Note: check out the guy going crazy in the back right!
Posts Tagged ‘playoffs’
Confusingous is looking at you, New York Giants.
Note – This article was written by Confusingous prior to his girlfriend becoming his wife and, also, to the point where he threw away the shackles of Yankee Fandom after the treating of Bernie Williams, the signing of Roger Clemens and Johnny Damon and other moves too horrible to think about. Also, prior to the Yankees missing the playoffs in 2008.
All I can say is who would have thunk it? I have been abroad twice and both times it has been around the same two-week period in October. Both times have been with my girlfriend of three and a half years. Now, I know a Yankees fan should pencil in the entire month of October has time to sit in front of a television watching playoff baseball. However, my girlfriend, a Phillies fan (who I too have grown to love) does not truly understand this pre-standing requisite of a Pinstripes lover.
I guess she is correct. “They make it every year!” It seems that as of late that is true. Following the team for almost thirty years (intermixed with some years of affection for the cross town Mets – brought on out of submission due to the fact that whenever I asked for a Yankees hat, my grandmother, apparently at the very least color blind, purchased me a Mets hat) has brought highs and lows. Though the last ten or so years the Yankees have indeed made the playoffs every year, as someone who sat in the near empty Yankee Stadium in the early 1990’s yelling at Deion Sanders in the outfield, playoff qualification should not be taken as a guarantee. However, seeing as the trip was being planned months in advance, it did not seem like a fight worth waging. We booked our trip to Paris.
The last time I had went abroad I was safe in the knowledge that the Yankees had already succumbed to the might of the eventual world champion Anaheim Angels. I was free to enjoy the wonders of London without care of the World Series.
Fast forward to October of 2004. I board the plane in comfort knowing that the Yankees have taken a two to nothing lead over the rival Boston Red Sox in the American League Championship Series. With memories of Aaron Boone, Bucky Dent and the Ghost of the Babe hanging over my team I felt quite smug with the knowledge that I would be returning to another World Series in the Bronx.
Time difference is a funny thing. While I was (supposed to be) sleeping championship caliber baseball was being played in The States. I would wake up each morning and consult the hotels computer (hoping that someone was not doing something less important like making sure a love one was okay or planning a day of sight seeing). The first time I did this prior to breakfast, the news was good. A blowout in Beantown provided the Yankees with a commanding three to nothing series lead. Breakfast was consumed with ease and happiness (the tasty cuisine did not hurt the situation either). I most likely do not have to inform you how unpleasant the next four times I repeated that routine was.
I certainly did my best not to let the knowledge of the worst collapse in team sport history plague the enjoyment of my vacation. Given the circumstances, I had a wonderful time in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The rich coffee cleared my head every morning after the poor findings uncovered during my morning routine were allowed to sink in. Perhaps teaching local teens how to throw a football allowed me to forget my diamond woes.
The worst feeling of the situation was that of helplessness. It was as if everything was falling apart and I was a continent away unable to salvage the situation. For a week I felt as if I went home I would put on the uniform, pitch a few innings and maybe get a few pinch hit doubles the whole thing would turn around. Of course, that is the farthest thing from the truth, but maybe that one extra voice yelling in a bar or in a living room could have given the team the steam they needed to get that one more win. Sometimes when you care so much about something you cannot control, it seems as if that is all it will take.
When I got back home to New York, I was careful to avoid the Red Sox bar down the street from the Greenwich Village studio I was residing in at the time. I was not so lucky the night the Red Sox completed the sweep of the St. Louis Cardinals to win the 2004 World Series. Part of me did not mind that they had won. After years of abuse and heartache, I guess every dog deserves their day. Maybe it is time for the abuse and heartache to start for Yankees fans. Call it Karma. Call it come-uppance. I just hope I do not get too many calls from Sox fans if the Yanks miss the playoffs this year. Though I would be able to point out to my girlfriend that, indeed, the Yankees do not make the postseason every year.