It’s difficult to debate that when a team is winning, “they will come”. Since the mid-nineties, the Yankees have clearly given every reason for their fan base to make their way to the South Bronx to watch a Championship caliber team dispose of the “victim du jour”. There’s no question that this franchise that officially became the “New York Yankees” in 1913, has featured some of the game’s greatest players, on some of the greatest teams. Decades of dominance, beginning in the early 1920’s, with legendary players such as Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and later Joe DiMaggio, fueled the desire of baseball fans to rally around New York’s pinstriped players.

If one spends some time in New York City, or many other major US metropolitan areas for that matter, it quickly becomes apparent that the Yankees are not simply one of New York’s two baseball teams, and one of 30 Major League Baseball teams. The Bombers have become much more than a member of the American League East. The Yankees are “America’s Team”. The questions is…when did this happen?

The incredible success that the Yankees enjoyed in the 20’s through the early 60’s eventually faded, as the franchise began to experience the peaks and valleys that most other sports teams endure. As the 1990’s got under way, however, the Yankees seemed to separate themselves from the rest of the league in a number of ways.

Firstly, the Yankees began to dominate as they hadn’t done in decades. Furthermore, game-day attendance soared to record levels. Additionally, the team payroll began to increase at a rate that left the rest of the league well behind. The extraordinary success and popularity led to revenue opportunities that were, and remain, unmatched by any other team in Major League Baseball. The Yankees had gained the advantage of being able to significantly outspend the rest of the league for the services of premium free agents.

What is the point, you ask? I contend that with the exception of the “Jeter Generation”, which began in 1995, an overwhelming number of present-day Yankees fans coincidently hopped on the Yankee vessel in the mid-Nineties, contrary to what the vast majority of “die-hards” will admit.

A snapshot of New York City baseball attendance data will support this conclusion.

In 1985, the New York Yankees drew an average of 27,510 fans per game. The cross-town rival New York Mets drew an average of 34,094 fans per game. This trend continues as follows:

1986 Yankees 28,000 Mets 34,168   (Mets win World Series)

1987 Yankees 29,971 Mets 37,458

1988 Yankees 32,717 Mets 38,193

1989 Yankees 26,983 Mets 36,033

1990 Yankees 24,771 Mets 33,738

1991 Yankees 23,009 Mets 28,379

1992 Yankees 21,589 Mets 21,970

1993 Yankees 29,839 Mets 23,126

1994 Yankees 29,656 Mets 20,380

1995 Yankees 23,521 Mets 17,683

1996 Yankees 27,789 Mets 19,609   (Yankees win World Series)

The attendance data shows that between 1985 and 1992, Yankees “faithful” stayed away from the Bronx, in favor of the surging New York Mets. It wasn’t until 1993, the year following a 90-loss Mets season, when Yankees Stadium began to reclaim thousands of fans that had been lost during the successful run of the Mets.

Not for one moment would I pretend that an enormous number of “fans” that attended Shea from 1985-1992 bothered returning until the late 1990’s. We can all agree that success breeds attendance. The point is rather a questioning of the undying loyalty that is preached in New York and around the country from the vast majority of Yankees “fans”. Had the Yankee fan base truly been comprised of die-hards, the 1985-1992 attendance swoon would have never happened.

It will be interesting to see what happens to fan support during the next Yankees valley, although considering the current economic benefits the Yankees possess, it may be awhile.

Whether it’s at the ballpark, or cruising with the top down on a brisk afternoon, certain baseball songs send chills down our spines. There’s something special about music that celebrates our National Pastime. Many songs were written about the game itself, and others simply reference players of yesteryear. Some “sports anthems” have nothing to do with baseball, yet have become synonymous with baseball moments. I highly doubt that Freddy Mercury ever imagined that “We Are the Champions” would become the theme of Bronx, NY in late October.

As far as I’m concerned, the first spring day I hear John Fogerty’s “Centerfield”, baseball is officially underway. When the crack of the bat is sounded in that song, it’s as if Winter has magically turned to Spring. There are few tunes that capture the anticipation of the coming season as this Fogerty classic.

In addition to Fogerty’s salute to Mays, Cobb, and DiMaggio, many other tunes reach back to pay homage and celebrate baseball’s legendary players and personalities.

“Talkin’ Baseball” in its original “Willie, Mickey & “The Duke” format, as well as later adaptations, is pure baseball bliss. Here in the Southeast, Alabama’s 1993 “The Cheap Seats” is a fan favorite, capturing the essence of paparazzi-less baseball. Back in the 1980’s, legendary rockers Don Henley and Bruce Springsteen chimed in, recording “Boys of Summer” and “Glory Days” respectively. Even the great Bob Dylan got into the act, when he penned “Catfish”, a bluesy number about the late Jim “Catfish” Hunter.

