There is no joy in “Mudville” - mighty Casey has struck out
by Robert Amoroso
With profound apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer for my somewhat confusing analogy, however this emotional and bizarre baseball season proves once again that impressive stats, open check books, and fabled dynasties…guarantees nothing.
Both the New York Mets and New York Yankees suffered what can only be described as a “meltdown”. The marquee names such as A-Rod, and Jeter in snug fitting pinstripes did little to stop the bloodletting, the Rocket past his prime simply fizzled out and crashed to earth. And what was taken for granted in August abruptly ended in October, as a 7-game lead, (with only 17-games left) disappeared before our eyes, and multi millionaire ballplayers began playing sandlot ball.
One may argue that these “boys of summer” are professionals and indeed they are, however I repeat nothing is ever guaranteed, and this baseball season for New Yorkers can best be described as another one of life’s lessons. New York is a tough town, and as “old blue eyes” (back in the day) crooned “if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere”.
Baseball fans, indeed all fans in this city expect and deserve to have winners, there’re fanatic, almost crazed when it comes to their teams. Met fans “hate” Yankee fans, and Yankee fans “scoff” at Met fans for being upstarts, and less then worthy. It’s a great rivalry that will never be satisfied, and perhaps that’s the beauty of it all…we’re passionate to the things we love.
New Yorkers are a rare breed, and we’re certainly not laid back, we have a rich tradition, we wear our colors, and we come to win. We don’t take loosing gracefully, as Joe Torre (one of the games greatest managers) may soon find out. Yet we understand all too well lose, after all this is a city that has endured its share of lose, as no other city has, and yet we always rise to the occasion.
Love us or hate us, New Yorkers can never be ignored. We’ll lick our wounds, regroup our troops, and do it all again next year and while nothing in life is ever guaranteed, you can rest assure that there’ll soon be a championship flag flying in either Queens or the Bronx. It’s an historical fact and a mathematical certainty, and with that no one can argue.
Copyright © 2007 Amo
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