The Defection of a Yankee Fan George Gmelch (bio) I grew up an avid Yankee fan—in San Francisco. My parents were New Yorkers, and the Giants hadn't yet moved to the West Coast. When I was in sixth grade my father took me out of school to travel back East to watch the '56 World Series at Yankee Stadium. Nearly fifty years later I can point to the section from which I watched the Yankees beat the Dodgers, the day before Don Larson's perfect game. Even after the Giants arrived in San Francisco I remained loyal to the Yankees despite razzing from classmates who hated them. I cut school to watch them on TV and in 1962 was thrilled when Bobby Richardson snagged Willie McCovey's line drive to give the Yankees the title over my hometown Giants. Today, despite living a train ride from New York, I'm no longer a Yankee fan. I like the players individually, and I know some of them personally from doing research with the team. I also admire the Yankee organization's respect for tradition—for example, never abandoning pinstripes, belts, and button-down uniforms for polyester pullovers, never tinkering with the logo, never being tempted by Astroturf. They have class. Why, then, do I, like so many fans nationwide, root against them? Many fans outside New York have always hated the Yankees, some simply because they have never liked New York. But mostly it was because the Yankees won too often. Losing was so exceptional that Douglas Wallop wrote a 1955 novel calledThe Year the Yankees Lost the Pennant, which was the basis for the hit musicalDamn Yankees. For five straight years, from 1949 through 1953, the Yankees were world champions, and for another five straight years, from 1960 through 1964, they won the American League pennant. Ultimately, Yankee dominance led fans in other cities to lose interest in their teams early in the season and caused attendance in some cities to drop. My dislike of today's Yankees is different. It is not principally a matter of their dominance on the field or distaste for their arrogant owner Mr. Steinbrenner [End Page 133] or resentment of New York City. More important than any of these is the ethos the Yankees represent, the conviction that money can buy anything. Mr. Steinbrenner's attitude is telling. He not only craves the world championship but seems positively outraged if he doesn't get it, because he has spent far more money than any other owner. The Yankees have always had deeper pockets than their competition, but never was the difference as great as it is today. Last season the Yankees' payroll of $164 million was five times greater than Tampa Bay's, the poorest team in the American League, and two and a half times greater than that of the average MLB team. During earlier Yankee dynasties their payrolls never dwarfed other teams' to this extent. In this way the Yankees are emblematic of what is happening in other aspects of American life—for example, politics, where we have a president who has raised more money than all the Democratic candidates combined, or the corporate world, where the average CEOs now make 360 times more than the average worker, compared to 25times more in 1970. Moreover, the Yankees are determined to maintain and even increase the growing financial imbalance. Whenever the commissioner's office and team owners propose corrective measures, such as a luxury tax, it is the Yankee ownership that cries foul. Before 9/11 Mr. Steinbrenner demanded that New Yorkers build him a new stadium or he would move the team to New Jersey. Seems that the House That Ruth Built—the most hallowed ballpark in the game—doesn't have enough money-making skyboxes. Never mind that the Yankees drew 3.4 million fans last season—an average of 42,790 per game. Maybe it's just a hope on my part, but my hunch is that fans are increasingly resentful of baseball's corruption by money. When I ask my students why they don't like the Yankees, they usually say "big money," and some...