This morning a co-worker asked me if I’d heard the rumors about Joe Torre possibly being fired as the Yankees’ manager. I hadn’t.
Really, it’s not as bad as it was in 2004. That year, when the Twins were knocked out in the first round of the playoffs, I spent the entire rest of the weekend on the couch in my pajamas watching Sex and the City reruns with my good friends Ben & Jerry. It was much the same heartbreak as having been dumped by a boyfriend.
But this past weekend, even though my darling beloveds were swept by the As in game three on Friday, I managed to remain mostly functional. I cleaned my house, I played with my sister’s new puppy, I spent time with my niece.
Maybe it would be different if it seemed like my team had actually shown up for those three games against Oakland, but I don't know who those guys were out there. Johan Santana doesn't lose at the Dome. Joe Nathan does not throw wild pitches. Joe Mauer is NOT a .182 hitter. And Torii Hunter MAKES THAT PLAY. None of it made any sense. So I'm choosing to think of the whole thing the same way I think of The Godfather, Part III--so bad that it doesn't even really count.
Still, I know I haven’t grown completely cynical because I have not been able to look at anything remotely baseball related in days. Which means that I didn’t learn until after it was over that the Tigers had knocked the Yankees out as well.
So, you know. There’s that.