Village Voice: Edroso: Congratulations Douchebag Yankee Fans

There’s an Ed that hangs around my interlocked-up Yankee-fueled bar…but I’m not sure his last name is Roso.

About the best thing you can say about the Yankees’ Series victory is that it’s been too long since the last one—in which they defeated our beloved Mets—for their fans to have achieved total ######### status. True, last night they chanted “Who’s Your Daddy” at Pedro Martinez—which insult, in typical bully fashion, they built off a self-deprecating remark by their target. But, as we saw from the less than ugly celebrations last night, many of them are new to ############# of the sort exhibited by Yankee fans in the 1990s. This will require time and practice to achieve…

In the years 1996-2000, the Yankees had briefly brought back that aura of invincibility the franchise used to have in bygone days, and its fan base became swollen with just the sort of chunkheads you would expect to parasitically attach themselves to a guaranteed winner:

  * fat, lonely teenagers;
  * dead-eyed stockbrokers with suspenders and goo in their hair who, when they were not pretending to actually watch the games, liked to drink single malt, smoke Cohibas, and purchase lap dances;
  * young fogies whose bedrooms were crammed with baseball books and whose lack of a suitable father figure drove them to fantasize that DiMaggio, The Mick, and the Sultan of Swat walked with them;
  * dorks and ########.

...Enjoy it while it lasts, guy. Next year a number of your veterans will have aged into sports-commentatorhood, and A-Rod will be revealed to have used HGH and crystal meth when he was 30 and too young know any better. Don’t worry, though—losing is part of the process of growing up, which is why we Mets fans are not merely mature, but practically senile.