THE STRUGGLE AGAINST SATAN'S MINIONS IS NEVER ABSURD:

The Absurdity of It All Is Unrivaled (Thomas Boswell, March 8, 2004, NY Times)

As heaven is a witness, they were selling commemorative pins to Sunday's spring training game between the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees. They looked just like the collectibles you see for the World Series, Final Four or Olympics. There were the official team logos, MLB authentication and, right under City of Palms Park, Spring Training and Ft. Myers, FL., was the date: March 7, 2004.

"God, that's sick," said Yankees Manager Joe Torre.

"There's no such thing. I don't believe it," said Reggie Jackson until he was shown.

"Wow," said Yankees coach Mel Stottlemyre. "How far does it go and when does it stop?"

"I just hope this was thought up by somebody in New York," said Red Sox President Larry Lucchino.

At this point, there's no ceiling on how high this biggest of all sports rivalries can go -- both in the sublime and the ridiculous. Fans stood in line all night for a couple of hundred standing room only tickets. Parking lots were half full three hours before game time, before attendants even arrived. A pair of tickets was going for $500 on eBay, though actual "I Need One" prices outside the park seemed lower.

"They stood in line since 10 p.m. [for a 1 p.m. game]," said Jackson, summarizing the pro ballplayer view of Fanaticus Americanus, "but they'll all be driving home by 2 o'clock after Jeter and A-Rod leave the game." [...]

This whole day was almost too rich in anecdote to believe. Red Sox GM Theo Epstein, saber-metric theorist, said a statistical simulation had been done of the entire '04 season. "It came out 100.6 wins to 100.7 wins."

So, who had the 100.7?

"They did, I think," said Epstein.

Oh, you think.

As it happens, I was once witness to a memorabilia moment that left Mr. Jackson even more stupefied.

During batting practice at a Yankee Stadium game in 1978, when he was very much "The straw that stirs the drink", a couple of young men were standing along the railing, one trying to lure his beloved baseball hero over for an autograph. Instead, Reggie Jackson came over to hit on the pretty woman alongside of them. When he finished asking her to come up and see his etchings, the intrepid fellow asked him if he could please get his idol to come over. Upon hearing the name of the player in question, a dumbfounded Reggie spluttered a bit and then asked indignantly: "You've got Reggie Freakin' Jackson standing an inch away from you and you want fred Freakin' Chicken Stanley instead?!? What are you some kind of homo, kid?"

If you've ever been in a car accident and seen horrific events slow to a crawl you'll know the sensation we bystanders shared as this lad reached into his wallet, pulled out a tattered Fred Stanley baseball card and said: "No, I just want him to sign this--he's my favorite player."

Well, by now Reggie was laughing so hard he happily took the little pulpy rectangle and ran for the clubhouse, hooting and hollering the whole way. Soon Yankee players were atop the dugout steps, pointing and laughing, as Reggie and Fred Stanley himself walked up the foul line to the by now much-embarrassed fan, who Stanley promptly greeted with the question" "What are you, kid? Some kind of homo?"

Hero worship never seemed like such hard work.

Posted by Orrin Judd at March 8, 2004 2:33 PM