I grew up a NY Mets fan, foisted onto me by my Grandfather who was originally a Brooklyn Dodgers and NY Giants fan. He grew up in Harlem, NYC and once shined shoes for the NY Yankees, including Babe Ruth; but for whatever reason chose to be a contrarian and root against them. He wasn’t a rabid fan, meaning he wanted to see the Yanks do well too and would watch all of their games in addition to the Mets; but he favored the Mets.
But that’s not how I was growing up or anyone else who rooted for the Mets in the 80s. I hated the Yankees to the point where if I met a Yankees fan I hated them too. The first thing anyone would ask each other when meeting one another as kids was “who do you like, Mets or Yanks?” When I met a Yankees fan I recall thinking “he looks like a Yankees fan” and then figured out reasons to hate his guts. Fellow Mets fans were of course favored and we were the insurgents in NYC since the vast majority of people were in fact fans of the Yankees.
It was a cruel business being a Mets fan in the early 80s because the team wasn’t any good. Yankee fans would gloat and condescend to us, make us feel like our team would never win and then we did in 1986 and then we really dialed up the hatred and venom on our neighbors who were Yankees fans. We’d remind them that their time was over and it was our time to shine and say whatever we could to make them feel bad. We did the same thing to them that they did to us, and it felt good to be on top.
Some of my friends never stopped that battle and to this day hate the NY Yankees. I stopped caring about baseball back in 2008 and sometimes wonder how retarded I was to waste so much of my time hating the Yankees. But then I recall how evil they were and how they deserved my hatred, because their team always won and got all of the money they needed to acquire top tier talent.
I can watch the Yankees today and even appreciate them from afar, as I am not into baseball anymore. My adult form of sports has switched to politics now and I’m once again a NY Mets fan, contrarian in the woods looking out into the city where the city folk are sipping on their fucking lattes and I hate their guts for it.
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Nice change of pace. Life is, after all, more than the markets. A slim bit more!
May I offer the suggestion to read the prologue of DeLillo’s Underworld? All of the heretofore unknown details around Bobby Thomson’s ‘shot heard round the world’. A short tale of NYC not to be missed.