Odes to loyal fan followings such as “Tessie”, most recently recorded by the Dropkick Murphy’s, became a fan favorite in Boston. The song was written as a dedication to the “Royal Rooters”, a Red Sox fan club in the early 20^th century. “Tessie” was borrowed from the Broadway musical “The Silver Slipper”. The song was originally sung at Fenway, not only to encourage Red Sox players, but also to distract the opposing team. The first time I heard the song was while playing a Sony Playstation 2 video game, which featured the song on its baseball simulation game soundtrack. “Sweet Caroline”, which singer-songwriter Neil Diamond recently revealed was inspired by Caroline Kennedy, has been played at every Red Sox home game since 2003. The song was first played at Fenway Park in 1998, as a tribute to a Red Sox employee who had named her newborn Caroline.

Paul Simon wrote a pair of baseball-referenced songs, “Mrs. Robinson“ from the film “The Graduate”, and lesser known “Night Game”, off “Still Crazy After All These Years”. Just prior to the release of “Still Crazy…” in 1969, Simon threw out the ceremonial first pitch for the soon-to-be Miracle New York Mets.

As the 20^th century drew to a close and the New Millennium began, a number of hard-driving crowd-pleasers were adopted by individual players as entrance themes. Trevor Hoffman would enter late-inning San Diego Padre games to the echoes of AC-DC’s “Hells Bells”. A pair of stoppers, Mariano Rivera and Billy Wagner chose Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” as their personal musical introductions…..a topic that was hotly debated in New York City when Wagner pitched for the Mets.

(It was later determined that Wagner was a long-time Metallica fan, and had been using the song for about three years prior to Rivera’s use of the metal band’s hit single).

I still prefer Charlie Sheen trotting out from the bullpen to “Wild Thing” in the film “Major League”.

As the 2009 Major League Baseball season comes to a close, it’s difficult to avoid drifting back to past seasons that have come and gone. Some of our most vivid childhood and adolescent memories are tied to the game that we cherish. Growing up in the outer boroughs of New York City, my memories of early fall are full of baseball.

A nine year old in 1977, I witnessed the return of the New York Yankees to prominence, and so many other memorable events that remain with me today. The wonderful world of baseball was exploding for this Jewish kid from Fresh Meadows, as I became completely immersed in the game. The thrill of leading off and playing shortstop in the Fresh Meadows Athletic League was my true passion.

It’s amazing which baseball memories maintain their vividness over time. Although we recall which players dominated past eras and the teams that triumphed each year, it’s the personal events that shaped us that continue to resonate decades later.

The prominent players of my youth were guys like Rod Carew, Pete Rose, Mike Schmidt, and Dave Parker. In the seventies, there were a small number of teams that dominated the Wild Card-less playoffs. Much as today, the Yankees, Dodgers, and Phillies were frequent visitors to the post-season party. Many of us remember the players, teams, and the statistics that were on the back of the Topps baseball cards we devoured. I remember so much more.

On a Sunday morning in 1978, at Temple Israel in Jamaica Estates, I recall Matthew Benson running up a flight of stairs as he delivered the news that California Angels star outfielder Lyman Bostock had been killed by a bullet to the head.

The following summer, as I stood behind the backstop of the Rufus King Public School baseball field, watching the men play arch-pitch softball, the news came that Yankee captain Thurman Munson had perished in a plane crash. In less than five minutes, I was home in front of my television eager to see if the horrible news was true.

There are however, many more pleasant memories for me, than those of the tragic events that involved two of the seventies biggest baseball stars.

I had the good fortune of growing up in a neighborhood loaded with both fenced and make-shift ball fields to play on. When we weren’t playing organized baseball, we were choosing sides for pick-up games, or playing stickball on the Public School handball courts. Of course we all did our best to imitate the unconventional batting stances of some of the game’s best including Joe Morgan and Carl Yastrzemski. My younger brother Darren and I would frequently play head-to-head at P.S. 26, each of us choosing a lineup of our favorites MLB stars. Naturally we were required to stand in the box and swing exactly as those players did on the Big League diamond.

In those days, baseball card collecting was affordable for kids. It was also done primarily for the thrill of ripping open a fresh package of Topps, which included a rock-solid stick of gum, covered with powdered sugar. One of those pieces of gum found its way onto a 1978 Pete Rose card, which became known as the Pete Rose “gummy” card.

Perhaps the most valued memories that I have were shared with my father Richard, who moved on to the great diamond in the sky, a hard-to-believe 22 years ago. As millions of American fathers and sons do, we spent countless hours tossing the ball back-and–forth, and working on the fundamentals of the game. What separated my Dad from many others, I believe, was his dedication to consistently manning the bleachers, as I played my heart out each season. My father was at all of my Little League games, and even volunteered to forgo that joy one season, to manage another team as I had wanted him to represent our family in a coaching capacity.

(In our local league, fathers were not permitted to coach their own kids, as favoritism was a problem at the time)

Although I will never forget that I destroyed a Hank Aaron autographed baseball that my Dad let me play with (against his better judgment), and in later years, proceeded to lose the Wilson A2000 glove that he gave me, these and other not-so-tragic baseball memories and life-lessons are priceless.

In 2009, my son Jack is two years old, and swinging away at Wiffle balls in our backyard in of all places, Atlanta, GA. While I never envisioned a life in the Southeast, I have no doubt that as time goes by, Jack and I will enjoy season after season of baseball together, and create countless memories to reminisce about.

