Anyone who follows baseball knows that fans are divided into two groups: Those who love the Yankees, and the rest of us.
As the above sentence suggests, I'm in the latter group.
I love it when the Yankees lose -- regardless of who they're playing. There's a certain satisfaction to be gleaned from watching players who think world championships are their birthright get their heads handed to them.
I stood in my living room, alone, and cheered when Mariano Rivera imploded in Game 7 of the 2001 World Series against the Diamondbacks. And each of the subsequent years -- especially 2002 and 2005, because I'm an Angels fan; and 2004, because of the Yankees' historic collapse against the arch enemy Red Sox -- made me positively giddy! The Yankees and their fans had to deal with the harsh reality of NOT being the best team in baseball. They had to watch OTHER teams, for six straight seasons, hoist the World Series trophy in October.
So the 2007 season, of course, has been a pleasure -- until last week.
We Yankee haters knew the dismal performances couldn't last forever -- that either the pitching or the hitting would improve, and that the boys from the Bronx would start to make their move. Sadly, we were right.
The Yankees have won their last six games (thanks to better pitching and MUCH better hitting); the division-leading Red Sox have lost six of their last 10; the Yankees have gone from being in last place and 13-1/2 games out of first to being in second place and 9-1/2 games out; and the season still has 3-1/2 months left. Uh-oh.
And the Yankees' next two series, both at home, are against the so-so Diamondbacks and the suddenly awful Mets. Forget about catching the BoSox by September; the Yankees could be nipping at Boston's heels before the All-Star break. Ugh!
But then, 3-1/2 months also is plenty of time for the Yankees to start sucking again -- and for the Red Sox to right the ship. So all hope is not lost.
And even if the Bombers somehow find their way into the postseason, I -- and the rest of us -- take great solace in knowing that, since roughly the turn of the millennium, October has been the cruelest of months for the players in pinstripes.