I can't believe I just said that. My mortal enemy as a kid has now become my best friend. That's like Tom and Jerry becoming bff's. It's like Bill O'Reilly and Keith Olbermann going on vacation together. It's more unlikely than Sarah Palin becoming a Rohde Scholar. I never even had a nightmare that I would someday hate the Yankees.
I mean, considering the life I lived, me rooting for Boston was about as likely as Hitler wearing a Yammucah. You would sooner see Theo Epstein have George Steinbrenner be the Best Man at his wedding than you would see me wear Red Sox colors. That's what I used to think, at least. But, like everything else in life, things change.
I spent the first 26 years of my life as a Four-Star General in the Bronx Bomber Army. The time I didn’t spend watching them on TV or shopping for their apparel I was huddled in front of the newspaper or a magazine, memorizing stats and box scores of all their games. I was basically a Yankee Encyclopedia growing up. The only differences between me and those guys who go door to door selling Brittanica’s is that while they dress much better, people actually invite me over to their house.
I fell in love with the Yankees as soon as I was old enough to hold a bat. My favorite player was, and always will be, Don Mattingly. That will never change, not if I live 5 more years, or 500. In little league, I used to emulate him all the time. I had the same stance, we were both left-handed and I played first base a lot. The only differences were that he hit for a little more power…and his mustache was thicker. I adored him. I actually used to celebrate his birthday as a little kid. Every year, on April 20th, my mom would buy a cake that said Happy Birthday Don on it. I used to gather up all my family into the dining room so we could all sing Happy Birthday to him. I would always wish for the Yankees to win the Series. It’s odd that the wish finally came true the year after Mattingly retired, and 7 years after I last wished it. Better late than never I guess…except for Don. I’m still a little bitter about that. Still though, I loved my Yankees, Mattingly or no Mattingly.
Don Mattingly-
The best Yankee of my lifetime
Much like many gay people can pinpoint the exact moment they knew they were different, I can pinpoint the exact day my heart changed allegiances. It was Friday, May 17, 2002. Yankee fans may remember this as the day Jason Giambi hit his famous “Grand Slam in the Rain” against the Minnesota Twins. It was also known as the day Giambi “became a Yankee”, so to speak. I was living in Dobbs Ferry, NY at the time, but I had come home that night to see my parents. I was on the road 5 hours, and didn’t get back until around 10 PM or so, at which point I turned on the Yankees-Twins game at the Stadium. It was a great game, back and forth the whole time. Yankees had a 5 run lead on Minnesota until the Twins put up a 6 spot in the 6th to take a one-run lead. I dozed off somewhere after that for a bit, then woke up in the bottom of the ninth inning with the Twins still clinging to that one-run lead. Still groggy, I watched as the Yankees tied the game up in the bottom of the ninth in true dramatic fashion. When this happened I remember not being that happy, which was odd, considering how exciting the game was. I chalked it up to me being tired, and thought nothing of it. I tried to stay awake to see the conclusion, but I was too tired and fell back asleep. The teams exchanged goose-eggs until the 14th inning, when Minnesota scored 3 runs to take a 13-10 lead. It had been raining pretty hard for the last few innings, the field was soaked. I woke up again just in time for the bottom of the 14th; the Yankees last chance to steal a victory What happened next almost seemed like a dream. I remember hearing Bob Sheppard announcing Jason Giambi’s name. I opened my eyes to see that theYankees had the bases loaded. This is when I also noticed the score. I can’t remember what pitch of the at bat it was on, but I was watching as Giambi connected and sent a high fly ball soaring into the outfield. The crowd went nuts upon contact, so I knew it had a chance. When the crowd got even louder, and started screaming I knew he got it. I stared at the TV as the camera shot to the Yankee dugout, where the other Yankee players, led by Jeter, jumped out of the dugout and ran to home plate to mob Giambi. Then, I heard that call…that annoying, overplayed, unoriginal call that John Sterling always makes after a Yankee victory.
TTHHHHEEEEE YYYAAAANNNKKKKEEEESSS WWWIIINNN!!!!!
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Yankees celebrate at Home plate after Giambi's GS in 14th |
Upon witnessing this, Instead of instantly getting a rush of adrenaline, I actually felt remorse. Hearing Sterling’s out-of-tune beat yelp confirming what I just saw on TV actually got me angry. I felt bad for the Twins. They had been terrorized by the Yankees over the years. They probably had won 4 games against them in the previous 4 years combined.
