The learning curve on being a Yankees fan isn’t nearly as forgiving as one might expect given the Evil Empire’s age old stranglehold on professional sports fandom. I’m a smart guy; but even I am having a hard time understanding it all:
“We friggin’ HATE A.J. Burnett!”
“We friggin’ LOVE A.J. Burnett!”
“WHO the friggin’ frig is A.J. Burnett!?!?”
But don’t let lightning fast fluttering allegiances get ya down, especially if you’re a bandwagoneer. As long as you remember the basics (i.e. Jeter is GOD; Mo will kill you in your sleep and not break a sweat; Posada is a defense-challenged commodity) then you shouldn’t have any troubles navigating through the Yankees’ world of privileged self-righteousness.
Of course, there’s one more thing you should know: once you go there… you can never go back. You can never unsee. Never unfeel.
When Mark Teixeira went down with his injury the other night, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking…