Oh, the creativity. We picture A-rod burning the midnight oil, hunched over his computer writing and rewriting each sentence till the prosaic rhythms ring with diamond clarity.

Rodriguez, through his publicity machine (let us not forgot that main reason the Mets didn’t buy him a few years back was because he wanted them to pay for his own P.R. team) announces that he wrote this book all by his very own self. And after reading the synopis, we believe him.

He also says that the book is about someone like himself–an underdog.

What amazes us are not the banalities that Rodriguez and his people spew, but that newspapers actually report it.

Let’s get something straight. Writing a good children’s book is harder than writing a good adult book. The people who’ve done it consistently — E.B. White and William Steig to name just two — are geniuses.

If he goes to the Mets, we’re moving to Argentina.

In high school I played soccer with a guy like that. Team’s best player Once, mid-dribble, I stole the ball from him. He snatched it from the ground and fired it at my face. Team had an endearment for him–asshole.

Last year, Jeter had security guards eject a fan from Yankee Stadium for heckling. Who was the fan heckling? Jeter. This blatant violation of a fan’s rights merited a small item on the gossip page. Aside from being a talented, but dumb jock, Jeter has mesmerized the New York press corps who are no better than the fans. He sleeps with models and Miss Universes and reporters think this is really cool. He even lets reporters read his mail from desperate girls. Nice, Derek.

Sports writers have bought so deeply into the Yankee Pride shit–not to mention the wonderfulness of clubhouse access–they don’t write the obvious. That the Yankees, who haven’t won a World Series since beating the Mets and that other local a-hole–Piazza–in 2000, have become the Atlanta Braves of the Northeast, and that Jeter is New York’s Cal Ripken Jr.

That’s not a compliment.