Hello again.
The first time I watched the Yankees play was in the spring of 2000, a Sunday road game in Toronto. The club avoided a sweep, and to six-year-old me, I wondered why my parents would cheer for that team in blue, when the visiting Yankees were so obviously better — sample size of one.
Since then, baseball and the Yankees have sucked up an inordinate, perhaps unhealthy, amount of my time. Save for two years finishing my undergraduate degree, I’ve spent every summer on one team, two teams, or another. Baseball is the ambient sound of my apartment — if there’s a game on, it’s on in the background while I work, cook, entertain.