What Curse??
The New York Times concludes: "It was actually happening. The nerd was kissing the homecoming queen. Paper was beating scissors; scissors were beating rock. Charlie Brown was kicking the football. The Red Sox were beating the Yankees for the American League pennant."
Does it get any better than this??
"What we witnessed last night was the dropping off of the veil of Yankee domination over the Red Sox.
Gone is the mystique of the curse of the Bambino, the dominant theme that defined the entire culture of New England. (Sorry, Shaughnessy, the curse put your kids through college, but it‘s time to write about something else.)
Gone.
Gone are the ghosts of Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle-not to mentions Scott Brosius, Tino Martinez, and Paul O’Neill. They didn’t save us this season. They didn’t show up.
Gone.
Gone is the notion of taking a pitch, working the count, driving up the pitch count, laying down a bunt, or producing a productive out-or even recording an on base percentage above .320
Gone.
For Red Sox nation, gone is the legacy of Denny Galehouse, Bill Buckner, Bucky Dent and Aaron Boone and Grady Little.
Gone.
Gone is Brian Cashman’s cell phone, his wife pounding it into oblivion after the 10th irate call from George Steinbrenner, demanding to know why Cashman didn’t sign Ortiz two winters ago as ordered.
Gone is the idea of using the farm system to produce players like Mo, Bernie, Posada or Jeter.
Gone.
Gone is the Pride of the Yankees, it’s relegated to the dusty bins of ancient history, while the current band of imposters pack their bags for the winter, seemingly oblivious to the legacy they have destroyed.
With the memory of Saturday night’s 19-8 victory wiped away, we are left with the images of futile pop-ups, soft grounders, and the worst pitching staff money can buy.
We are left with the memory of A-Rod and Sheffield constantly blowing it in big spots. We are left with the knowledge that Kevin Brown has been a season-long disgrace to the city of New York and to the Yankee uniform, and we are left with the uneasy vision of Joe Torre sitting comatose in the dugout, while his counterpart out-witted him at every turn.
What is left is a sickening of the heart-an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could ever resolve.
What is left is a team of over-priced and under-performing fat cats. A team of poorly constructed all-or-nothing home run hitters who swing from the heels and think from the hip.
What is left is a frozen image of Derek Jeter in the dugout, his eyes fixated upon the dancing revelers soiling the ancient turf of Yankee Stadium.
Javy Vasquez, Kevin Brown and, yes, you Tom Gordon-meet Calvin Schiraldi, Bob Stanley and Mike Torrez.
The greatest sports franchise of all time just perpetrated the worse choke in post-season history. Period.
And now, the curse is lifted. Red Sox nation has escaped the terrible fury of the dragon, and the breaking up of mystique that surrounded the Yankees.
The carcass of the dragon fell at the feet of Red Sox nation with a mighty and terrible reverberating sound.
From these final death agonies, I flee aghast."
~~By Phil Allard
NYYFans.com Staff Writer