It's the end of the world as we know it...

After yet another sleepless night plagued by a NEW recurring midget nightmare, I awoke to the, at least to me, seemingly inevitable news that Johnny Damon was a Yankee. Usually I sleep to Sportscenter, probably one of the reasons I can recite batting averages like most women recite the ingredients to their favorite recipe (and yes, I can do that too), but during what I consider the WORST sports time of the year ( i.e. primarily NFL, NBA, NHL coverage), I avoid ESPN like the plague. And as important as I think the signing is, CNN didn't devote a single minute of coverage to it last night. I guess this puts it all in perspective - Red Sox fans live and die by the Red Sox, same goes for Yankees fans, but to the rest of the world, this takes a backseat to illegal phone-tappings, the war in Iraq, and yes, even Elton John.

I've been over my love, okay, my obsession with Johnny Damon for a while now. I was ecstatic when he came over from Oakland - I remember seeing him play with the Royals, and I liked him even then. Before the onslaught of Caveman mania, I developed a crush on him, intrigued by his carefree attitude, friendly smile and frat boy personality. Yes, the fact that he led off and started centerfield for the Red Sox certainly didn't hurt. Learning that he was 1/2 Thai did nothing to deter my love. Everyone ridiculed me, insisting he was one of the ugliest people they had ever seen - so why did he become the poster boy, the face of the Red Sox, I ask you now? I was overjoyed when I met his cousin at a game in Kansas City, devastated to find out SOMEONE had turned down an invitation to dinner with JD in lieu of going to the casino (last time I chug a beer so I can get another one before the end of the 7th and go the restroom during an inning). I was overcome with pain in 2003 to see him lying motionless on the field, tears streaming down my face as he lifted his arm, seeming to wave to the crowd that he was okay. I spent the day of Game 7 of the ALCS visualizing him coming out of his slump - I cried like a baby when he hit the leadoff homerun, I knew the game was in the bag from that point on.

From then on, my love faded. Maybe it has something to do with overexposure, maybe I just liked him better when he was more mine, but somewhere along the way, everything changed. It became calculated and no longer felt like something I planned.

There are several positives to the signing as I see it. First and foremost, Yankees fans don't like it, and if that's not enough, I don't know what is. Second, and I quote, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. And you can't force an old dog to get a shave and a haircut and teach him to hit the cutoff man. You know it, I know it, Johnny knows it, hell everyone besides Steinbrenner knows it (and that's only b/c Boras smartly left it out of his book detailing why JD is the best leadoff batter EVER) - Johnny Damon throws like a girl. Manny had an assist off a ball hit to Damon for Christ's sake; if you can't make the throw from CF to 2nd, you aren't going to be playing CF for long, and that's at Fenway (Fenway's 334 from center, the Toilet, 399). Third of all, poor Captain Intangibles. First they bring in another shortstop, then they bring in another guy to lead-off. Is he going to lose the Captain, and go solely by Intangibles next year? Fourth, the Red Sox didn’t overpay Damon; they offered 40/4; he signed for 52/4 – that’s 3M more a year – hell I’d sign with the Yankees for JUST 3M a year. Finally, DAMON DOESN'T PITCH.


As I brushed my teeth this morning, I asked the Magic 8 ball (b/c yes, that's what I do while I brush my teeth to entertain myself is ask the Magic 8 ball questions) if the Red Sox would have a better record than the Yankees next year. You know what, "it is decidedly so".

Ironic that "Last Goodbye" (This is our last goodbye, I hate to feel the love between us die, But it's over) wouldn't play last night as I was running errands, but "Hallelujah" (She broke your throne and she cut your hair, And from your lips she drew the hallelujah) played just fine.. Means nothing to most people, but seeing as I documented the songs that played on my Launchcast throughout the 2004 playoffs, trying to catch any similarities, and surprisingly I found some (Schilling pitched well both times .38 Special played, for example), this was huge. This morning, I got in my car, listened to JD's favorite at-bat song, Sevendust 'Enemy' ( Step up to me - Step up to me You wanna be a big time player - it's not to be...So when you fall to the ground And finally get back to reality And no one at all is around So tell me how does it feel to be the enemy?...Cut your fucking hair now - scared of all the stare downs you can always dream what 'cha could've been Clean up my shit - you look like a dick Step to unemployment - Step! Step up to me – step up, you're the enemy!). I was going to just comment that I threw the CD away b/c I never liked it, and move on, but seriously, read those lyrics!!! “Cut your fucking hair now...you're the enemy”. It's too much for me to even begin to detail.

I read something today that stuck with me – the best part of baseball today is within us, the fans. Sure the players are greedy (and needy), and the owners are money-hungry, but it’s the fans whose hopes, dreams, imaginations provide the true beauty of baseball. Sure the players and owners were rewarded (richly, have you seen those rings) in 2004, but it was the fans whose faith was really rewarded. What’s good and pure and true about baseball belongs solely to us. So yes, I’ll miss Damon, and I have to admit, I know I’ll curse probably every time I see him in pinstripes, but that’s a universal concept for me – I curse everyone in pinstripes. But thanks for the memories – I’m moving on.

Because you know what…it’s the end of the world as we know it, and I FEEL FINE!