Why I Root for the New York Yankees   Sure, baseball is our shared religion. Pro baseball? Circus. Show biz. Bullshit. The players are trading cards, bobbleheads, and no, they’re not paid to love us back. But the way we fuss over them! Like a high-school crush, like a kid’s skinned knee, like a war. They smile, sell us back our longing to play — we rush to buy, to belong, to live out our childish dreams. It’s us and them! Fifty-cent beer in twelve-dollar cups! So why the hell not the Yankees — why not the best? I live here. And the baseball I worship is sandlot baseball and I’m ten, puny as they come, but by God I got on and I’m rounding for home.                                                  for Baron Wormser     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont September 2012