Quote:
Originally Posted by thomamon
Have a great time.
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Thanks, did. My buns are still thawing (a bit of hyperbole; it was chilly though; funny, but it was even colder on the ramps after the game with the wind whipping through) but it was well worth the trip.
It was great hearing the fans chant "Moooooooooooosssss" after every strikeout, which was three times in the sixth. Damon's homer was just below us - I had forgotten what a home run looks like when it's coming straight at you.
Yankee hits in abundance for a change meant not even missing A-Rod from the lineup. Embarassing moment: Asking my friend why they were bringing in Rivera (#42) to pitch the ninth with a five-run lead when it actually was Veras (#41). I blamed it on failing eyesight, which it may have been, really.
Some clown in a Boston Red Sox jersey was playing the crowd and they were giving it to him good. Good-natured for the most part, but I was amazed how so many people can quickly pick up on something as small as one person in a crowd like that.
I frequently listen to Yankee games on WCBS 880 AM Radio and at home games I notice the sound of somebody clanging something metal, usually to the rhythm of "tap, tap . . . tap, tap, tap, . . . tap, tap, tap, tap, ["Let's Go" - you know the chant]. This drives me a bit nuts at times because it goes on all . . . game . . . long. And it must be very near the WCBS Radio booth for me to hear it that clearly.
Around the eighth inning on a cold day the crowd naturally thins out, to the point where now I could hear that clanging from across the stadium. I briefly toyed with the idea of going over there to wrap the horseshoes around the kid's neck (that's the mental image that I always have had, a kid with horseshoes), but I surpressed it. Only because the Yankees were winning; if not, then perhaps I would not be typing here right now (j/k).
Anyway, after the game we take a walk up River Avenue to shop, which leaves me considerably poorer. I hear the clanging coming from an open pizzeria storefront up ahead. That's it! I'm going to kill that kid, Yanks Win 6-1 or not!
I get up there, searching for my murder weapon, when I see him. Not a kid, but one of those fan-loved (I guess; I hope) eccentric personalities. Named Freddie, he's sitting with his homemade sign in front of the pizzeria, banging a spoon on a large frying pan, which looks like he's been banging away at it for years.
Suddenly the hate drains away from me. Now that I see who he is, and what he's making noise with, I can't be angry any more. From the grin on his face, he seems quite happy with himself and the world and simply wants to celebrate by banging on his frying pan. I think he would have been doing that even if it were Mariners Win 6-1!
He turned his smile upon me and I smiled back. For some reason, I feel good about what happened; from now on, when I hear him on the radio clanking away at Yankee home games, I don't think it will bother me any more.
