Let me start by saying I hate interleague baseball. HATE.
Now, what I really want this season is another World Series title for the Dodgers. Second, another League Championship; third, the NL West title.
No matter what happens, I also want the entire Giants organization to die in a fiery airplane crash, or suck like the suckers they are. Whatever.
But if none of this happens, my consolation prize for this season could have been this weekend’s match up with New York. But, because the Dodgers are the Dodgers and blew a 6-3 lead in the 9th, I will have no such satisfaction.
Dodgers fans–the hardcore ones–keep the rivalry with SF alive and well. It is, in many ways, a sacred obligation, like being a Cardinal in conclave and picking the next Pope. It’s historic. It’s holy. It’s God’s work.
But the Yankees are like the Midgets times 1 quadrillion. They are the Devil. The rivalry with SF is so damn satisfying because they’ve never won a World Series in the Bay. They are the pesky chihuahua to our bulldog. It’s kind of cute, really (unless we lose to them). The Yankees, on the other hand, are the reason we exist. They’ve beat us 8 times in the big show. Eight times! Our eternal quest is to even the score, and to hate them and destroy them as best we can until that glorious day.
As a small child, I learned very quickly that this was as serious business as there was in the world–like words from a priest or a nun. We were a Dodger family in a Dodger town. The lessons came often, and were clear. In ’81, when we beat them in the series, I almost cried. My mom came home later that night to a husband and son jumping out of their skins. When I told her the news (news she undoubtedly already knew) she told me “Congratulations!” like I had something to do with it. In a way, we all did.
That is why this weekend mattered to me, to us. It could have been one step closer to retribution and eternal salvation.
Instead, this weekend is now another reason for me to refocus on my only real life’s work: to raise two (soon, three) children who know how to be loving, caring, peaceful, and humane people–people who simultaneously despise, with all their powers, the fucking New York Yankees.