The Boycott: Day 1

After Monday night's 9th inning, after which I could manage only once hissed expletive (because my wife was sleeping) I made a decision. That decision, was to stop watching Yankees games.

I'm not taking a stand for civil rights or peace in the Middle East, this is a luxury I'm choosing to do without, so, I don't know how long it will last, probably as long as it takes my disgust to wear off. When that will happen, who knows?

I know enough about last night's game to say Sabathia pitched, the Yankees won. But, if A (Sabathia pitched, then usually B (the Yankees win), so yippee. What did I spend my time doing? Nothing more significant than watching a baseball game, but I didn't scream at the TV like a maniac, I didn't grind my teeth, but I was strangely compelled at times to maybe check the score, just to see what was happening.

Why? I don't know. There was nothing to gain from such an act. If the Yankees were losing, I'd just bitch about them. If they were winning, I'd probably bitch about how they should have won Monday night and how could they possibly choke up a lead and look so indifferent in doing so? How could Joe Girardi allow batters to go up swinging willy-nilly at a pitcher who clearly had no idea where the ball was going ... see ... this is why the boycott is in place.

Also, you should win any game during which the other team does this ...


Serious soul searching is needed if you don't.

Yes, that photo is from my TV.