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The only thing my father and I ever had in common was the Yankees and baseball. It took some growing up to realize that sometimes I had to distinguish between loving a sport and loving a person, however.In fact, it was the last good conversation I had with him before he passed away. I managed the men’s lacrosse team at the University of Maryland and my fondness for the game, coupled with my surrogate little sister status among the players, made me appreciate the relationships I had with those guys even more. When I was 19, I began dating a pitcher in the Yankees organization.
I’ve written about my experiences for years, though I never released names and more often than not changed their teams.
Clearly, those people have never known someone who dated an ECHL hockey player.
My relationship with sports began at the age of 5, when my father took me to my first Yankees game.
For whatever reason, my dad — a typical lawyer with a flair for exaggeration — told me we were related to then-rookie outfielder Bernie Williams.
I perpetuated this lie until I was about 11 years old, when a seventh grade boy broke my heart by informing me I wasn’t Puerto Rican and Bernie Williams was.
I didn’t speak to my dad for two weeks and didn’t watch baseball for two months.
It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to figure out that my love of the men who play sports was a direct result of the rejection that came from my father in later years and his death when I was 16.
But one I continue to fight against is the idea that these relationships are merely driven by the desire for fame and money.
There are so many stereotypes about women who are attracted to athletes, some of which are true.