Damn Yankees

I really tried to not hate the Yankees this year.
That task seems to run counter to the inclinations of most American sports fans born and raised outside the Empire State... but I truly gave it my best effort.
Somewhere around the top of the eighth inning, as Mariano Rivera trotted out to the mound and there was absolutely no question that New York would secure its 27th championship, something happened.
I wouldn't call it anger or rage; I've seen enough of that from other sports fans (and heck, even just people who instinctively know they're *supposed* to hate the Yankees).
I went as far as to call out my fellow fans for laying on the hate a little too thick on the Bronx Bombers; I somehow rationalized that being a Yankees fan could be a contrarian's delight, almost punk in a way.
No, when my better beliefs kicked back in, I didn't hate the Yankees again out of anger — the sight of the 2009 New York Yankees winning it all brought with me a profound sense of sadness.
Despite despising anything in pinstripes for much of my sports-conscious existence (and before you ask, the only thing in baseball I hate more than the Yankees are the Red Sox), it still seems so wrong that the old Yankees Stadium is not the home of the New York Yankees. To me, the old Monument Park seemed like the most hallowed ground in the holiest site in all of sport; I can't imagine how much reverence the true Yankee diehards have for it.
They're demolishing The House That Ruth Built; it seems so wrong, but the prospect sits a little easier in the hearts and minds of those who care now that the highest-paid team in all of professional sport has christened its inaugural season in the new stadium with a championship.
I'd be a little less bitter if they had to wait for it; to work and play in a place with no history for another season or two before they inevitably got the formula perfect and conquered the Fall Classic.
This was too perfect.
They already held onto the "core four" of Posada, Pettite, Jeter and Rivera. The hip didn't hold A-Rod back. They added A.J. Burnett, C.C. Sabathia and Mark Teixeira to this stacked lineup.
Was this fate's way of making up the loss to Arizona back in 2001? The 37-year-old Pettitte getting the victory in the new stadium as Rivera closes out yet another big game?
The only way it could have been better would be the presence of one George Steinbrenner; at least then we would not be subject to player after player after player repeating the talking point: "We won this for the boss."
As Ozzie Guillen would say, "Pssh, please."
Every last person in the Yankee organization who wears a jersey to work can rest a little easier this offseason knowing they can point to this championship as proof (legitimate or not) they earned their paychecks.
Maybe they're a little afraid that the big paychecks will stop once "the boss" is out of the picture, but for now there's no indication that Steinbrenner the Younger will deviate at all from the style and method of ownership set forward by Steinbrenner the Elder.
No.... A-Rod, Jeter and the other veterans who have been on the roster for a few years have to be happy they finally went out and secured a title despite having the best team on paper for the better part of a decade.
And let me be clear: This has nothing to do with Yankee fans. Many others will deride the New York fan (be they Yankees, Mets, Ranger, Giants, Jets, Knicks or otherwise), but they're OK in my book. At the very least, the New York fan is the most entertaining of all. At least they're not Sox fans (Can you honestly say you hate the "Evil Empire" more than the myriad idiots who lay claim to citizenship in "Red Sox Nation" these days now that the "lovable losers" have two World Series titles in the past five years?).
No, my beef is with the sense of history lost in all of this and how easy it will be for so many to forget the way things were. And until the game institutes a salary cap, nothing will stop the insane spending that allows this all-too-perfect scenario from happening. The Yankees don't need anymore storybook endings; 26 world championship trophies in the bag is plenty. I know 27 was inevitable, but damn it, I wanted them to have to wait for it and remember they were playing in a place with no soul and no history for a year or two before they started chanting Sinatra in the streets while drunk on victory.
The only solace I find now consists of the following:
• There's always next year.
• The best team on paper still can't guarantee a championship year in, year out.
• I can quickly put all thoughts of baseball away for the next three or four months and go back to hating the Raiders on a full-time basis.

UPDATE: One of my favorite sportswriters, Joe Posnanski, says there's no way to define what happened other than "it was just their year."

UPDATE #2: Notice how I didn't pick on Joe Girardi. That's because he's a good guy.