The other day my roommate and I went through one of our typical "What if?" scenarios, the inane hypothetical that typically follows the formula, "Would you [blank] for a million dollars?" Usually the acts are vulgar and cannot be reprinted in this paper. But this one was actually PG, and diverged from the standard construction.
"Would you rather have a million dollars," he asked, "or have Ball Square renamed Bauld Square?"
I wanted to choose the latter, but of course when I really thought about it, a million dollars is still a million dollars and hard to pass up. Next came a country. How about on every map, Russia being named "Bauldtopia?" I thought harder on this one. Having the largest country in the world named after you would certainly be an ego booster. But still, no, I think I would have to take the money.
And then this idea occurred to me.
What about getting a million dollars, or being able to change the New York Yankees to any name I saw fit? He asked if I would do this. And I realized, yes, this would be a trade I would most definitely make. A million dollars is a lot of money, but the chance to ridicule the Yankees is far more promising.
Can't every Red Sox fan imagine the utter shame for a crowded stadium of fans cheering for, say, the New York Gary Buseys? Or how about the New York Ass Clowns? Mmm, I'm giddy just thinking about it.
And I realized, I think I might actually give up a million dollars to heap this humiliation upon the Bronx Blowhards. I would actually trade a million dollars away for this seeming trifle. At the very least I'd never have to buy another drink in New England.
I know this is sophomoric, but I just can't help it. The Yankees suck, that's all there is to it. But what is it about the Yankees that make them so evil? To try and figure it out, I ran an experiment. I had never been to Yankees.com, and as soon as the Web page opened, a foul wind literally blew out at me from my computer as the sinister, devil-like "NY" logo appeared. I swear, it's like some sort of Pavlovian response for me. My roommates actually caught me looking at the Web site, and we all reacted like I was looking at porn.
A recent article in the New York Times discussing how certain behavioral characteristics developed, such as crossing your fingers or knocking on wood for luck, got me wondering just how I came to loathe everything Yankees. Sure, I grew up a Red Sox fan, and being from New England, one is constantly inundated by "New York Sucks" chants. And yet I truly believe there is something nearly genetic to this feeling. Anyone can become a Red Sox fan, but the lucky ones are born into it.
Of course some may call these reactions to the Yanks by a different name: inferiority complex. But that's natural, just part of the territory. It's like Tufts and Harvard. My roommate, a New Yorker and Yankees fan, asked if New Englanders actually care this much about New York - does Boston really suffer that much disdain for the Big Apple? My answer: yes, yes we do. Again, think about Tufts-Harvard. We might claim not to care about the School Down the Street (to borrow a certain professor's label for the institution), but we all share some scorn for it. How could we not? But I have a feeling that they're not exactly losing sleep over the doings in Medford/Somerville.
Which is the same, I'm realizing, for Yankee fans. Boston, however great a rival, really is just another member of the AL East to them when the two teams aren't playing one another. It appears this juvenile hatred is on a one-way street. My buddy claims that in any relationship, one person always likes the other person just a little more. Guess what's true in love is true for baseball.
But in the end, even if the rivalry scales are tipped towards Red Sox Nation, none of that really matters. I still cringe when I see a Yankees hat bouncing along the street anywhere in this fair city, and I can take comfort in knowing I'm not alone.
So would I trade a million dollars to make Derek Jeter cry on national television? Yes. Would I pay a million dollars to kick Aaron Boone right in the baby-maker for his walk-off homerun in 2003? You bet. Does it make a wee bit immature? Sure. Do I care? Not in the slightest.
Andrew Bauld is a senior majoring in English and political science. He can be reached at andrew.bauld@tufts.edu.
