Tuesday, October 27, 2026

Old, tired, and sick of it

I finally became a fan in 1967, I believe it was. It was not a great time for the Yankees, but I had no first-hand experience to really understand that. So, I watched the games whenever an Albany TV station deigned to show one, always on the weekends, and I listened to almost all the rest on my transistor radio thanks to WSNY (was it?) in Schenectady, the home of the Polish Program every Sunday--a polkafest my dad never missed.

So this edition of the Sunday News, which dad subscribed to (providing one of my tenuous connections to the Big City, where I ended up living for 40 years), broke my Catholic schoolboy heart. The Mick. Quitting. The one real bright spot on a dismal team, along with Mel. 

I had come to sports a lot later than the other kids and did not exactly have any skill sets to speak of, so I ended up being the "Official Pitcher" a lot of times in neighborhood softball games. I pitched for both teams, never batted, and thereby earned the nickname "Mel," which hung on for a few years.

The Yanks weren't good, as you know, because most of you lived through that era, too. But I stuck with them, admiring Mike Burke's long sideburns and flare-bottomed windowpane suits when he showed up (groovy, man). I figured they eventually had to get better, which they did. It took 10 years before they won it all, and I was shocked to see that a number of Yankees were really, really good. Who knew?

Of course, by then I was at the tail-end of my college haze, and I don't remember much of the season. There were drugs to be found and music to be heard, and baseball became a side interest to some degree.

But I have kept following the Yankees, even when they sucked, and Mattingly was the bright light that saw me through the dark times. The late 90s were a miracle. Finally, the dynastic team that I had never known.

And it's been downhill ever since. In the face of failure, the management's attitude has been sickening. Fuck, CBS cared more about this team than the three-headed monster that runs it now.

None of this is news, insightful, or edifying in any way, shape, or form. But what a shitty way to slide into old age, and the limited years therein. Just another huge disappointment in a world that's devolved into nothing but a huge--and frightening--disappointment.

The Yankees are a shitshow that accurately reflects the larger shitshow we live in. The troika are a lot like our so-called leaders. They're doing it all right out in the open, blatantly lying about it, with no accountability whatsoever.

Living in Germany is not helping. It's all too deep in my bone marrow.


11 comments:

  1. I could see that back cover photo featuring anyone of us here looking miserable, such as:

    JM QUITS!
    “I just can’t take this sh!t anymore!

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  2. AA - Good one

    JM - Thanks for the post. It's always great to read the how we got here of life.

    When driving across the country a few years back, might have been in Iowa or Indiana I caught one of those Polka Shows on an AM station. Loved it! Especially the numerous entreats to head out to the VFW next Saturday for the (Somename) Dance. Homemade food! Provided by the ladies auxiliary. Etc.

    It was a like being in a time machine.

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  3. Good piece, JM—depressing as it is. I haven't read "The Enshittification of Everything"—or whatever the title is—but this sure sounds like it...

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  4. I started rooting for the Yankees in 1966, a year which was about the all-time low point for nearly all NY sports teams. I was also relatively late to sports, compared to my fellow NJ schoolmates, and always bad at them. And then we moved to Massachusetts! And my father—an old NY Giant fan—started rooting for the Red Sox. Oy...

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  5. After the nadir of 1965-67, those Yankees teams generally weren't bad. But it seemed as though they would NEVER beat the likes of the Orioles or A's...and maybe they never would have, without the player revolt and free agency.

    But at least going out to the ballpark was great, and nothing like the rip-off it is today. At least the players knew and played an all-around game...

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  6. And once I got back to NYC for college, and the Yanks were terrific again, it was great! They didn't dare charge anything like today's prices; everyone was still too scared of going up to the Bronx.

    Sure, George's madness was hard to live through, but then came those '90s years! Baseball lifers such as old Yankee Stick Michael, and Buck Showalter, and Bob Watson, the holy trinity of the new era, saved the team.

    The formula was all there: put up the money, get great baseball men to run the team, and let the good times roll.

    But somehow, the profit margin wasn't enough. Somehow, just trying to be the best in your business wasn't of interest. Somehow, building something great, and keeping it great—sustained excellence—didn't interest Hal.

    Only money did: the one commodity he had never lacked, and which anyone and everyone could get in the game today.

    What a putz.

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  7. "CBS cared more about this team than the three-headed monster that runs it now."

    The sad reality.

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    Replies
    1. And Burke dressed better than these zeroes do.

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  8. And every one of them words rang true

    And glowed like burnin’ coal

    Pourin’ off of every page

    Like it was written in my soul from me to you

    Tangled up in blue

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  9. I started following the Yankees before I was 10. My first depression involving the Yankees was the 9th inning, series-ending HR by Mazarowski. I think I was in third grade. That was taught by Mrs."Old Lady" Grady, who seemed to be 80 years old with bad breath and strands of hair under her chin.
    JM....if only you grew up in the metro NY area. You could have watched most Yankees games on WPIX, Ch 11. If there was time after a doule-header on Sunday, even if only for 5 minutes, they would run part of the Abbott & Costello show. During a lengthy rain delay, they usually ran The Adventures of Superman. Living upstate, you were deprived of watching the Officer Joe Bolton/3 Stooges Show and "Captain" Jack McCarthy commanding the boat of The Popeye Show, where he frequently babbled nonense due to being thoroughly inebriated. Oh, those were the days!

    ReplyDelete

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