Disclaimer: I love my family.
Second disclaimer: They’re all the worst kind of Yankee fans.
I don’t hate the Yankees. Never have, never will. I may root against them at times, but I don’t hate them like I hate the Phillies, Braves and Marlins. (Sorry, Nats.) But I do hate most Yankee fans – especially the ones my family embodies.
(Aside: Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Thank you for making me a Mets fan. I’ll always love you for it, even if they’re kind of dysfunctional.)
But for some reason, my family flat-out despises the New York Mets.
Not like the “Grr, that silly baseball team from Queens, taking the spotlight away from my Yanks!” No, no. They’re the “OOOOH METS LOSTTTTTTTTT!!! The Yankees won today! You should root for the best team! The Yankees!!”
I try to combat that with “Hey, the Mets are still winning the season series.” or “The Yankees only have three more wins than the Mets.”
But no. It’s always excuses for them.
“Oh, well the Yankees have been hurt! Jorge has been hurt! Joba something something. Pettitte blah blah.”
(I stop listening.)
They’re always the quickest to rub a loss in my face. To tout the Yankees victories. Even when they’re not playing each other.
I was teased with a “Na Na Na Poo Poo!” when the Mets season ended in ‘06, ‘07 and ‘08. I was the subject of mockery last season with the injuries and oft-terrible play.
I’ll never understand why or how they hate my team so much. It’s like the Mets are some sort of evil cousin to the all-mighty Yankees and they must be taunted and made fun of at every turn.
So yeah, I love my family. But I really hate that they’re Yankee fans.