Your Team.... My Team....

Your slugger is a steroid-dripping cheat.

My slugger has made a major off-season commitment to reshaping his body.

Your superstar is a selfish and arrogant narcissist who can't even stand his own teammates, much less his fans.

My superstar is focused.

Your cheerleaders are uglier than the primates at the Tehran Zoo.

My cheerleaders reject the old, chauvinistic notions of spirit leaders.

Your college's basketball coach is a perverted lush who has rubbed up against more coeds than a sorority-house beagle.

My college's basketball coach understands the importance of student-body support.

Your stadium is a bandbox with more tricked-up features than a plastic surgeon's waiting room.

My stadium is neoclassic.