the origin of a superfan…
“who am i? you sure you want to know?”
- spider man (2002)
It’s not an easy question to answer. Hell…it took Tobey three movies, five villains, one breathtaking dance scene, and about fifty unnecessary Kirsten Dunst screams to map out his identity. I could tell you the basics, that I’m a college student who loves the New York Yankees, but what good would that accomplish. For you to truly understand me, I have to take you on a trip down memory lane.
It’s simple. You don’t become a superfan of a team in a night, just as you don’t start slinging webs and saving the same girl (seemingly once a month) in the blink of an eye. You might not even realize that your evolution from the annoying “Can the players see the yellow line?” casual from every Super Bowl party to the podcast listening, ESPN surfing, religious viewing fanatic is happening until it’s too late. It’s a slippery slope, but one afternoon you’ll find yourself staring into the mirror, dressed head to toe in pinstripes, as you apply eye black for a random May Yankees-Rangers game, wondering how we got here. (This definitely happened back when I was eight, and not last year. No need to check the 2021 schedule.)
Brad Pitt summarized it best in Moneyball, “It’s a process, it’s a process, it’s a process”. (Oddsmakers would’ve put a Moneyball reference at -340 for this post). So, after workshopping this for a few days, I think I’ve come up with three phases that every superfan goes through. I’m confident this is the process of how I became a Yankees superfan, and maybe that can help aid in answering who I am. So, without any further ado, Phase I is…
THE FOUNDATION
My Yankees origin story began the same way that countless have before me… with my mother giving me no choice in the matter. She had already converted my father, a New England native and lifelong Red Sox fan *gags*, years earlier. Yeah… I never stood a chance. I remember reading once that Tiger Woods’ dad would put golf clubs in baby Tiger’s crib to give his son a head start. I imagine it was similar for me, watching the 2003 and 2004 ALCS in my Yankees onesie, wondering why my mom was swaying back and forth like one of my “Little Tikes” rocking horses. Those days were simple. I spent my days playing outside and my nights falling asleep to the comforting voices of Michael Kay and Ken Singleton, futilely attempting to make it to the end of the game. I probably didn’t hear “Enter Sandman” for the first time until I was ten.
The most important part of this phase is getting the basics down. You know, like learning how to make a rally cap, to always stand when there’s two strikes on an opposing batter, and how to fit every sentence into the “Let’s-Go-Yank-ees” chant cadence (4 syllables, followed by two, then three claps). I can recall walking around my house announcing phrases like “I-want-eg-gos” *clap clap… clap clap clap*. (I’m sure my parents quickly regretted teaching me that one). Even now I’ll say things like “I-call-shot-gun” or “Pass-the-aux-bro” like that in my head. I seriously have a problem…
You also learn some lessons the hard way at this age. I will never forget watching a game where Phil Hughes was throwing a no-hitter in the sixth inning. I was watching alone, but I ran to get my uncle when I realized what was happening. I kid you not, the first pitch we see when we raced back into the room was a hit. My uncle then yelled at me about jinxing him, which I had never even heard of. I spent the whole day dejected, and the following three years thinking that I had personally caused Hughes to blow his no-no. There was still a part of me that felt like a curse was lifted when Kluber threw his no-hitter last May. I wouldn’t say I was seriously worried about being the sole reason the Yankees hadn’t thrown one since David Cone’s in 1999, but let’s just say I exhaled a big sigh of relief that night.
The truth is the foundation phase is largely out of your control. As is the case with many aspects of your childhood, you mainly just roll with what your parents tell you. You’re just watching everything, soaking in as much knowledge as you can, while you imitate all the actions around you. You’re basically a malnourished Arnold Schwarzenegger at the beginning of Terminator, running around shirtless and absorbing your surroundings. As we all know, though, that dependency and blind trust wears off over time, replaced by the newfound boldness and defiance that comes with your teenage years. This is where the foundation is first tested, and where Phase II is essential…
THE FORMATION
Of course, as is the case with all legends, the time eventually comes for you to begin your own journey. And so, I officially signed my lifelong pact with the Yankees sometime in 2007. I don’t remember the ceremony, but I think it included a recitation of Lou Gehrig’s famous speech, a few “Hail Jeter’s”, and the denunciation of all things Boston. (I still won’t go to Dunkin’). And as a bonus…I was still young, so I didn’t even have to shave for it!
This phase of the process is the most important. It’s where you make the decision for yourself that this is what you want. And hey…if this isn't the life for you, then there’s no shame in that. If you want to be Andy at the end of The Devil Wears Prada, then so be it. I’m sure there’s a lot of honor in eating late night grilled cheeses and wearing sweatpants to work. Just ask Cincinnati Reds fans. As for me, I’ll stick with running Runway. Gird your loins, everyone!
