I am a Yankees fan. Since age four. My mom’s mother was terribly concerned about my eternal salvation and about my allegiances on this side of the Jordan River, before I “crossed over” at the end of this life.
She fell in love with Marris and DiMaggio and company. She passed that love on to me. Cheering for the Yankees has unexpected benefits. People who cheer for a plethora of other teams automatically hate you. Those same people seek you out to remind you when the Yankees are adrift, sinking, battered and washing up on shore. It is a little like breaking a leg and people rejoicing for you.
Then you must grimace as the big Red machine to the north wins a zillion games in the season, and the pennant, and the Big One. It only hurts.
This year started out like many others. A huge set of salaries bought by evil genius/dumbest man in baseball Cashman, are injured. Thirteen on IL is half of a roster of 26. Half. Tie your hitting/fielding arm behind your back and play. And that is where the biggest funny in a long time is playing out for us all to watch. No, it is not September, and no, there is no pennant anywhere close, but all the “B” team guys brought up from within the organization are, uh, winning. They are beating up on other AL East contenders. They lead the AL East, the toughest playground in the MLB.
So now Boone and Cashman have the sort of dilemma others only dream about. Do you let the upstarts continue to win, and insure the millionaires are healthy and only have to play, say, three-quarters of the season? Do you start bringing back the millionaires?
Only Yankees fans get to savor such craziness.