It upset me that, here was a Twin team, with a payroll one-quarter the size of the Yankees, who came into the Mecca of baseball parks, Yankee Stadium, and battle from 5 runs down to take the lead into the 9th inning. After blowing the lead, the team still has enough resolve to take another lead in the 14th inning, only to see the Big, Bad Yankees once again break their hearts and steal the win. The Yankees are bullies! I hate bullies. I still remember the name of the kid who picked on me in 9th grade, and I still, to this day, want to take a tire iron to his face. The Yankees have ten times the money and resources as the Twins. Of course they are going to win! It’s not fun rooting for a team when you know they are going to win. That’s like being a Harlem Globetrotter fan, or rooting for the sun to come up in the morning; it’s pointless, because you know it will happen.
The Twins, despite having one of the lowest payrolls in baseball, had somehow remained a very competitive team. They had won their division numerous times in the last few years, despite not having any big names or feared power hitters. They won games the old-fashioned way- by clutch-hitting, moving runners over, stealing bases, bunting and good defense. This is how baseball is supposed to be played. The Twins scored the majority of their 13 runs that game by playing small ball. They played fundamentally sound baseball and scored 13 runs off the mighty Yankees, the team with a higher payroll than the 5 lowest-revenue teams COMBINED! They busted their ass, played hard, and had the mighty Yankees on the ropes. It might have been only a game in early May, but this was a game a very young and talented Twins team could have hung their hat on. They would have outlasted a marathon game against the most storied franchise in professional sports, scoring 13 runs and beating them in their own building. These thoughts all inexplicably came rushing into my head when Giambi hit the Home Run. Instead of being ecstatic that my team won one of the most exciting, drama filled games in a long time, I was mad.
Before Free Agency ruined baseball, pro teams had the same players year in and year out, unless they were traded. Teammates played with each other for a career, not a few seasons, as is the case today. Players came up through the farm system together, getting called up through the ranks, until they got that long-awaited, life-changing call from the big club. When they got to the majors, they were taught how to manufacture runs. For example, a walk, followed by a stolen base, a ground ball to the right side, and a fly ball to the outfield would score a run without the team even getting a base hit . The run was manufactured; the result of three guys just doing their jobs to get the runner over one base. It was everyone working together. This is an example of how teams scored for the majority of baseball’s history. It’s only recently that the Home Run became the only thing players thought about with runners on base. I feel old saying this, especially considering I wasn’t even alive back then, but teams used to sacrifice bunt and use strategy to score runs all the time. They had to if they wanted to win.
Fundamentals were the name of the game back then. The players were hard-nosed and played hard every play. They didn’t whine about contracts and they didn’t make more money in one game than I make in an entire year. Most players actually needed to get jobs in the off-season to pay bills. I’m not saying this is right, but they were hard workers, children of immigrants who had to bust their ass for little pay just to make it in this country. That work ethic was passed down to their children. The players weren’t spoiled, arrogant crybabies who complained they only made $10 million a year for playing a child’s game that most people play for fun. The pitchers didn’t have pitch counts, the hitters didn’t have PED’s and the luxury of having multi-million dollar gyms to work out in. They were farmer strong; they lifted bails of hay more than they lifted weights. Players didn’t go on the disabled list unless it was absolutely necessary, like if their life was in danger. The reason was that if they missed even a few games, they weren’t sure their starting job might not be there for them when they get back. There was no labor union. Players were treated like cattle. The players in these days didn’t complain, they just did their job, like they were supposed to. A pitcher didn’t have the Player’s Association file a grievance because his manager made him throw 140 pitches, or made him pitch on 3 days rest. Pitchers used to do this all the time. It was their game. They wanted to finish what they started, it was a warrior’s mentality that has somehow gotten lost over the years.’
