So, You Say You Want a Rivalry
In light of Theo Epstein's comments about lacking the "resources" to compete effectively with the Yankees, it seems to me that while the Yanks-Sox blood feud is long, a rivalry, which implies a certain degree of parity, has only recently come into existence and may as yet be more myth than fact.
The first and only rule of a rivalry with the Yankees is there's no rebuilding; you have to bring it every year. The Yankees is the only franchise in baseball that has historically put that kind of pressure on its various competitors. That relentless win every year philosophy is what is distinctive about the Yankees. If you are unwilling to meet them on that ground then you are not really engaged in a rivalry with the Yankees in their most essential being. Theo's recent lament suggests to me that he is feeling the pressure of the annual grind the Yankees rivalry demands. His well-publicized plan--to make certain the Sox win 90-95 games ayear, which would keep them in the race deep into the season, keep fenway full, and ultimately keep them on the bubble for the division, which they've still yet to win, and the wild card, which they generally do--is not a plan that will sustain a satisfactory rivalry with the Yankees. It has down years, when 90-95 games isn't enough to make the playoffs, built right into it. For the Yankees, there are no planned down years, no concession ahead of time to the inevitability of occasional failure.
You want a rivalry, well this is what it costs, in terms of money, labor and committment, to be like the Yankees.
If 2004 changed the Yankees Red Sox feud into a prospective rivalry, it also changed the psychic landscape of Chowderhead nation: instead of their baseball dream centering on "just one championship before I die," a dream defined by Red Sox history, their dream now involves the incessant pursuit of a team, NY, incessantly in pursuit of perfection, a dream informed by Yankees history. And now the chowderheads are feeling their losses not as pathetic but as embittering. Red Sox fans never knew what it meant to live and die with a team because they were always just dying and knowing in advance they would do so, like the chorus in a tragedy. They knew resignation, but not anxiety; they knew sorrow but not disappointment. They never really got the taste for competition because they expected to lose in the end. You wanted a rivalry, well this is what it is, psychically and emotionally, to be a Yankees fan.
And for all of chowderheadnation, from the front office to the fans, you damn well better like that competitive edginess, you better be able to find your joy in that competitve edginess, because it never fucking ends. A World Series victory is nothing more than a prelude to the next World Series chase. 2004 is now as dead as 1998, as 1962, as 1936, as 1927. You want a rivalry, a Yankees rivalry, for real?
I didn't think so.
The first and only rule of a rivalry with the Yankees is there's no rebuilding; you have to bring it every year. The Yankees is the only franchise in baseball that has historically put that kind of pressure on its various competitors. That relentless win every year philosophy is what is distinctive about the Yankees. If you are unwilling to meet them on that ground then you are not really engaged in a rivalry with the Yankees in their most essential being. Theo's recent lament suggests to me that he is feeling the pressure of the annual grind the Yankees rivalry demands. His well-publicized plan--to make certain the Sox win 90-95 games ayear, which would keep them in the race deep into the season, keep fenway full, and ultimately keep them on the bubble for the division, which they've still yet to win, and the wild card, which they generally do--is not a plan that will sustain a satisfactory rivalry with the Yankees. It has down years, when 90-95 games isn't enough to make the playoffs, built right into it. For the Yankees, there are no planned down years, no concession ahead of time to the inevitability of occasional failure.
You want a rivalry, well this is what it costs, in terms of money, labor and committment, to be like the Yankees.
If 2004 changed the Yankees Red Sox feud into a prospective rivalry, it also changed the psychic landscape of Chowderhead nation: instead of their baseball dream centering on "just one championship before I die," a dream defined by Red Sox history, their dream now involves the incessant pursuit of a team, NY, incessantly in pursuit of perfection, a dream informed by Yankees history. And now the chowderheads are feeling their losses not as pathetic but as embittering. Red Sox fans never knew what it meant to live and die with a team because they were always just dying and knowing in advance they would do so, like the chorus in a tragedy. They knew resignation, but not anxiety; they knew sorrow but not disappointment. They never really got the taste for competition because they expected to lose in the end. You wanted a rivalry, well this is what it is, psychically and emotionally, to be a Yankees fan.
And for all of chowderheadnation, from the front office to the fans, you damn well better like that competitive edginess, you better be able to find your joy in that competitve edginess, because it never fucking ends. A World Series victory is nothing more than a prelude to the next World Series chase. 2004 is now as dead as 1998, as 1962, as 1936, as 1927. You want a rivalry, a Yankees rivalry, for real?
I didn't think so.
posted by joe valente | 4:35 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home