What is this? Barney and friends?

By Harvey McGuffin
I remember when ...

Who wears purple to the prom?

If the answer is "me," then you're probably a hippy or a huffer. Because while the Colorado Rockies might be all new wave with that fashion statement they make, it upsets me that they have disrupted baseball's natural balance by reaching the World Series. This 21 wins in 22 tries is hurting the game I love so much.

At least when they had Larry Walker, they were paying stoic homage to our Canadian forefathers. Now, their Canadian bacon's name is Francis. I remember when if your name was Francis, you were whipped to death by towels in the boys locker room. These Rockies also have some punk named Ubaldo, a 27-year-old outfielder who is also a Baldo, a catcher named after your feet, and a Polack playing shortstop. Inconceivable.

When I was a boy, there were no Rockies. Or Diamondbacks for that matter. There were no Marlins and their damn two championships or any teams named after a damn state. Pick a hometown, hobos. You can't fool me with your all-encompassing socialism.

Where are the Mets? Or the Phillies or Dodgers or Giants? Hell, I'd even take the Cubs if it meant restoring a little order to the world. The fact is, baseball has become a game where any yahoo can walk into the bar and steal the best looking girl in the room. I remember when you had to earn your place at the bar, drinking in the back while clutching your vodka-gin-whiskey tonic, waiting for a spot to open up. You had to sit in that back room long and hard before anyone invited you to belly up with the big boys.

Times have changed. A team like the Rockies, who have never won a playoff series before this year and weren't even going to get an invite to the party until they went and won every single game over the course of a month, can just barnstorm its way to the World Series. With their purple vests and Coors-plus-elevation alcoholism and lousy bullpen. Legends like Mike Schmidt and Sandy Koufax must be rolling over in their graves. Expansion teams are supposed to provide easy wins for the historical mainstays of baseball, not just rush on through to the biggest party this side of Woodstock in 1972.