Day 198: What It Means To Be A Yankees Fan

As of today, the New York Yankees are 55-34, giving them the best record in Major League Baseball. Owning the sport’s best record isn’t unfamiliar territory for the Yankees. In fact, dare I say, it’s common ground. It’s ground the Yankees have worn out because seemingly, the Yankees are always in first place.

You’d think being a fan of a team that perpetually stands on such familiar terra firma would be easy, but it’s not. To change up Spiderman’s Uncle Ben’s sage quote a bit, “With great success comes great torment.” Or should I say jealousy? Envy? Bitterness and resentment are also fitting, I guess. Animosity. Acrimony. Those definitely fit. Let’s just say that non-Yankees fans are the worst fans and leave it at that. Personally, I choose to ignore these bitter little pills who spread their nastiness like a bad smell emitting from my dog, but sometimes it’s impossible. The stink is just to putrid to escape. But my tolerance for these fools only goes so far. Instead of holding up the greatest sports franchise ever erected, these gluttons for punishment try to tear the House That Babe Built to the ground, bit by bit by bit. Sadly for them, this house is made of bricks.

Being a Yankees fan means having thick skin. It’s means being able to take the heat. It means you’re going to hear a steady stream of complaints. You’re going to hear whining. You’re going to hear cries of “it’s unfair” or “if they didn’t spend so much money. . . .” or “they buy their success.” Well, welcome to America, suckers.

Being a Yankees fan means enduring the weak-sauce alternative names that the jealous pool of sorry dreamers come up with for those who deck themselves out in pinstripes, names like “Spankmees” or as my friend Randy likes to say, “Yankmees.”

Being a Yankees fan means possessing the discipline and fortitude to endure the gloating and “in your face” carrying on during those rare occasions when your friends’ favorite team happens to find a bit of blind luck in his/her pockets and uses it to win an important game.

Being a Yankees fan means having to share the planet with Red Sox fans and hoping your immune system is strong enough that you don’t come away with some sort of horrible affliction, like chronic losing or excuse making.

Being a Yankees fan means having to humor pitiful Cubs fans who have fooled themselves into believing that despite having never won a damn thing their team is “iconic” or an “institution.” Harry Carey and Mark Grace an institution do not make, woeful ones.

More importantly, being a Yankees fan means you grieve still for Thurmon Munson and Billy Martin.

It means you bow down twice daily in the direction of The Bronx.

It means you consider Catfish Hunter and Ron Guidry gods.

It means October is your favorite month.

It means you think of Reggie Jackson every time you stir a drink with a straw.

It means you’ve look upon Daryl Strawberry, Doc Gooden, and Roger Clemmons as misguided children who made a mistake but whom you’ve forgiven.

It means you say “Aaron F*cking Boone” in your sleep.

It means your two favorite words are “Bucky” and “Dent.”

It means you want your son to grow up to be just like Don Mattingly.

It means George Brett = pine tar = “you’re out!”

Being a Yankees fan means you’ve chosen to associate yourself with greatness.

Being a Yankees fan means you know all the words to “Enter Sandman.”

Being a Yankees fan means “Sweet Lou” makes you think of Pinella and Reed.

Being a Yankees fan means you happily stare for hours at the painting of the old stadium that you bought in Midtown from a street artist years ago.

Being a Yankees fan means you can do a 180 and spend a few more hours staring at the original drawing of Yogi and Lou that hangs on your wall.

Being a Yankees fan means that no matter what else should happen in your life, you can rest assured that you’ll not only know what it feels like to be a perennial contender, you’ll know what it means to be a champion, um, 27 times and counting.