I am saying all this because baseball today is a shadow of what it was before. It’s not even baseball anymore, really. It’s a bunch of overpaid, privileged, arrogant juice-monkeys who just go out on there and play home run derby for nine innings. That’s what the Yankees do; They have let everything baseball is supposed to be about escape their mind, instead focusing on hitting as many balls over the wall as possible, believing that they can just slug their way to a Championship every year. “A bloop and a blast” is their offensive philosophy. Maybe not even that, it’s probably more like “Two blasts”. Ever since the old guard of Brosius, Tino, and Paully O’Neill left after the 2001 season, the team has stopped doing what made them Champions. Those guys were clubhouse leaders and they knew how to win. They would do whatever it took to get the “W”. Paul O’Neill was an RBI guy, but if the manager wanted him to bunt, you bet your ass he would bunt, same with Tino or Brosius. They were team guys, not stat guys. You think A-Rod would bunt if the manager asked him too. Hell no!!! He would call for time, step out of the box and look at the third base coach with a confused look on his face. After these true Yankees retired, the Front Office decided to just start buying players to fill needs or correct any holes they had on their team. They stopped caring about stocking their farm system, which is odd, considering the core of their title teams: Jeter, Pettite, Rivera and Posada, all came up through that very same farm system. They were taught what it means to be a Yankee, and were groomed to be good team players. That system seemed to work pretty good, so why change it?
Throughout their most recent Championship run from 1996-2001, the Yankees had the perfect mix of homegrown talent, big free agents and role players. They complimented each other perfectly. Everyone filled a certain role on the team. Once these players, a huge void was left on the team. As good as Jeter is, he can’t do everything. Instead of staying with the same recipe that had served them so well for so long, the Yankees completely changed their strategy. Instead of grooming a young kid in their farm system for a needed position, letting him grow into it and occupy it for fifteen years, the team instead just started going on a huge shopping spree every off-season to fill whatever positions they needed. They could afford to be wrong on a player every now and then, too, as they had so much money that if one signee turned out to be a dud they would just sign another one, figuring sooner or later they were bound to be right. On the opposite end of the spectrum, If a small market team like the Twins opens up their checkbook to sign a big free agent, and that player turns out to be a bust, it handicaps the whole Organization for years. The Yankees? They just get rid of the weak link, dust off and get right back at it.
Since they spent so much money on payroll, ticket prices were raised to help pay for these new expenses the team\ had. This affected all the middle income fans that are the heart and soul of their franchise. They also started charging more for food and drink, which were already priced way too high to begin with. I used to go to 8-10 games a year when I first moved to the NY-Metro area. The prices, though high, were still reasonable. Now, going to a game is a big expense. It’s become almost like a family vacation in terms of how much a family of four will spend. Christ, one person can blow almost $100 by themselves easily. The Yankees needed more revenue to pay for all the money they were spending, so they stuck the fans with the bill. The team thought that the fans would be glad to spend all this money because the team would be winning all the time. Their strategy of spending the GNP of Morocco on free agents every year was sure to bring them titles, they believed.
The problem with this plan of action was you don’t always win with the best players…you win with the right players. The Yankees signed big names who could all hit Home Runs and drive in a lot of guys, but they didn’t sign anyone who was good at moving runners over, or bunting. I honestly don’t think anyone on their team now, with the exception of Jeter, knows how to bunt. Even their role players were swinging for the fences all the time What good is a guy who hits a ton of Home Runs against fourth and fifth starters going to be in the playoffs, where the pitching is at a premium? The team also signed many big name pitchers, most of whom folded under the enormous pressure of playing in the media capital of the world. Many of the guys they signed were just to get press I am convinced. A guy has one big statistical year after having under-achieved the rest of his career, yet somehow convinces the Yankees that his big year was just a start of many more big seasons to come.
That reasoning is laughable. The player had a big year because it was a contract year, and he needed to perform he could put food on the table. Said player would do anything necessary to get that big contract, including using PED’s. MLB get-rich-quick scheme of: Juice for a few months, hit 35 Home Runs the next year, find a good agent, then sit back and get paid has helped get a lot of players rich over the years. After all, it only takes one team to be willing to sign someone for those big bucks; most of the time, this one team is the Yankees. So simple and stupid, yet it works every time. The Yankees filled their club with a small army of these players over the last few years; players who were just out for the next big paycheck, and were not willing to sacrifice stats for wins. Who can blame them? After all, they are most likely going to need one or two more big paychecks before they retire; wasting an at bat to move a runner over may cost them a few hundred-thousand dollars in their next contract. Their thinking is, why move the runner over when I can just drive him in myself. A whole team of guys like this can be cancer for a team. It is not what baseball, or any sport for that matter, should be about. A team of free-swinging, all-or-nothing home run hitters might put up some big numbers in the regular season, but, once October came around, when the games, especially in New York, really matter, these guys would slump. Great teams have great pitching. Great pitching beats home run hitters every time. If you can’t manufacture runs, you aren’t going to win, and that’s what has happened to the Yankees every year in the playoffs since 2000. They would always win 100 games, hit 200+ Home Runs, and sell 3.5 million plus tickets, but when it got to playoff time, they would never win. They were always eliminated in the first round, sometimes in embarrassing fashion. People would predict them to win it all every year, because of their roster stacked with great rotisserie All-Stars. Unfortunately, rotisserie teams rarely do good in real life. See the Washington Redskins, New York Rangers, or the New York Mets for proof of that. The Yankees spent all their money on sluggers and stud starting pitchers, and ignored the most important things that make a team a winner: A strong farm system, great role players, and outstanding middle relief. They had all those during their title run. Now, they have none, yet wonder why they are not winning.
