Nothing like a Damon to cheer up New York

America At Large: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. So said Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities. In yesterday's morning rush hour the frozen streets of Manhattan resembled a scene from War of the Worlds.

On the second day of the transit strike, thousands of pedestrians streamed down Broadway. When the odd automobile that had managed to circumvent traffic restrictions slowed to a crawl, its occupants were besieged as passers-by, clamouring for a lift, pounded on its roof.

But even in the midst of this chaos there was an extra spring to the step of workplace-bound New Yorkers, at least the ones who had paused to read the morning papers: the city might have been paralysed, but overnight Johnny Damon had become a New York Yankee.

It was a devil's bargain most New Yorkers seemed happy enough to accept.

In recent years the age-old rivalry between the Yankees and the Red Sox has taken on the trappings of a blood feud. A year ago last October, the Boston team came back from a 3-0 deficit to oust the despised Yanks in a best-of-seven layoff and went on to sweep the St Louis Cardinals to win their first World Championship in 84 years.

Johnny Damon didn't single-handedly put an end to the Curse of the Bambino in that League Championship series, but he did his part, with two home runs - one of them coming with the bases loaded - in the pivotal seventh game.

Damon is, or was, the Red Sox centrefielder, and the most accomplished lead-off hitter in the American League. With his long hair trailing behind him, he ran down fly balls and stole bases with equal aplomb. The flowing mane, beard and rock-star demeanour had made him the veritable face of the Boston franchise - particularly when contrasted with the Yankees, a team whose players have long laboured under George Steinbrenner's personal grooming code, which bans long tresses and facial hair.

Bostonians, without a trace of embarrassment, noted Johnny's more-than-passing resemblance to Jesus Christ. New Yorkers thought he looked more like Charles Manson.

The confusion into which New York was plunged this week pales in comparison to that which has beset the Boston front office over the past two months. The encore to their 2004 triumph saw the Red Sox meekly ousted in the first layoff round by the eventual champions, the Chicago White Sox. Boy-wonder general manager Theo Epstein abruptly departed in an apparent power-struggle, and was replaced by a committee - one maintained on a short leash by the club's ownership.

Slugger Manny Ramirez demanded an off-season trade, and then demonstrated his resolve by putting his Boston condominium on the market. Third baseman Bill Mueller and first baseman Kevin Millar, the cornerstones of the 2004 pennant-winning infield, were lost to free agency. The 42-year-old lefthanded pitcher David Wells also asked to be traded.

In the midst of all this, Damon's contract situation remained unresolved. Perhaps the Boston front office placed too much faith in the free-agent-to-be outfielder's pronouncement last May that he "could never play for the Yankees".

In any case, apparently reckoning he had more value in Boston than he might have elsewhere, the team tendered Damon a four-year, $40-million offer, which they calculated would go unmatched elsewhere. They were wrong.

On Tuesday, while New Yorkers suffered through the first day of the crippling strike and Bostonians celebrated in long-distance Schadenfreude, Herr Steinbrenner and his GM, Brian Cashman, were putting the finishing touches on a four-year, $52-million deal with Damon's agent, Scott Boras. By the time details leaked out late that night, the Red Sox had been so thoroughly trumped they had no answer.

Signing Damon was doubly fortuitous for the Yankees, who not only simultaneously fulfilled their need for a lead-off batter and a potential void in centrefield, but potentially weakened their principal divisional rivals.

Boston fans were understandably crushed and outraged the Evil Empire had triumphed yet again. Having broken the hearts of teenage girls all across New England, to say nothing of the spirits of diehard Red Sox rooters, Damon seemed decidedly unapologetic over his decision to switch allegiance to the Dark Side.

"I tried everything in my power to come back," he told a Boston television station on Tuesday night. "I made contact with them and I told them they need to really get going because, if not, I'm going to be on another team. Unfortunately, Boston had their plans. I'm not sure they knew I meant it. Now I'm a Yankee."

Indeed, by yesterday Damon, as he speculated on his new employer's fortunes over the summer to come, rubbed salt in the wounds by repeatedly describing the Yankees as "we". The deal remains contingent on his passing a physical examination, but could be made official as early as today. Normally the next step would be to fly the newest Yankee to the Big Apple and trot him out for the obligatory photo op in his new pinstriped jersey, but under the present circumstances it would be easier for a baseball team to convene a press conference in downtown Baghdad than in New York.

The next step will undoubtedly involve a highly public shave-and-a-haircut ceremony. When that happens, as surely it will, Bostonians everywhere will weep.