The best free agent centerfielder on the market signed with the New York Yankees last night, and my wife couldn't be more excited.  This is a huge departure from her tranditional hatred of anything Yankees, which is rooted in her general disdain for the favorite in anything.  It is a belief (which, by the way, I share) that is thoroughly exploited in her political beliefs, her selection of favorite teams, the college she attended, and even her choice in spouse (what else could explain how someone as beautiful as her would choose a schlub like me).  However, this one time, she will be happy that the Evil Empire has enlisted a new warrior.

There is no reason to pretend that Mrs. Clarkdogg is a serious sports afficianado.  When I corrupted her into the world of sports during her junior year of college, she thought the second baseman actually had to stand on second base at all times.  Her early attraction to baseball was limited to her ability to enthusiastically  yell "Ducks!" when referring to baserunners without (most) people thinking she was insane.  To this day, she still does not understand the concept of jersey numbers, instead identifying players by their hairstyle.

Which brings us to her enthusiasm over the recent signing of Johnny Damon.  Hair is still very important to her in an athlete.  She still hates Mizzou basketball because they had the audacity to sign and play Maurice Stokes and his Jamaican inspired locks at point guard.  When her (perhaps all-time) favorite Oklahoma State basketball player, Andre Williams, briefly braided his afro, she briefly started rooting against him.  She does not even have to see the hair for it to influence her.  Early in the season, we were listening to a late basketball game on the radio in which Boston College came back on our Cowboys based on the play of Jared Dudley.  Seeing that she was falling asleep without the visual stimulation a radio game lacks, I informed her that Dudley had "nasty cornrolls."  Suddenly, everytime the play-by-play announcer called his name, a visible snarl appeared on her face.

So anyway, rooting for the Red Sox has been a bit of a struggle for her.  She sympathized with the years of disappointment, but no team possesses more bad hairstyles.  Last year, she wanted them to win the World Series in order to break the curse, but she hoped that it could be won entirely on the heroics of David Ortiz and Curt Schilling.  Scraggly bearded and/or bushy haired efforts by Manny Ramirez, Pedro Martinez, and especially the frozen caveman centerfielder were bitter-sweet at best.

The rule George Steinbrenner has that requires his players to be clean shaven and have neatly trimmed hair is the only thing that Mrs. Clarkdogg can stand about his team.  Now that Damon is part of the team, she's very torn between being upset that he will keep them as a frontrunner to the World Series, and pleased that what she once referred to as the "world's ugliest facial hair" will be no more.  Of course, she has until October to start worrying about the former...and until then she will focus on the latter.