The Empire Strikes Out

I love Grady Sizemore; he's probably one of my favorite players (along with Curtis Granderson and Hanley Ramirez). But in this, his moment of elation at his team's ascendence to the ALCS, I feel conflicted. In fact, I've felt conflicted this whole postseason. It's like the moment the Emporer gets thrown down the open shaft by Darth Vader, who promptly dies after unmasking (and demystifying) himself.

Once the empire is gone, there's no reason to root for Luke, Leia, and Han anymore. They needed the Empire's evilness (and it's power - I think we all remember The Empire Strikes Back) in order to seem heroic.

Now that baseball's Death Star (Joe Torre's Yankee Juggernaut) has been reduced to a pile of rubble - and fairly easily at that - by a young, inexperienced team, there's little wind left in the sails of Red Sox's fans - or any baseball fans who needed the Evil Empire to seem invincible to sustain their own underdog spirit. There's no powerful arch-enemy against whom to root. The closest thing to an unstoppable force devouring everything in its path this season has been (dare I say it?) Beantown's boys.

It's the moment we've all been waiting for: the final, permanent dethroning of Joe Torre's Yankees, and I feel like Sisyphus without my rock. It very well could be that the only thing worse than an eternity in Hades pushing a rock up a hill is an eternity in Hades without a rock to push.