The Yankees versus Yankee Thrift.

Sports Illustrated is reporting today that in the wake of "losing" A-Rod to the Bronx Bombers, Red Sox co-owner John Henry is now in favor of a salary cap for Major League Baseball:

Henry, whose team failed to obtain Rodriguez from Texas in December, said in an e-mail response to reporters Wednesday that he is changing his mind on whether the sport needs a salary cap "to deal with a team that has gone so insanely far beyond the resources of all the other teams."

Poor John Henry. Poor Larry Lucchino. Poor Tom Werner. Though none of them are native New Englanders, it didn't take long for them to be infected with that wicked malady known as "Yankee Thrift", the pathological inability of a native of these parts to spend so much as an extra penny unless someone's life is at stake (and even then it's like pulling teeth). Yankee Thrift is what causes otherwise reasonable people to drive sixty miles out of their way to buy cheap gasoline. Yankee Thrift is why Harvard University's endowment is two times larger than that of the next school on the list. Yankee Thrift is why thousands of people living in Massachusetts register their cars in New Hampshire to avoid paying auto insurance. Hell, Yankee Thrift is why New Hampshire - "Life (Tax) Free or Die" - even exists.

And it's Yankee Thrift that's keeping the Red Sox down, my friends. As much as I hate George Steinbrenner, insinuating that he's magically able to spend more money than any other team in the Majors is asinine. These owners are millionaires! All of them. And the Sox are now owned by not just one, not just two, not even just three enormously wealthy individuals, but practically the whole Fortune 500. Yet somehow we can't compete with one well-heeled megalomaniac? Please. If the Lucchino/Werner/Trilateral Commission fails to land a marquee player, it has nothing to do with Steinbrenner being evil and everything to do with them being cheap. The Red Sox were willing to do everything in order to secure the A-Rod deal - including alienate Nomar Garciaparra, a truly honorable ballplayer who did not deserve the shit sandwich served to him over the winter break by the jokers now running the team - except make out the blank check.

But that's where it counts, gentlemen. You have the most expensive tickets in the league, charge strip club prices for your beer, and require a family of four to take out a second mortgage just to keep from starving while in the park - all of which we as Red Sox Nation do without hesitation, mind you, albeit at times with a grumble - but when it comes time for you to dig deep in order to keep us competitive with the Evil Empire you stare at your feet, blame Big Stein or Brian Cashman, and start hollering for salary caps? At least real New Englanders would level with you and tell you straight to your face that they're not spending any more money because they're a bunch of cheap bastards. Yankee Thrift may not be pretty to look at, but there's a kind of honest pride in it, worthy of some admiration, if not wholehearted approval. Whereas watching John Henry and his multimillionaire Baseball Owner Fantasy Camp cry poor is just plain pathetic.