There we were on Sunday afternoon, one strike away from having some clarity and relieved anxiety. The Mets were losing to the Yankees in the bottom of the ninth, 2-1, facing the greatest closer in the history of the game and potentially, their season was on the brink. A loss would have given the Mets a demoralizing sweep at the behest of their crosstown rivals, and a fourth-straight loss overall, dampening any of the positive feelings we had gotten from a recent and surprising offensive outburst against the Tigers.
The Mets rallied off Mariano Rivera, won the game in extra innings, and have since responded with two impressive wins to open their west-coast road trip in Los Angeles, which brings them to a season-high two whole games over .500 (although they've actually lost some ground in the Wild Card, where they're 6.5 back). Either way, the Mets haven't rolled over and died just yet, which is surprising to many for a few reasons and is also making me wonder about a few things.
A) Is this team for real? Like, are they going to make us think they're in the race longer than just the All-Star Break?
B) Is this the real Jason Bay? The outfielder was a disappointment last year up until he spent the latter part of the season, and the first part of this one out with a concussion. But in the last 10 games, he's hitting .359 with 13 RBIs, 8 runs scored, 3 homeruns and 2 stolen bases. Oh and his six homers this season are equal to his total from last year. Maybe the last three years of that contract won't be quite the albatross we all feared it was.
C) Why am I so damned anxious about this team?
That last one is the real question. I'll chalk it up to my Jewish neuroticism, but it makes me uncomfortable to not know if this team is going to suddenly get my hopes up only to dash them again or if I can comfortably ignore what's happening on the field. That's a terrible perspective to take. What I should be saying is, "I expected nothing and I'm getting something. It's all gravy."
And really that's quite true. This is an unexpected joy to watch all things considered. The Mets are a scrappy bunch exceeding expectations that you want to actually root for, which is a pretty stark contrast from years past. And let it also not be forgotten that if the team falls apart in the midst of its three-game series against the Phillies after the All-Star Break, I won't have to witness it first hand because I'll be off in Europe for two and a half weeks.
Yes, on a side note, I'll be off in Europe in approximately four or five days depending on where you want to draw territorial lines. I'm going to be in the Netherlands, Germany, the Czech Republic, Austria and Belgium, and it should be a hell of a time and there will be lots of pictures, but the catch is that updates may be few and far between. I'm not sure if you can all manage without my writing a new blog post for roughly three weeks but you're going to have to manage and get your Mets-centric neuroticism elsewhere.
In the interim I should note that while I do plan to take a look at the Berlin Olympic Stadium, site of such events as Jesse Owens' performance at the 1936 Olympics and the 2006 FIFA World Cup, I will not be seeing any sporting events. A bizarre notion considering that I almost always see a sporting event while on vacation and that during my stretch in Europe I will just be missing the 2011 FIFA Women's World Cup, where one team has blamed a loss on lightning -- guess who, and the American Football Weltmeisterschaft in Austria. Oh, how I wish I could see a bunch of men from France and Austria compete on the gridiron so poorly that my high school team could have beaten them.
At the very least those people are actually playing football, which, I suppose, is still theoretically up for debate in the U.S. this fall what with all that lockout business. Of course, I've never really believed the lockout would last long enough to cancel the season and I figured most of it was harmless sabre-rattling and if you need a curious sign as to why, here you go:
This is a pretty funny little parody here with high production values, but the intrigue lies in that several NFL players, members of the NFLPA, are in this video. So are Rich Eisen and Marshall Faulk, who are commentators for NFL Network. That is to say, they are employees of the NFL, which means that during this lockout, technically, they're not supposed to be associating with members of the NFLPA. But here we are. Why would the NFL approve letting these people associate with the enemy? I suppose in theory it could be because they don't want to take it too seriously or get any bad press for taking protectionism to an extreme, but maybe, just maybe, it's because they all know the lockout isn't really that serious and it's only a matter of a week or two before the big, bad millionaires decide how to appropriately split up their billions.
Either way, I suspect there will be football. Rant over. Back to vacation talk.
