People who know me know I’m a New York Yankees fan. And I know
what that brings with it, especially living in Texas. And I’ve heard it all. “They
buy their championships.” (As if every other major league baseball team has a
roster full of guys who play for free.) “It’s the evil empire.” (As if Darth
Vader himself came down from the Death Star to rule the MLB galaxy with a Louisville
Slugger and a Rawlings glove.) “Yankees suck!” (As if 27 championships in their
history is a case to argue sucking.)
What most people don’t know is what the Yankees truly
represent to me. See, I don’t like the Yankees because they’re the greatest
team in the history of the MLB. I’m not going to lie, though; it’s a nice
feature of the team. But I could just as easily be a Cubs fan…or a Cardinals
fan…or a Tigers fan…or an Angels fan. Okay, maybe not the Angels. I mean, I
have to draw the line somewhere! But I’m not a fan of those teams. I’m a
Yankees fan. And here’s why…
I’ve written about the greatest gift I’ve ever received ...
it was from my grandfather when I was 11 years old. That gift lit a spark that
began a passion for more than the Yankees. It lit a love for baseball itself.
The Yankees are a team, to me, that represent so much of why
I love this country. Steeped in tradition, the Bronx Bombers have been around
since 1903 (1901 if you want to go back to their origins in Baltimore). But it’s
more than the history. The Yankees, to me, are
baseball. And baseball is more than a sport to me.
Baseball is something that brings families together. I was
reminded of this yesterday when my oldest son sat with me during the Yankees/Rangers
game and cheered with me, and he’s a Rangers fan! Why did he do it? Because it’s
not just 9 guys on a field. And he came to understand that (after some
explaining, of course).
Baseball has given our nation reason to celebrate in times when
there wasn’t much to celebrate. It’s been there to reunite us and solidify our
resolve. Just look at the first games played after the 9/11 attacks. Stadiums
were packed, the national anthem was belted out, and people had reason to cheer
once again.
See…the Yankees aren’t just a team to me. And baseball is
not just a sport. They are a picture of our country. I had the opportunity
yesterday to step onto the field and meet a few of the Yankees. I stood there
with my family, literally feet away from Derek Jeter as he took batting
practice (alone) and was in awe of how a ball and a stick can mean so much to
me. I’m 36, and I was watching him hit as if I were a 10 year old kid standing
there. And I was reminded of the passion I have not only for the great game,
but for this great nation (yes, even still I have hope in our country).
I don’t idolize the Yankees. My idol is Jesus Christ. But I
do honor them. I appreciate what they do. I respect the fact that they
represent so much of what I love about America. And sure, I know they have
their detractors. That’s ok. That’s part of it. America has its detractors too.
But the fact is, what they represent in my life means more than any amount of
championship trophies. They take me back to a time of innocence, and remind me that
it’s okay (and even necessary) to have unbridled passion for something bigger
than myself.
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