I’m not giving up on the Phillies yet. I’m not. But they’re down in the series three games to two and headed back to the Bronx, and . . . well, I just think we need to be realistic here. Yes, the Phightin’ Phils can still come back and win this thing, but why hide from the truth? There’s a good chance that — either tomorrow or Thursday — the New York Yankees will win the World Series.
Just typing it out has been good for me. It took me a couple of hours of working up to it before I could even admit the possibility. But now, I think I’m at peace with myself and with what might be about to happen. I’m calm in the face of oblivion. I can handle this. And so can you.
These last eight years have been great ones, haven’t they? Yanks lose to Arizona in ’01 (Christ that was a sweet one), Angels over the Giants in seven in ’02, Marlins beat the Yankees in six in ’03, Red Sox sweep in ’04, White Sox sweep in ’05, Cardinals over the Tigers in five in ’06, Red Sox sweep again in ’07, and the Phillies over the Rays in five last year. Those pinstripe-sporting pudknockers haven’t even made it to the Series since 2003. Five straight October Classics without the Yankees anywhere around — if there’s a Heaven, it’s something like that.
But no sense in dwelling on the past. Barring a Philly comeback, the Sun is about to set on these days of wine and roses, and a new era of cold and darkness is threatening to descend. Thankfully, in baseball nothing lasts forever. There’s always next year, and the year after that, and the year after that, clear on until the leagues go out of business, humanity dies as a species, or the Sun swells to a red giant, engulfing the Earth and obliterating all evidence we were ever here at all.
Which means that the Yankees as World Series Champions is not a permanent condition! It’s a phase, and one we can all get through, should we have to face it starting in the next couple of days. There are some easy coping methods. I encourage you to try one, or all of them, should they soon become necessary.
Destroy Yankee paraphernalia. —Make this one your own. It could be ripping NY bumper stickers off of cars you pass on the way into the mall, or chopping an Alex Rodriguez signature bat up with a circular saw, or breaking into the home of that guy down the street with the Yankees baseball card collection, soaking everything in gasoline and torching the whole place to the motherfucking sky. Use your imagination.
Have sex with prostitutes. —It can get a little expensive, but remember that for the right amount of money you can do anything you want to them.
Punch a baby in the head. —This one got me through the late-90s practically all by itself. It really, really works.
Call in bomb threats. —Again, personalize this one. You can call in bomb threats to schools, libraries, government offices, pretty much any public place with a phone! Just be sure you call in your threat from a pay phone, not your home or your cell, so you don’t get caught. Or better yet, use the phone of that fucking asshole at work with the Yankees warm-up jacket. That’ll show that bastard. Hey, why not call Mariano Rivera to bail you out, bitch?
Take up sport shooting. —What a stress reducer this one is! Chances are there’s a gun range somewhere near where you live. And if you’re from western Maryland, you probably have quite a few to choose from. Get yourself a pistol and some ammo (and ear plugs — always remember personal safety), tack a photo of Jeter or that fat bastard Sabathia onto your target, and blast away. Here’s a tip: pretending you’re shooting at the actual people really magnifies the therapeutic effect of this one.
So there you are. Hope these help, if it turns out you need them. In the meantime, go Phillies!