Last night (or maybe early this morning) the New York Yankees won their 27th World Series Title. Woohoo! If you know anything about me, you might know I’m a bit of a Yankees fan (that’s me a few years ago at the old Yankee Stadium).
How big of a Yankees fan am I? Well, this year I dressed as Derek Jeter, my favorite current player. I was boycotting having to dress slutty. (Since when did dressing up for Halloween for a woman over the age of 15 mean looking super slutty?) Halloween is about living out your dreams by pretending to be whatever it is you want to be. Well, I’m already sexy, so I don’t have to pretend to be that. And who wants to be slutty?
My Derek Jeter costumer really did fulfill one of my childhood dreams. When I was three, I used to tell everyone I was a boy (identity crisis…maybe?), but my reasoning was perfectly logical. I knew girls didn’t play for the New York Yankees. I wanted to play for the Yankees. Therefore, if I told everyone I was a boy, I would be allowed to play.
And it wasn’t just I wanted to play baseball. Nope, I wanted to play for just one team. I even went so far as to refuse to wear my red baseball cap. Red was Red Sox colors; no way were you gonna catch me in red. I was all about my little navy blue cap.
Some people might wonder why I’m so excited about a baseball team. What is so great about your team winning a championship anyway? The truth is, I’m not sure I really know. I suppose there’s the living-vicariously factor and the excitement of rooting for the best team in the world, but I think it comes back to making connections.
A sports game is a good excuse to get together with your friends (and eat crappy food without feeling too guilty about it) and getting a little rowdy. I love any environment where it’s perfectly acceptable to yell obscenities at the TV. Plus, when you watch or attend a game, there’s a certain camaraderie between all the people watching, even if they’re strangers. If you ask someone about where they were during a certain memorable game, they always have a story, and then you can share your story with them.
Last night I somehow ended up watching the game all by myself (the hubby a Red Sox fan…boo…so he went to bed). Just before the last out, my dad called from Florida (he and my mom are there on vacation). He asked, “You watching the game?” I replied, “What kind of fan do you think I am? Of course I’m watching the game.” I had taken my parents to the airport earlier in the week and my dad had mentioned that he told God that he didn’t care what happened with the NY Giants this year, all he wanted was for the Yankees to win the World Series.
I was really honored that my dad called me for the last out. I had turned the volume on my TV way down and had put the radio on to listen to the end of the game (something my dad does all the time). The TV was a good five seconds behind the radio, so I heard the call before I saw it. I was quick enough to hold the phone up to the radio so my dad could hear John Stirling (the Yankees radio announcer) yell his signature, “Ballgame over! The Yankees win! Theeeeeeee Yankees win!”
Then I heard my mom whooping in the background (she had had a whole three beers!) in celebration. It was the middle of a night on a Wednesday in November, but the Yankees winning the World Series made it a special night. And I got to share a few moments of it with my dad.
