DURST: Please God, Not the Yankees v. the Mets
Not New York, New York, that's all I ask. Grapefruit spoons in my eyes, leaded paint chips under my fingernails, but not Mets versus Yankees.
Cigarette burns on the upper inside of my thighs. You know, the really soft squishy part. Anything, just not New York squared.
The baseball gods already spit in my face by coating the bats of my San Francisco Giants with some sort of deadening varnish for four days. Best record in Major League Baseball, my ass. And oh yeah, the Oakland A's lost too. Big deal. Except we had a shot at another Bay Bridge Series meaning another earthquake, which would have lowered property values to maybe only twice what normal humans can afford.
But now you're going to rub my face in 40 weight liquid regret with a stinking Subway Series. Yeah, there you go. Just what we need. Ten days of Flushing and Bronx fans shouting their discreet epithets in extreme close ups.
Like the denizens of the city that doesn't sleep aren't annoying and arrogant enough, now we got to give them exclusive sports page coverage for ten days and endure endless rapturous little self satisfied smirks and inside jokes amongst the network hosts who already ignore the rest of the country like its redolent with snake venom. One can only hope for a massive riot.
Will Durst is kidding. No, really.