There comes a time where every downtrodden Mets fan who hasn’t seen a meaningful baseball game since July 4th has to strike back. Here is my case: every meaningful member of the 2009 World Champion New York Yankees is a douchebag. I’m serious.
A.J. Burnett, P, The Frat-Daddy Douchebag: Both of his nipples used to be pierced and he has a tattoo of Bruce Lee on his leg. Need I say more? He is the baseball equivalent of every contestant from every season of Tool Academy.
Joba Chamberlain, P, The Hick Douchebag: Listen, I know in some places in America you can drink a little bit more before you take the ol’ John Deere or whatever out for a spin, but this fruitcake had a bottle of hooch in his hands while driving around Lincoln, Nebraska this past off-season. His mom was also busted for meth possession and suspicion of selling, which is just icing on top of this dysfunctional cake.
Mark Teixeira, 1B, The Why Not? Douchebag: This dude seems pretty okay, except that he has now played on four teams since 2003. He’s 29 and has bounced around this much, which is always a red flag, especially because he spent 2003-2007 on the Rangers. Since then, he has been a Brave, an Angel and now a Yankee. He’s baseball’s Gram Parsons, who was a Flying Burrito Brother, Submarine Band-er and Byrd before settling down by his lonesome and becoming a solo artist. Come to think of it, maybe being a Yankee is like being a solo artist. Interesting.
Robinson Cano, 2B, The Electric Wizard Douchebag: I just threw this in there to see if you were paying attention. Cano had an atrocious World Series and was not an important player on this team down the stretch.
Melky Cabrera, OF, The Fat Douchebag: I met Melky Cabrera at a child’s birthday party that I was working as a caterer at a few years ago. The kid’s rich dad paid for Melky to come over after a game, talk to the kids, sign some balls and eat some food. Melky, who was still a rookie at this point, begrudgingly signed a few baseballs in between shoving large amounts of pork in his face. You would have thought this guy was Babe Ruth the way he parked himself in front of a table and socialized with mostly just his family members as he shoveled half a full-grown pig into his mouth. He’s not. He was almost sent down to the minors the following season and currently looks like a Hispanic version of Violet Beauregarde from Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory after she ate the gum that turned her into a purple balloon.
Johnny Damon, LF/DH, The Defecting Douchebag: I don’t care about Boston or Boston-area sports, but the way Idiot Jesus told the press that he would never leave Boston for New York and then literally did just that a few months later makes him a douchebag, even if he is an otherwise nice guy.
Hideki Matsui, LF/DH, The Japanese Douchebag: Matsui seems like a good enough guy, but bonus points for the quasi-racist “Gojira” nickname every Yankee fan seems to be dropping on him. He should hate this.
Derek Jeter, SS, The Mama’s Boy Douchebag: Anyone who smashes this much gash can’t be a fruitcake right? Wrong. The man who made it with Maxim’s Top 100 from 1999-2004 is so much of a baby that he won’t even defend his teammates in a fight because he doesn’t want to upset his mother. As in, he watches his teammates fight and says “STOP IT GUYS, KNOCK IT OFF,” instead of cracking skulls like he should be doing. Kind of makes you yearn for the days of Nolan Ryan putting Robin Ventura in a headlock.
Alex Rodriguez, 3B, The Rich Douchebag: Ahh, A-Rod. Arriving at this point in the column is like when you catch the 7 or 8 minutes of Alec Baldwin onscreen in Glengarry Glen Ross: pure bliss. Sure, the rest of the movie is pretty good, but this is the only part of the movie anyone ever remembers because Baldwin steals the show with his NYC yuppie tirade. Alex Rodriguez is the crown jewel douchebag in a sea of douchebags for a lot of reasons. His jealousy and failed friendship with Derek Jeter are the jumping off point. He cares so much what people think of him, even when he has won three AL MVPs and has hit a million home runs, like when he told a sports writer this year at a dinner that he wanted to order something that would make the writer happy. Wow. Which brings us to his steroid denial and then confession. In all fairness to A-Rod (there’s a sentence you don’t hear very often), most of baseball was probably juicing, and when asked, lied about it, but his snake-like avoidance of the truth seemed worse. Then there’s the pitch-tipping accusations when he was in Texas, where he gave away pitches to fellow infielders on other teams once games were out of hand, which adds credence to my argument that A-Rod really only cares about what his peers think of him. This guy sucks as a person. As a baseball player, he might be the best ever.
