All Things Bubba

My bank failed yesterday. Too many mortgage defaults. It's the largest thrift failure since the S&L crisis. I should be covered by FDIC insurance, but it's rather unnerving to wake up and find my accounts are all frozen. They said access would be restored by tomorrow at 5pm, but still. I never saw this coming.

That must be what the New York Mets feel like today. Earlier this season, there was a lot of talk about how the Mets were finally taking the spotlight from the Yankees. The Mets seemed to have a solid lead, even two weeks ago. Now they are on the verge of being eliminated.

The poor Mets. I actually feel sorry for them. I was vacationing in NYC during the "Subway Series." The city was just electric. Total strangers were talking to each other (which doesn't often happen in NY), asking about the score. Times Square was like a big block party, with parked cars blaring the game on the radio, and even the cops glued to the windows of bars and restaurants, watching what they could of the game. Whenever there was a score, it was shouted from cars or by people in the bars who ran out into the street to tell one and all.

But everyone was a Yankee fan. I talked to a lot of people over the three days I was in the city: taxi drivers, businessmen in the hotel elevator, teenagers on the subway, pedestrians on the street. And everyone was a Yankee fan. Many seemed surprised at the very idea that a New Yorker might be a Mets fan instead. (Admittedly, I spent most of my time in Manhattan, which might have something to do with it.) Still, I really got the impression that the Mets are the red-headed stepchild of NY sports. Along with the Jets.

I can across this rant today, while looking for something else. A Mets fan rails against the Yankees, including Bubba Crosby. (It was written after the walkoff homer game.) It's two years later, and some of the names have changed, but not much else has.

Labels: The Greater Depression