Does it really matter? Baseball season should long be over by now. If the World Series goes seven games this year, the finale will be played on November 1! That’s assuming there’ll be no rainouts — or snowouts. I’m most interested to know who in Denver will throw out the first snowball.
But so long as we’re talking about who hates whom, I think it’s safe to say that Red Sox fans have long been disdained as yuppie, trendie, Cambridge-based NPR listeners. Remember the stunt John Kerry pulled on the eve of the Democratic convention in 2004? At least Yankee haters know who the real culprits are: the players, not the contentious bums in the stands. The Red Sox players are hard to hate. Sure, there’s Manny, but he’s a clown in a world of his own. As for the rest, a few are Japanese imports on loan, one is named after a chocolaty breakfast serial, another after a lousy-tasting pizza. And the biggest star of all is a lowly DH, a gentle-giant who should never be allowed to run the bases. For my money, though, if not for Josh Beckett the Sox are dead meat this year. Imagine: a star pitcher living up to his stature, the way Bob Gibson or Sandy Koufax used to. If not for him, the Slovaks of Cleveland would be a happy bunch today.
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