Confessions Of A Die Hard Yankees Fan: An 86 World Series Retrospective

Lifelong Yankees fan and Yanks Go Yard contributor Keith Van Amburgh has a terrible confession about the 1986 World Series.

On Sunday, the New York Yankees played their final game of what was a roller coaster 2016 season. While the Yankees made it interesting, with a surprising second half surge, it was probably just as well that they’re missing the playoffs. They simply didn’t have the depth to go deep into the post season.

When the Yankees were finally mathematically eliminated from the playoffs, they were in the midst of a three game series against their arch nemesis, the Boston Red Sox.  The sheer knowledge of that fact reminded me that I’ve been keeping a deep, dark secret for thirty years.  It’s not something I talk about, or have ever been willing to admit out of fear, shame, and mostly guilt.

Nobody outside my immediate family knows about this.  Every family has secrets; every person has a skeleton or two in their closet. My parents knew, but never discussed it with me.  My two little brothers were aware, but too young to do anything about it.

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Every October I get a guilty feeling, that uncomfortable shame that makes my stomach turn.  Today, I’m finally ready to get it off my chest forever, and deal with the consequences.  Thirty years later, it is time for me to get my life back.

So, here it is in print: I rooted for the hated Red Sox in the 1986 World Series.

Yes, those same Red Sox that I’m supposed to hate with a passion. For a little over a week back in the 80’s, I was more or less a member of Red Sox nation.  If anyone thinks I felt good about that, even at the age of nine, you are dead wrong.

It hurt to betray my first true love, the Yankees, and I was sure most people wouldn’t understand my predicament.  However, there was one reason and one reason alone that I backed a team I was born to despise:

They were playing against the New York Mets.

While my father had passed along his love of the Yankees to me, he had also passed on a simple rule: we are not to ever, under any circumstances, root for, or even slightly like or respect the Mets.  Dad was pretty adamant about that.

At a very young age, I was told to not even talk to Met fans.  If someone mentioned to me that they rooted for the Mets, I was instructed to simply walk away.  Do not argue with them.  Do not politely change the conversation.  Just walk away.  Those words were repeated over and over again until I was programmed to practically vomit at the sight of a Mets hat or jersey.  It was that serious.

You can probably imagine my dilemma when the Mets, who had dominated the National League all year long, had won the pennant and were on their way to facing the Sox on the ultimate stage in Major League Baseball.

Why couldn’t it have been the California Angels, who had at one point during the American League Championship a three games to one lead? Had they just been able to win one more game, none of this would have happened.

But there they were, the dreaded Red Sox facing off against the bad boys of baseball, the New York Mets and I had to root for Boston. No way did I want the team from Flushing to have their parade.

For those of you who remember, the Mets of 1986 were rock stars of epic proportions. You could not walk five feet without bumping into someone in a Mets jersey, or hat or even a t-shirt.  The Mets were the bad guys and most every team in the league felt the same way about them that my father and I did.

It was bad enough that they won 108 games that year, but they were loud and obnoxious and brash and colorful.  People loved to rave about Dwight Gooden‘s fastball, or the way Lenny Dykstra would dive and run into walls.  How Darryl Strawberry could hit home runs that traveled farther than any astronaut could dream of.  They loved Gary Carter and Keith Hernandez and you simply could not get away from it.

It didn’t help either that the 1986 Yankees had come up short in the regular season.  Sure, they had Don Mattingly, Rickey Henderson, Dave Winfield and several other lethal bats in their lineup.  However, when your best pitcher is Dennis Rasmussen, you probably won’t get very far.

Despite sweeping Boston in a four game series to end the season, the Yankees still came up four games short.  It was a recurring theme in the 80’s for the Yanks: great hitting, too little pitching.

Thirty years later, the Mets and Sox are back in the playoffs and the Yankees aren’t. Hopefully the two don’t meet again in the fall classic, and instead I can just root for the Chicago Cubs for the entire month.

However, if it does unfold into a repeat of 1986, I’ll gladly cheer Big Papi, Pedroia, Jackie Bradley Jr, and the rest of the team I’m supposed to despise.  After all it’s only one series and this time I refuse to feel the shame or the guilt. I live in Connecticut now, and it’s much easier to hide.

Next: Top Five Bright Spots of Yankees 2016 Season

P.S. If you haven’t already, please check out The Bad Guys Won, by Jeff Pearlman.  It is a fantastic read about a fascinating team.  You won’t be disappointed.