I'll be honest. I missed him Wednesday night. In the aftermath of the Yankees' 27th World

Series championship, I found myself wishing for one of those classic scenes of George

Steinbrenner, exulting in front of the TV cameras as his team sprayed champagne in the

victorious locker room.

But Steinbrenner was back in Tampa, too ill to be at the clincher. The owner is rarely seen

in public anymore. It's a very sad thing, because "The Boss" was the face of the Yankees for

35 years, the proud, bombastic face of baseball's most storied and successful franchise.

You could love him or hate him, but it was impossible to be indifferent about Steinbrenner.

The man meddled with his team. He spent money freely and often impetuously. He bullied

employees, fired managers at the slightest whim. But it was all in pursuit of one burning

objective: to win.

I grew up a Red Sox fan, but I never hated Steinbrenner or his team. I envied his resources

and admired many of his players. Once the Sox were eliminated, I pulled for the Yanks, with a

measure of restraint.

My 12-year-old son is an avid Yankee fan. The YES Network infiltrated his brain and I was

powerless to stop it. But any parent wants to see his child happy. I must admit, it was good

to see his Yanks finally win that 27th Series title, and for his hero, Alex Rodriguez, to shed

the label of a postseason choker.

Jack waited nine years for a Series title. I joke that it took the Red Sox 86 years. He has

endured a different sort of anguish, the expectation that your team is supposed to win every

year, and that nothing less is acceptable. That's what it means to be a Yankee fan. Like my

adult friends who root for the Yanks, he feels no remorse over the fact that his team has the

most money and the greatest resources with which to pursue a title.

I can't blame them. The Yanks are good for baseball. A sport needs a dynasty, a perennial

winner that inspires love and loathing in equal measure. People flock to see the Yankees. It's

been that way since the days of Ruth and Gehrig.

Baseball is healthier when the Yankees win. They give the sport a clearly identifiable

villain, an easy target for opposing fans' disdain. That's what was so appealing about

Steinbrenner. He was a leering, unrepentant overlord of baseball's "Evil Empire."

Sure, it would be nice if baseball had a more equitable way to distribute revenue, and

lessen the competitive gap. I feel sorry for kids who grow up rooting for the Pirates and

Royals. But it's unrealistic to expect an even playing field in baseball. The sport will never

have a salary cap, and it's better off without one.

A salary cap has its virtues. But if parity is so great, why are there so many bad teams in

the NFL? How much worse could the Browns, Bills and Bucs be if they had only half as much

money to spend? There's a numbing sameness to the teams in pro football.

I miss the old days, when the NFL had perennial powers like the Steelers of the '70s, the

49ers of the '80s, the Cowboys and Bills of the '90s — star-studded teams that made you

sit up and take notice, that made you feel you were in the presence of sports history.

Dallas owner Jerry Jones has the will and the money. He has the shiny new stadium and the

national following. What he lacks is enough good players to justify it. I know Bills fans

don't like to hear it, but the NFL would be a more interesting place if Jones had the freedom

to buy a couple more Pro Bowl players.

Baseball is the only sport that could sustain a character like George Steinbrenner. Love

him or hate him, it's a much duller place without him.