Is there anything more discomfiting than having to endure a semi self examination turned gloatathon from a conservative columnist rekindling his love for the New England Patriots on the page of the New York Times. It is the sheer definition of the very wrong person at the extremely wrong place at the absolute wrong time.
Mr. Douthat, who heretofore I had little love for, is now to be the recipient of almost Trumpian disdain from me. To revel in the Patriots, with an extra dollop of Red Sox for good measure is beyond cruel.
Mr. Douthat, who heretofore I had little love for, is now to be the recipient of almost Trumpian disdain from me. To revel in the Patriots, with an extra dollop of Red Sox for good measure is beyond cruel.
My Giants are giants no more and my much beloved Yankees have become almost annual fodder beneath the red socks of my most hated tormentor.
Pitchers and catchers report in but a few days and I can only hope to then begin the arduous process of flushing the bad taste of Mr. Douthat's words from my mind.
But until I can stand directly on the chest of a New England sport fan, holding aloft proof of World Series #28 for my Yankees or Super Bowl #5 for the Giants I will not rest easy.
Thanks to you Mr. Douthat and to the New York Times for starting my day off on a horribly wrong foot.
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