Up until 30 minutes ago, this had been a decent enough day. Then one of my colleagues called to check on my well being. I told him I was OK, my hopes had been up and I believed but I wished no ill will on Teix or the Red Sox. We'll get the next big 'un.
Uh, dude? You near any sharp objects?
I wasn't sure what he meant. Then he told me: THE YANKEES.
I do not know enough curse words to properly express my feelings. Start with F and go from there. I love the Yankees' city. I HATE THE YANKEES.
My office has three full-timers. We don't agree on much. We have a Braves fan, we have an Indians fan, we have this poor, downtrodden Nats fan. We all agree we hate the Yankees. Excessively. With a passion. 0-162 is not good enough. They have to do worse.
I think FireJimBowden wrote earlier that the predictable response would be "eh, who needed him anyway?" or something like that. I won't take that route. The Nationals needed him, I badly wanted it to happen and I'm disappointed it didn't. Had he gone anywhere else, I would have shrugged and tried to move on.
This one? The bitterness is boiling over and may cause my head to explode.
The Yankees? Arrrrgggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Oh, and the consolation prizes of Corey Patterson and Jorge Sosa don't really brighten the mood. Nook Logan II and I can't even think of the guy's name who pitched for about half a season and then got hurt and never resurfaced. Anywhere. I did see Sosa pitch once in Atlanta during his one strong season and left there thinking he was the next big thing. Didn't he get his drugs taken away?