I’ve definitely got reason to root against the Yankees tonight. I mean, New Yorkers are really a loud, brash, cocky breed of fan. My roomate, teammate, and probably my best friend from early on in my college career; George, was a big Yankees fan. I watched the entire 2001 and 2002 postseason with him. He changed my mind about Yankees fans, at least for a short period in my life.
I was the best man in his wedding back in 2009. To the outsider–it was that postseason when A-Rod went off. In fact he hit a dramatic home run the night of his wedding. What a great feeling that must have been for my lucky friend huh?
Well shortly after his wedding–of which I delivered a best man speech at–my friend disowned me. For no reason at all. The true reason was his new wife didn’t really like me and he lost his damn mind. That’s really all I can figure. At that point, I figured that every time the Yankees lost it was a good night for me because I knew that somewhere in this world my fraud of a friend might be distraught about it out in his new whine & cheese lifestyle of a world in Connecticut. That’s if, he could ask for his wife for his nuts back long enough to check the box score the morning after. I assume he stopped watching baseball altogether. He probably spends his days and nights buying her flowers or fancy chocolates and disowning other friends she doesn’t like.
But if he’s out there and he has her permission to watch television on his own for a little bit tonight, he’ll be tuning in to the game. And as fun as the thought is of his agony if they get pounded tonight–he would get over it. Because baseball isn’t that important to him anymore. Things that were important to the friend and teammate I knew now play second fiddle to his mean wife and his bullshit house and pets.
Wouldn’t you know three years after I met George, I met the girl I would marry. And as my damned luck would have it–Yankees fan. First line she ever said to me was about the Yankees. Her brothers love the Yankees. They’ll be in New Yankee Stadium tonight. Her best friends mostly love the Yankees. Again–they’re going to the game tonight. My father-in-law? Asks me my thoughts on the Yankees in whatever series they’re in before he asks me how work is going. Or how his daugther is doing.
So I realize, there’s enough people I love in my life right now who love the Yankees that sure; I’ll pull for your damn Bronx Bombers. Whether it’s negative or positive interest that I have in them, there’s always interest. They interest me more than the Tigers–minus that little chain-smoking managerial ball of perfection that they have standing on the top stoop.
They’ve got Doug Fister opposing them tonight. He’s been lights out scary good since becoming a Tiger. Hell, I might even say this guy will contend for 20 wins next year. He was a scrub for the Mariners. He’s definitely figured it out. I have a feeling that he is the story of tonight’s game when the dust settles. Let’s just call it a gut feeling.
George if you’re out there and you see this post, I still have your shoes that I thought I would someday get to return to you when I saw you again. In fact I’m wearing them at work right now while I write this post. They look older now and are stretched out because my feet were always a half size bigger than yours. You missed my wedding, you missed the birth of my child (we bought a puppy but close enough), you didn’t call on my birthday. I know your wench of a wife hates me but I hope your Bombers win tonight old buddy. But it’s not because of you.