It’s important to note that the timetable of this phase differs for everyone. For some it could take more than five years, whereas it could just take one moment for others. One of my childhood friends became a diehard Milwaukee Bucks fan because he liked that the name “OJ Mayo” was two foods. Now, he gets to cheer for Giannis (and I’m supposed to believe life is fair). In my case, there was about a 3 year run from 2007 to 2009 where I stopped rooting for the Yankees because my mom did, and started doing it because they were all I thought and cared about.
Here are the seven moments that helped shape this transformation for me:
1. Joba Midges Meltdown - October 5th, 2007
Yeah… out of everything, this is my first Yankees memory. I know the phrase “A small part of me died that night” is overused… but trust me when I tell you it’s applicable here. I can still make out the swarming black specks encircling my TV, almost as if the midges were buzzards sensing the end of the Yankees season. I can still picture the horrified look on my Mom's face as she undoubtedly had flashbacks to a certain 2004 event that won’t be acknowledged. And I can still feel the soft fabric of my Yankees plush pillow that I buried my face into all night long. That night was probably the worst thing to come out of Cleveland since LeBron. The whole experience honestly changed me, and I think it’s a big reason why I only get mad at relievers when they lose their control. For example, I never get mad at Chad Green when he gets rocked. But I absolutely lose it when Chapman can’t find the zone. Thanks Cleveland! (Oh, and yes, I called them midgets instead of midges for longer than I would like to admit).
2. A Gardy Party - July 5th, 2008
These days, Brett Gardner gets hate from pretty much all of Yankees twitter, myself included, for no real fault of his own. It’s like when you live with your roommate for an entire year of college, and by the end you’re just getting mad at every little thing. Roommate leaves the bowl in the sink the first seventy times? You don’t blink, and just put it in the dishwasher without a second thought. That seventy-first time though? You snap because, well…there's burnout fatigue. So is the case with Brett Gardner working eight pitch at bats twice a game just to strike out or meekly pop up. Like just get out dude! (Editor’s note: Forgot this was supposed to be a positive Brett Gardner story) Umm… Gardy grinded out a long AB and walked off the Red Sox. I remember it. It was fun. No, there isn’t a gun pointed at my head right now.
3. Hamilton Home Run Derby - July 14th, 2008
This is one of those moments I’ll tell my children about when they’re just old enough to “ooh and ahh” at the highlights and just young enough where they won’t do any follow-up research. (Might have to do the same with Fresh Prince now, but time will tell for that one). You can say whatever you want about Josh Hamilton, but that’s the beauty of this moment. For one night, no one cared about the drug allegations, or the fact that he would become the biggest “What If” of late 2000s baseball. No…that night was solely about baseballs sailing into the New York night, the crowd erupting with every subsequent Chris Berman “Back... Back… Back!” I was right there with them, wiffleball bat in hand, goosebumps riding up my arms, completely entranced by the dazzling display of undeniable talent.
4. My First Game - sometime during the Brian Roberts era Orioles
Everyone should remember their first baseball game. It’s one of those momentous childhood moments, like losing your first tooth or laying eyes on Megan Fox for the first time. I mean, the way she graced the television, commanding the spotlight with every step- sorry… where was I again? Right… my first game. Here’s what I remember. We lost. Badly. To the Orioles. I can’t tell you which game it was, or what actually happened. Believe me, I’ve tried. What I do remember, however, was being serenaded by chants of “Yankees suck” as my family and I made our way out of Camden Yards. This was the first time I realized that we were the bad guys. Back then we were still the evil empire, feared and loathed by all the land. I miss that feeling…
5. A-Rod Admits to PEDs - February 9th, 2009
Where was I when my childhood hero got caught cheating in front of the entire world? How could I forget! I was in the middle of my morning routine, which consisted of eating Panda Puffs cereal (a Trader Joe’s classic) while watching the 7AM edition of SportsCenter. You know… when they still showed highlights and didn’t have a screaming hot-take contest for 80% of the “show”? (No one ever wins the contest by the way… everyone loses). Well, there I was that tragic morning, watching A-Rod get grilled by Peter Gammon, as he glowed with a hue of red that is only comparable to myself after my third-grade talent show (I don’t wanna talk about it). What I remember most was him using the word “naive”, which I had never heard of, but subsequently used for years thereafter, still unaware of the word’s meaning. Faking it… like my idol…
6. CC Sabathia Opening Day Debut - April 7th, 2009
The 2009 offseason saw another shift in my emerging addiction. I spent that entire winter tuned into MLB Network, watching every Hot Stove episode religiously. The offseason was different back then. It wasn’t about refreshing twitter and getting pulled thirteen different ways with conflicting daily reports. Instead, it was just me with some paper and pens, scribbling out 100 different lineup configurations per day, as I watched Greg Amsinger, Harold Reynolds, and the crew speculate for three-plus hours a night. Well… even I couldn’t have imagined the Texiera, Burnett, and Sabathia offseason. By opening day, I was so excited that I ran the entire way home from school to make first pitch. (This also might’ve been the last time I went to school or class on opening day. I think I’ve skipped every year since.) So, you can imagine my disappointment when he stunk it up, conceding six runs in four and one third innings. I can hear the WFAN callers yelling now, calling him a fat slob as they order a large meat lovers pizza on the other line.
