In 1978, I got a grounds crew slicker
from Yankee Stadium
from my uncle
who knew a guy who knew a guy
who worked at Yankee Stadium.
I didn’t know nothing from the Yankees until then.
But my momma hit me ground balls
everyday in the street
and I learned to be
the next Bucky Dent,

the future once and future king,
once and future king,
once and future king,

Derek, I want your job, Mr. Jeter.
My five year old self says,
“Please, give me a shot…
I could be

the New York Yankees, the New York Yankees,
the New York Yankees starting shortstop…Fungo!”

And another present that I got
from a priest friend who had baptized me
was a book called,
“And On the Eighth Day God Created the Yankees,”
of testimonies and it was and still is
the most frightening and intriguing book
that I have ever seen about sports and faith
and how Jesus helped these people
at their everyday jobs,

and I wish Jesus would help me.
I wish he would help me like that,
I wish he would help me like he helped...

On the eighth day God created,
on the eighth day God created,
on the eighth day God created

the Yankees,
the New York Yankees,
the New York, New York Yankees.

In the eighties, I am positive
that I would have been an Orioles fan
having grown up in the shadow of such greats
as Eddie Murray and Cal Ripken
but the original Iron Man had taken
my imagination, my pride,
and when I left my mom, she cried,
as I boarded the bus
to go to kindergarten and
my first day of school.
How was I to know there would be
the cartoon Oriole birds, on every hat,

and they moved towards the aisle
when I tried to sat,
when I tried to sat down.

And nobody would let me be.
They punched me.
Nobody would let me be.
They took my grounds crew slicker.
They took it from me,
but they couldn’t take my

pride,
pride in the Yankees,
the New York Yankees,
Pride of the Yankees…

booyeah!