Tigers and Champagne

This evening I found myself sitting in a mexican restaurant in Selden NY enjoying a really great dinner with my sister and her husband. Much sangria was consumed over the course of a couple of hours.

When I looked up and the Yankees were losing 7 to nothing, I thought that was awesome. When they lost the game entirely, complete with shots of Jeter in dugout pouting and biting his lower lip, that was even sweeter.

And when it dawned on me that the Yankees were eliminated, that was the icing on the metaphorical cake.

What I really loved though, above everything else, was watching the entire Tigers lineup come out of their locker room, bottles of champagne in each hand, and running around the stadium high-fiving the fans. When they jumped up into the crowed and showered them with champagne hoses (even showering the cops assinged to protect them from the rabid fans) I had to sit and laugh out loud.

Laughing, in a New York bar, surrounded by people who weren't even looking at the screen. Laughing my ass off at Johnny Damon. Laughing at A-rod and Jeter. Laughing at them all.

I don't care if the Sox didn't go anywhere this season. I just know the Yankees are going to have a long, sad trip home.

And that was sweeter than sangria. To which I raise a glass and say "Next year in Fenway, boys. Next year in Fenway. See you then. Suckers."