I’m a lifelong Yankee fan. My earliest baseball memories were the stinky Yankees of the early 70’s. Fred Beene, Fritz Peterson, Jim Mason, etc. Then I got to enjoy the great years of the late 70’s and early 80’s. We had our down years following that – and then came 1996 and Derek Jeter and the dynasty. Through it all – the ups and downs, the great teams and the terrible teams, the pennant winners and the cellar dwellers, I could always cling to The Curse of The Bambino. I loved that curse. It was always there. We worried about the Royals, and Dodgers and even (a little) the Braves – but we never had to worry about the Red Sox – The Curse took care of that.
Then came the horror of 2004. As terrible as it was to lose in the playoffs after being up 3-0, the World Series was far, far worse. It was like I lost my best friend. I went from looking at baseball as fantastical escape from the day to day grind – to just another example of reality slapping you in the face. While I still watch a lot of baseball, it is mainly of the youth variety. It’s just not the same. Mighty Casey has struck out…
by Paul Simko
About Paul Simko