Heroes get remembered, Legends never die.

It recently came upon me where my love for the New York Yankees is derivative from. I must admit it has dwindled over the years, but it still remains large enough for me to claim it so. I mean they are this greedy team with no heart, just a bunch of guys who are living for big money. They sell their souls for a plethora of reasons: money, fame, success. I believe it is a real rarity to find a Yankee who is there for the right reasons, yet I still follow them and root for them. I, myself, prefer to choose a more selfless career path along the road of nonprofit and mission driven companies, looking to make change with my life's work and sacrificing the size of my own paycheck. So why do I support this team with completely different ideals then I have myself? I think it's just because they remind me of my childhood. Growing up I idolized the Don Mattingly and Steve Sax's that I saw on TV. They were not even a very good team at the time, but they caught my attention.

Growing up in New York, I was torn between my childhood dreams or being either an artist or a New York Yankee (unfortunately I did neither.) But they remind me of the days I spent playing ball with my father in my tiny yard. They remind me of using stones as bases and transforming every tree into a foul pole. So I don't watch the Yankees to see superstars play and brag, I watch them because for me its a folky game that I can reminisce with. Because for me I don't see big names hitting homeruns and collecting paychecks, for me I see my father and I playing catch in my yard.