As a native New Yorker, I am allergic to all things New England — from the way they talk to Ben Affleck to our carpet-bagging mayor whose life’s work is banning soft drinks and arresting smokers in Central Park.
Indeed, Boston’s own mayor recently implored his constituents to “root haad” for the Sawx so that they may win the “World Series Cup.”
Add the reality that my blood type is Pinstripe, and you can imagine which way I will root in the World Series, which pits the wretched Red Sox against Utopia, the aorta of baseball, as red as a cardinal, as decent as apple pie, and as good as it gets.
A few weeks ago I suggested that the St. Louis Cardinals replaced the Yankees as America’s team. They rewarded the assertion by whipping the Dodgers and entering this Fall Classic as underdogs yet again, which seems silly at this point.
How many times must the world underestimate the Cardinals? How many Michael Wachas and David Freeses and Trevor Rosenthals must they plant in the fertile soil of Middle America in April and blossom into Wheaties boxes in October?