On Wednesday, I posted a contest to give free Yankee tickets away. Surprisingly, I received a high number of responses and the overwhelming majority were very well written. It was definitely a difficult decision having to narrow the field to three. I wish to thank everyone that entered the contest. I had a great time reading all your reasons! Unfortunately, there are only three candidates left at this point. Follow me past the jump to read and vote for YOUR favorite. Voting ends at 11:00am tomorrow morning and the winner will be announced. Best of luck! Now, here are the responses (in no particular order).
You wouldn’t believe the hardships I experience as a Yankees fan who lives forty-five minutes from Citizens Bank Park. Cheering for the Yankees in my hometown is the equivalent of rooting for King George III during the American Revolution. If I conceal my passion for the Yanks, people view me as a slightly delusional, but completely harmless member of society. If my navy blue "Rivera" T-shirt makes a public appearance, however, popular opinion quickly changes. Friends question my patriotism, mourn my disloyalty, and sarcastically comment on my "abundance" of hometown pride. As you can imagine, the 2009 World Series caused my friends great consternation.
It’s my dad’s fault. He got me into this mess. Had he not been such a passionate fan of the Bombers, I could be a "normal" Philadelphian who roots for the Phillies until my last breath. As it is, I’m a Yankees fan because of my dad. His love for the Yankees began in the 90s, when driving from state to state in his tractor-trailer. He couldn’t help but love Tino Martinez, Daryl Strawberry, and Bernie Williams. My troubles began after this passion was handed down to me. As I experienced these games with him, I was quickly swept along in his enthusiasm for baseball in general and the Yanks in particular. Watching a game with him became a pastime for us to share.
"Why do I deserve these tickets?" you ask. Well, the Phillies currently have the best record in the majors and their fans won’t let us forget it. To be honest, my dad and I need a little relief.
As a struggling and poor college student, working a 50 hour work week just in order to place a company’s name on my resume, I have little time to myself these day-- let alone time for others. I found that out the hard way this past weekend, as my young career interfered for the last time with my long-term relationship. Young and in love, there wasn’t anything that could hurt what us two had. That was, until I was dumped.
Much like Jorge Posada’s miserable beginning months of the 2011 season, my life had been flipped upside down in just a matter of days. Working harder than ever, female-less, and eating dinners off of whichever dollar menu I can find, to say I’ve learned some life lessons in the past few weeks is an understatement. Growing up sucks.
Just last night, while watching the Yankees kick-ass in the 12-4 dismantling of one of the AL’s premier arms this season, I also received a kick-in-the-ass. "Enough mourning," said my two best friends. "Your upset, we get it. But your wasting time, and wasting time that is valuable. How many times do you think Jeter’s been dumped? Probably none, but still, he seems pretty content living the lifestyle of no strings attached."
My friend was right. Starting this morning, I decided enough was enough. It was time to get my act together. Passing over this contest this morning while waiting for the workloads to pile up on my desk, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity not only to get some heat off my chest, but to do some good as well.
A month or so back, my family and I had traveled down to Baltimore for our annual trip to see the Yanks. Just coming home from my stressful (yet amazing) freshmen year at school, I was looking forward to getting away and seeing some baseball. However, we were unable to do so, as Game 1 of the series was cancelled due to the rain. Thank you, Mother Nature. Extremely disappointed already, things only got worse. The next day I had passed out while touring the Baltimore Aquarium. By the time Game 2 had rolled around, I was drugged-up off of every flu medication on the shelf. To say the least, it was an unsuccessful trip. We have yet to see a single inning of live baseball this season, and have no immediate future plans to do so.
For Father’s Day, I had been planning on surprising my Dad with a pair of tickets to see a game. That was, before I found out my first paycheck would be going into car repair, just so I could get to and from work each day. I barely have enough to fund my weekly gas costs, let alone a pair of seats in the Cathedral of Baseball. I think it may be an understatement to say I deserve these tickets, but even more so, my Dad deserves these tickets. I would love to give back to him, surprise him with a pair of tickets, and spend the day with him talking and watching the biggest passion in life we both share—Yankee baseball.
For fathers day, I got my dad a watch. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a pretty sweet watch, and it’s a Yankees watch. Not the best gift but hey, I’m not made of money either. I’d much rather say to my dad on fathers day that "I scored us Yankees tickets" then watch him dismiss the claim as a joke just so I can whip out the tickets (or a certified e-mail saying the tickets are on the way). Then we’d have to rush him to the hospital because his jaw would hit the ground so fast it disconnects.
Seriously though, my dad once treated the entire family to a trip down to Yankee Stadium back in 03 and while my siblings weren’t as enthused, it was the greatest day of my life thus far. I’m not sure how we afforded it, maybe dad robbed a bank. We toured the place, saw monument park, I got to rub Babe Ruth’s head on the statue like Clemens always did, it was awesome. We’ve never been to the new Yankee Stadium though and I can think of no better fathers day gift for my dad than saying "Its my turn to treat you to a Yankee game." Dad wont have to rob a bank this time.
He can bring the watch if he wants.