A Bronx Tale

Yesterday I fell in love with baseball again. Dad, this post is for you to enjoy as I’ve failed at posting any blogs lately. Sorry. And Sam, I'm writing it to you. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it when you’re older. Perhaps you’ll take your children to a Yankees game one day and you can tell them about the time I took you.

Being from Texas, I’ve always been a Rangers fan, but not a die-hard one by any means. The Rangers, unfortunately, give you little to cheer about. These past 5 seasons while living in New York, I’ve pretty much ignored baseball altogether. I’ve tried to like the Mets, but real emotions aren’t there.

Sam, you are 6 years old and have transitioned from a love for Spiderman to a love for baseball. Along the way, I’ve asked ‘which is your favorite baseball team – the Yankees or the Mets’? Earlier this season, you leaned toward the Mets because you knew I was trying to like them. However, about a month ago, while playing catch at the park, you told me you wanted to be a Yankees fan instead. “Why Sam?” You explained, “Because the Yankees are better”. Fair enough. Perhaps by coincidence, the Yanks were one game into a seven game winning streak that day.

In our chaotic house, we’ve never found time for watching baseball. However, I had been promising you we’d go to a Yankees game this season. Yesterday, we woke up with no plans, so without much expectation of finding anything, I checked Craigslist for tickets to the 1:05pm game against the A’s. It just so happened that a doctor working at the hospital 5 blocks away was selling his two $100 tickets for $50 each. I couldn’t pass that up.

Just before noon we were out the door. You were wearing a generic green shirt, a plain tan cap and your baseball glove. You have been to a Yankees game before, but you were 3 years old and don’t remember it. In my mind, and in yours, this is your first. As we were walking to the train, I told you everyone on the 4 train will be wearing their Yankees caps and shirts. You looked down at your pathetic green shirt and slowly started to take off your tan cap. I told you not to worry, that we will get you a Yankees cap and shirt when we get there.

While waiting on the train, we would see different Yankee shirts pass by. There’s a Ruth. I explained that Babe played for them before I was even born -- and no one hit the baseball farther than Babe. There’s a Posada. There’s an A-Rod. I asked which shirt you wanted. Not knowing the players, except A-Rod, you asked for my opinion. My first thought was A-Rod, but I told you I thought we should go with Jeter. He’s a classic Yankee; been with them a long time; plays shortstop; has won a world series. Yeah, let’s get a Jeter.

The 4 train dropped us off next door to the new stadium. We walked hand-in-hand directly to the souvenir shop across from the stadium. Hat. Jeter shirt. Done.







In we go. 30 minutes before the first pitch, people everywhere. Perfect day for baseball: 80 and sunny. We find our way to our seats. They were perfect seats in the second level between home and first. I’ll never forget the look on your face when you saw the field for the first time.

There was a lot of explaining to do. All the basics. You played baseball 2 years ago, but you knew only the very basics. You didn’t know a strike from a ball, a hit from a run, a walk from a hit. You asked, What do they play to?



With hotdogs and lemonade in hand, we get situated for the first pitch from one of the best – Andy Pettitte. I think you were expecting much more action. You were expecting every pitch to be a home run. I explained that baseball is slower. The pitchers are really good and they are trying to pitch it so you can’t even hit it. And to make it even more painful for you, the first several innings were nothing short of a classic pitcher’s dual. We mixed in some cotton candy and ice cream to keep things exciting though. Zero-Zero heading into the bottom of the 6th inning. Jeter’s on first when Brett Gardner ropes one between Center and Right. A triple – Jeter scores. 1-0. The place goes crazy for the first time. I pick you up so you can see the action. We high-fived. You asked if we won. Not yet, I said. It felt like a 10 run lead at the rate this game was going.

Top of the 7th. The bottom falls out. Pettitte’s old arm starts to fade. He gives up two or three and leaves the game with the bases loaded. The reliever choked. The A’s put up 6 runs in the top of the 7th – the only runs they scored all day. The air was sucked out of the stadium.

After the 7th inning stretch, we get mowed down again. The score holds tight at 6-1 going into the bottom of the 8th. I ask myself if we should just leave now to avoid the mass exodus. But I tell myself we can’t do that. Shame on me for letting the thought cross my mind. We flipped our caps into rally mode. You convinced me we needed to be keeping our fingers crossed as well. Jorge Posada is announced as a pinch hitter. After a loud applause, the chanting starts “Hip Hip Jorge! Hip Hip Jorge!” I think he walked. Our man Jeter’s up. Crack! We all stood up, you in my arms, to see the ball flying through the air. Home run! Your first! The place went absolutely crazy. 6-3, baby! Here we come. Something I never thought I’d have: Yankee goose bumps. I thought to myself, this is baseball. I was loving the moment. Next batter: Mark Teixeira. I’ve never seen a ball hit so hard. He pulled it, and we all stood as it raced down the first base line. After the ball left the park, there was a strange 2 or 3 seconds of silence as we all waited to see whether the ump called it fair or foul. Home run! The place went berserk! 6-4. Oh my!

Time for a pitching change. During the switch, we watched a clip from Rudy on the big screen. “No one, I mean no one, comes into our house and pushes us around!” Chill bumps. Place goes crazy. #55 Hideki Matsui is up. The old school Yankee fan behind us was yelling “Let’s go Fives”. Fives. I love it. Unfortunately, Fives didn’t do much. Neither did anyone else. The rally fizzled. We were only able to get the 3 runs in the 8th.

In the top of the 9th, great pitching and two spectacular back-to-back catches in Center by Brett Gardner kept the A’s at six.

Bottom 9. Last chance. By now, Sam, you are very into it. We need two runs in the 9th to tie it. 3 to win. Between the top and bottom of the 9th, the classic Rocky clip: “It ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done!” Then the Rocky theme song. Goose bumps on top of goose bumps.

Rally caps at full throttle. Fingers crossed. Melky walks. Place goes crazy. Johnny Damon to the plate. He walks too! First and second with no outs! Oh my! Who’s up? Hip Hip Jorge! Hip Hip Jorge! He hits a screamer….but right to the second baseman. Double play. Air sucked straight out of the stadium. You could hear a pin drop.

Ok Sam. There’s still a chance. Two outs, runner on third, Jeter’s up to bat. If he scores, we’re tied. After two or three pitches, Jeter crushes one. We all stand, you in my arms. Back, back, back….centerfielder caught it at the warning track. Just like that, game over. We lost, Sam. You didn’t understand how the game could end so quickly. The masses turned around and walked up the isles to Sinatra’s New York, New York playing loudly.

Winning would have been nice, but it didn’t really matter. As we left you said you want to go again. As we got on the train, you said it was a great game. It WAS a great game. It’ll just show up in the stats as one of 60 or so losses for the year, but for us, it was the world series. We both fell in love with the Yankees yesterday.