Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack…

Hurray, baseball season is here!

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a pretty great winter. Maybe the best winter of my life so far. But boy am I happy that spring and baseball season are here.

Watching the Yankees shellac the thrice-cursed Red Sox last night was just lovely. I felt a little bad for David Wells… but only a little. The grand order of the universe was upset last year when the Red Sox won the World Series. They were clearly not the better team playing for the Championship. It had to be voodoo. So it was only fitting that they should take a proper pasting at the hands of the Yanks and Randy Johnson last night. Now things seem to be back in order.

Really though, the single best thing about the Red Sox losing last night is that it may portend a season-opening losing streak, and since that team is a bunch of ninnies about superstitions a losing streak may portend haircuts and shaves in the future of that scruffy bunch of dirtbags.

I really didn’t think it was possible, but Mark Bellhorn actually looked more ragged, ruffled and downright filthy than Darren Erstad. And the sight of Johnny Damon makes me want to leap from my chair through the TV screen with a set of clippers and scissors in my hands. *yuck*

Now you may think I’m just ranting and griping here but there’s more to it than that. The majority of the Red Sox players have chosen to look as if they have no respect for the game, no respect for their team and no respect for their fans. This is not stylish scruffiness in the mode of the early 1970s Oakland A’s clubs. It’s just faux good-ol’ boy, which is another way it manages to be insulting. These guys are not good-ol’ boys. They play in New England for crying out cupcakes. Bathe! Get haircuts! Tuck in your shirts and wear hats that fit you!

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