Michelle Dubert: Yankees' Boss knows how to play ball

I'm going to make a move of sheer iconoclasm today, something so entirely radical that I haven't even attempted it in over two months.

I will not talk about politics today.

Shocking as it may seem, I do actually have interests beyond the political arena -- tons of them, in fact; just try me. And now that we've finally emerged from the subfreezing windchills and I can not only see the grass but smell it, too, what better opportunity to delve into a subject that makes so many Americans feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Let's talk baseball. Even better, the Yankees.

The Yankees became a part of my life before I learned the alphabet or outgrew naptime and before my head was large enough to sport an oversized kids' cap.

I never really entertained the option of not rooting for them -- it was one of those age-old institutions that just seemed as natural to me as fireworks on the Fourth of July, watching The Simpsons on Sunday nights and completing homework at the last minute.

Perhaps that's because my older brother, Jeremy, had me brainwashed from my most vulnerable and impressionable age; I sat in the stands far before I knew anything about the game itself (I used to bring a coloring book for entertainment -- Jeremy was ready to beat me). But you can bet I knew that Babe Ruth was the best to play in any uniform, Don Mattingly is a living god and the Boston Red Sox are the human incarnates of Satan. Family could not succumb to weakness; it was Yankees or bust.

So needless to say, I get somewhat defensive when somebody bashes my team -- not just the players, but the entire organization. And that basically means I will defend any one of them against anti-Yankee predators, even if the prey is one of the most reviled men in sports.

Even if the prey is George Steinbrenner.

Granted, he's not one of my favorite men in baseball, and I won't claim to agree with every move he suggests (We haven't forgotten Andy Pettitte). But the man wants to win, and I can't argue with that.

Antagonists love to gripe about the envious profits Steinbrenner takes in each year and the lucrative contracts he throws at high-profile players. It seems inequitable that one organization should be so fortunate to have the resources to buy a complete All-Star team. To quell those complaints, the league instituted the luxury tax in an attempt to help even the playing field. Yet the Yankees were initially the only team in the Major Leagues whose player salary total tops the $120.5 million barrier, and thus the only team that pays the tax -- hence the moniker "Yankee tax."

But they still had enough to sign Gary Sheffield and Kevin Brown and absorb the overwhelming majority of Alex Rodriguez's $25-million-per-year contract, just to drop some names. The combined salaries of the four highest paid Yankees are higher than the entire payrolls of 18 other teams.

The Sox almost nabbed A-Rod themselves. When the deal fell through, the Yankees swept in, leaving the Red Sox a bit flabbergasted. Sox owner John Henry complained of New York's wealth and said of the deal, "There is really no other fair way to deal with a team that has gone so insanely far beyond the resources of all the other teams." Steinbrenner, in his customary impervious style, responded, "Unlike the Yankees, he chose not to go the extra distance for his fans in Boston." The fans know it; at Opening Day at Yankee Stadium last week, the fans chanted the Boss' name, which left even the steely Steinbrenner weepy.

Steinbrenner can pay for it. So why not pay for it? Baseball is a business, too. All I can say is, "Welcome to capitalism."

Aside from the Boss' habit of name-dropping on the lineup card, he knows tradition; he is thoroughly repulsed by the Boston Red Sox. He'd likely pay twice as much for a player than see him head to the Red Sox. He'd probably sooner duck into captivity than witness a Boston victory over New York in the postseason. I appreciate that. Bernie Williams was literally giving his measurements to the Sox in 1999 when he struck a last-minute deal to keep him in pinstripes -- anywhere but there.

Steinbrenner doesn't take the banter from the opposition; he doesn't have to. He doesn't portray the Red Sox as the penniless underdogs who can never win because the Yankees are just too good and too rich (last time I checked, the Sox had a payroll of $125,208,542). And I'd like to see Jimmy Fallon work up the courage to tell the Boss that he "sucks sooo long, sooo haaahd and WICKED haaahd" to his face like he did Derek Jeter on Saturday Night Live. The guy demands and deserves respect.

Forget all the bickering about owners and players. Let's embrace America's pastime and just enjoy the thrills of each game in a new season.

So play ball. And on a final note:

1918.

Michelle Dubert is a College freshman from Closter, N.J. Department of Strategery appears on Mondays.

Please note All comments are eligible for publication in The Daily Pennsylvanian.