Big Apple to Big D

Way back when, in ‘96, my brothers and I were offered two tickets to a fall game one night when my folks were out of town. I, as the youngest and having a lot of homework, did not attend. My brothers, never ones to neglect their baby bro, brought back a Tino shirt for me and I have worn it – despite the fact that it is huge on me and makes me look 14 – with great pride and only in key situations. I have not donned it all season except for the two games I attended at the great new Yankee Stadium. With the Core Four of Jeter, Pettitte, Jorge, and Mo playing in Game 6, I felt that the spirit of someone as classy as Tino Martinez would help. I wore my Martinez shirt for good luck, and it worked.

I watched the game last night with a fellow New Yorker who lives in the building. His TV is a 52″ LCD, where ours is 15″ something-or-other. Seriously, I think the picture-in-picture on his screen is larger than our glorified Viewmaster. My neighbor, being neighborly, invited me over to witness Game 6 on an exceptional piece of electronics, as well as to enjoy some burgers, beer, and Bronx camaraderie.

His wife had a couple of friends over, one from Queens, originally, and the other from “way south Jersey”, clearly a Phillies “fan”. It is difficult to watch an important game with someone who is a casual fan. However, it is worse to watch a game with a casual fan of the opposite team, who insists they know more about the game than you do. When Tex got tagged by a pitch, she told me “he stands all over the plate.” I asked her how she could say that when Utley is a notorious plate-crowder (and has led the league in HBPs). She says “No, Teixeira and A-Rod crowd the plate more. Trust me.” Oh. OK. She also called Jorge a whiner, but I’m not going to start getting all negative here. At 7-3, she headed home and we watched the finale in relative peace.

Andy didn’t pitch brilliantly, but he was confident and unflappably so. There is no one else I’d rather have pitching. Meanwhile, Damaso Marte was an unsung hero, ripping strikes and getting all fired up. Of course, when the doors open in the outfield, and Mariano, glove held in his pitching hand, trots onto the field and starts running to the mound, and the first licks of ‘Enter Sandman’ play, I get goosebumps every time. It’s then that you realize that he is the greatest of all time.

When the Yanks won in ‘98, I got a call that Friday in the morning from a friend of mine who was going down to the parade. It was a Friday and, well, I had school. I figured my parents would never let me go, but I asked all the same. My dad thought for a moment and said “Sure, why not, how often does this happen?” Of course, the Pinstripes would post two more championships in the next two years, but we didn’t know that. I headed downtown where we got front row spots in the Canyon of Heroes and, when I saw Tino almost half a mile down the street, I started a chant. By the time he was in front of us, I’d started thousands upon thousands of people chanting his name. There were so many fans there that day, that it took over an hour once people started leaving just for us to get down the side street to the avenue. I left my house that morning around 7:30am, and didn’t get to school until well after 3:30, late for practice. The Yanks won that series in four games against San Diego. Who was the winning pitcher in that final game? Andy Pettitte. Who was the closer? Mo.

The hardest part about watching the game was being unable to go to Luke’s for the celebration. Dallas is not much of a baseball town, so my night ended with beers at home. Nonetheless, I was thrilled by Matsui’s performance and happy to see another Yankee class-act get justly honored.

In respect to the Yanks, I’ve altered the blog header. And below, Sterling’s call.