My Sporting View

The argument now is whether the trade that brought the supposed “greatest player in baseball” to the Bronx is bad for baseball and most everyone around the league who doesn’t wear pinstrips is either green with envy or sickness. So what.

As a card-carrying member of Red Sox Nation, I say “So what” and I thumb my noses at Steinbrenner. In the words of one great Boston fan, “Bring it on!”

This is absolutely fantastic for baseball and its fantastic for the Red Sox. Do I, as a lifelong Sox fan wish A-Rod was going to start at shortstop in Fenway? Probably. But when the talks between Boston and Texas were going on (talks that somebody boofed up considerably and I don’t think it was Gene Orza) I wrestled seriously with the notion of losing Nomar Garciaparra, the face of his team for the last seven years. And as frustrating as Manny Ramirez must be as a distraction, he is equally as frustrating to opposing pitchers and remains (probably along with Rodriguez) one of the league’s most viable triple-crown threats.

But in the end, I’m happy with the moves Boston made. I feel ready to go to battle in 2004. It’s been 86 years since a banner has been posted on Yawkey Way. It would be all the more sacred if on the 87th year a banner was posted—that would mean that the Evil Empire was defeated on the way, the gauntlet was seized at the peak of the Holy War and it was proved that money really is the root of all evil.

I was born and raised in Falls Church. As a kid, I went to Orioles games and dutifully cheered for Cal Ripken. My father grew up in New York and his parents eventually wound up in Los Angeles—lifelong Dodger fans. All of my mother’s family (and all means a heck of a lot of people) is from Connecticut. The Nutmeg state is precariously placed between New York and Massachussetts without a professional sports team. And thus, the state is literally split between the pride of all of baseball on its left and the pride of New England on its right. This split divides families, as it did mine.

As a youth, I was coddled carefully by each side—the Yankee fans and the Red Sox fans. I clearly remember hearing tall tales of valour about Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford, but, one Christmas, it was my uncle’s convincing argument that Ted Williams was the greatest hitter ever and a hero to our country that wooed me over to the Boston camp, and I’ve been there ever since.

So over the years I’ve watched the Yankees with disgust and cursed Roger Clemens more times than I can remember. But rivalries are good for sports and this one, as has been written by just about every sports columnist, is at its peak. And it’s infinitely more fun to root for the underdog. Underdogs always have character, grit and the rowdier fans. No underdog story would be greater than one of baseball’s most storied franchises ending an 86 year drought by beating the most gargantuan (in terms of money, talent and egos) team ever assembled. So bring it on, George. It would make for the underdog story of the millennium.