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The ultimate disaster Subway Series could test many survival skills
All right, so here is the view from Boston, Mass., on this New York-New York subway series: Is there any way we all can get a good tetanus shot before all this begins to unfold? Are there any ear plugs made of some space-age material strong enough to keep out the babbling, the rhetorical excess that is going to flow in the next two weeks? Is there any room on that "Survivor" island now that the TV cameras have left? Rats for dinner would be a small price to pay to be removed from ... THIS. New York, New York. Sinatra and Billy Joel and Rudy Giuliani and Hillary Clinton and idiots standing outside office windows waving at Katie Couric or Kurt Loder. Pass the Pepto Bismol. You could sort of see it coming all year, sort of like a plague of locusts sweeping across a wheat field on one side and a computer graphic of the eye of a hurricane moving up the coast on the other side. There were the Mets. There were the Yankees. Closer and closer and closer, heading toward this ultimate disaster scenario. No way to stop any of it. My daughter calls it "the all-time pukathon." I suppose we'll survive. Teary-eyed old men will rhapsodize about the wonders of Jackie Robinson and Cookie Lavagetto and new faces will gush about the good looks of Derek Jeter and the heart of Benny Agbayani and that dog song will be everywhere, but I guess we'll make it. We're human beings, after all, and we have a great inner strength. Just to be sure, though, I know I'm getting together some canned foods and some distilled water and a bunch of candles. And I'm definitely nailing the sheets of plywood over the windows. Sports Illustrated senior writer Leigh Montville appears regularly on CNN/Sports Illustrated. The opinions expressed here are solely those of the writer.
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