Zevi Metal: This Ain't No Subway Series

It's not easy trying to write or edit stories in the newsroom of The Harvard Crimson. Just tonight, for example, I had to listen to M. Douglas O'Malley '01 and Mark J. Ambinder '01 (as the news editors like to refer to people) quibble about who was going to win the World Series.

Doug insisted it would be the Mets while Mark, a long-spoiled Yankees' fan, offered to buy Doug a Guinness last night--the last chance for the Mets to celebrate before losing to the Yankees.

With a large portion of the sports board--and the news board, for that matter--hailing from New York City, or the greater Tri-State Area, or claiming that someone from their family is from Manhattan, all I hear about is the Mets and the Yankees. Well, enough is enough.

I don't blame my Big Apple counterparts for gloating about the upcoming New York-New York World Series (hey, even Frank Sinatra couldn't have put it better). I quietly retired my Bay Area paraphernalia as the Mets dramatically eliminated the Giants with two extra-inning victories and the Yankees outlasted the A's in five games. But, on the verge of seven straight games between the Mets and the Yankees, it's time to put my foot down.

This is not a real Subway Series.

There were 12 real Subway Series between 1922 and 1956. There could be another one in the future, but not this year. Not with these Mets and these Yankees.

This goes beyond the mere fact that the New York Giants and Brooklyn Dodgers have been dissolved into one blue-and-orange unit, playing on the outskirts of Queens beneath the deafening roar of airplanes leaving LaGuardia Airport. The 2000 Mets and Yankees are both very talented and playoff-savvy teams, I grant you, but neither of them actually belongs to the City of New York.

Let's start with the Yankees, winners of 25 world championships and perennial spoilers of any excitement in the postseason. The Bronx juggernaut of the 21st century has won three of the last four World Series, but not way the Yankees used to.

A true Yankee dynasty used to be composed of five or six Hall of Famers--all of whom would be immortalized in Cooperstown wearing the pinstripes of the old New York Highlanders. I'm talking about guys like Lou Gehrig, a native New Yorker who played 2,130 consecutive games at first base for the Yankees, and Babe Ruth, who hit most of his 714 home runs in the House that Ruth himself Built. Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Phil Rizzuto, Whitey Ford--all Yankee legends.

How about the current Bronx Bombers? Sure, they win, but Yankee Stadium is little more than a revolving door for players looking to collect a ring.

Closer John Wetteland won in 1996, then left for Texas. The Yankees loved David Wells so much that they traded him for Roger Clemens. And this year, it has gotten out of control: David Justice, Denny Neagle, Glenallen Hill, Luis Polonia, Jose Canseco. Who hasn't played for the Yankees?

Now for the Mets, the last remnant of the National League left in New York--if Long Island really counts as New York. National League baseball doesn't belong in New York unless there's a legitimate rivalry to get the fans riled up.

The likes of the Dodgers-Giants rivalry--which admittedly faded after they left Brooklyn and Harlem in 1957--has never been rebuilt in New York. Sure, the Mets have challenged the Braves consistently for the last five years, but that's no rivalry. The Mets didn't even face the Braves in the postseason this year.

So Mets fans are left to direct their vicious wrath--and it is vicious--in the direction of the Bronx, where the Yankees' 25 championships outnumber the Mets' two titles. But don't equate mere jealousy with a real rivalry.

When the Dodgers and Giants were alternating National League pennants in the '40s and '50s, they had actual role players. Everyone in Brooklyn knew Jackie Robinson could play first or second, bunt his way on base and steal home whenever he wanted. Manhattan could always count on Bobby Thomson to come through in the clutch. Willie Mays and Duke Snider roamed the outfields of the Polo Grounds and Ebbets Field like a mayor struts around City Hall.

But how much do Mets fans really know about this year's National League champs? Mike Bordick is lucky to have a temp job, filling in at shortstop until Rey Ordonez is fully healed. Timo Perez first set foot in Shea Stadium less than two months ago. Rick Reed, who won 11 games for the Mets this season, is booed every time he gives up a run at Shea Stadium.

I hope all my colleagues from New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, Florida--anyone within a 1,000-mile radius of Manhattan who considers himself a New Yorker--enjoys the last seven games of the 2000 baseball season. I am ready to suffer through your happiness.

Don't bother wiping those stupid grins off your faces. Good luck to the Mets and the Yankees. But this ain't no Subway Series.

And if anyone wants to accompany me to this Sunday's sports board meeting, I'd appreciate it. There will certainly be a prowling crowd of wounded New Yorkers, all of them wearing hats adorned with the interlocking "NY," and I would feel comfortable with a few security guards present.