Jack is just a few years away from mastering a perfect Tommy Hanson style fastball delivery that he will never forget working on.

For those of us that are not Yankees or Phillies fans, perhaps we should simply put our disappointments and jealousies aside and enjoy what should truly be a Fall Classic.

Believe me, as a lifetime Mets fan, I am as unhappy as anyone that I have to sit through another World Series featuring “The Evil Empire”. If that’s not enough of a kick in the keister, the defending World Champion Philadelphia Phillies, and New York Mets “rival du jour”, create an impossible rooting situation for most Mets faithful.

I have some advice for my Mets brethren, not to mention all of Red Sox Nation, and any other fans still sobbing about what might have been. Get over it!

If you are truly a baseball enthusiast, then you can swallow your pride for a week or so, and enjoy watching the two best teams in baseball. No other matchup could possibly have offered more of a marquis atmosphere.

The 2009 World Series will feature a collection of players that possess a truckload of in-season and post-season hardware. This batch of MVP’s, CY Young award winners, Gold Glovers, past Series champions, and future Hall of Famers is spectacular. There is not a single significant accomplishment that has not been, or will not be achieved by this group.

I suppose a reunion with Joe Torre would have been cute for New Yorkers to talk about for a few days. A “Freeway Series” would have been electrifying…..for the handful of Californians that would choose baseball over Kobe this time of year.

The beauty of this year’s Series is that those of us that don’t have a rooting interest, can sit back, relax, and watch the past two AL CY Young award winners duel in Game 1, Pedro Martinez take another crack at the Yankees in Game 2, the greatest closer of all-time hurling once again in October, and winners of a total of five MVP’s in the past 6 years……not to mention post-season legends Derek Jeter and Andy Pettitte, and 3-time defending Silver Slugger Chase Utley.

As for my personal rooting dilemma, I will stick to my guns and root against the Yankees….as always. If it’s too difficult to watch another celebration by either the Yankees of the Phillies, there is another alternative…..the opening of Michael Jackson’s “This is It” film.

I didn’t think so.

As sports fanatics, we all use the events around our favorite teams and players to reflect back to our youth. When I think of growing up in Queens, NY in the seventies, I recall the lean years of the Mets and the resurgence of the once dynastic Yankees. The NFL and NBA in the seventies were not all that relevant in New York City, as it had been a decade since Joe Willie shocked the world, Bill Parcells was a few years away, and the Knicks Championship years seemed a distant memory. As for hockey, the Rangers continued to be a running punchline, and the Isles were still in their embryonic stage. There was always passion for baseball however.

In 1979, the Yankees were fresh from back-to-back World Series titles, the team’s first since 1962, also the inaugural year for the Metropolitans. “Pops” Stargell and the “We are Family” Pirates celebrated with the Steelers in “The City of Champions”, after overcoming a 3-1 Series deficit to the Orioles. While the Steelers would go on to capture 2 more Super Bowl titles in the new millennium, the Pirates, save for a brief pre-steroid Barry Bonds playoff run, would plunge to the depths of Major League Baseball, culminating in the team’s current  run of 17 straight losing seasons.

Thirty years ago, there was no Wild Card playoff berth, the Brewers were an American League team, and there was a Canadian team called the Montreal Expos. In 2009, the Wild Card berth has drastically changed the landscape of September baseball, the Brewers are a National League team, and the Montreal Expos are now the Washington Nationals. There is one other “minor” difference in today’s game….the impact of modern economics.

When I attended Game 6 of the 1977 World Series at Yankee Stadium (yes, the one where Reggie smacked three straight HR’s….and yes, I’m a lifelong Mets fan), my Upper Deck ticket cost $10. When the 2009 World Series kicks off in about a week, I won’t be able to park my car for $10.

While it wouldn’t be realistic to expect the cost of attending a baseball game to remain the same after the passage of 30 years, I am saddened by the fact that my experiences as a young fan cannot possibly be replicated by my son and today’s youth. I had the good fortune to be able to take a bus or train to Shea Stadium, walk up to the ticket window and plunk down 3 bucks for an Upper Deck General Admission ticket. At those prices, even a kid that earned $15 or $20 a week from his paper route could take in a bunch of games each year.

This is my inaugural article for Baseball Reflections, so I don’t want to introduce myself as a complainer…..although that would be quite easy, as I sit back once again and watch the Yankees storm through the post-season, while the Mets lick their wounds and look towards February.

Three decades after my love affair with baseball began, although I do not have the time to watch or attend as many games as I once did, my passion remains high. In 2009, I can live in Atlanta, and watch practically every MLB game that is played on a once unimaginably large screen, and lifelike defined image. If it’s the bottom of the ninth, and my team is rallying, I can press a button on my remote control, step away to refresh my beverage, and return to the game without missing a pitch. There’s a price to pay for thirty years of advancement, but those that are technological in nature are well worth it.

With so many years of memories and experiences, I could take this article through the World Series and into Spring Training. I will however close out my maiden voyage on Baseball Reflections by thanking Peter for the opportunity to share my thoughts with his readers. I look forward to a weekly visit, and more trips down memory lane.