Jeffrey and Me: Confronting Boston's Whipping BoyDec 07 '02 (Updated Apr 18 '04) Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line Remember that kid who caught the ball in Yankee Stadium? He goes to my school. I can't stop thinking about what I should have said.
"I don't see how anyone can root for them-it's like rooting for the Cosa Nostra. You know they've got the money to buy the muscle to win-but that doesn't make you cheer them on." -Sara Paretsky in the novel Indemnity Only [quotation courtesy of my housemate Marisa] When my aunt was growing up, she was such a rabid Yankees fan that she slept with players' photos under her pillow. Whenever the Yanks would lose, Judy would take out her frustration on her little sister and give her a few kicks and shoves. Fortunately for my mom's physical well-being, but to the chagrin of baseball fans outside New York, the Yankees didn't lose very often. They have by far the winningest record in baseball history, which makes everyone who is not a Yankees fan hate them with a passion. Despite the fact that I was born in Boston, I was not always a Red Sox fan. My dad supports the Mets and my mom cheers for anyone who is playing against the Yankees. Some relatives in Cincinnati sent us some Reds hats and t-shirts, so I liked them for a while, especially because the team featured the sensational Pete Rose, who holds the record for most base hits in baseball history. I became a Red Sox fan after my first trip to Fenway Park in 1986. While my love for them has fluctuated over the years (see http://www.epinions.com/sprt-review-1465-C10DB66-38800417-bd1 for my story about working for the Sox), one thing is certain: I hate the Yankees and I always will. "They are like big bullies! They have more money than everyone else and they always win!" my mom says. The Boston-New York rivalry dates back approximately 100 years, but intensified beginning in the 1920s with the scandal surrounding Babe Ruth. In 1914, Boston acquired Babe Ruth from the Baltimore Orioles' minor league system. Ruth was primarily a pitcher at Fenway Park, but he later, of course, became known for his home run hitting. The Sox won the World Series in three out of five of Ruth's seasons with the Red Sox, but unfortunately, in 1920, the new owner of the Red Sox, Harry Frazee, a Broadway producer, could no longer afford to keep Babe Ruth on the team and sold him to the dreaded Yankees for $125,000. That trade lives in infamy in Boston and many people refer to the fact that the Red Sox have not won a World Series 1918 as The Curse of the Bambino. Some people in Boston are very serious about The Curse. Legend has it that the Babe once threw a piano into a pond in Sudbury, Massachusetts during a wild party. Red Sox fans in the area are exploring the pond for evidence of the piano in hopes that they can drag it up and somehow exorcise the Curse. On October 9, 1996, when the Yankees were playing the Baltimore Orioles during the American League Championship Series, Boston sports fans found a new whipping boy, 12-year-old Yankee fan Jeffrey Maier, who stole a game for the Yankees by reaching over the right field wall and catching a Derek Jeter fly ball, turning a sure out into a home run. The boy was brutally criticized in the Boston media and the play is considered to be one of the most notorious in baseball history. I mention his name to my brother and he says, "He's the devil. The devil!" But, truth be told, Jeffrey Maier did not cause the Yankees to win the World Series that year. They probably would have won anyway. The ball he caught tied the game, just as the ball that infamous Red Sox player Bill Buckner allowed to roll through his legs took the 1986 World Series to a Game Seven. Part of the Curse is that the Red Sox have made it to the World Series four times since 1918, but always lose in tragic, heart-breaking fashion. Also, Maier's catch occurred in Game One of the ALCS, and the Yanks could have easily won four of seven without winning the first game. Besides, it was the umpire's fault for not calling "fan interference." However, young Maier became something of a celebrity. Upper Deck even wanted to print a baseball card of him, but the idea was nixed by Jeffrey's parents. Yes, I'll admit it, I am jealous. All Red Sox fans are. But that doesn't stop me from chanting, "Yankees suck!" along with the masses. And when I heard that Jeffrey Maier had matriculated at Wesleyan University, I knew I had to meet him. A couple of days ago, I was at the gym when I overheard some athletic guys talking about baseball. They were wearing Red Sox clothing, so I asked them if they knew Jeffrey Maier. "Sure, he comes in here all the time," one of them replied. "Cool! Can you point him out to me? I've always wanted to kick him in the head," I said. "Woah! Watch it there. He's on the baseball team," the boy said. As I was leaving, I mentioned the exchange to Nate, a classmate who plays baseball, and he told me that the object of hundreds of fans' frustration was lifting weights. I walked into the weight room and saw a few non-descript guys pumping iron. "Which one is he?" I asked Nate. "The one wearing the Abercrombie t-shirt." I walked over, but realized that I didn't have anything to say. "Um… hi…I'm a Red Sox fan…" I started. "I'm already biased against you because I heard that you hate me," Jeffrey replied. "No, I don't hate you," I said. "I just said I wanted to slap you." He refused to look me in the eye and just continued doing bicep curls. I couldn't think of anything else to say, and he pretended that I wasn't there, so I just left. For the next couple of days, I couldn't stop thinking about what I should have said to Jeffrey Maier. I even thought about apologizing to him when I saw him again. He probably has to deal with abuse from people who are a lot more imposing than I am most of the time. Drunken Red Sox fans can be pretty vicious. I guess that's why he made his arms so big. But I realized that saying anything to him would feed his (probably already huge) ego. The boy's been on SportsCenter and he's practically a household name. He's on the Wesleyan baseball team, and, heck, we could use someone to catch a few fly balls. But if he ever drops one, look out! I better start thinking of some clever things to yell.  |
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