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Doc, you gotta
help me
Everybody hates me. Nobody pays attention to me. Hey, Doc -- over here! I've been a Met fan all my life. Okay, since 1980. Okay, I lied. Don't hate me because I lied. So, 20 years. Why am I here? Why do you think? What did I just tell you? I'm a Met fan.
What do you mean you can't help me? Wait. I know exactly what you mean. You can't help me because I'm not a Yankee fan. I know your type. I've had to deal with this my whole life. Twenty-five championships. House that Ruth Built. "Yankees win! Thhhhheeee Yankees win!"
You know Doc, it's very unprofessional to laugh during a session.
But I'm used to it. Met fans are never taken seriously. When we suck -- and let me tell you something, nobody has sucked like we've sucked -- everyone laughs. And when we've been great, everyone laughs. 1986? Buckner trips over his career. Ha ha. 1969? Somebody puts acid on the Cubs' sunflower seeds. Ha ha. We have 747s circling over our homefield like buzzards. We have a giant papier-mâché apple in centerfield instead of monuments. We have broadcasters who say things like, "Today is Father's Day, so for all you fathers out there, Happy Birthday." Everyone laughs.
Even when we try to be the Yankees, it doesn't work. We get the senile Casey Stengel, the pre-pension Willie Randolph. We had Joe Torre as a manager, you know, before he started taking the genius pills.
Do I sound paranoid? Remember, you ain't paranoid if everyone is against you.
How much proof do you need? John Rocker knows which subway to take to Shea, but Mayor Giuliani and his pinstriped combover can't find his way there. Hillary Clinton puts on a Yankee hat at a press conference. Why can't she shamelessly pretend to like us? Would it have killed Paul Simon to ask, "Where have you gone, Joe Christopher?" I know I'm on to something. And if this doesn't sound like a conspiracy, how come Oliver Stone used to return my calls?
This season's no exception. We have seven more wins. And what do we hear? What is all we hear? "Well, it's that time of year, time for the Yanks to turn it on ..." Yank this.
I'm not saying they won't win, Doc. But if they do, that's not class. That's not tradition. That's just obnoxious. And it's not healthy. At least I know my place as a Met fan. At least I know you hate me.
Time's up? Really, Doc? Or are you just saying that because it's October?
You know, that guy who just walked out? Hey, I bet he can't wear that Doug Sisk jersey at home. Get it? Because Doug Sisk couldn't pitch -- ah, forget it.
Doc, do you have any idea what it's like to be me? A Yankee fan? Of course you don't. Look who I'm talkin' to. A guy who talks to a guy wearing a Doug Sisk jersey. |
Doc, how about
that loser?
Let me tell you my problem. No, check that. Let me tell you your problem. You don't understand what it's like to be resented by the free world simply because the team you root for represents mankind's greatest display of sustained excellence in the past century. I can't say "ever" -- hey, I'm modest. Plus I don't know what kind of middle relief those guys in Rome had. And we're not just talkin' baseball here. We're talkin' civilization.
So, sure, everybody hates me. A lot of people hated the guy in Indiana. What's his name? No, not Bobby Knight. Gandhi. They hated him. Same thing. It happens. By the way, Gandhi? Huge Yankee fan. Great whistle. Two fingers. Could get any vendor.
I know, I know. Envy. Jealousy. I understand. Here's what I don't understand. You hate me, but you want to be me. Not you, Doc. Well, okay, you.
Help me out here. You don't like the way our payroll is twice as much as any other team and four times the size of several island nations, but face it, a Jose Vizcaino doesn't come along every day. And Denny Neagle? You think that train whistle is free?
You want to be like me, but you don't respect me. You come into my house wearing your Red Sox or Indians hat, can you blame me for dumping warm beer on you and giving the usher a fin to rough you up in the tunnel? And -- like I have to tell you -- those guys can do it and not leave a mark. Classy.
Why don't you people understand? The Yankees must win. If we don't, the universe gets out of order. Don't screw with the universe. You know who said that? Newton. Ike Newton. Huge Yankee fan. Box seats for years. Under the overhang.
Hey, if you got it, flaunt it. Fame is fleeting. You might as well gloat. Call me when your team wins 25 World Series titles. In the meantime, go ahead and hate me. I guess it's the price of success. I was just talking about that on the way over with my cab driver, Ed Whitson.
These monologues appear in the October 30 issue of ESPN The Magazine. |
