MLB Picks

So how about those folks over at Sports Illustrated? They just have such a sense of humor, don't they?

By picking Boston to win the World Series, they managed to pile the SI cover jinx on top of the Curse of the Bambino, guaranteeing that the Red Sox have about as much chance of winning this year's Fall Classic as I do of marrying Marisa Tomei.

Still, mocking New Englanders isn't the only thing this Washingtonian has to look forward to this year. Another thrilling season is upon us, and I can't wait!

I can't wait to hear George Steinbrenner explain how he can't possibly keep his team financially viable if it has to spend even one more day in the Bronx, especially with that TV contract that's only worth about as much as the gross national product of Italy. I can't wait for Chuck Knoblauch to drop his first pop-up of the year — and have the umpire rule the batter out nonetheless.

I can't wait for Rudy Guiliani to tell me how Yankee baseball unites people of all classes behind a common entity. I can't wait to watch Rudy then proceed to his seat among the Yankee Stadium field boxes, where anyone can sit, provided that he or she either a) works on Wall Street, or b) interfered with a fly ball during a playoff game and received free tickets from a tabloid as a reward.

I can't wait for the New York media to explain to me, once again, why Juan Gonzalez is a selfish pouter, but Paul O'Neil (career average: 3.7 helmet slams per game) is just "intense."

I can't wait for John Sterling, New York's insufferable play-by-play man, to bellow "Yankees win, theeeeeeeeeee YANKEES WIN" at the top of his lungs after every New York win over Kansas City and Minnesota, as though beating a team with a payroll in negative numbers is an accomplishment on par with the invasion of Normandy.

I can't wait for another free-agent-to-be to follow in Ken Griffey's footsteps by saying he will never play for the Yankees. I can't wait for the New York media to interpret this statement to mean — "I would love to play for the Yankees" — and start the obligatory summer-long firestorm.

I can't wait for Mayor Rudy to preach forgiveness regarding Darryl Strawberry, while simultaneously promising mandatory prison sentences for any inner-city youth that even knows how to spell "cocaine."

And most of all, I can't wait for October. The World Series. The Fall Classic.

Cleveland over St. Louis in six.