You know I have to confess I don't give a shit about the Valentine v Youkilis imbroglio...
I'd love to chalk my indifference up to a ceratain self-aware media sophistication, but I think it really comes down to the fact that ever since L'affaire de Poulet I'm totally, absolutely jaded.
Perhaps being jaded is the root of all sophistication?
All I know is I miss the childhood days of baseball when all that mattered was Topps cahds, mimicking the stance of your favorite playah in Whiffle, and how the grass was so green at Fenway that it practically blinded you coming out of the concourse...
And one was blissfully unaware of the sordid reality show taking place off the field.
As Giamatti said, "They are memories of our best hopes. They are memories of a time when all that would be better was before us, as a hope, as the hope was fastened to the game."
Goddamnit, the Red Sox are ruining my autotelic activities!