. As I say, I'm an awful human being. 

But what a day.

Knicks in Five!