Back to the Twins. The Twins play small ball. They win, despite having a greedy pig of an owner who puts absolutely no money into the team. Their players are smaller, don’t hit for power, aren’t as well-known and make a ton less money, yet they make the playoffs regularly. Here’s the Yankees, all $200 million dollars worth of them, who just beat the hell out of Minnesota every time they play. When Giambi hit that Home Run, I realized that the Yankees represent the school bully, who constantly picks on the small, the weak and the poor. The Yankees are the privileged rich kids who look down on everyone else in their arrogance. They are the Prom King, the most popular kid in school while the Twins are the kid who goes home after school to care for his sick mother. The Yankees are the Popular clique, the ones who are more concerned about their image and how they look than the feelings of their peers or their grades. I hate popular kids! I also can’t stand rich kids- spoiled brats who always get everything they want, don’t know the value of a dollar, and had never had to experience what a hard days’ work is like. Basically, that single home run made me realize that the Yankees have come to represent everything I hate in our world. They are like greedy Wall-Street bankers, crooked Politicians and the clueless, arrogant Hollywood crowd all rolled into one.
This early season, meaningless game, between two teams not even in the same division, made me realize that I hated the Yankees, or at least what they had become. I didn’t tell anyone my feelings at first, because I was scared. What would people think? They would consider me a traitor. Plus, I had always been such a ridiculously hardcore fan that my friends probably wouldn’t have believed me anyway. Over the years, I have become more open about my hatred of the Yankees, at least to my friends in Upstate NY. They all know I hate the Yankees. My friends who are fellow Yankee haters understand where my betrayal comes from, but my friends who are Yankee fans took my proclamation with a grain of salt. I still don’t think many of them believe me.
The only people who do not know about my change of allegiance are my friends who live in the NY-Metro area. These are the ones I am afraid to tell, as they are the biggest Yankee fans I know. They all grew up in New York City, so Yankee baseball is as much a part of them as the clothes on their back. I have gone to countless games with them over the years, and will go to countless more in the future. I just have yet to tell them I am secretly rooting for the team not wearing pinstripes. When I hang out with them, we always talk about the Yankees. I play this act off good, because, like I said earlier, I am a baseball Encyclopedia and can quote stats until the cows come home. The one’s who have kids have raised their children to hate the Red Sox since birth. To the kids of my die-hard Yankee fan buddies, the Red Sox are as evil as Russia was to American children who grew up during the Cold War. These buddies of mine don’t care if their kids grow up to be gay, communist bigots who worship Satan and live at home until they are 45…as long as they hate the Red Sox. That is why, until now, I have kept my feelings to myself on this subject. So, if you’re reading this, I am sorry Erik, Jose, Hugo, Orlando, Daniel, Spiderman, Louis, Nancy, O’Neill and Alex. I am sorry to have broken your heart, but I can’t take it anymore.
Because of this admission, I feel like a tremendous weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I no longer have to fake cheer when a Yankees pitcher records a big strikeout. I no longer have to fist-bump or high-five everyone when they score a run, or win. I can’t stand having to act upset when the other team ties the score, and I refuse to do it anymore. I hate having to rip on someone who is wearing a jersey of the other team when we go to Yankee games, because I secretly want to be that guy. Lastly, I no longer feel the need to pretend like I am infuriated when people say the Yankees win because they just buy all the best players. I am through defending them, because it’s true.
