Happy July 4! 🇺🇸 What America Means To Me 🇺🇸
At a time when negativity engulfs this great nation, I want to flip the script and lighten the mood by sharing my very personal love story with the USA...
Happy July 4, everyone!
And Happy Birthday, America!
I want to wish all my readers, subscribers and followers an awesome day of great food, great fireworks and a whole lot of baseball with family and friends.
July 4 will always be one of my favorite days of the year, and it is a time when we should all be coming together to celebrate everything that is truly great about America.
Side note - one of my all-time favorite July 4 memories took place back in 2019. It involved a very fun Subway Series the night before - where way too many beers and pickleback shots were consumed - and a you-had-to-be-there-to-believe-it July 4 party at the penthouse of a very, very, very well-known and influential public figure in American banking circles on the day itself. Plenty of beer was also consumed that night, along with copious amounts of pizza and some incredible views of Manhattan and the various firework displays throughout the city. That’s a July 4 celebration I’ll never forget for as long as I live.
And there is a lot to celebrate. Of course, it is easy to forget that given the current times we live in and all the uncertainty and doom as we hurtle towards another date with destiny when an actual convicted criminal could be elected as President of the United States of America. That’s as political as I’ll ever get on this website.
Anyway, my point is I totally understand all those who struggle to feel all patriotic today of all days. On a day when we’re meant to celebrate America’s independence and, in turn, everything wonderful about being American, there are a slew of reasons to do the opposite of that given the plethora of issues facing this country.
But, I want to put aside all the negativity, all the conflicted feelings, all the reasons not to embrace patriotism and instead celebrate July 4 in style by sharing my own personal love story with America with you all.
Before we start, I do get the irony of a born-and-bred Englishman writing about his love for the United States and how July 4 is so freaking awesome given the origins of this holiday. After all, Independence Day celebrates the birth of American independence and the day when Great Britain got its butt kicked to the curb. So I understand the comedy at play here. And, if anyone in England is reading this, then I’ll probably be disowned forever.
That last bit is okay with me because America has long felt like my actual home anyway.
That in itself is actually quite funny because I showed no interest in anything to do with life across the pond when I was younger. My class at school had the chance to go on a once-in-a-lifetime trip to New York but, despite determined arguments from my parents, I declined that opportunity in order to stay home and go watch my local soccer team instead.
True story.
And yes, believe it or not, there was a time when yours truly was obsessed with soccer and wouldn’t dare to so much as flirt with any other sport, especially those of an American persuasion. But things began to change once I reached college. Having already been exposed to the NHL and the New York Rangers as a kid, I stumbled across a UK channel where I could access all the hockey I could handle. So, naturally, I took to skipping classes and hiding out at my Grandparents’ house, falling in love with the Rangers and the NHL in general while living on a diet of microwavable pizzas for lunch. Those were the days. Unless you are my parents, who are probably still pissed that I never actually finished college. I would argue that it hasn’t actually worked out all that bad for me, however.
From there, I eventually developed an interest in baseball, basketball and the NFL and those new-found passions gradually grew into relentless obsessions, even as I was climbing the journalism ladder in soccer circles back in England. All of a sudden, America appealed to me on a much-wider basis and I made my first trip out to New York in 2016 with my younger brother.
As it turned out, it was a life-changing vacation.
From the minute we stepped foot on American soil, I was beginning to fall head over heels in love with good ol’ U.S Of A. It was during that trip my life sentence with the Mets, the Jets and the Knicks began. It was also that same week when I came to the conclusion my future belonged Stateside. I knew right there and then that my heart belonged to America. And there was no going back.
More incredible, life-altering trips followed as I embarked on a one-man mission to become the first in my family to break free from familiar confines and dedicate my life to chasing dreams and reaching for the stars. Nothing or no one was going to get in my way and stop me.
With each trip to the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave, I became more and more charmed with what my life could look like Stateside. I took in my first Rangers game at MSG. I sampled the delights of the pepperoni slice at Pizza Suprema (one of the best pizza places in the city, and I won’t be argued with on that). I drank beer and consumed way too much Cracker Jack at Mets games. I became an honorary Bleacher Creature at Yankee Stadium on the odd occasion. I lived out my own movie scenes in beautiful Central Park. I ran alongside the Hudson River and recovered with stacks of mouthwatering chocolate chip pancakes at Bubby’s after. I passed the New Yorker test by surviving - and mastering - the subway. I bought Miller High Life from a Bodega and watched Super Bowl LIII at a friends’ apartment in the hip part of Brooklyn. Although, all of Brooklyn is now hip. I discovered that New Yorkers aren’t rude, they are just direct and say whatever is on their minds. We should all strive to live that way. And I was also seduced by the quaint charms of Boston and all that beautiful city has to offer.
All in all, I was enamored with the idea of turning my back on everything I knew in England, and doing everything within my power to carve out a full-time life in America for real.
There was also something much deeper at play.
It quickly reached the point where I discovered that America was where I was always meant to be. I was put on this very earth to eventually end up there. As strange as that may sound. After years of feeling like I didn’t belong in my actual home, after a decade plus of searching for an identity that never showed itself, a lightbulb just flashed in my head one day and, just like that, everything became perfectly clear: America was where I belonged.
Without wanting to get too deep, coming to that realization helped save me. Again, this is going to sound dramatic, but I don’t know if I would be here if it were not for my own American dream. I was a literal zombie just death marching through life with no joy or real purpose in England. I didn’t know who I was and I was more inclined to spend every waking minute doing things that pleased other people over doing what made me happy. I was living a lie. A lie that was slowly eating away at my soul.
I may have been born in England, but I didn’t belong there. And I always knew that deep down.
Then the clouds parted, the heavens opened, and a gift from the Gods came hurtling down from the sky. And it was that first trip to New York. That was when I was delivered the first tantalizing taste of the real Andrew. The easy-going, fun-loving Andrew who had no problem making a bunch of friends in The Big Apple. The Andrew who was destined to follow his real passions and interests. The Andrew who was put on this earth to work day and night to become a baseball writer.
So that’s why America means so much to me. And always will.
That’s why I stand for the National Anthem, place my cap over my heart and sing every single word of The Star-Spangled Banner like my very life depended on it. That’s why I consider myself a fully-fledged adopted American in every single sense of the word.
And I’m proud of that. So, so, proud. That’s despite the fact that America isn’t at her best right now. And that’s despite the fact we seem to be hurtling towards having a raging lunatic (and, let me say again, a convicted criminal) voted into The White House.
Despite all of that, I’m still beyond proud to consider America home. I will never stop thinking of this great country as home. And I’ll never stop being proud to do so.
And, anyway, this is America. She will bounce back. She always does. And, as a result, we’ll have greater days ahead to get excited about.
To finish, I often allow myself to daydream about becoming a U.S. Citizen one day in the hopefully not too distant future. That’s a real goal of mine. It is something that motivates me, and something that helps to drive me every single day. It would be the ultimate honor.
America is the ultimate land of hope and dreams and that’s exactly what it has been for me. A warm, loving place that has embraced me for who I am, encouraged me to be the most authentic version of myself and pushed me to never stop fighting for my dreams and goals.
America has helped shape me into the man I am today. And I’ll be forever grateful for that, and forever grateful for the bounty of wonderful opportunities this incredible, unique and beautiful country has afforded me.
So, while watching endless amounts of baseball today, I’ll be raising a juicy cheeseburger and a refreshing cold one to America on her birthday.
The country that will always have my heart.