The only real sporting connection I can find to my trip beyond the Berlin Olympic Stadium is that the Women's World Cup Final will be Sunday night July 17th, when I will be in Berlin. The game, unfortunately, is in Frankfurt, but with Germany the host nation, favorite and two-time defending champion, I'm hopeful that there will be some fun outdoor square with a public viewing area for us to watch in and feel the crowd. If that's the case, I will write something long and poetic about watching sports in another country.
Kind of like everything else I write. If you take out the whole part of it being poetic.
So yeah, the Mets and Yankes play tonight. For those of you who don't know or care much for New York baseball perhaps you can understand that these are incredibly fun games to watch or attend, even if they are all a painful reminder of the dark angst that can happen when you're 15 years old. Still, with that fateful series some 11 years in my rear view mirror, I'm willing to take these biannual matchups as what they are.
Baseball games.
That's really all they are, and people can talk about "bragging rights" all they want, but all things considered, they're really no more significant on the calendar than any other.
Why is this?
Well, to be completely blunt, as much as people want the Yankees and Mets to be rivals, they really aren't. They play six times a year, a whopping 3.7% of their 162-game schedule. They don't play after early July, they don't compete directly against each other in their divisions, or or any playoff spot at all for that matter, and for the most part, at least for me, once these games are over it's out of sight and out of mind.
But like I said, that doesn't mean they aren't fun, and it's certainly enjoyable to have one of those rare times during the baseball season when a Mets fan and a Yankees fan can go to a game together and each have a vested interest in the outcome. And so it is with that in mind that I'm particularly keen to be headed up to the Bronx tonight for the opener of the 2011 renewal of the rivalry. This was made possible yesterday when I noticed that tickets had dropped precipitously on stubhub and decided, "What the hell? I'll pay $28 to sit behind home plate in the upper deck."
It'll be interesting to see if tonight becomes one of those great memories I have of Subway Series games past that I've attended, memories that include:
Indeed, even the Subway Series games I haven't attended have had a whole host of memories. Whether or not there are some new ones created tonight remains to be seen, but either way I'm looking forward to the evening, provided the weather holds out.
Another thing that should make this series interesting is that despite profound differences in payroll, expectations and, well, talent, the Mets and Yankees aren't actually too far apart in the standings this year -- not right now anyway. I'm not fool and I suspect that come September the Yankees will be battling Boston and Tampa Bay for the AL East title while the Mets are at least 10 games back, but for now the Amazins have played quite well of late, going 16-9 since a 9-1 win over the Astros on April 21, a game I should note, was the first I attended this season. As a result, the Mets are just one game under .500 after a miserable start, sitting five games back of first with a 21-22 record, and just 2 1/2 games back in the overall standings of the 23-19 Yankees, who have been slogging through a brutal month.
Lastly, even if the Mets lose tonight, I am somewhat excited about getting to go to Yankee Stadium for the second time this season -- and second time in 10 days. This is odd considering I hadn't gone to the Bronx for a game all last season, but I remembered last week what I miss so much about the new Yankee Stadium, and to be quite honest, it is not the building itself. Yankee Stadium does not impress me for a few reasons. While I enjoy that they brought the frieze back around the top of the stadium and I can see what they're going for with the limestone walls intended to evoke the original Yankee Stadium facade from the 20s, but this building makes me feel like Hal Steinbrenner is sitting on my shoulder everywhere I go reminding me how good his building is.
The other thing I can't help but think of when I see Yankee Stadium is that it must be the most Republican stadium in the Majors. Allow me to explain. I acknowledge that Republicans, by and large are probably nice people and have great senses of humor even if I don't agree with them on politics, but one moment that has always stuck out in my mind as representative of the party was this horror show from the 2004 RNC when the Bush twins came on and told a series of absolutely terribly unfunny jokes with poor delivery.
What that moment showed, at least to me, was a desperate attempt to show Americans how Republicans actually had a great sense of humor, but the execution in fact proved the exact opposite. The New Yankee Stadium, to me, is a building that intends to show you it's sense of class, distinction and grandeur, and while the franchise that plays there does, in fact, have all of those things, the building's falseness indicates that as a structure, it has the opposite.
