God Save The McNultys.
Some things never change. Some things do.
Joe Torre will probably not be donning the pinstripes in the next season. And if Tony La Douche-a is brought in and not Donny Baseball or Jumpin’ Joe Girardi-O, then the other dominos will probably fall. Odds are, The Sandman will no longer Enter the Bronx. I’m pretty sure Posada could be following him out the clubhouse. They might not be the only ones, as Mussina gave the pre-Game 3 lecture to try and get the minds right. Not to mention the fact that Abreu and A-Rod could join the ranks of newly non-Bombers.
The worst case scenario is that the Yankees could become my next Knicks. A team once true and defendable that falls to unbelievably low levels. Once the likes of Van Gundy, Ewing, Oakley, Starks, and even Hubert Davis were no longer in the Garden, I lost my love of basketball. I tried to cheer the Pistons on, only because Phil Jackson, Satan himself, was coaching the even evil-er Kobe/Shaq Lakers, but that didn’t last.
But thank the fucking gods that David Simon’s West Baltimore isn’t changing.