Where's Nate?

living large in the four-oh-eight. wicked large.



My favorite weekend of the year. We get an extra hour of sunlight and the Red Sox and Yankees kick off the baseball season in the Bronx. Sweet.

Except it wasn't sweet. The free-spending Yankees beat up the free-spending Red Sox in a forgettable Sunday Night game. If only ESPN had a "choose-your-announcer" function that allowed me to listen to the brilliant Jon Miller while muting the painful Joe Morgan. At least that would have made the blowout a bit more palatable.

So David Wells takes the ball for the Sox and drags his fat ass up the hill. And before he even throws a pitch, I know we're screwed. Wells is wearing #3. In Yankee Stadium.

Now I recognize that most blog-readers have no idea of the significance of this blunder. So here's the Cliff Notes version: 1) Babe Ruth was sold to the Yanks by the Sox for a box of balls and some chewing gum in the 1920s; 2) Babe Ruth wore #3 for the Yanks; 3) the Yanks went on to win two dozen World Serieseses; 4) the Sox won one in 1918...and 2004.

So what does the newest, fattest member of the Sox do? He rolls up the hill wearing #3. In Yankee Stadium.

The Curse lives. Even if only for one night. Yankees Suck.


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