During the early to mid-'80s, I was enjoying a fairly average American childhood that involved discovering an interest in sports and developing some team loyalties that would prosper for the next 20 plus years. In that time, I generally went all in when I chose my sides. Seeing highlights of Ozzie Smith doing pre-game flips on "This Week In Baseball" made me a St Louis Cardinal fan.

Later on, I was just developing an interest in football when the Miami Dolphins' dynamic duo of Dan Marino and Mark "Super" Duper caught my attention. Then, in basketball with Michael Jordan making his mark on the league just a couple hours up the road from me in Chicago, I was inspired by another slam dunk champion.

Even now, I believe I am the last hardcore fan of the Atlanta Hawks outside of the Atlanta city limits, thanks to Dominique Wilkins and Spud Webb, and that's assuming there are still Hawks fans in Atlanta. But, I'm really starting to stray from the topic I had in mind here, before I even get started. Not that you could tell from that rambling introduction, but my real intent here is to tell everyone that will read this that I hate the New York Yankees.

I've always hated the Yankees. For as long as I can remember, they have been the subject of a lot of despise on my part and I don't even know why. Growing up in Illinois I wasn't privy to all of the Boston-New York crossfire that happens. Being a Cardinals fan before the inception of inter-league play, I wasn't forced to pick sides when the two met, especially since the Yankees weren't exactly playoff contenders during the years of Whitey-ball and the repeated playoff appearances by St Louieee.

For some reason not fully understood by the 10-year old version of me, it just felt right to hate the Yankees. I did like Don Mattingly though, and I liked to show off the fact that I not only knew who Mike Pagliarulo was, but could also pronounce and spell his name.

However, deep down inside I was a Yankee hater. Just as steadfast as I have been in support of my favorite teams, I have felt equal parts contempt for a number of other teams, but none more than the Yanks. It was almost as if there was some sort of subliminal message implanted into the back of my mind that could be traced back to my potty training as a two year old.

Earlier this year I realized that somewhere in the time since, I have gradually lost some of that Yankee hatred. Don't get me wrong, I haven't totally flip-flopped and become a fan of the team, but my hate had become less egregious.

It was a strange moment for me when I realized this too. With the 2007 season still in the early stages, Roger Clemens was still weighing his playing options for this season and I remember getting online at work and reading an article in which the author stated that Andy Pettite, a former teammate of the Rocket's had placed a phone call trying to persuade Roger to join the Yankees.

Now there is nothing unusual about that in itself, as I can wholly understand why any team would entertain the idea of adding a veteran pitcher who had combined for a near 2.00 era over his last two complete seasons in 2005 and 2006. What really struck me as odd was that I read the word "Yankees" and had little reaction. I didn't roll my eyes. I didn't get that sudden feeling of disgust, the one where you feel weak for a slight moment before being overtaken by a sudden sensation of repulsion. The feeling just wasn't there. After a moments thought, I realized I didn't like that feeling not being there. It was almost as if something had been shaken in this little world of mine.

So I had to think to myself. New England Patriots? Aargghh! There it was. New York Knicks? Uuunggh! There it was again. OK, nothing physically wrong with me. It had to be mental.

Yeah, a mental problem I could deal with. So I just chalked it up as just another in a long line of mental issues that seem to be gradually surfacing since I turned 30 years old. Yet another baby step towards old age I guess. First, I have trouble remembering all the lyrics to House of Pain's "Jump Around" lately, and now I don't get physically disgusted by the thought of the New York Yankees. It happens.

Then a few days later I was watching the official station of the Yankees, ESPN, broadcast that nights game and again felt little. But this time it actually bothered me. Why in the world did I no longer hate the Yankees? This was akin to waking up one morning and suddenly realizing that I no longer hated steamed broccoli.

So I sat there on the living room couch with the Yankees and Devil Rays playing on the television in front of me thinking… Had I also lost my hatred for George Steinbrenner? Did I no longer feel that Derek Jeter was a highly over-rated defensive shortstop? Was I okay that I was watching the Yankees play a team whose payroll was roughly 15 percent of their own?

Refreshingly, the answer to each question was "no." Then it dawned on me. Subconsciously, I no longer considered the Yankees THE most hateful team in baseball. Add to that all of the emotion I had put into rooting for my Cardinals the last few seasons and there just wasn't enough spare energy in the tank to be overly concerned with rooting against the Yankees, especially if they were going to be just another .500 team.

By the end of April, even with Alex Rodriquez's assault on the baseball record books, the Yankees had one of the worst records in all of baseball. They would finish April by losing eight of their last nine games, and suddenly with my epiphany I felt both relieved and strangely empty. What was I going to do if the Evil Empire was no longer a threat? I could still hate the Cubs, Red Sox and Mets right? I could live with that. Besides I could still take delight in seeing the Yanks lose, it just wasn't as satisfying.

Then things began to change. On May 6th from the owner's box at Yankee Stadium, Roger Clemens waved to the crowd and was greeted as a savior. With the Yankees pitching staff in shambles, GM Brian Cashman and Hendricks brokered a one-year contract for $28,000,022 – the last two digits matching his uniform number, how cute – that  would start when he is added to the Major League roster for his first start, which was expected to be sometime in late May. Clemens was set to earn about $18.5 million under the deal, costing the Yankees approximately $7.4 million in additional luxury tax money. All that meant they were investing about $26 million in a pitcher who won 20 games over the last two seasons for the Houston Astros and would turn 45 before the end of the regular season.  

On June 9th, after a few minor league starts, Clemens made his 2007 debut with the Yankees by dispensing of the Pittsburgh Pirates. On June 15th the Mets ended the Yankees longest winning streak since 2005 at nine games. By the end of the first half of the season, the Yanks had climbed to just one game below .500 at 42-43.

As the season progressed the Yankees continued to pick up steam. They were almost like that proverbial snowball rolling downhill, gradually becoming more and more menacing as the season progressed.

July turned in to August, and August became September, and the Yanks continued to roll leaving the Seattle Mariners in the dust of the Wild Card chase and nipping at the heels of the division leading Red Sox entering the last week of the season. With the playoffs just around the corner, the Yankees, behind Chien-Ming Wang, defeated those financially inferior Devil Rays to clinch the AL Wild Card and setup a possible first round playoff with the Cleveland Indians.

As I write this, the Yankees are three games behind the Red Sox with only four to play and it has become painfully clear that the Yankees have locked in their 13-consecutive postseason appearance. With my Cardinals readying to hit some of America's best golf courses come October 1, I'm preparing to put all of my emotional energy into hating on the Yankees… and that's just the way it should be.