MUSINGS OF A WINNER’S FAN

By Edwin Cooney

Fear not, I don’t apologize for my pleasure in the Yankee’s recent World Series triumph over the Philadelphia Phillies. I do however propose to put this phenomenon we call “fandom” into perspective.

A fan is short for fanatic and, as we all know, fanaticism, especially religious or political fanaticism, can be dangerous. Danger to life and limb is one thing; danger to one’s assurance that his or her favorite sports franchise, entertainer or author has no peer is, for the most part, delightfully benign. However, because the word “fan” is the root of “fanaticism,” there is an understandable intensity to the emotion we expend favoring our heroes.

When Phillies’ centerfielder Shane Victorino grounded to Yankee second baseman Robinson Cano for the final World Series out, I was at my favorite watering hole enjoying a glass of foamy libation. I’d resisted such libation earlier in the evening, but alas, the intensity of the game loosened my resolve and there I was, beer glass in hand, as the New York Yankees won their first baseball World Championship in nearly a decade. I was pleased to say the least. Most of the people in my favorite watering hole were much less than pleased -- to say the very least.

Since both my residence and my watering hole are a continent west of Gotham, Yankee fans are scarce. A’s, Giant’s, Dodger’s, Angel’s, Padre’s and even Mariner’s, Rockies’ and Diamondback’s fans reside in this neck of the American woods in great abundance — and not only are they plentiful, they can be both nasty and rabid, especially when traveling in packs.

My oldest son, who has been victimized by A’s fandom since childhood, has a fantasy. He proposes to get into full Oakland A’s gear and travel to the Bronx. There, on the hallowed ground of Yankee stadium, he proposes to openly insult local denizens into chasing him from the park and down into the subway where he’ll nimbly jump aboard a subway car and get away from those frustrated Yankee fanatics.

Meanwhile, back at my local watering hole, as soon as the echo of my applause faded away, a discussion occurred as to whether or not I was bragging about my team’s traditional superiority. I insist that I never brag about the Yankees because, after all, I myself have never gotten a base hit, stolen a base, scored a run or put out an opponent. The one thing all fans have in common is their inability to contribute to the success of their heroes.

From time to time, I do point out the major reason why a lot of teams aren’t successful. Many team owners won’t spend the money it takes to hire the necessary players, coaches, and others for the essential team development that allows the Yankees to achieve what they do. What many fans don’t realize is that rich teams such as the Yankees, Red Sox, Angels, Cubs, Mets, and Dodgers pay a luxury tax. Some team owners put that money into team development; others put it in their pocket. Were I a fan of a luxury tax revenue receiver, I would want to know which type of receiver my team owner was. Many team owners are simply cheap! Too often, their motive is profit rather than victory.

I also argue that the Yankees’ money doesn’t buy championships because win or lose they always outspend their opponents. The truth is that money definitely helps, but it takes much more than money to be a champion. Non-Yankee fans don’t like this distinction largely because it blunts their favorite beef against the Yankees.

As the 2009 World Champion Yankees accompanied Mayor Michael Bloomberg through New York’s Canyon of Heroes two days after their victory, no doubt good citizen Yankee fans cheered as other team’s fans, those other citizens, did whatever they do best. Surely, Yankee fans hugged and congratulated one another generously offering each other assurance that there’s no finer baseball team than the mighty New York Yankees. Surely they were bold in their pride…but, wait a minute.

Like all other fans, Yankee fans are sensitive to anything short of approbation for their heroes. Like other fans, their pride can be shattered by the slightest suggestion that their triumph is unfounded or, even worse, illegitimate.

In a mere instant, pride fades into pain, cheers become tears and all that’s left is a very special hope. That hope is that next year’s Yankees’ triumph will be of such magnitude that all baseball fans may be sufficiently humbled so that they, too, may grovel at the feet of the mighty Yankee Yogi forever and a day. Amen!

PRAYERFULLY SUBMITTED,

EDWIN COONEY