I told myself I would never get engulfed in Yankee fever. I promised myself I would hold strong and never write about the Yankees because they have the most interest. And I promised myself I would never fall for a girl who was a Yankees fan.
I moved to New York City, began working at a newspaper that pressured me to write about the Yankees, and was surrounded by cute girls who were Yankees fans.
Where did I go wrong?
I never quite understood why this city embraces the Yankees. They are, after all, the Evil Empire. They eat little children, torture puppies, and worst of all, they are funded by Yankees fans. Ugh.
New Yorkers don't just love their Yankees — they Love their Yankees, with a capital "L" which means they would trade their puppies for a Yankee win. (Then, of course, those puppies get tortured.)
But then I had a revelation. New Yorkers, like everyone else, connect with things that reflect their own lives. And these Yankees seem to represent the offices these New Yorkers work in.
For example, Bobby Abreu is that new guy at work that management brought in because they felt the office needed a new "dynamic." He's that veteran reporter they bring into the newsroom because management feels he's a "good fit." You know who I'm talking about — yeah, him.
Randy Johnson and Mike Mussina are the guys at the office who were given that roomy corner cubicle the day after the walked in as wily veterans. You despise them because they are just so much better than you, yet you know these guys will be gone soon so you can finally move into the roomy cubicle. At this point, you get somewhat depressed because you realize you're life goal is to move into a larger cubicle.
But the cubicle is nothing compared to the large offices Alex Rodriguez and Derek Jeter have. Jeter is that brilliant young prodigy the company puts on its fliers. When the company makes a profit, he wins employee of the month. A-Rod was the guy that your company sold its soul for. If you work for McDonalds, he's the guy the company got in return for Ronald McDonald. If you work for ESPN, he would be the guy they would trade for ESPN2.
Johnny Damon is that sly guy who walks into the office all slick, and thinks he can hit on all the chicks in the office because he's just a stud — after all, he helped reverse some massive curse that we've all forgotten about. Sadly, he is a stud and the chicks fall for him. You just slouch back into your tiny cubicle and go back to playing solitaire.
Of course, while you're playing solitaire, the young and eager kids are working hard to leapfrog you the pecking order. Robinson Cano, Melky Cabrera, and Chien-Ming Wang come into the office with extra donuts for the boss, they skip they're lunch break to get more work done, and worst of all, they tell you how great a job you're doing and slap you on the ass as you're walking by to get coffee. You return to your game of solitaire.
The old-timers in the office are Bernie Williams and Jorge Posada. The boss has ordered extra-comfortable chairs for them, and they've built up so many vacation days that they really just come to work for fun. It's almost despisable how much they enjoy working.
But the office isn't without guys with troubled pasts. Gary Sheffield and Jason Giambi are those guys who you really like, but you know they've done some things in the past that aren't quite, uh, kosher. And no, the boss's wife is not kosher.
You've also got your Mariano Rivera in the office, who always gets the deals done with the big clients, but never really does the grunt work. You get mad because you did all the work, and he gets the credit for closing out the deal. When you bring it up with your boss, he tells you you're just overreacting and directs you back to your cubicle.
There are still guys like Cory Lidle, Kyle Farnsworth, and Miguel Cairo that are just at the office for a few months, then slowly fade away. And there is, of course, Sal Fasano whom management brings in to make everyone else look a little better — in comparison, that is.
So New Yorkers can just relate to these guys. Sure, everyone thinks they're the "Derek Jeter" of their office, but really, we all know we're the "Sal Fasano" at work.
Despite this revelation, I'll still never understand this infatuation with the Yankees. And I would pay a lot for a Yankees loss. Maybe not my puppy, but I'd give a limb or two. And for a Yankee curse, I'd give up the girl who is unfortunately a Yankees fan.
But I'm just saying that because I have no chance with her. In her eyes, I'm that Royals fan that doesn't knows how to love his team, but not Love his team.
I'll tell her I just can't relate.
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