Me and three of my NYC buddies in front of Yankee Stadium before a game
long after I had become a turncoat. Look at that fake smile on my face.
Saying the Yankees don’t have a huge advantage over other clubs because of their unlimited resources is ludicrous. It’s like saying Wal-Mart has no sales advantage over Kate’s Clothing Store. Of course Wal-Mart will outperform this small store, they have billions upon billions more to spend on everything from Research and Development, labor, technology, marketing and everything else. If Wal-Mart makes a mistake in one of these areas and suffers a financial loss, it’s no big deal. They simply correct the mistake and move on. If Kate’s Clothing Store makes a mistake, they go out of business. They simply don’t have the money and resources to compete with Sam Walton and his empire. That’s how the Yankees are. They are the Wal-Mart of baseball. I hate Wal-Mart. I hate everything Wal-Mart stands for. I refuse to pretend I like shopping there anymore.
I refuse to be a slave to Steinbrenner and his Theme Park-like prices, his ludicrous spending, and his unrealistic demands. I used to hate acting depressed after a season because my team “only won 97 games”, or Steinbrenner firing everyone because the Yankees got knocked out of the playoffs. What a joke! Screw that! The Yankees really are the Evil Empire! They steal the soul of their players and then train them to dress and act like Wall Street Bankers. They play a game for God’s sake. Games are supposed to be fun! Yankee players can’t have facial hair, or wear jewelry, and their hair needs to be a certain length. Are they baseball players or Secret Service Agents? Joe Girardi has been called many things, but a Barack Obama look alike is not one of them/
I grew up in the 1980’s, during the Yankees lean years. I spent my whole childhood never seeing them make the playoffs. The one year they would have made the postseason, 1997, the season was cancelled due to a strike. When they finally did win the World Series in 1996, I was in college. Their victory should have been one of the happiest days of my life, but it wasn’t. I wish I could say I jumped for joy after the last out was made, but that would be a lie. At the exact moment Charlie Hayes closed his glove around Mark Lemke’s pop foul, I was on my knees at my Fraternity House. Unfortunately for me, I was not on my knees thanking the Heavens for the Yankees victory, although there was a God involved. When my Yankees were all mobbing John Wetteland on the mound, I was piss drunk,f ace down in the toilet, puking out the contents of my stomach, which consisted of, amongst other things: 3 cigarette butts, chewing gum, 2 band-aids, my library card, a picture of my deceased great-aunt, and a few other things that I can’t remember. My drunk behavior was much like that of a shark. This wasn’t because I was a feared and respected, very deadly predator that feasted on the meat of creatures smaller and weaker than me, but rather because I stayed awake all night and ate everything that crossed my path.
The night of Game 6, my fraternity had a Halloween Date Party. Our date parties were legendary. Everyone in my fraternity chipped in $20 and we bought enough alcohol to kill a dinosaur…or get Charlie Sheen slightly buzzed. Everyone dressed up in costume and brought dates. We partied like it was 1999, back when that was still 3 years away. This night, my buddy Chris and I coordinated our Halloween costumes. We went as the Blues Brothers. He was Jake and I was Elwood.
Everyone drank themselves into a semi-coma that night. We had the baseball game in another room. Every 20 minutes or so, I would drop in to check out the score…until around the 7th inning. That’s when I started getting the spins and went upstairs, which is where I stayed for the rest of the game. I guess you can say my 7th inning stretch went a little longer than normal. I missed the rest of the game, the celebration and the ensuing Awards Ceremony because my dinner decided it was Closterphobic, and didn’t like being trapped inside the cozy confines of my stomach.
A moment I had waited eagerly for 19 years came and went and I missed it. It didn’t even really bother me, either. That was the turning point of my life in terms of being a Yankee fan. After this revelation, no longer did I rush home to catch the 4:05 game, or stay up past midnight to watch the end of a game if they were playing on the west coast. I still rooted for them, of course, but they no longer consumed my life as they had before. The spell Steinbrenner had on me was over. I had other interests; one of those being drinking heavily. Having a virtually unlimited supply of beer on hand at all times, as my fraternity house did, allowed me to spend a great amount of my free time doing keg stands and playing beer games. I didn’t have time for baseball. Even if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to watch the game, as I was always seeing double.
