When I was young, being a Yankee fan, I was obsessed with Mickey Mantle.  Mantle was the Yankee Key Man (last 3 letters of first name and first 3 of second).  The Mick, despite his frequent injuries and leg problems carried me through the thrilling 50s and much of the 60s. His career ending was sad and he once said if he knew he was going to live as long as he did he would have taken better care of himself (his dad died at 39 and Mick liked the sauce and night life). 

I'm still a Yankee fan and I never thought I would have another Yankee to idolize.  And then along came this 6'7", 282 pound amiable, gap toothed giant, Aaron Judge, a latter day Paul Bunyon who was adopted at birth and brought up to be a seeming well mannered, soft spoken paragon of virtue who boarders on being too good to be true.

Here's the problem, after the All Star game, his dream Home Run Derby winning season seemed to be unraveling   before my adoring eyes.  At one point he has just one (dribbler) hit in his first 21 post Home Run Derby at bats.

His fall off bothered me  so much that I stopped watching the games. It could make a grown man cry.  That's the down side of obsession!