The post season...

...it certainly doesn't do THIS body any good.

In fact--it's been hell.

So let me just lay it all out there for those of you who don't know. I am a New York Yankees fan. I have been since I was a kid. I am not ashamed to say I have t-shirts, hats, big (enormous, actually) comfy sweatshirts and socks. I think me wearing any one of these articles of clothing does, in fact, have magical powers that allow for home runs and amazing wins. I have two fuzzballs named Jeter and Yogi. If all of that doesn't prove my dedication--what will? Season tickets? Hmmmmm....

When you move from Indianapolis (let's face it..in 1987, the Colts were a joke and baseball? Where? Oh that's right--you risked being mugged or being killed by falling through the floors by going out to the old Indian's home on 16th street) to Houston, Texas and are faced with the atrocity that was, at that time, the Astros, you pick a someone else to root for--quick. I chose my Uncle's team. Growing up in Hawaii in the 40's..you didn't have much choice on radio stations coming in to the islands. What always came through crystal clear? Yankees baseball. He's a lifer...and has probably made a lifer out of me.

However--this does not mean I didn't enjoy being taken to Oilers games. One, it meant all the junk/crap food my dad could get in to me as this was during my mother's "everything should be fat free" period. And two,every time they would score (rare...very rare occurrences) they would blare "Houston Oilers! Houston Oilers! Houston Oilers Number One!" from the sound system. Now. Imagine a giant overgrown dancing oil derrick--and you've got yourself a show any kid will love.

But back to the Yankees. Quite frankly I waned for a few years, but then, well--they've had me since Don Mattingly. Sure, the old guys were okay in their day (I'm still waiting to one day name a dog Whitey Ford....when that happens--I can die happy...and if Pride of the Yankees comes on--oh hell. I will spend the rest of the day weeping.), but Don and that mustache? No contest. It makes me sad that he's not on the bench anymore--but he and one of my favorite all time guys Mr. Torre have done pretty well for themselves with the Dodgers. I still think letting them go was one of the most stupid things George ever did--but then again, George does a LOT of stupid things. Like letting his son in law run the show and dancing in that MasterCard commercial...but I digress.

In the last ten days, I have been up watching baseball for it seems like eternity--and we are just at game three in this series against the Angels. Up two games...just two more to go. All I ask? Make it quick--please? I don't know how much more I can take. And while I enjoy popcorn and PBR (baseball necessities)--I don't know if making it a steady diet will be to anyone's advantage. I'm veggie deprived...and I look like I'm sporting two matching black eyes from lack of good sleep. Sexy, huh?

I imagine once we get to the World Series--I will being to resemble a walking corpse. The things we do for the things we love....