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The Yankees celebrate their 1996 World Series win. At this very moment, I was puking my guts out in the bathroom of a Frat house. |
After that first WS victory in 1996, I did have a brief feeling of elation and happiness, and I won’t deny that I did have perma-grin for a few days. However, after these brief feelings of ecstasy, I realized that nothing in my life was really any better. I wasn’t on the team. The Yankees weren’t mailing me a World Series ring, or even a plaque that said “Thanks for sticking with us through the tough times” or something like that. They did nothing for me. Wait, I take that back. They did do something…they raised ticket prices. That doesn’t seem like a good gift to me. That is a present I would definitely want to re-gift.
After the victory, I continued living my life like I always had. My college professors did not give me all A’s because I was a Yankee fan. My car insurance company didn’t forgive my monthly premium because I resided in New York. My employer didn’t give me any special treatment, either. I still had to show up to work. Even my parents didn’t seem to care that this was a big event for me. I still had to take out the garbage, do the dishes, and clean my room. If anything, my team winning the Title made my life worse, because now I was upset that I still had to do all my chores, just like Red Sox and Mets fans, whose teams didn’t even make the playoffs.
I watched as the Yankees won 3 out of the next 4 World Series, all in dominant fashion. They were head and shoulders above every other team. When the core group of veterans all left after the 2001 season, a vacuum was left in my heart, as I loved those guys, and the players who replaced them I didn’t know, and had no emotional attachment to. It was like I had to start over after 25 years of being a fan. I felt abandoned and un-appreciated. This fact that I had no emotional attachment to the new crop of Yankees made it much easier for me to further tune them out; which I did, little by little for the next 6 years.
My new, but very quickly growing hatred for the Yankees was further fueled this past year, after they won yet another title. What did the team do to celebrate their first title in, OMG! 9 whole years? Nothing, they immediately started preparing for 2010 so they could win another title. Now, if the whole point of playing is to win a title, how can you not celebrate a little after reaching that goal? All the hard work and dedication put in by so many people amounts to what for them? One more year of job security? This is a ludicrous thought, and is such a misguided notion that I am amazed that everyone just goes along with it.
Another thing that happened after this most recent Championship that re-instated that I made the right decision in switching my team loyalties is an extremely arrogant statement made by one of their announcers. I despise Michael Kay, always have; but this wasn’t something said by him. He is innocent, for once. I actually can’t remember who said it, but the statement in question was said by one of their announcers during their victory parade. The camera was scanning the crowd while the parade was going on, and this announcer, whoever it was, said something like, “There are some people in this crowd that have never seen the Yankees win a Title!!” Is he effing kidding me? A 9-year lapse between Championships and he makes a comment like that? Tell that to a Cubs fan. 111 years and counting since the Cubs were World Champs! This statement is asinine. I mean, if you want to get technical, you can say that about any team and their fans, regardless of how long it’s been since they had to order Championship rings. Christ!, children of Yankee fans who were born in November 2009 have never seen them win a title, as they weren’t born until a few weeks later. Is this prick gonna bring this up at this year’s parade if they repeat?
Finally, why the Red Sox you ask? Why, of all teams to pick, do I pick the mortal enemy of the team who was my world from the time I was in T-Ball? The Red Sox, like the Twins, are underdogs. Also like the Twins, they have been bullied by the Yankees relentlessly over the years. The only difference being that the Red Sox have suffered excruciating, heartbreaking losses to the Yankees in such key, high profile games repeatedly over the last 80+ years, while Twins fans have only had to cry themselves to sleep over the last 5 or so. I respect Red Sox history, their perseverance, their EXTREMELY passionate fans, their fun-loving players, and, most importantly, the fact that my entire family are Red Sox fans.
My dad grew up right outside of Boston and he has been a die-hard fan of the Bosox his entire life. When I was little, my father used to take the whole family to Boston every summer to see relatives. We always managed to squeeze in a Red Sox game, too. Even though I was a Yankee fan, I didn’t mind- I loved baseball, and it was always a fun family outing. My dad didn’t care that I was a Yankee fan, although, he might have been a little more persuasive to my younger siblings, as my 2 younger brothers, and my younger sister have been members of Red Sox Nation from the day they learned to say “Home Run”. I grew up the black sheep of the family, at least in terms of my baseball team preference.
