Let me tell you a story

**contains profanity**
As I write this the Yankees have just lost to the Red Sox. Earlier today I unfriended a guy that claims to be a Yankee fan but does nothing but complain about how bad the team is and how bad Girardi manages, today he said he wanted to “test Teixeira’s leg with a ball peen hammer.” Maybe he has never had a bone bruise, I unfollowed him.

I am the only Yankee fan in my family. My mother is from Detroit, she roots for the the Tigers and the Spartans (although she will deny it, I know the truth). My father is from Arkansas and is a college sports fan, in particular college football. He is a fountain of knowledge, the smartest man I know. I was born in California but I grew up in Florida. I hated Florida and clung to California, rooting for any California team, mainly just to piss people off. Sometime in my teenage years I saw Catfish Hunter pitch. My father told me ‘You don’t want to root for the Yankees.’ The NY Yankees, a place I had never been, never imagined I ever go even to visit. In retrospect he was right, rooting for the Yankees is heartbreaking. But as a teenage girl, an unhappy teenage girl who hated her life and her parents, it stuck a thought in my head. And when I met the person who became my BFF, who is still my BFF, who offered a place to live in New York with her, I ran away from home. I was 22. If you knew my mother you would know why I say I ran away from home. Now as a New Yorker I no longer had to be a closet Yankee fan. I could be open about it.

My family of course still hated it (they will maintain they don’t hate me, but I have my doubts), they are now living in Seattle and so are Mariners fans. Except for my father who is still a college (Arkansas) football fan, and still the smartest man I know. And still wonders where he went wrong that one of his children still roots for the Yankees.

That brings me to this year, this has been a horrible year for me. On Memorial Day my nephew died. He had cancer, and even worse than that, my father called to tell me and he was crying. I HAVE NEVER HEARD MY FATHER CRY IN MY LIFE. When my other nephew died, my brother called because “Daddy said he tired and going to bed.” It was only midnight, something was wrong. Maybe he cried, but I never heard it. It shook me, my father is strong, if I needed anything I could count on him, then in July he went in the hospital because of a problem with his colon and had emergency surgery, then another surgery. I felt my life was falling apart. Now he’s home and healing, but weak my mother says. FUCK YOU CANCER AND OLD AGE!

Now, I need something good to happen, which is not happening, the fucking Blue Jays in FIRST PLACE! NO the Yankees have to win, the Yankees have to at least make it to the world series. Your princess commands it.

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