My Rookie of the Year: On Determining Baby’s Sports Allegiances

Not in This Lifetime, Lil’ Lady

Editor’s Note: Tongue firmly embedded in cheek for much of this post.

To followers of the LCG…you’ll be noticing Erie’s Scribe taking the wheel for a bit here as we move through the month of August. The reason, in addition to his sheer awesomeness, sharp wit and fine upstate NY/midwestern-tinged sports fan sentimentality, is that CS has welcomed an upstart newcomer to the family.

My ROY is, of course, flawless and bound to be supremely-talented in whatever she does. Her mother, I would be remiss not to mention, also put in a dominant performance yesterday reminiscent of Doc in the mid-80s. So, for posterity, this momentous occasion has to be documented here in addition to all the other more conventional venues. This sports weblog is clearly a relevant arena (fast forward 10 years…”Daddy, what was a blog?”…”Were you ever on the Twitter?”…oh, the questions she’ll have). But what is really relevant in terms of sports and one-day old daughter? Not much, except one question a few friends have already begun to ponder: allegiances.

In short, which teams will this recent arrival support? Or, more accurately, towards which will her parents direct her? Mets or Yankees? Jets or Giants? In essence, daddy or mommy (CS being a Mets-Jets guy and mommy a G-Men/Yanks gal). Some may claim that “decisions” like this should be left to the child. But would you really place such a potentially life-changing topic in the hands of a youth? Me neither. I was taught as a child, and I thank my parents for steering me right. Their guidance has of course brought me much pain, but the alternative is unthinkable.

So, the “decision” as it was for our child was relatively simple. Compromise was a must. It is a vital pillar of mommy and daddy’s marriage, our family and our lives. Let’s take care of the easy stuff first. The Knicks and Rangers are lukewarm passengers along for the ride. They are not the issue for discussion nor debate. Who knows, maybe by the time our daughter is a teen (g-d help me) the Knickerbockers will be as hot as they were when mommy and daddy were in high school. No, this was a football-baseball dilemma. But was there ever really any choice?

My girl will be raised and taught in the ways of the G-Men. As much as it pains her daddy not to think about green-and-white onesies and a toddler-sized D’Brickshaw Ferguson jersey for his daughter (no, honey, not really…maybe?), I harbor no ill-will towards the Giants. They are a solid franchise. I respect their coaching and management and, dare I say, even their fans. Mommy is a Giants loyalist who can still rattle off the uniform numbers of everyone on the 1986 Super Bowl Championship team, and it will be her responsibility to ensure her offspring espouses those values.

Central to this parental direction was, of course, the larger issue. And, as I mentioned earlier, it really made the choice quite obvious. Baseball was not an option. The mere thought of daddy’s little girl representing the Evil Empire in any way, shape or form was simply unimaginable. My child?? In pinstripes?? I’m nauseous just thinking about it.

So it is that we have settled on one of the most critical decisions we will ever need to make as parents. Our gal will be exposed to the long-entrenched sports beliefs of her parents (or at least those they have and are willing to concede). She will be taught to cheer for the lovable losers from Flushing and the Big Blue Wrecking Crew. It certainly could be worse.

We’ll see how it goes. Maybe she’ll hate sports with a passion, and that’s just fine too. Perhaps she’ll be a sports nut like many in her family and even one day become a Yankees fan and despise the Jets with all her might (despite her parents’ best laid plans). I guess we’d still keep her around, even if that was the case. As long as I could look myself in the eye and say that daddy did all he could to put her on a responsible path.