Now I know different, and have accepted the same team as the rest of my family as the team most worthy of my love. The Yankees have become all that’s wrong with baseball. They are the symbols of greed. The character of some of their recent big name free agents hasn’t done much to improve my opinion of them, either. Alex Rodriguez and Roger Clemens are arrogant pricks, who don’t respect the game. These two clowns, and Jason Giambi, amongst others, kept Yankee Stadium at the top of PED dealers speed-dial lists for years. I liked Jason Giambi as an Athletic; as he had personality, was a good team leader, and seemed like a dude I would love to have a beer with. This all changed when he signed with the Yankees. He sold his soul for a few bucks. He had to shave his trademark facial hair, and start tucking in his shirt. He became just another Steinbrenner hired goon. Johnny Damon is a sellout as well, just on a much larger scale. I won’t even waste any more space on this page about him. Players like this have turned me off to the team.
My hatred for this team was cemented following the 2007 season, when Joe Torre left. While I am ashamed of how they basically told Torre they didn’t want him to come back by offering such a terrible, low-ball offer, this is not the incident that further fueled my newfound rage for the team. What pissed me off more than anything is how they treated my hero, Don Mattingly following Torre’s departure. Mattingly had been Torre’s Hitting Coach, then, after Joe Girardi left, Bench Coach for years. Torre had been grooming him to replace him after he retired. Yankee Brass wanted this transition. I think it was actually their idea from the beginning. Who better to take over for Torre, who, besides being a native New Yorker, was responsible for bringing the team back to prominence after 20 years of misery? As beloved as Torre was by the fans, Mattingly was even more loved. He was the Yankees for a decade; the only thing worth cheering for during the down years of the 80’s and early 90’s. This move would have made perfect sense. Everyone assumed it was going to be like that, including Mattingly. He was promised the job when he took the job as Bench Coach. Torre was to just show him the ropes for a few years until he decided to ride off into the sunset, then Donnie Baseball would take over running the only organization he had ever been a part of.
But when the time came to name a new manager, Steinbrenner threw everyone a curve ball, naming Joe Girardi the new Skipper. Nothing against Joe, who did a great job with the Marlins the year before, but it was never supposed to be his job. Him getting the most prestigious coaching job in sports at the last minute reminds me way too much of the Tonight Show Fiasco (the first time Leno weaseled his way into a job he didn’t earn). Mattingly was led on all this time, groomed for a position he desperately wanted and deserved, for an Organization he had been with for 30 years- the only company he had ever worked for, only to be fucked over at the last minute. Steinbrenner didn’t even have the common courtesy to give him a reach-around. As a laughable and insulting consolation prize, Mattingly was told he could keep his job as Bench Coach. Fuck that shit! Don did what he should have done- walked! He now manages the Dodgers, and does a damn good job doing it considering all the shit that team is going through this year.
Although I was no longer a Yankee fan at this point, I was still in transition in terms of who my allegiances would ultimately end up with. By no means did I hate the Yankees. This act of disrespect and betrayal was the final nail in the coffin for my Yankee fandom. Steinbrenner’s action ensured that I would never root for the team again.
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The Yankees are the Evil Empire. They rule baseball with an Iron Fist. They recruit the strongest people from the entire baseball Galaxy for their army of over-paid, all-or-nothing pretty boys. They have unlimited funds, so they are able to travel the world looking for new talent. Other teams don’t have this luxury. They get the scraps; the players the Yankees pass on. Teams like the A’s, Pirates and Royals are nothing but glorified Yankee farm teams. These other teams draft a player, then develop him in their farm systems until he is Major-League ready. After his call-up, the team that drafted him has his rights for six seasons until he is eligible to become a Free Agent. If this player blossoms into a superstar within that time frame, his drafting team will need to fork out a lot of money to retain his services. Most of the time, these small-market teams don’t have the resources or ability to invest such a big portion of their payroll into one player. As a result, he signs elsewhere, often times this final destination is in the Bronx. This is why many low-budget teams trade their good young players away the year before they can become free agents. These teams would rather trade them a year early, and get a proven commodity for them in return, than lose them to free-agency, in which case they get a draft-pick as compensation. The draft is always a crapshoot. There are more busts than booms. Plus, even if the team does luck out and pick a gem, he still needs seasoning in the minors. He won’t be able to help the pro team win games for years. Anything can happen in that time. I mean, I went from being a hardcore, Die-Hard Yankees fan, to being a card-carrying member of Red Sox Nation in that time!
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