7. Nick Swisher pitching - April 13th, 2009
I mean this was just cool. Nothing more to add… just that Swisher was/is/always will be the man. Why was I still watching a 15-5 Rays win you might ask? I think we’ve established by this point that I have a problem.
It’s funny looking back at these memories. Not all of them are great, and there is little to no correlation between them, but that is the thing with memories. You don’t choose what you will remember, or what will stick with you. Looking back, I can’t tell you a single moment from A-Rod's 2007 MVP season, but I can clearly picture a few Shelly Duncan home runs from that same year. The important takeaway from this phase is that these moments will shape your independent fandom, and lead you to phase three…
THE FINALITY
You have now reached the end of the journey, and there's no turning back now. Deep down, you know it. If you’re still clinging to your former self, when you didn’t spend your days watching grown men play a children’s game, as you attach your entire mental health to external events of which you have absolutely no control…well, you just need to grow up! As BREAKING BAD SPOILER ALERT Hank says at the end of the show, “You’re the smartest guy I ever met…and even you’re too stupid to see…He made up his mind ten minutes ago.” By this point, you’re better off accepting your fate.
As for me, the 2009 World Series run was obviously the final nail in the coffin, as I’m sure it was for many Yankees fans of this current generation. It wasn’t just winning it all either, which admittedly was the cherry on top. For me, it was the excitement of finally appreciating October baseball, which (as we can all agree) has no parallel. Between the crisp fall weather, wearing my (way too large for my head) Yankees hat to school every day for a month, and getting to stay up late for nightly clutch A-Rod home run barrages, it was pure euphoria. Simply put, it was the best month of my life.
Then came the dark years. Outside of Raul Ibanez sending me into cardiac arrest in 2012, there weren’t many happy times in Yankees land from 2010 to 2016. Between the mediocre AARP rosters and what felt like a new farewell season every year for one of our legends, it would have been easy to turn on the team. I mean, let’s pick a random lineup from that time…give me a date. June 14th, 2015? Okay…here’s what we got… 1. Brett Gardner LF 2. Chase Headley 3B 3. Alex Rodriguez DH 4. Mark Texiera 1B (admittedly not too shabby of a top four, but now the wheels fall off) 5. Garrett Jones RF (he batted FIFTH!?!) 6. Stephen Drew 2B (lol) 7. Didi Gregorius (miss you) 8. John Ryan Murphy C (doesn’t even deserve a comment, he was so forgettable) 9. Mason Williams CF (This guy is one of those MLB The Show RTTS characters that you ditched after half a season of Double A). That’s bad enough, but who’s on the mound? Adam Warren STARTED!?! AND WE WON? Like I said…dark years.
This is precisely why the first two phases are crucial. By this point you’re locked in, for better or for worse. And thank God I was, because those dark times lead to the Baby Bomber’s era, which has been a blast for the past five (that hurt to write) seasons. The process has now concluded for me, and I’ve graduated. I am now entering my sixteenth season as a Yankees superfan, and I look forward to sharing my thoughts, emotions, and passions with all of you as we chase number 28…together.
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So, there you have it. Laid out in the (roughly) 3000 words before you is my origin story, how I became who I am today. So who am I? Well I guess that, as is the case with many things, is a matter of perspective. It’s ultimately up to the eye of the beholder. To some, I would be considered a psychopath…someone who spends their days fully consumed by a childish game. To others, I am a shining example of what it means to love sports, and to live and die by their team. So the real question is: Who am I to you?
For the purpose of this blog, I am what I write. I am the words on this page, the opinions formed, the jokes cracked, and the passion portrayed. My purpose in writing is to entertain first and foremost. These writings should be consumed in a comedic nature (and maybe I can mix in a few good points along the way). I can’t tell you if I will succeed or not, but I can tell you that the effort will be there…always. Thank you for reading if you made it this far, and welcome to the website!
As Always - your friendly neighborhood Yankees fan
