Sportswriters, as a union, are taught the theory of objectivity.
Pull for no one. Report without bias.
I live by this rule - I scoff at those who do not abide.
But on this day, and however many games follow tonight's Game 1 of the American League Championship Series, I make an exception.
Go Mariners. That's what I say.
I would love nothing more than to see Seattle take out New York in four games, ending the hopes of four Big Apple titles in a row.
Sorry, I just can't take one more year of smug Bronx Bombers winning the World Series. I can't tolerate another Sports Illustrated commercial trying to pawn off those cheesy championship coffee table books with a grinning Derek Jeter on the cover, albeit it is a "special gift opportunity." It's right up there with the 1995 Houston Rockets and 1997 Florida Marlins books.
Heck, I would rather watch the UT football team put on its rendition of Damn Yankees than see ageless wonders Paul O' Neill and Bernie Williams and the rest of the Yanks covered in ticker tape again.
Yes, I picked a St. Louis-Oakland World Series, so I am a little bitter right now, but I guess I should have known that an A's collapse was inevitable. After all, what would October, and maybe even November, be without the Yankees.
I can't really pinpoint where my general hatred for the Pinstripers derives from.
Some possible reasons for my ire include:
1. I grew up an hour and a half from Atlanta, and as a Braves fan. Granted, my patronage for the Bravos has melted along with the notoriety of their lineup (i.e. Julio Franco at first base and Rey Sanchez at short).
2. The fact that every time the Yankees do jack, winning their precious and commonplace little world championships, I have to hear about it from my ex-girlfriend. She's a native Long Islander who couldn't tell you the difference between Donnie Baseball, Don Mattingly, and Donnie Wahlberg, of New Kids on the Block fame. Yet she still claims the Yanks as her own.
But hey, I'm counting my blessings. It still beats having to hear about the Mets from my roommate.
3. Could it be that I am just sick of them winning? How 'bout a little diversity at the top, guys? There's only so many Joe Torre sob stories one man can take.
4. Maybe it's the way that New York, regardless of the year and circumstances, always picks up some veteran schmo that turns into some sort of Reggie Jackson postseason superstar. (See: David Justice or Glenallen Hill)
5. Maybe it's just Jeter that I can't stand. He looks like he's got some secret he's not telling the world. He's all the smug cockiness that a 6-foot-3, 195-pound All-Star shortstop can hold. But he is good, I'll give him that.
For the first time in history, I applauded a Yankees' play when Jeter went tumbling into the stands on a foul out in the eighth inning of New York's series clincher Monday.
6. What is Yankee Pride exactly? Why can't other teams have pride? Blue Jay Pride has a nice ring to it. Devil Ray Pride, that's where it's at. Why can't the Mariners have pride?
I'd have pride if my team just the most games in the modern recorded history of a game commonly known as America's Pastime.
Mark my words. A young man from Japan named Ichiro will lead them. The Yankees passed on him, and I'm sure he thinks about how famous he could be if the Ichiro Show were playing on Broadway.
Say it with me. I-chi-ro. I-chi-ro.
Go Mariners.
Just so long as it isn't the Yankees. Not now, not ever.