Derb seems to have a different definition of “class” than many of my readers and fellow Red Sox loyalists would employ. Was the reaction of the fans to a proper call by the umpires in Game 6 classy? Well, classy if you define class as the need to line riot police down the outfield lines. How about ARod? Sure, he’s given $2000 to his old boss, George W Bush, but how classy was his tomahawk chop of Bronson (otherwise known as Brandon by the inept Tim McCarver) Arroyo? And his feigned indignation at being caught cheating? Throw out the rulebook. It didn’t take a technical interpretation of any rule to see he what he was up to. I guess Steinbrenner’s felony convinction is a sign of class (no extra points for cheating on behalf of Richard Nixon). Oh, and as good buddy Chad points out, what about the attempt earlier this year to force Tampa Bay to forfeit a game because they didn’t get to New York in time for a scheduled game BECAUSE OF A HURRICANE. I won’t even mention the fact that I was hit with some sort of hard object during game 7 last year in Yankee Stadium, and that’s after the Yankees had tied the score. So let’s not talk classless. There’s plenty to go around. Sure the Sox need a collective haircut and everyone could have done without the image of Johnny Damon cutting his toenails on national television, but we can talk about Schilling’s work for ALS, David Ortiz’s clubhouse passing the hat on behalf of Dominican hurricane victims. There’s plenty of class in Boston. I’m not saying that there aren’t class acts on New York’s side of the aisle. Joe Torre is a man to be admired by all, and there are other examples that I can’t bring myself to recognize. But let’s be careful, Derb, in making the class distinction.