A city is in turmoil. Divided by blockheaded thoughts of supremacy over the opponent. It puts brother against brother-in-law, sister against mother, cubical neighbor against cubical neighbor. The sides display their flags and slogans and insignias in plain sight of the enemy, entirely sure their side will be victorious. That they will prevail. They will win the big fight. The whole enchilada will be theirs (with extra cheese). And soon. It will all be over in a week. But the bragging rights could last a generation, creating a divide that could span centuries--or at least a few years.

Yankees versus Mets.

The Bronx stands firm against Queens (that goes without saying, of course). Apparently all of the states that are close (Connecticut, New Jersey, I'm sure there are others) have opinions about this. Those in suburban Connecticut are Yankees fans--I only assume that this is the product of some kind of middle class angst. Or maybe they all used to live in New York and have transferred their allegiances across state lines.

The rule of thumb (if one is using thumbs to sort out this conflict) is that those who actually live in central New York City are Mets fans, while those in the surrounding boroughs and states are Yankees fans.

I had a couple of friends at a former job who are Yankees fans. One has lived in Albuquerque all his life. The other grew up in New York and is now in exile. I'm not sure what this means, but I'm sure there is bad blood swimming around somewhere near you as well.

I watched Saturday night's game, trying to decided where my allegiance is. Who do I favor? The Mets or the Yankees. Usually I am for the underdog (which would point to--who? The line was even for the first game.), but it seems as though this World Series is evenly matched. There were not equal numbers of Yankees and Mets fans at the first game (more Yankees than Mets), but there was a healthy consortium of Mets fans--enough to dispel that whole home team advantage thing.

Mike Piazza (former Albuquerque Duke and Los Angeles Dodger) is a favorite, mostly because there are connections to my home town. But I'm used to rooting for the Yankees in the World Series. I seriously hate Atlanta (the Yankees' usual opponent). Not only because of Ted Turner and that whole "America's team because we own the dominant superstations," but because they just seem so freakin' arrogant. I was happy beyond words that they got bounced by St. Louis this year.

By the eleventh inning Saturday night, I was just hoping that either of the teams would muster enough offense to win. But I think (and this would be contrary to my roommate, by the way) I'm on the Yankees' side.

So the lines are drawn and the sparring has begun. Only one part of New York can win, and this win will begin a whole new round of debates and skirmishes in the continuing Mets versus Yankees era.

So I have to bring up a little bit of politics as I wrap it all up. Why is it that we in the United States can have such blood feuds (trust me, the blood does get boiling, even in extra inning baseball games) between like-minded people, and the worst that happens is a night of rioting led by drunken fans the night after the end of the war? Why is it that people wearing Mets paraphernalia can walk past similarly flag-waving Yankees fans and only shout something like, "Derek Jeter is just a pretty boy!" without exchange of rocks or plastic bottles or gunfire?

In other parts of the world, this kind of direct confrontation puts heads of state on top alert. Here, it's completely natural because deep down we cherish our sports teams more than any kind of religious fervor. The scene gets played out thousands of times a year, and yet nothing huge comes of it. We are a nation of thousands of religions, and we all agree to disagree most of the time.

But in small countries around the world--which are about the size of the New York Metropolitan area--there are only two religions and they are both worth dying for.

I suggest the rest of world realize what most of us in America know: God doesn't care which baseball team we root for--and He doesn't really care what religion you are either. To Him it's just a matter of semantics and ritual, He'll take any overgrown ape who wants to go to heaven because there's lots of space available at the newly expanded Afterlife Hotel & Casino. Gamble till we drop--and get over it, kids.

Matt Worley will miss the religion of baseball for the few months it is gone, but he's not going to go to public stonings to keep it going twelve months out of the year.