Bronx Bombing

I can’t root for the boys’ little league team this fall. I’ll cheer for them as individuals, I’ll pull for their teammates, I’ll even yell “Go Team!” on occasion. But in their four-team league they play for the Yankees. And it is against my genetic makeup to ever, under any circumstances, cheer for the Yankees. I just can’t do it.

They could have been on the Angels, Cubs, or Mets. But of course they were both put on the Yankees. As if I needed two more Yankee hats and shirts in my life. When I look out on the field, I try to see a bunch of 7, 8, and 9 year-olds. But I just see the numbers and equate them with the storied Yankee history that, as a rabid Orioles fan, I abhor. Zack’s number 5 is Joe DiMaggio; Ben’s number 9 is Roger Maris. I see their teammates making plays in the field and I see Jeter and A-Rod. Or at least I wish Jeter and A-Rod were as error-prone.

The good news is that by the time their little league season has concluded, the 2008 Yankees will be mathematically eliminated from the playoffs. And that gives joy to my heart. I may even hold a party. Of course I’ll invite Ben and Zack, my Yankee-loving offspring, to be the guests of honor. They can even wear their Yankee garb.


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