I'm 23 years old, and along with my family, friends, and a handful of great girls, sports have been one of the loves of my life. I grew up gazing in awe at a gliding Michael Jordan, wanting to mash homers like Ken Griffey Jr., and wondering why every running back couldn't reverse fields like Barry Sanders. (Of course now I realize how unique Barry was). And as I watched the superstars do their thing for other teams, I had my own personal favorites to worry about: the Mets, Jets, and Islanders. Maybe you know where this one is going...
As a kid, I always had hope. Faith that one of my teams would become the Bulls, Cowboys, or Yankees of its sport, that my relentless and undying support would somehow propel them to The Promised Land. Year after year my expectations grew, and my painstaking l ...
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Article written by John Frascella
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