(Photo by Kevork Djansezian/Getty Images North America)
Okay, okay, I’ll admit it. The best piece of news from the whole weekend in baseball shenanigans that just went down was the fact that the Yankees didn’t manage to snatch Roy Halladay. And I really hate being “that” fan who is less concerned with the maneuverings of her own team than she is with keeping people away from the Yankees but it’s gotten to a point where I’m starting to see the viewpoints of the rest of the baseball-loving country and I’m wondering if there should be some sort of embargo on big name free agents going to Boston OR New York. Because poor, little Kansas City is over there all “Um, guys? We have the Cy Young winner. So, you can, you know, come play here and…it will be fun? Also there’s barbecue.”
Plus, that would prevent any ramping up of the Red Sox/Yankees rivalry which, frankly, doesn’t really need any help. I went on a rather uncharitable rant in the car on the way to New York on Friday about how if I hear one more Yankee fan claim that the Yankees “need” Roy Halladay, I’m going to throw the mother of all temper tantrums and take my ball and go home. HJ very kindly did not throw me out of the moving vehicle.
But apparently, the point is moot since Philadelphia is turning itself into it’s own baseball powerhouse and we might have something else to worry about.
And then there’s John Lackey. Who is ours now. Which is good, in the sense that good pitchers are always good things to have. But I wonder if I have to backpedal now as I’ve certainly spent an inordinate amount of time making fun of John Lackey over the years. Then I remember that I still call Josh Beckett “Fathead” and so really, I don’t do backpedaling. Which is why I still claim that Lackey looks like one of the knights who say “Ni!” If he performs well, that’ll morph into something affectionate. If he doesn’t, well, I might start making jokes about flesh wounds. I’m just saying. Prepare thyself. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.