My parents grew up in Bushwick, Brooklyn. When it came to baseball, that relegated them to a fate worse than death.
They rooted for the Brooklyn Dodgers. They would sometimes sneak into Ebbets Field. On occasion, my father would get to sit in the field boxes. My grandfather was a politician. He had connections.
But in the end, none of that mattered. The Dodgers were the Dodgers. Half the time they couldn't find a way into the first half of the division in the National League, and then, once they got good, they couldn't beat the New York Yankees except for their one and only championship in 1955. They were just good enough, as the adage goes in sports, to break your heart.
Well, my parents don't think I can relate to this.
But I do. Believe me, I do.
Because the New York Yankees are fast becoming the 21st-century equivalent of the Brooklyn Dodgers. They build my hopes. They persuade me to believe in them. They let me down. Time and again.
To me, they have become "Dem Bums." My beloved - and sometimes hated - Bums.
Sure, they are Bums with a $200-million-plus payroll. But in the end, doesn't that make their newfound falls in the fall all the more tragically poetic? More, well ... Brooklyn-esque?
Six straight seasons, not one World Series ring.
This season, the Yankees suffered two big injuries that seemed destined to knock them out of the playoff race before they ever got into it. They lost Hideki Matsui. And Gary Sheffield. And I, like many fans, resigned myself to an October without the Yankees. Then Melky Cabrera came onto the scene. Then the Yankees got hot. Then Bobby Abreu came along. And then came Boston Massacre II. I had dreams of postseason glory.
What happened instead?
My Yankees lost three straight games to the Detroit Tigers in the American League Division Series. Lost to the wild-card team, 3 games to 1. Got beat, for the most part, by a bunch of 20-year-old kids. And by journeyman Kenny Rogers, making him look like former Tiger pitching greats Mickey Lolich, Jack Morris or Denny McLain. They got beat. And they got beat bad. And now I spend another October wondering what happens next.
The Yankees haven't won a World Series since they beat the Mets in 2000. It's beginning to feel like ancient history. They lost to the Arizona Diamondbacks in Game 7 of the World Series in 2001. They didn't get out of the American League Division Series in 2002. They lost to the Florida Marlins in the World Series in six games in 2003. They suffered a monumental collapse in the American League Championship Series against the Boston Red Sox in 2004. They fell apart in the playoffs last year, losing again in the Division Series.
Now this.
My only solace is that this one did not involve the Red Sox. Still, I wonder if Bernie Williams will be back. And I wonder how good Derek Jeter, Jorge Posada and Mariano Rivera have to be to overcome the failures of Alex Rodriguez, Randy Johnson and Jaret Wright. I wonder if they'll ever win again.
For now, once again, I put all the talk of championships aside. I put away all the big talk about the Yankees winning it all in 2006. I put away my bravado. I eat some humble pie.
I fall on my sword. And, as a New Yorker, I wish the Mets well. I hope they win the World Series. For New York. I won't be at the postseason parade. I hope you understand. But I will be yelling, "Wait 'til next year!" It's what rooting for the Yankees has, unbelievably, has reduced me to.
Dem Bums.
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