In solidarity with the sufferers in Chicagoland and greater Boston — meaning all of New England, evidently — Enemy Central got a late start on Boone Friday.
If it’s any consolation, Sen. Teddy Kennedy is a Red Sox fan, something to keep in mind each time he plays Pedro Martinez to George W. Bush’s Don Zimmer. Hit in the noggin once too often by the Chappaquiddick ace, the Bush team has gone ahead and bestowed a plum prize on tipsy Ted. You can bet Ted will display it right next to his Red Sox World Series ring. If the Sox had to lose just to drag down that demon, the nation owes them a deep debt of gratitude for their ultimate sacrifice.
Then again, the real Boston fan doesn’t know Teddy from Freddy. His suffering won’t end, not even if Teddy redirects $87 billion into his pockets. “Make the hurt go away,” the song went, but this time it won’t, not ever, not ’til the end of time, not after the end of time. His team had last night’s game won, it could taste it, chew on it, help itself to seconds. All season, as for most of the past ninety years, it had chased the Yankees, fighting, losing, coming back, clawing, scratching, drawing ever closer and closer, until in the ultimate Game 7 it would catch them, pass them, and leave them in the dust.
Then it happened. An eighth inning drive to right field that Trot Nixon reacted to like Charlie Brown upended by Lucy. Problem is, it’s impossible to dislike Trot Nixon. If Richard Nixon had been Irving Kristol’s college roommate we’d have known him as Trot Nixon too. Earlier, when he’d defeated Oakland with a home run, he’d thanked his Creator by name — exactly the sort of thing Big Media hates to allow viewers to witness. Trot’s okay. Next time let’s pray he prays for help with his fielding.
Or has a manager who knows when to replace him with a late-inning defensive specialist. (Wasn’t Bill Buckner supposed to be replaced as well?)
So Derek Jeter, the god who started the Yankee resurrection, soon scored. Pitcher Pedro was left in by the skipper who knew too Little, and the Yanks concluded their late game batting practice tied with the Sox. The rest is hysteria.
Naturally, it was aided and abetted by the political opportunists. First was the extended rendition of “God Bless America” in lieu of a seventh-inning stretch, all in an effort to knock the Sox pitcher off kilter (and in ghastly exploitation of a practice that came about spontaneously in the wake of 9/11). Cameras caught Gov. Pataki singing along, Yankee hat now atop his big head. Before you knew it, former Mayor Rudy Giuliani appeared on the field to be among the Yankees celebrating their victory. If these pols have anything to do with it, the GOP convention will never gather near Ground Zero. They’ll have moved Yankee Stadium to it and renamed it for themselves.
If not as haplessly, the Sox’ collapse mirrored the Cubs. Now Chicago and Boston are forever linked in a deathly embrace. Look forward to Kennedy-Daley marital alliances. Boston will still have its green monster, Chicago its green ivy, and…and…and both will have lots of free time in the Octobers to come. You don’t expect either of these will come this close again any time soon, do you?
In a fearless dissent, Enemy Central wishes to express its admiration for the Florida Marlins, who for all we know are the Cuban national team. They are excellent players, leading off with Juan Pierre, long a famous pirate in Caribbean waters. Miguel Cabrera is baby-faced for good reason. Last year he starred in the Little League World Series.
Most important, catcher Ivan Rodriguez has been the best player in the post-season. He has an interesting history, washing up on Florida shores after escaping the quagmire that passes for George W. Bush’s Texas Rangers and their $87 billion payroll. Unlike our EOW Uncle Teddy, Rodriguez knows that big hitting is more valuable than big spending.
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