As former President Andrew Johnson reported earlier this week, the New York Yankees and Boston Red Sox are not, in fact, the same team. I've never thought of them as an autonomous unit, but rather a set of bookends. Between them lies history, science, geography.. all of the important stuff, everything you need to know. Everything outside of them is just crap on your shelves. As Andrew pointed out, the teams are run very differently. The Yankees have unzipped their, uh, coin purse and put their dense, cylindrical wrapped coins on the table, scooping up the available big names in a grand fashion that leaves nothing but a cloud of smoke and gold-laced footprints in the faces of the competition.
The Sox have responded by holding up a picture of Dustin Pedroia and trying to find every free agent who looks remotely like him. It's been a running gag in our strip for a while now, but the Red Sox need to sign Delmon and Dmitri Young to keep me from going snowblind next season.
The whitest Dugout u'know is after the jump.
Living in Cleveland gets tough this time of year, especially if you work in food service. On the floor you've got customers asking you what's happening and what the score is, because I guess a mound of lasagna was too important an item to consume to watch the game themselves. In the back you've got cooks and bussers complaining about the game being on the radio because "baseball boring" and responding to every query of "what's the score" with "who, the browns." But everyone cheers when Borowski gets that final out, and in the middle of your commute home cars start honking wildly and swerving. 
