There’s no crying in baseball

Standing today in a Starbuck’s in York, Pa., I listened as a woman behind the counter said “expresso” instead of “espresso.” I haven’t heard someone make that mistake in, oh, 10 years. And I’ve never heard someone make that mistake in a Starbuck’s. But then this is the part of the country in which they refer to a half decaf/half regular coffee as “an even keel” (well, at least in New York, not that anyone out West really cares about the difference). Take a second and the significance of the concept “even keel” will become clear.

Anyway, I am at the moment typing this on the third floor of a hotel near Manhattan’s financial district. After last night’s win by the Yankees over the Boston Red Sox , this is the place to be. My wife’s niece, Lauren, says that she was awakened by the roar when Aaron Boone’s home run caused this whole city to erupt. I imagine the baseball fans in Boston are doing pretty much what the fans in Chicago did last week: looking for a good movie to rent that will take their minds off their misery.

My suggestion: “Major League.” That fantasy about the Cleveland Indians becoming champions will lift anybody’s spirits. Of course, the folks in Boston and Chicago probably would prefer “Damn Yankees.”