Tonight was a good night. Tigers 3-2 Yankees. Since the Royals have not made it to the postseason in my lifetime, my biggest October desire is to see the Yankees lose. I despise the Yankees, to an extent not normally seen outside top tier football leagues. (Look at my tweets during game five if you doubt me.) I also despise several Yankees individually. Derek Jeter, Alex Rodriguez and Nick Swisher are the three that spring most readily to mind, and the fact that two of them struck out with the bases loaded in the seventh gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside. I won’t say that I despise all Yankee fans, but I have hated every one of them with which I have ever come in contact. The amount of schadenfreude gained from watching 50,000 of them with their heads in their hands is almost incomparable.
The game could hardly have gone better. A blowout would have been fun, but the air of crushing disappointment when Fuck-Rod struck out to end the game was palpable even watching on TV and it was wonderful. A blowout would have been much more gradual, and a lot of the ‘fans’ in attendance would have gone home early, as they did in game seven of the 2004 ALCS. It’s fun, but it’s not as fun. Also a blowout would not have involved Fuck-Rod striking out with the tying run on second in the seventh inning, and you can’t put a price on that sort of thing. (In fact, Fuck-Rod struck out three times to finish his ALDS 2-18. It’s those sort of numbers that give me faith in humanity.)
There isn’t a cloud in the sky here. The moon is out and it’s quite warm in spite of the lateness of the hour and the month. And the New York Yankees and their fans will have six months of drinking their own tears.