I have a drinking game I like to play whenever the Sox face the Yanks. It goes like this: When the game starts, I crack a beer. When it’s finished, I crack another. I do this until the game ends and I’m either on the floor in tears with bloody knuckles or hanging my ass out the window to taunt my New York-loving neighbors. That’s how I roll, people. And, scary as it may seem, I’m allowed to vote.

This weekend’s series in the Bronx ain’t the playoffs. But the Yanks’ magic number is five, meaning that if they take all three games, they’ll clinch the AL East on their home turf, with our boys in the house. And in New York, they’re pretty jazzed about the possibilities:

Uncork the champagne and use red socks to mop up spills on the clubhouse carpet. That would be quite a Yankee Stadium party. Lights, camera, AL East title. The Yankees can make it official this weekend, appropriately enough with the Red Sox across the field to witness the celebration.

On the other hand, our magic number for clinching the Wild Card is three, so with a little help from the Rangers, we could make our October plans official as well this weekend. Honestly, I don’t give a damn how it all plays out so long as the Yanks don’t clinch it on our watch. In fact, even though I’ve resigned myself to the Wild Card after that split in Kansas City, I’d love to sweep the Yanks away just to make ‘em sweat. Just to take away any potential edge they thought they might have against us in the postseason. Just to inspire flashbacks of Dave Roberts’ steal, Mark Bellhorn’s home run and Tom Gordon walking slowly off the mound, Big Papi’s bat wedged firmly up his arse.

Check this bit, from the same article in the Post:

At least the Yankees are long removed from wondering if they can beat the Red Sox. Was it really this season the Red Sox won eight straight games against the Yanks? Since then the Yankees have countered with six victories in seven meetings, including a four-game sweep last month in The Bronx.

See that? That’s just what we want them to think. In fact, I want to sweep them just to remind them that we are the same team that left them outplayed, outquaffed and outclassed early in the season; hell, in many ways, we’re even better. I want them to briefly consider a world in which CC and AJ and Mrs. Teixeira can’t get them to the promised land. I want Cashman to wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming of Victor Martinez hoisting an ALCS trophy in the bowels of his billion-dollar stadium. I want the entire city to remember that they really have yet to prove anything to us since 2004.

I know you gotta conserve it. Gotta keep some lightning in the bottle. We’ve got the playoffs in a couple weeks, and players gotta be rested and hungry and ready to slice ass. But I really, really want to see our guys go “the Full Heston” on the Yankees this weekend. As a final “f@#k you” before we meet again.

Who’s with me?