Scaling back the Schadenfreude
It's just so easy to hate the New York Yankees.
Less so than before, naturally. When I was a kid my hatred was cartoonish and resolute. I hated the Yankees more than Bob and Jeff combined. The Yankees were awful and arrogant and they stunk and, what's worse, they won all the time.
Now, I have to admit some of them aren't all that objectionable. I mean, what's not to like about a class act like Torre? And Posada, whose kid survived cranial synostosis? And Mussina, who likes crossword puzzles? And Rivera, who's been the best ever forever? And all the kids who breathed such an important life into the team's comeback this year?
Regardless, the Yankees remain at the apogee of pure suckage.
When you watch Yankees games on their own network, the announcer likes to remind viewers that the team has won "more championships than any team in the history of sport." They outspent the Red Sox, who had the #2 payroll, by $50 million. Their best player (for now) is a jerk who need punching. Their fans are coarse enough to tell you to go fuck your mother in front of your five-year-old kid. And their owner is a perennial finalist in the competition for World's Biggest Douche. Every year when they lose in the playoffs my heart leaps with joy, and my body convulses around in what could be called the Yankees Suck Hula-Twist-Butterchurn.
So I was out last night, watching Game 4 with a bunch of Indians fans and counting the outs, catching my breath with every solo home run that brought the Yankees closer. And then it was finally over, and the fuse was lit. The coach will go, and the others will go with him, and soon the last vestiges of the dynasty will be blown to smithereens. Happy times, no?
No, actually.
Because this morning Robert asked me what had happened the night before, and I had to explain that his beloved team had been eliminated from the playoffs, which means they wouldn't play another game until next March. And those sweet, soulful, trusting eyes moistened, and his lower lip quavered, and he bowed his head in sorrow. In other words, he drained all the goddamn fun out of everything.
Before you reach for your eponymous tissues, don't despair. Robert was back talking trash in about half an hour, asserting that he was rooting for the Indians to beat his old man's Sox and move on to the Series. Psychologists will tell you this is a good thing, that a child needs to feel unconditionally loved enough to express a contrary thought to a parent. And that's good, because next year once again the Yanks and Sox play 19 games against each other, and after each game there's gonna be a whole lotta butterchurnin' goin' on.
I grew up a Reds fan and still am, despite their consistently suck-tastic bullpen. I remember feeling both pity and awe regarding the perennial despondency and incredible loyalty of Indians fans during the 70s and 80s. I had a friend back home describe grown men hugging each other and crying in the local bar the first time the Indians made the ALCS in the 90s. So, I bite the bullet and feel happy every time I see the Indians do well. And if their success results in the woe of the Yankees, well...even better.
Posted by: You can call me, 'Sir' | October 10, 2007 at 09:00
Oh, all this love for the Indians is just too much - particularly coming from guys who are decidedly not Indians fans.
I do have to admit to feeling sorry that you have many more years living with a Yankees fan. It must be one of the worst things about living in New York - having your young son inexplicably pick a different team than your own to be passionate about. Perhaps he will grow up as I did, cheering for a team that just plain sucks.
But not this year, baby, Go Tribe!!
Posted by: Holly | October 10, 2007 at 13:22
You might think that, Holly, but as it happens my dad is a Yankee fan. So it seems to be skipping generations, and it makes for lots of trash talk at family picnics.
Posted by: LOD | October 10, 2007 at 14:33
Right now, I too am in love with the Indians. Even after the ass-kicking. My wounds have been licked and I have (almost) healed. So now I just want the Indians to beat the crap out of the Red Sox. Then all will be right in the world once again.
Posted by: Heather B. | October 10, 2007 at 14:58
Thank you for acknowledging Jorge, he's been my favorite Yankee since I was forced to choose one and his jersey made great pregnancy wear right up until the end.
Posted by: Mrs. Kennedy | October 10, 2007 at 16:31
I may have said this before, but I love how your son likes the same team as your dad. Grandad love is the best!
Posted by: Crisanne | October 10, 2007 at 16:49
As long as the "Yuckies'' and "Philthies" are out to pasture, I am happy!
GO STEELERS! :-)
Posted by: E | October 10, 2007 at 17:14
red sox red sox red sox red sox RED SOX!!! sorry, had to get that out of my system. (GO RED SOX!) (guess there was a little left...)
Posted by: john | October 11, 2007 at 10:24
My son came home spouting these yesterday:
M_y
E_ntire
T_eam
S_ucks
Y_our
A_ss
N_eeds
K_icking
E_veryday
E_ven
S_undays
Only in NY. Onto football season, even though the only football team actually in NY are the Buffalo Bills.
Posted by: Chun | October 12, 2007 at 09:07
This Yankee fan can agree with your assessment for the most part - with the exception of the bit about the fans. When I lived mere blocks from Fenway park for four years, you can't imagine the stuff drunk Red Sox fans said to me, an 18 year old college gal, just because I was from New York. One guy almost took a swing at me. Classy!
Posted by: Mom101 | October 13, 2007 at 23:22