There was a time not so long ago, when every pitch of a Red Sox-Yankees showdown was worth watching — whether it was in April or October, there was bound to be drama. The Sox were the heartbreaking version of Chicago’s lovable losers. The “Oh So Close” crew you couldn’t help but feel sorry for. The Yankees, on the other hand, embodied confidence, winning and a certain kind of old-school class (at least if you listened to New Yorkers, they did).

Every game was a clash of ideologies that pitted opposite sides of the sports fan’s ethos against one another. As we admired the loyalty of the Red Sox fans in the face of the certain doom of the Curse of the Bambino and envied the annual contention and frequent victories of the Bronx Bombers — whose supporters had never had their own loyalties severely tested by an overlong championship drought — we just couldn’t look away.

Then, in 2004, something changed. The rivalry was turned on its head, as Boston famously (or infamously, depending upon your fanatical leanings) came back from a 3-0 deficit in the ALCS to win the pennant and eventually topple the St. Louis Cardinals in the World Series. It was one of the most magical series of events I’ve ever been privileged to witness in sports. It killed the curse and reversed the fans’ roles.

And it sucked all the life out of the rivalry.

Maybe it’s because the Yankees are already so far back in the division that there are some who question whether it’s safe to say they’re done. Of course, it isn’t safe to say that; it’s never safe in June, unless your team is the Royals, Devil Rays, Rockies or Nationals, but nevertheless, the fact that the question is being raised speaks volumes for the current state of the Yankees.

Maybe it’s because New York owner George Steinbrenner’s rumored ill-health has supposedly kept him out of the spotlight, as well as reduced his meddling to the level of just your average psychotic team boss (like Mark Cuban), rather than his normal, public relations and team harmony train-wreck self.

But in my opinion, it’s because there’s no more curse — no more Yankee mystique of certain victory; the farce has been unmasked. The rivalry has never seemed more mercenary or more meaningless for as long as I can remember, and I can’t help feeling I’m not alone in that.

The competition is as incestuous as ever, with Johnny Damon in center and Roger Clemens soon to be returning to the mound for the Yanks, while the Sox have merely adopted New York spending practices — doling out a boatload of cash to net Daisuke Matsuzaka and J.D. Drew in the offseason. New York, feeling the need to acquire its own overpaid outfielder and Japanese import, added Bobby Abreu in a trade last season and signed the (so far) completely useless Kei Igawa to offset the actually credible pitching presence of Dice-K.

But it’s just not the same. Now, when the Yankees make a move that reeks of stupidity, it’s no surprise to see it fail, and the generally well-run Red Sox are succeeding, as expected. With the “curse” broken, I’m not on the edge of my seat waiting for the late-season collapse in Boston, and neither are you. Meanwhile, the Yankees are free to be the wild-spending buffoons they’ve seemed like for so long.

But the networks don’t get it. They don’t understand that the rivalry has, sadly, become irrelevant by June this year. Roger Clemens can’t save the Yankees, nor can anyone else. And in the AL East, no one can stop the Red Sox — Boston’s rotation is just too deep, and its lineup, even without strong contributions from Manny Ramirez or Drew, has been plenty potent.

Which is why I have no idea how it came to be that on Saturday afternoon I kicked back to watch the Giants take on the Phillies, only to see Boston hosting New York, hosted by Jack Buck and Tim McCarver. Yes, that’s right: The rivalry has become so boring that I wanted to see Noah Lowry pitch to Aaron Rowand instead.

Now, of course, I’m a rather fanatical Giants supporter, but you get my point. There was a time when every matchup between two of the game’s most storied franchises was riveting, but that storyline is dead now, and it’s been dead, really, since October of 2004. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe, eventually, ESPN and FOX will have to stop paying so much attention to two of the 30 teams involved in the game and instead just concentrate on the best teams out there from year to year. And maybe, eventually, a new generation of more knowledgeable fans will spring up from the ashes of the Yankees’ collapse and the Red Sox’ rise.

Or maybe I’ll just be able to watch Noah Lowry face the Phillies next time.

Denis Griffin is a junior who has, of course, made this all up. He has no time for baseball because he’s too busy studying for finals. Distract him at djgriff@stanford.edu.