My Yankees and My Shame

I'm ashamed of how I feel right now. My Yankees lost. They lost a heartbreaker in the 9th inning. I feel terrible. I feel like I've suffered a death in my family.


How childish. How ridiculous. Why should I feel this way?


I've been rooting for the Yankees for 42 years. They've enjoyed more than their fair share of success. They've won the World Series 4 times in the last 6 years, participated 5 times. They made a miraculous comeback against Oakland and then beat the winningest team in league history. Think about Red Sox fans, or Cubs fans, or White Sox fans, or Clippers fans. What have I got to feel bad about?


And it's not just that. There are people fighting and people dying tonight. People who were fathers and mothers and sons and daughters plunged to their deaths on September 11 because of sheer lunacy. And I feel bad about a baseball game? For crying out loud.


I've been so lucky in my life. Sure, I've had my share of heartbreak; we all carry burdens. But I live a charmed life, I really do. I've gotten far more out of life than I deserve.


And yet. . . What is it that makes a sports team so important to me? The Yankees and baseball were my first loves and they're still there. I know it's just a business, and in the Yankees' case, an unfair business at that.


I noticed Mayor Giuliani applauding at the end of the game. He's apparently as big a fan of the Yanks as I am, but he applauded. I think he was appluading the game, the sheer joy it can bring to people, the beauty of the classic game he had just witnessed, even though he was unhappy with the outcome.


The nicest thing that happened was what my son did. He's eleven. He's sort of a baseball fan, but he likes football and basketball much better. If he roots for any baseball team, it's the Dodgers (we live in L.A.). He watched with me and was devastated at the loss. Not because he's a Yankee fan. But because he knows I'm a Yankee fan. He wanted them to win for me.


Curt Schilling also has a son. His name is Gehrig. To quote the original Gehrig, I may have been given a bad break, but I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. To have a son, a son who wanted something to happen only because he knew it was important to me, well, it doesn't get any better than that. I really feel ashamed now. (I should also be ashamed to quote Lou Gehrig who was talking about dying, not losing a World Series.)


Hopefully, he'll grow up to understand the importance of the really important things in life, which don't include baseball or poker. And hopefully he'll have a son like him.


To play catch with.

Andy,


Nice post. Obviously, in spite of your disappointment, you have a pretty good perspective, which I'm sure has served (or is serving) you well in life and poker. What a great World Series, you should be proud of your Yankees, both in this series and the preceeding ones. I think both teams exhibited great courage(in the context of sport) and a lesson to all of us on the importance of never giving up. Myself, I was cheering for the D-Backs, since my sister lives in Tempe and has become a delirious fan, I tend to root for underdogs(as which the Yankees rarely qualify), and for the ex-Cubs. Just the same, if the Yankees had won, it would have been nice for the people of New York who have been through so much. They should be proud of themselves and their team anyway. As a long-suffering Cubs(and to a lesser extent WhiteSox) fan, maybe I can't relate(or maybe I relate all too well) but again, you seem to have a pretty good perspective and I'm sure with you as a role model, your son will give you the greatest pride of all.


Take care,


Mike


BTW, last week I was awed by the MY Chicago Bears, watched every minute. Now I'm ashamed to say that I gave up on them this week w/ about three minutes left(went and did something worthwhile atleast) and they came back and won a game that must have been atleast as exciting as last week. If I had been grinding it out at Harrah's East Chicago I wouldn't have missed it. Oh well. Nice to have so many examples of perseverence and hard work in the world, they are all over if only we have that perspective to recognize them.

nm

Nice post Andy. My first memories of baseball were on my uncle's knee, circa 1953, and he would point to a calendar and I would tell him who's number it was 7: the Mick; 8 Yogi and so on. The first live professional game I ever saw was from the left field upper deck at Yankee Stadium - a 9 yr old boy, with my Dad and 3 brothers (2 since deceased) - stepping out from the walkway to view the greenest, greatest, most historic field. BTW, we always sat on the 3rd base side so we could see into the Yankee dugout. Dad would take us to a doubleheader - we'd pack lunches ad thermoses and just have a great old day. Taking turns sitting behind the poles (yeah, they had poles in the stands then), learned how to keep score, and memorized every stat for every Yankee. Just wonderful, happy, care-free memories.


Saturday night, ny Dad, all 79 years and barely able to walk, came over to my house for my 13 yr old son's birthday and to watch the Bombers. Only thing that mattered - what time is it? what time does the game start? Everyone knew what game he meant - not the 30 college football games, but THE game. Nice thing he said: "You know, no matter how many times you watch the world series, it never gets old"


Yanks get blown out, Pop leaves in the 4th for the long trek back to where he lives with my aunt. Yesterday, he watched from home. Funny, I didn't mind the Yankees losing for myself - (blasphemy I know, but I really thought Arizona was the better team)- I felt bad for Pop. He might not make it to next season - but then, he always seems to surprise me. That's the fighter in him I guess, Just like the 2-run homers in the bottom of the 9th back-to-back. I'm crying a little now, not for my 13 yr old Robbie or myself. Just for Pop. Always for Pop. Love you Pop.


Baseball is the youth elixir. May it live forever.