We are bringing a new angle for our baseball coverage, and as you can tell from the title it's a Yankee fan. So without any further delay, here is "The Empire"...
Are we really different you and I? Did your father not put a glove on your hand and a ball in the other before you could put sentences together? Do we not suffer through the same cold, and miserable winters together? Can you not recall every excruciating playoff defeat, and the glorious playoff victory of your team since your 10th birthday? I bet you can. Because I can too.
The thin line between love and hate can be drawn on that 220 mile journey on I-95. Or maybe you are more of an 84 to 91 guy like myself. Either way, the passion, the ideals, the way of life - those things donʼt dissipate on the ride; they just change colors. The distance isnʼt far enough for us to not understand each other. We get each other so well and thats why we will never understand; how can we be so similar, yet so different? Donʼt believe me? Try having an intelligent sports conversation with an LA fan - you may need to wait until their team is in the playoffs, but still, try and have one and see how it goes.
On the boarder of North Korea and South Korea soldiers from both countries guard a thin line. They stand there, all day intensely focused on protecting their side of the 38th parallel. I wonder if those soldiers ever think about how similar they are to their enemy. They made the same life commitment to serving their country. They both have parents. Maybe both their fathers were fisherman. Maybe both their mothers like to sow. In another life, with different politics, those two sworn enemies could have been best friends. Yet they stand there willing to fight to the death to protect their alignment.
My dorm-room was freezing that night for Game 7. There was a window still cracked from my roommate who used to shoot his bebe gun at unsuspecting students in the quad. The room was mine now because he had just gotten kicked out of school for his little fetish. The floors were dirty, the lighting was crappy, my TV was tiny and my stomach was turning when Johnny Damon hit that grand-slam off Javy Vazquezʼs first pitch. I remember it like yesterday. I remember it because the Yankees are part of who I am just like the Red Sox are part of you. I have a hundred of stories just like that. I look forward to sharing them with you. Lets Go Yan-Kees!!
