Yankee baseball is causing a war in my house

My son came home the other night and said Ms. Joanne (his pre-school teacher) taught him a new song. He started to sing. My husband almost had a coronary. You see, Ms. Joanne taught him the Mets ^[1] theme song, “Meet the Mets ^[2].” I thought it was funny. My husband looked like someone had just stabbed him in the heart.

The next day I told Ms. Joanne that my husband was very unhappy about what she was teaching in the classroom and she coyly responded “But your husband told me on the very first day of school that he is a baseball fan first and foremost — that he loves all baseball. So what difference does it make what team your son roots for?” I laughed and told her that although he loves all baseball, and could literally be just as enthralled at a little league game as he is at a major league game, the Yankees ^[3] are our team.

That night things only got worse.

As soon as my husband walked in the door our boy ran up to him and said “I like the Mets. Boo Yankees,” over and over again. Oh Jesus. My husband then told our 3-year-old that Met fans aren’t allowed to live in our house and that he has to root for the Yankees. At which point our 5-year-old daughter started screaming “Go Yankees!”, to which my son responded “Boo Yankees!” — over and over again.

You see… there are Yankee fans and then — there are Yankee fans. My husband is the latter. In 1996 I got a job as a production assistant at MSNBC ^[4] and was invited, with a guest, to my first ever “work” sponsored party. And it was a big one — everyone was going to celebrate the launch of the network. The party fell on what ended up being the clinching game of the World Series that year. The beginning of what we now know would be an amazing run by the Yankees. My husband (who was my fiance at the time) did not even consider attending the party with me. I didn’t get it. I told him the game would be playing on really big screens at the party. I told him there would be lots of other Yankee fans there. Whatever I said, it made no difference. He was even okay with me taking an old boyfriend as my guest (okay, so we dated when we were 7 years old, but still!), as long as I stopped harassing him about it.

The issue was that my husband needed to be sitting in front of the TV (on the floor in front of the couch to be exact), as he had been for every big game leading up to that night, eating a chicken parmigiana hero from our local pizzeria. Because, of course, if he wasn’t in that exact spot, eating that hero, the Yankees most certainly would not have won. Good work honey! You did it. They won. And then again in 1998 and 1999 and you get the point. My husband blames me for their 1997 season. He says my rooting against them kept them down. Can you blame me for rooting against them… our wedding was October 25th of that year. It is true, I rooted against them. I know, blasphemous! But in my eyes, they lost for me. Wasn’t that nice of them? And to thank them for it I’ve promised to never root against them again — and my kids possibly own more Yankee gear than the guys on the team.

13 years and two kids later my husband has mellowed (and grown up a bit) but this whole Mets thing has opened up a side of him I didn’t realize was still there. He is completely serious about his kids being Yankee fans and really pissed off at Ms. Joanne. She has no idea what she has gotten herself into, as my husband plots his revenge. I’ve made him promise he won’t do anything until the last day of class, since next year our son moves on to a different school and we won’t have to worry about “pay back.” But rest assured… something will be done. And have no doubt, our kids will watch the Yankees ^[5], know all of the players and their positions, and damn it – they will be Yankee fans ^[6].

^[7]