"What can I say -- I just tip my hat and call the Yankees my daddy," Martinez said to the Associated Press reporter after the game. "I can't find a way to beat them at this point ... they're that good. They're that hot right now -- at least against me. I wish they would disappear and not come back."
Or how about Manny Ramirez hinting last year just before the big Red Sox/Yankees playoff showdown that he always wanted to play for the Yankees. Red Sox fans would disown their own children for making such a grotesque admission.
So here we go again right? Yankees stormed to a victory in Game 1 and chants cascaded from the bleachers ... "Who's your Daddy?" ... boom boom bo-bo-boom ... "Who's your Daddy?". A dark shadow moved across the land.
But why take the long view of history, why even mention the curse. Why imagine that these players are beaten before they start. It's the luxury of perspective, that there can be many of them.
Let's try this angle. The Red Sox under Terry Francona are obviously a happy bunch, joking with each other on the bench, and taking advantage of new freedoms to each carve their own style. Hair choices are at the forefront as long, shaggy, and sometimes afroesque styles grace the starting lineup.
So maybe some of the karma of the 1972 World Champion Oakland As who led by Reggie Jackson and Rollie Fingers defined themselves through shaggy locks, handlebar mustaches, and great team baseball. While the 2004 Yankees are not lacking in team spirit, this year's edition of the Red Sox look more than ever that they are in it together. So we look at Pedro's daddy quote as a noble attempt to deflect criticism from his manager and teammates and take veteran responsibility, albeit in his unique way.
Well when he walks out on to the mound tonight Pedro is going to have to bottle some of that afroesque defiance because the chants are going to be loud and the only way to quiet them will be good movement on his breaking ball and velocity on the fastball. It's time for the son to define himself out of his father's image. I'll spare you further cheesy cliches. Come on Pedro. For the love of the Red Sox.
Labels: sport
