As a proud owner of Red Sox season tickets (well 1/6th of the season), I have had the pleasure of attending 10 or 12 games this season. I sit amongst other season ticket holders, who over the past 4 season have become standard fixtures in the game day surroundings and with whom I have shared many classic Red Sox moments. Within this pack of fanatics, there are 4 seats that seem to be unclaimed by the Fenway faithful and usually contain a couple bodies from the opposing fan base. These folks are usually families that have traveled from Seattle, Kansas City, St. Louis, or some other far off city to come and experience that first moment of walking into Fenway Park that I experienced as a young, yet never small, five year old. They love eating their Fenway Franks, drinking their $7 beers and smiling with the feeling of experiencing something cherished by those who sit in those seats every night the team is in town. Listening to them ask questions, talk about the history of the place, and just enjoy the moment are things that would make even the most hardened man find feelings of pride that he never knew were there.

Then the Yankees come to town.

Yankee fans are different. (I hate to make such a general statement here, but this is solely based on personal interaction with these folks so I am going to do it anyways) They are the type of person you have never met who comes to your house for a party with one of your friends and proceeds to bash the food you are serving, the beer you are pouring, the picture of your grandmother on the mantle, and the size of the girl’s kankles (Calves that become feet without taking an ankle break) who is sitting on your couch and just happens to be your girlfriend. And all that is within the first 10 minutes of showing up.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy the banter of the pennant race and things like the classic A-Rod purse photo from last years playoffs, but at the same time I do respect the Yankees. How can you not. Without that respect, we wouldn’t have that bottom of the belly fear every time Sheffield swings the bat, or Jeter steps to the plate with a man on 2nd with 1 out in the 9th. History demands that respect and I am man enough to give it when it is due.

Maybe the Yankee fan is just not intelligent enough to grasp that concept because the second they walk into our house, they start flapping their gums as if they can’t get enough of the boner in their pants generated from the sound of their own voice. Friday night, opening night of the final Red Sox/Yankees series, 4 young Yankee fans happened to find themselves sitting amongst the faithful. There they were in their freshly pressed Jeter jerseys and matching caps instantly salivating over the shot they were getting of Bernie Williams ass below us in center field. I am pretty sure I heard one of them say, “Check out his thighs. It is amazing how great he has held up at his age. I wish I could rub him down after the game” Then it became time to disrespect the man of the house. “Ortiz is so over rated. I mean he is a freakin DH. A-Rod is so much better. I mean who wouldn’t want him on their team. His ass is so sweet when he leans over to field a grounder and his pecks are like the homemade russian dressing Jimmy puts on my Ruben at the Deli. I mean what does Boston have? Chowdah!!!!. We have huge sandwiches with too much meat in them that fall apart when you try and eat them.” Well I made that end part up, but you get the picture on how quickly these guys made me want to vomit. Soon it turned into “This place is a dump. The seats are too small. Yankee Stadium is so much freakin cooler.” It was as if these dudes wanted to get their asses kicked. They might have well have held up a sign that said “I am a Yankee Fan and you are all pussies” cause their “we’re from the burros mutha fucka” attitudes were being broadcasted to all of Section 36.

In the end it didn’t matter because soon enough A-Rod had a error on a routine grounder through his legs and the Sox proceeded to take the lead for good. There were a few more low rumblings about “The Curse” and the classic old standby, “25 World Series”, but by the 7th inning they had lost their steam and their soapbox and exited to much applause and cheers.

Now like I said, I enjoy the banter between rivals, but when I visit someone else’s house, I have the class and intelligence to respect the owners of that house no matter what my opinion may be. Unfortunately, the New York fan’s need to take a lesson from all the other fans from around the country and learn to keep their boners and Manhattan muscles at home for once.

So with that, the Yankee Fan is on the clock. Let’s hear whether you think they are Bitches or Bitchen. Time to stir up the pot a bit. Let’s see if vazDeferenze, our token Yankee fan, will get out of his cave for this one.

Enjoy

Oh yeah. Fox Sports Sucks Ass.