I Hate Jeff Kent

So, growing up, I was a Mets fan. Only because my sister was a Mets fan and I didn't know any better. But in 1997, I fell in love with David Cone. By 1988, Cone and Kevin McReynolds were my favorite players. When I love a player, I go all out. I read everything about them, buy their merch and just become obsessed. In August of 1992, my world shattered. The NY Mets traded David Cone to the Toronto Blue Jays. Canada! The American League! I was crushed.

In the trade, the Mets got Jeff Kent, nicknamed Superman. When he arrived in NY he was anything but. He did nothing to help the team and eventually moved on. When he ended up in Houston, they moved furture Hall of Famer, Craig Biggio from 2nd base where he'd been positioned once they realized he was a catcher who could RUN. Having grown up watching the National League, I was fond of Biggio, collected his baseball cards and everything. Again, I have a soft spot for catchers, so I was TICKED that they moved him just because they acquired Kent.

Fast forward a bit, after August 1992, I disowned the Mets and began to like the Yankees. They were getting better and some of the players I had seen play AA with the Albany-Colonie Yankees were on the team (Bernie Williams) and they signed Paul O'Neill, a name I knew from watching the National League so long. And one night, in 1995, my dad picked me up from work to tell me the Yanks traded for some schmuck. Who??? David Cone. That sealed the deal. I cried when they lost in the play offs in 1997. I was hooked. My whole family became Yankee fans.

In 2001, I moved to Kingston, NY and hated every minute of it. So to console myself, I bought a 48 game week day package. I had season tix in the upper deck, section 4 behind home plate. Awesome seats. I would take my friends, or go by myself. It was my second home. I had tix for the Yanks vs the Astros. I could see Baggy, Biggio and Berkman. Yippie!

Usually, after the game, I would hang out by the baracade at the players' entrance to watch them leave. I had gotten an autograph from Jason Giambi that way. I liked to watch the players, cheer for those who deserved it. I stood out there in the rain after Roger Clemens' 300th win and he waved at all ten of us still hanging there waiting for him to emerge. It was getaway day, and there was a bus waiting for the Astros.

Out walks Jeff Kent. As loud as I could muster in the hot summer day, I screamed "Jeff Kent, you suck!" My mom is so proud. Kent was standing at the bus door, looked over at me and laughed, as if to say, "another crazy New Yorker". I didn't care. He heard me. That was all that mattered. My voice was heard.