Just let it go...

I don’t understand people. I freely admit this. But believe me, it’s not from lack of trying. For the better part of my 31 years - save a few of the early days, when I was paralyzed by fear because some brilliant individual had decided to suspend various objects of different sizes and weights from thin string and then place them directly above my head... beautiful idea guys... really, wonderful... I particularly like the blue fuzzy hovering orbs of death... very educational... is it any wonder I was making the dirty business in my pants? I really don’t think there’s much mystery there... It’s actually quite simple, a + b = poo.

Now where was I? Oh yes... for the majority of my life, I‘ve been trying to figure people out. To understand why they act and react the way they do... and the more I figure out, the more I’m baffled. For example: let’s take a look at recent series of events that took place here in Boston. I should preface this by saying that I am a Yankee fan, and have been since I was a little kid, when the only decent guy we had was Don Mattingly. We didn’t win championships. We didn’t even make the playoffs. We pretty much just hired and fired Billy Martin. It was a rough time... so I think I’ve earned my place as a Yankee fan. And even now, when they win, I don’t gloat... much. But it’s also important to note that while I enjoy a friendly rivalry, I don’t harbor any ill will for Red Sox or their fans - with a few noted exceptions. You know the ones I mean. The scary ones. The angry ones. Yes, I get it... Jeter swallows... you are incredibly witty and profound.

Anyway, here’s where I begin to make a cohesive point (hopefully)...

This year, the planets aligned, the gods smiled down upon the Fenway, and the Red Sox finally “reversed the curse.” This is all well and good. My team just didn’t have it this year... I can accept that. And being the devoted American League guy that I am, I supported the Red Sox in the series... even cheered them on... As far as I was concerned, they deserved this... they earned their moment in the sun. And when it was over, I braved the cold and rain to go downtown for the celebratory parade. Now, before you start calling me a poseur, let me tell you that come next year, I firmly believe the Yankees will trounce the Sox (it’s the oath I take as a fan). No, I went to the parade out of curiosity... call it a sociological experiment... after all, I live in Boston... and this was a big deal for Boston (or at least I would assume it’s a big deal to you guys, this kind of thing seems to happen a lot in NY... he, he... I’m sorry... I said I don’t gloat MUCH, I didn’t say I was perfect.).

So, I go to the parade... the culmination of a defining moment... a grand celebration set up to revel in the virtues of a team that defied 86 years of history... a team that swept the World Series against a National League opponent many thought would simply overpower them... a self-proclaimed “bunch of idiots” that proved they were the best.

And are the fans caught up in this moment? Yes.

Are they high-fiving each other and grinning from ear to ear? Yes.

Are they yelling, screaming and chanting in large (wet, rain-soaked) numbers? Yes.

And what are the words of support and exalted salutation that these devoted followers are bellowing to their beloved team in symbolic gesture of all that they accomplished?

Yankees Suck. Yankees Suck. Yankees Suck.

Like I said before, I don’t understand people. And honestly, this one I’m not even going to try to figure out. I’m giving up... In fact, I think I’ll just move on and see if I can find closure in another area of my life.

So... do you have any idea how I might track down the inventor of the mobile? I have a little equation I’d like to teach him.