Yankees vs. Mets: A 32-Year Argument, Settled Over One Drink Each
What follows is a dual first-person account. Herb goes first because Herb always goes first, which is one of his many problems. Lou goes second because Lou is right, and right is worth waiting for. Neither man has been asked to calm down. Neither man will.
For the record: this post contains 8mg THC per can, zero alcohol, and approximately zero objectivity. 21+ only. Not for the faint of heart or the light of pinstripe.
Herb's Opening Statement (Yankees)
I have been a Yankees fan for fifty-three years. Fifty-three years of winning, of excellence, of watching grown men perform at the highest level of their profession while wearing the most dignified uniform in the history of organized sport. Twenty-seven World Series championships. Twenty-seven. Lou has been to the World Series twice in his lifetime and lost both times, which is not a coincidence, it is a personality.
People ask me what it is like to root for a winning team. I tell them I would not know any other way. I have never in my adult life said the phrase "wait till next year." I do not know what that means. Next year is for people who could not get it done this year, and I am not those people.
Now. The drink. I am drinking Herb's Very Manly Peach Bellini, which is 8mg THC, no alcohol, and the only can in the Herb and Lou's lineup with bubbles. The only one. I did not do that on purpose. I did not have to. The bubbles happened because the drink is correct, and correct things rise. That is science. I am not going to explain it further because I should not have to.
Lou will tell you his drink is classic. Lou will tell you his drink is no-nonsense. Lou will not tell you that his drink has no bubbles, because Lou is embarrassed about it, as he should be. The Yankees have pinstripes. My drink has bubbles. Both of us are ascending. I do not make the rules. I observe them and report back, which is what an accountant does, and what a Yankees fan does, and what a man who is correct does.
The argument has been going on for thirty-two years. It will be over after tonight. I have the Bellini. I have the pinstripes. I have the receipts, all twenty-seven of them. Lou has a watch that stopped in 2009 and a team that broke his heart in that same decade. We are done here.
Herb's Very Manly Peach Bellini. Eight milligrams. Bubbles. Championship energy. It is in the fridge right now, if you want to try the experiment yourself.
Lou's Rebuttal (Mets, and Lou Is Not Done)
Herb just used the word "ascending" about a peach drink with bubbles. I want that on record.
I have been a Mets fan my entire life. Do you know what that takes? Character. Fortitude. The specific kind of love that does not require you to be rewarded for it, because you are a grown man and you understand that love is not transactional. Herb roots for the Yankees the same way he tips at restaurants. Loudly, while looking around to see who noticed.
Twenty-seven championships. He brings this up. He has brought it up no fewer than four hundred times since 1993, which is when this argument started, over a beer at a bar that has since closed, which I am choosing not to read into. Every single time, "twenty-seven championships," like he personally won them. Herb was not on the field. Herb was in a chair. Herb is always in a chair. He managed nothing except to open a can and feel superior about it, which, fine, he is welcome to feel whatever he wants, but I want it noted that he did not throw a single pitch.
My drink is Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned. Eight milligrams THC. No alcohol. Bitters, orange, oak. Classic. No bubbles, because I am not celebrating yet, I am working. The Mets require you to work. The Yankees require you to show up and expect. Those are two different relationships with the sport, and only one of them builds character, and it is not the one with twenty-seven championships and a peach garnish.
Herb says his drink is ascending. My drink is standing still, holding its ground, waiting for the moment. You know who else did that? 1969. 1986. Both times the Mets were counted out. Both times the Mets did what needed doing. Nobody handed us anything. We took it, briefly, and then we gave it back in a variety of devastating ways over the following decades, but the point is we had it.
My watch stopped in 2009. Herb likes to bring that up too. I wear it anyway. It is right twice a day, which is better than most analysts, better than most managers, and considerably better than Herb's opinion on what constitutes a great baseball team. At least my watch has principles. It committed to a time and it stayed there. That is more than I can say for any bullpen I have watched in the last fifteen years, but we are not talking about the bullpen right now. We are talking about the argument.
The argument is settled. The Mets are right because caring without being rewarded is the whole point of being human, and the Yankees are wrong because they have confused winning with deserving, and those are not the same thing, and deep down, even Herb knows it. He is just not going to say so, because he is an accountant, and accountants do not write off losses while there is still equity in the position.
Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned. Eight milligrams. Classic. No drama. It is in the fridge. Get one before Herb takes the last one and calls it a championship.
The Part Where Neither of Them Lets It Go
They are still at the bar. They have been there for an hour and a half. The argument has moved from championships to the designated hitter rule, which Herb supports and Lou considers an act of cowardice, and then to the correct way to hold a can, which Herb has opinions about (two fingers, bottom support, wrist neutral), and then back to baseball, which is where it started.
Nobody has won. Nobody is going to win. That is not what this is. This is two men who have been arguing about baseball for thirty-two years because they like arguing with each other, and the baseball is just the container for it, the same way the can is just the container for the 8mg and the terpenes and the good night.
If you want to pick a side, the Variety Pack has both cans in it, plus Jane's Fancy Shmancy Pomegranate Cosmopolitan and Mary's M Train Double Espresso Martini, and you can drink all four and form your own opinions. Herb would like you to form the correct opinions. Lou would like you to form the opinions that are right, which is a different thing entirely.
The watch on Lou's wrist says 4:17. It has said 4:17 since 2009. At some point in the next twelve hours, it will be right again.
He is counting on it.
Herb and Lou's contains 8mg hemp-derived THC per can. For adults 21 and older only. Not available where prohibited. These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. Please drink responsibly and know your local laws.
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