I’m not sure why I don’t care more that the Yankees just swept the Red Sox.
I’m not sure why I’m not more outraged that David Ortiz’s performance over the years may or may not have been enhanced by drugs.
Maybe it’s because, as a Red Sox fan, I’ve got mine (2004, 2007). Maybe it’s because I’m disappointed (as opposed to outraged) that players whose talents I so admired may or may not have been chemically-enhanced. Maybe I’m jealous most of them drive Escalades and I don’t. (Nah.) Maybe I can’t stand the thought of listening to the “Apocalypse Now” callers to WEEI (who make most of the callers to WFAN sound like Mensa candidates.)
It’s not that I don’t care. I do. I will listen to the young Yankee yappers at work, and we will have our little back-and-forths. I will continue to study the standings every morning (albeit with emphasis on the wild card race).
I’m just not sure why I don’t care more.