I said that I would not even care if the Yankees went down in flames in a plane crash on their way to Detroit.
I was naturally thrilled to witness their demise, and to picture them at home, in their mansions, watching the World Series being won by a Cardinals team they could have likely beat.
Weeks passed with little thought to this statement and then the news broke that a plane had crashed into an apartment building on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Details followed and it was discovered that Corey Lidle, Yankees' starting pitcher, had been piloting the plane and was killed in the crash.
I was made to feel extremely guilty, despite having had my heart broken a decade earlier by he-who-must-not-be-named-yankees-fan, (not that that's related) but today, I am exonerated. Today it was announced by the National Transportation Safety Board that it was, “inadequate planning, judgment, and airmanship" by the two men in the plane that caused the crash.
I have long claimed my innocence in this matter, while maintaining real sadness that he died. I was not speaking literally, and I am innocent, something, I should mention, that Jeffrey Maier is not. But I'm over 1996. Really.