Thumb Your Nose at the Bronx � � � Friday, Oct. 17, 2003 * 23:09

Who knew that seeing Mike Mussina jumping for joy in the Yankees' locker room could have such an effect on me? That was how it began. Then seeing Derek Jeter running around the field laughing smugly. Don Zimmer crying tears of happiness and hugging Joe Torre. Pin-striped figures piling onto Aaron Boone, as the stands echoed and shook with thousands of assholes, jerks, and thugs cheering for a team that has no integrity, no class, and no shame.

I tried to block these images from my mind as I burst into tears and crawled into bed, but I couldn't clear my mind. I couldn't forget, couldn't stop seeing, every time I closed my eyes, the player's faces in the Boston dugout as they stared in disbelief at the debauchery unfolding on the infield. As they disappeared like specters, one by one, until only two or three remained, heads in their hands, broken.

Every time I try to get back into baseball, I remember why I stopped caring.

I hate the Yankees.