Not Cecil, not even Prince.
On days when I work late, I have this choice to make. After dropping my complaining teen at school, I come back home at approximately 840 AM. Do I slip back under the warm, warm covers, turn on The West Wing, and reemerge at noon to dress and face the world? Or do I get up and try to be a grownup for once in this series of unfortunate events I call a life?
Obviously, I chose the latter. Sorta. I'm not, like, dressed or showered or anything. But I'm trying to arrange letters to form words and sentences in order to trick my brain into thinking I'm awake until the Coke Zero levels in my bloodstream get high enough to permit actual functioning.
So, as the wags at Boston Dirt Dogs call it, (bostondirtdogs.boston.com) it's Faux-pening Day. Tampa Bay Naughty Fish @ Boston, 4:06PM. Big Game James Shields against Josh Beckett. The 2009 season, for realz.
But, until we have actual balls and strikes and outs and stuff to bitch about, we can marinate in Yankee misery for a few more hours.
There's this, from the aforementioned Dirt Dogs, in reference to the Round Mound of Money, Mr. Carsten Charles Sabathia, his $161 million dollar contract and his dog's breakfast of an Opening Day start: " 'What a waste of hard earned money.'-Bernie Madoff "
Then there's the New York Daily News, with the following quote, Standard Issue After An Opening Day Loss, (http://bit.ly/AA8Cb) " 'I guess we can't go undefeated now,' Girardi said. 'You always want to get off to a good start, but it's where you are after 162 games, not one.' "
And he's right. This Yankee team is going to beat us at some point this year, probably more than once. And, probably more than once, we are going to be looking up at the wrong end of a Yankee score as they clear the bases after a key Posada double, and I will hope these words taste good, because I will be eating them.
But for now, you just feast your eyes on the carnage:
The last place New York Yankees. How about that?