This has been a travesty for awhile. A minor component which only emphasizes the unserious nature with which the Organization treats its team, and the growing chasm of understanding in relation to its fans. This is not Disneyland.  We are not the Anaheim Angels.

The playing of New York, New York by Frank Sinatra after losses is a vapid commercialization, childish romanticism and absolute bastardization of this franchise's identity. It is disrespectful to New Yorkers, Yankee fans, and baseball purists. It is middle finger to the decades of history that lives have been dedicated to building. The grit and identity which lay our roots are evaporating at such a pace that we are approaching the point of chasing ghosts. 

Though more is to be done. Let's start small.