FAMILY RIVALRY & THE LAST WORD

When the Yankees face Boston, I have a lot on my mind. Although I’m more than a little pleased at the fact that Boston seems to be less than the “dream team” these days, I have mixed emotions about the rivalry.

All day, I keep looking at the phone, waiting for my Uncle Bruce to call me. He hasn’t. A huge Red Sox fan, he never missed an opportunity to call me and bust my chops a little. Or a LOT. The calls would start before the game, and continue during the game. If the Yankees lost, I never heard the end of it.Sometimes, I would pick up the phone to hear nothing but his laughter if Mariano blew a save. He would often forget that there was a two-hour time difference from Colorado, calling very late into the evening just to let me know that yes, he watched it, and yes- my team blew it.

Being the typical Sox fan, he could dish it out, but he couldn’t take it. I made it a point to call him when the Yankees signed Johnny Damon. He didn’t answer his phone. I took my picture next to a life-sized cutout of Derek Jeter and sent it to him; he sent me an envelope full of Red Sox confetti.

This back-and-forth razzing would last all season long. An avid fan, he could get downright mean and nasty about it. I don’t play like that, and it started to get on my nerves. So, I made it clear to him that I would no longer have these discussions with him. I declared a truce. He ignored this, and continued to call anyway.
I tried to explain to him that a true fan loves their team; that hating another team was bad sportsmanship. He spent so much time hating the Yankees that it seemed that he didn’t really know what was going on in his own team’s camp. Look, I’m all for the rivalry against the Red Sox, but I don’t take it to the extreme. To love baseball, you have to love the game, respect good players, and think objectively. As painful as it is to say sometimes, I have respect for Big Papi as a player, and a person. My uncle would never, EVER, say something like that about Derek Jeter. So I just accepted it, and continued the game with him. Sometimes, I felt like screaming at him, but I just laughed it off. I let the baseball Gods handle the karma for me.

When I visited his home near Denver this past summer, my point of view about my uncle was forever changed. Bruce had every ticket stub to every game that he ever went to. He loved the Colorado Rockies as much as he loved the Red Sox, and his home was filled with souvenirs not only from Coors Field and Fenway Park, but many stadiums throughout the MLB. Right there, on a little cul-de-sac nestled up against the Rocky Mountains, was his very own Baseball Hall of Fame.

As I looked around some more, I noticed something. Prominently displayed in his dining room was a collector’s edition plate commemorating Don Larsen’s Perfect Game. Don Larsen. A New York Yankee. I was thrown for a loop. I stood there, staring at it, and I thought for a long time. Then, it occurred to me. All this time, he really was a real baseball fan. He was playing this game with me as a way of making the 2,000 miles between us disappear. He was having fun, and staying connected with me at the same time.Earlier today, less than two hours before the first pitch at Yankee Stadium, I sat on my cell phone and accidentally dialed Bruce’s number. It rang forever, and he didn’t answer. This time, I know why. My Uncle Bruce died in July, leaving a pile of unused Red Sox and Rockies tickets, and leaving me to face this series without him.And so, to my friends, Yankees fans and Red Sox fans alike, I say this: Enjoy this weekend. Enjoy the series. Enjoy every minute with your fellow fans, even your rivals. And to you, my dear uncle, in the spirit of family tradition, I say, with love… LET’S GO YANKEES!!!!!



--Christy Lee, BYB Staff Writer
Follow me on Twitter @ChristyLee127



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