The Sore Loser Record Shop

Jay Jaffe and Alex Belth -- as usual -- sum it up for Yankee fans this week. Here's Jay, who links to Alex:

At a time that I thought I'd be sitting in the upper deck of Yankee Stadium, I caught the final three innings of Saturday night's game in a midtown bar with the sound off, watching the Red Sox defense and particularly Manny Ramirez make a mockery of fundamental baseball, and they still won. Last night I half-watched most of the game, and even speeding through the commercials and mound visits on TiVo, found it to be a waste of three hours of my life. Time was I could watch a World Series between any two teams and take up a bandwagon for a week while hoping to witness things I'd never seen before, but I want no part of viewing the one that's a mere two wins away for the Red Sox. I've been consigned to purgatory for the rest of the season -- what Alex Belth termed "the bitter'n'hell cut-out bin of The Sore Loser Record Shop" -- with nothing meaningful or intelligent to say about this best-of-seven Shit Sandwich, nothing that I can articulate particularly well through all of the bile I'm choking back. The insufferable, self-aggrandizing drama queen with the stitched up ankle really has shut me up, and I can only hope that gangrene or medical malpractice (hey, I'll stitch that tendon in place!) derails the Red Sox on the way to their first title since 1918. I mean, nobody ever blew a 2-0 lead in a seven-game series, right?

Drama Queen, indeed. Oh, yeah, and did ya' know he's a Chrishtun? You made me shut up, Curt, now please return the favor. It was painful to watch him emote in the dugout between innings. It was even more painful to watch the Red Sox stink up the place in the field while the Cards' superheroes whom we've been hearing about all season go hitless. Agonizing.