My second favorite Slate contributor Tom Scocca piles onto the Yankees:

Before I first moved to New York, I hadn’t fully understood what sad, wretched front-runners the legions of Yankees fans really are. I always knew they were awful people, the most obnoxious fans in sports, but I hadn’t grasped how weak-hearted they were. When the Yankees lose, there is no defiance, no residual pride, no we-want-a-rematch resolve. (The closest the Yankees come to that is their annual scheming to hire anyone who beats them.)

A great read, but there’s something Scocca is missing here. Yes, Yankees fans are the worst of the worst. But you have to kind of admire the ruthless soulless perfection of the team, in much the same way that Bishop and Ash admired the Facehugger xenomorph.

So yes, let’s all cheer the disappearance of Yankees caps. But our joy in victory must always be tempered with the knowledge that by spring, new eggs will be hatching.