The Greatest Game

The team was different, the fans were different, the Stadium was different, but one thing seems to never change as October hits the Bronx – Mariano Rivera. As he struck out Gary Matthews Jr. to end Game 6 of the ALCS (and I jumped up and down like a schoolgirl), the Yankees defeated the Angels and were back in the World Series.

Thus began a very long blog post…

At the last minute, a friend of my dad’s offered us his Game 6 tickets. This would be noteworthy as is, but these happened to be Legends Seats. The Legends Seats are like the Dubai of Yankee Stadium – an opulent world unto itself. After a rainout on Saturday, I met my dad and two brothers at the Stadium and began our playoff journey.

The entire Legends process is somewhat surreal. You go through a separate entrance, where rows and rows of good looking people welcome you to the Stadium, and give you a special wristband. Then you enter a blue frosted glass hallway that can’t be seen through from the outside. The next room is the giant restaurant, which looked as nice and as showy as any restaurant in Manhattan (or Vegas). The place was huge, and was two floors full of tables and TVs.

Right in the middle of this enormous restaurant layout is a dark glass tunnel that seemingly leads into Middle Earth. In fact, it is a separate entrance to the field (perfect for avoiding the common man). You go down two flights of stairs, loop around, then pass through a hallway filled with all-you-can-grab candy, snacks, water and soda. Ironically, the people who had paid tens of thousands of dollars for these seats were lining every available pocket with peanut M&Ms.

We soon reentered the Stadium proper and were taken to our seats – two rows behind the visitors dugout and steps from home plate. I quickly asked my brother Brandon to hit me to ensure that this was actually happening. As soon as we sat down, a woman came over and asked if we wanted any food. Everything ballpark concession was available for free – everything from hot dogs to sausage to…sushi. The only thing that had an additional cost was alcohol. Unbelievable.

Now for the important part – the game itself. The crowd was intensely loud from the first pitch. It was the closest to the noise at the old stadium that I have heard all year. Pettitte was all business and despite scattering some hits, was dominant throughout the game. He let up a run in the 3rd but the Yankees roared back with 3 in the 4th. This was no thanks to Posada, who left 10 on base through the course of the game.

Now, I was in heaven just being at the game, considering that this was my second playoff game in a few weeks (and ever). Our seats only made it more enjoyable. That said, the fans where we sat were…otherworldly.

One guy behind me was a die hard, and him and I talked throughout the whole game. Other than that, we had some interesting characters:

• A guy in front of us was wearing a black leather jacket, black pants, a black hat, and dark sunglasses. He looked vaguely German and would high five me with angry determination every time something good happened. He reminded me of a certain host of Sprockets.
• A father (who looked like Madoff) had a lengthy discussion with his son over what the best kind of sushi to order would be.
• A gentleman and his wife sitting behind us were wearing sweaters and regatta jackets. In the 4th inning, the waitress came over with two red wine glasses and a bottle of Merlot.
• After the other die hard fan and I went through a few rounds of “Hip Hip – Jorge!”, the woman in front of us said to her husband, I’m enjoying this ball game but the fans should really keep it down – how can you even have a quiet conversation here?”
• During the 8th inning, when I was standing up for 2 strikes, I kept hearing mumbling behind me. Finally I turned around, and a guy with a sweater tied around his neck looked right at me and yelled, “Down in front!” I pointed out to him that of the 50,000 people at the game, 49,950 were standing, and that if he had an issue with supporting the Yankees there were some other places he could be. His response: “Down in front!”
• Random asides – we saw Barkley, Bloomberg, and Giuliani at the game. My dad and Brandon ran into Rudy in the bathroom, where he counseled everyone to “never forget” to wash their hands.

None of that mattered, though, because the Yankees were dealing, and we were six outs away from another pennant. The crowd was delirious through the last few innings, and when some poor Angels defense gave us a cushion, everyone could sense destiny. In the top of the 9th, Mo struck out Gary Matthews Jr. swinging and the stadium erupted. Here is the entire final at bat (final pitch comes at about the 2:00 mark):

My dad and brothers left, but my night was only beginning.

After staying at our seats to watch the clubhouse video and award presentations, I made my way over to the Yankee dugout. Various reporters and police officers congregated by the entrance and the fans dwindled to about 100 people.

After about 20 minutes, we heard a load roar. Oh my god – that’s Phil Coke’s music!

The big lefty let out a guttural scream and jumped up on the dugout rail. He stopped in front of me, offered me his champagne, and shook all of our hands. He then dumped it all over everyone as he ran away screaming. Going to a game with my dad and brothers, watching us clinch a WS berth, and then celebrating with actual Yankee players was almost too much to enjoy. I licked the residual champagne off of my face and shirt and kept waiting.

As time went on, the rest of the bullpen came out, Jerry Hairston did a few interviews, and we got to see Peter Gammons. The fans that stayed were still fired up and went through a few bleacher creature chants that didn’t stop until the person turned around:

• PE-TER GA-MMONS (when he turned to wave, everyone screamed “Boston sucks!”)
• DA-VID CONE (wave)
• PER-FECT GAME (another Cone wave)
• WHERE IS WELLS? (Cone laughs)
• MICH-AEL KAY (disgusted look, followed by brief nod)
• Random fan to Michael Kay: “Michael Kay has enormous dog balls!”
• WHO’S YOUR DA-DDY (presumably Pedro felt a disturbance in the force)

A bunch of the players’ children then came on the field. Young Girardi, Young Cano and Young Jorge had a spirited race around the bases, with Young Girardi legging out a victory against Young Jorge (the crowd went wild). They then threw BP to each other with an inflatable ball, during which Young Cano swung at a pitch above his head, surprising no one.

At about 2:45 AM, it was finally time to go, and I slowly left the Stadium for the 4 train.

Much has been made of the negatives in baseball of late – rising ticket prices, lack of team parity, steroids, etc. This all comes in the context of a struggling country, which makes things like the Legends Seats (and the fans I described) all the more unseemly. Much like the current political climate, people got bogged down in details, arguments, and scandal.

Yes, the Yankees are a team of haves, and often face have-nots. Yes, the orgy of luxury in the suites is probably ill suited for the times we live in (and sushi and wine are always unsuited for baseball). And yes, given all of the above, baseball almost lost its way this decade.

But, none of that is what I saw on Sunday night.

Unlike other times this decade (where the team, fans and ownership took winning for granted), the fans were overjoyed. The players were overjoyed. They were also appreciative – they made numerous gestures after the game to show love to the fans.

Whether you were a casual fan or a sabermetrician, or sitting in the first or the last row, the collective euphoria of millions of New Yorkers was all that mattered when that final out landed in Posada’s glove. People were complaining about the seat disparity – but aren’t Astors and Helmsleys just as much a part of New York’s history as immigrants and commuters? This is our city and these are our fans, for better or for worse. This is the greatness of baseball.

Time will tell if the country can do the same – focus on what makes it great instead of our differences. In the meantime, though, baseball has not lost its way. I will never forget the cheering, the energy, the passion (and the alcohol I got from Phil Coke) as long as I live. I’m hoping we win it all, but either way, for me, this was one of the greatest games I have ever seen.

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