Are You World Serious?

Even if I don't have a horse running in the race, I always am compelled to root for somebody in the World Series.  The only way I can actually justify watching it at all if the Mets or Dodgers are not involved (which is, sadly, the norm) is by standing behind one of the teams and getting totally invested in their plight.

Such a tradition really took me to the limits of sanity last year.  The Phillies vs. the Yankees.  Hmmm?  A choice akin to blowing my brains out with either a revolver or a rifle.  The end result is always the same.  You'll have to repaint the walls.  But, much to the amazement and/or chagrin of my friends, I got behind the Yankees for the first time ever in my life. 

Why not?  The Phillies had just brutally dispatched the Dodgers for the second time in two National League Championship Series.  Since Phillie fans are the scourge of society, I held my nose and moved my allegience to the Bronx.  I rationalized it all by saying it was the borough where my father was born and where my parents had been married.  Stretching believability as if it was the last piece of Turkish Taffy at the playground.

This year appeared to be another American League hat for Len in the World Series.  The Phillies played the San Francisco Giants in the prelim for the National League.  Bringing to light one more time the age old choice.  When you're sick to your stomach, which symptom would you prefer?  Vomit or diarrhea?  Hmmmm again.  Neither, thank you very much. 

Now, the Giants move ahead to play the Texas Rangers in the 2010 Fall Classic and a Dodger fan's nightmare season continues for a few more days.  More torment from the demure Giant fan base pictured above.  Given the cold weather attire, I can only imagine that this snapshot was taken during a July Bay Area heat wave.  I remember my visit to their ballpark one August afternoon.  Hypothermia set in by the third inning.  That kind of weather, along with the presence of Nancy Pelosi, indeed makes San Francisco a truly questionable place to live.

I never hated the Giants until I became a Dodger fan and, even then, I didn't know why.  The specter of Barry Bonds and his ever-expanding size gave me a soupcon of justification.  But, in retrospect, the Giants just as easy could have wound up as my team.  If the two National League franchises had never left New York, I most likely, for the sheer sake of proximity, would have gravitated to the Giants.  And, truth be told, I did manage the 1954 New York Giants not once, but twice in Strat-o-Matic Baseball leagues.  And who can really dislike Willie Mays?

Yet, as soon as I landed in Chavez Ravine, the Giants suddenly morphed into acid reflux for me.  Those bastards always chanting "Beat L-A.  Beat L-A."  My stomach churns at every syllable.  Misguided anger issues?  Perhaps.  And, indeed, maybe my disdain for the Giants is a great rechanneling of emotions and it deters me from slapping my real designated target, which is likely whoever is my local congressman at the moment.

Still, there is no way in Hell that I could root for them in the World Series.    I had one friend/Giant fan lament to me that I should be kind and realize that the Giants have yet to win a World Series since their move to San Francisco in 1958.  I will counter that the Giants have made three appearances in the World Series since the Dodgers made their last one in 1988.  I'm sorry, but my tiny violins are being re-strung at the moment, so there will be no funeral concertos played at my house.  

Besides, what's not to like about the Texas Rangers?  I have friends in Dallas.  Heck, I was just there at the Texas State Fair and I still have the yet-to-be-digested corn dog in my stomach to prove it.  The news that this franchise was just at financial death's door and still made it to the postseason should be like a Gene Kelly happy dance to anybody who knows Dodger owner Frank McCourt.  Plus they have ex-Met Nolan Ryan as Team President and it's great to see that his wife Ruth is still a fox even in her 60s.  And how can you root against the personal resurgence of Josh Hamilton who could be Canada Dry Ginger Ale's next poster child?  I can't wait for some of the Texas brethren to get a load of Giants hurler Tim Lincecum.  He thought the Phillie fans were tough?

"Hey, Lincecum!  You must be one of them hippie types."

Yep, it's easy for me.  Go Rangers!  I'm thinking it goes the limit and, given the unpredictable San Francisco weather, the seventh game on Fox might be up against "A Charlie Brown Christmas" on ABC.

But, as I watch the games, I'll also be daydreaming a bit.  And mentally recalling this wonderful vintage Danny Kaye record.  Where the Dodgers always beat the Giants.


Is it next year yet?

Dinner last night:  Chicken chili.

And, tomorrow, the frivolity comes to you from...gasp, Boston.