I meant to write this post on Opening Day, because it would have obviously been more fitting, but what can you do.
It seems only fitting that, at the start of baseball season, I should write something simultaneously detailing my love of the Red Sox and my bottomless hatred for the Yankees. The nationwide argument about this rivalry has changed dramatically in the last few years, particularly because winning 2 World Series titles in 4 seasons usually takes one out of the "underdog" category. But what's been hardest for me as a fan since coming to Ohio for school is explaining my obsessive fanhood to beleaguered Indians and Reds fans. I've been called out for being a traitor to my home state, a front-runner, and various other things, mostly by people whose entire geographical conception of the state of New York is based on the state and "the City" being one and the same. Fun fact: I have been to NYC exactly one time in my short life, and I was five.
Anyway, I think the best way I can explain myself in this regard is with an analogy about where I grew up. As my diploma will tell you, I am a proud graduate of Fayetteville-Manlius Senior High School. For those of you that don't share this esteemed distinction with me, let me describe the F-M area to you (and try to make some semblance of a relevant analogy at the same time). Much of Fayetteville (the Red Sox) is situated along the main drag of Route 5, in a lower geographical area than Manlius (the Yankees), which parts from Route 5 and spreads into rolling hills marked by housing developments. To return to baseball for a moment, one of the main criticisms thrown at Red Sox fans is that they bemoan the fact that the Yankees spend obscene amounts of money, but the Sox themselves spend the 3rd-most money of any team in the league. Here's where the analogy gets juicy. By all accounts, F-M as a whole has attained an almost gilded level of wealth- some of the families where I grew up had way more money than they knew what to do with (and I make no complaint about this, because I was a direct beneficiary of the generosity of such families more times than I can count).
However, treating F-M as a single entity does it a disservice, because as someone who grew up on the Fayetteville side of the tracks, I know there is a huge difference between the two, much like the Red Sox and Yankees. Sure, a lot of people in Fayetteville were wealthy, but not Manlius wealthy--the Fayetteville elite all seem to be artists, musicians (including the Barenaked Ladies' Steven Page, true story), the occasional dentist, chefs--things of that nature. This is in stark contrast to the multitudes of doctors, lawyers, and surgeons that characterize Manlius, especially to people in Fayetteville. My point here is one of aesthetics. The aforementioned rolling hills of Manlius seem to be populated exclusively with pseudo-Stepford shiny new developments where the numbers of the houses are the only things that really set them apart. This is in dramatic opposition to the wealthier parts of Fayetteville, where an eclectic blend of old mini-mansions and houses of the famous (including Fayetteville native Grover Cleveland) are painted every color of the rainbow, and are absolutely distinct.
I know, I know, what could this possibly have to do with baseball? Well, here's why I fell in love with the Sox in the first place, and not the barely-geographically-closer Yankees. It never mattered to me that they spent almost as much money as their hated rivals. What mattered was the Cowboy Up, Gang of Idiots culture that has always seemed to pervade the Boston clubhouse. 2003 and 2004 were such fun years to watch in particular because of this mentality--sure, Johnny Damon and Manny Ramirez and Kevin Millar and Pedro were all getting obscene amounts of money to be there, but one got the sense that they really would have been there regardless, acting just as crazy, and having just as much fun playing the game with their absurd haircuts and wild facial hair.
Sadly, the poster child for the difference here turned out to be Damon himself, who left Boston for the Yankees and immediately cut his trademark locks and beard. "The Caveman" became the "Cave-sellout", someone who compromised his image for a sense of belonging in a clubhouse that has always had a mechanical feel to it (cue Pink Floyd's "Welcome to the Machine"). The Yankees all buy into a singular image, and it does help them dominate, but you never get the sense that they're really having fun playing the game (any awkward congratulatory moment between Jeter and A-Rod exemplifies this). Compare this feel with the one created by Boston manager Terry Francona, who, when asked if he would consider Kevin Youkilis the "Greek god of walks", quipped, "I've seen him in the shower, and I wouldn't call him the Greek god of anything".
My views on the differences between the Sox and Yankees can best be summed up by Matt Damon in "Good Will Hunting"--when told by an elitist Harvard grad student that he will be making fries for said student's kids on their way to a ski trip, he replies, "Well, at least I won't be unoriginal". Having grown up on the "original" side of town, I can't picture ever wanting a place in a housing development, and I really can't picture ever wishing anything but the worst for the New York Yankees. /endrant