It's a distended metaphor, I know, but it makes sense when you think about it. Really, I swear it does.
However, I am still happy to go to the Bronx tonight, and there are two big reasons. The first, obvious one, is that I just like going to baseball games. The second one is that for all of its faults as a building (the phony exterior, the disappointing museum) the new Yankee Stadium does have my absolute favorite ballpark food item that I've come across yet, barely beating out the Gilroy Garlic Fries at AT&T Park in San Francisco. That, my friends, is the Lobel's steak sandwich, available on the field level near Sec. 131 at the left field foul pole. I know that with this delicious pile of fresh sliced prime rib, au jus and optional horse radish sauce on a brioche bun I will leave Yankee Stadium tonight feeling like a winner.
Frankly, being a Mets fan these days makes that a rare thing. But being a winner at the Subway Series will always be a little sweeter.
I felt a strange twinge of nostalgia this week when I came across the news that Andy Pettitte, stalwart postseason pitcher of the Yankees' recent championship era, was announcing his retirement from Major League Baseball. Obviously, as a Mets fan this doesn't exactly change my life or make me yearn for the good ol' days, but Pettitte had a few things working in his factor me me. Most prominently, it was hard to ignore his ability to pitch in big games -- he is the winningest postseason pitcher in history after all. As well, he is, well, pretty likeable all things considered. But biggest among those quirks for me is the fact that despite not being a Yankees fan, it was impossible to grow up in New York or New Jersey in the 1990s and not have been impacted or influenced by the Yankees' dynasty one way or the other. And when I attended my very first Yankees game in person, it was Andy Pettitte who stood on the mound.
Because of those reasons, there is a twinge of sadness for me in seeing that Pettitte is retiring as well as a wariness of the fact that "is he a Hall of Famer" or not debates sprang up almost instantly. These are all silly since the Hall of Fame has rendered itself completely bunk, but fortunately for all of us, that bit of news has thoroughly been tossed to the backburner because there's a football game this Sunday.
If not, no worries, but something tells me if you had no idea the Super Bowl was this evening, you probably wouldn't be the sort of person who spends their time reading this. Now, if you're part of the other 99% of the population (people cognizant of the Super Bowl, not people that read my blog), well then you must be pretty excited about the impending kickoff between Green Bay and Pittsburgh in 18 and a half hours or so.
Hopefully you're handling the impending excitement better than Dallas has. Then again that wouldn't be hard.
Not that "North Texas", as the city of Arlington wants it to be known since the game isn't actually in Dallas, hasn't done a decent job preparing the excitement. I'm sure the preparations for what will happen later today at Jerry World are first rate, but the North Texas area has seen its fair share of problems that fall well outside of the NFL's control or responsibility. Of course, some of these issues aren't as big as others, but the massively unfortunate influence of bad weather can hardly be anyone's fault. The apparent dangers are real, but no one can really say they expected a blast of harsh winter weather and snow that has actually made the Dallas/Ft. Worth area about as unpleasant to be in as the northeast corridor. The game is in Texas. Texas generally is warm if not hot. Moreover, with the truly big problems solved any concerns that the Super Bowl might not be returning to Dallas because of the cold weather seem ill-founded for three basic reasons.
1) The average high in Dallas on Feb. 6, is 59 degrees. Clearly this is an abnormal case of bad luck. 2) The Super Bowl has been played before in cold weather sites like Minneapolis and Detroit (twice), and will be played in three years in New Jersey. 3) Finally, and perhaps most importantly, tonight's game is being play indoors.
Speaking of which, let's get to that whole ordeal. Who the hell is going to win this damn thing? And why?
Well, there are many schools of thought and considering I have a number of friends who hail from or consider themselves fans of both the Steelers and Packers, I know I'm going to leave at least one person peeved, assuming they actually read this or put stock in it. And both of those ideas are silly. Being that it's late, I don't really have time or energy to break things down bit by bit, so I'll simply talk about where the crux of this game will fall. And that, in my opinion, will rest on five people: Ben Roethlisberger, B.J. Raji, Doug Legursky, A.J. Hawk and Clay Matthews.
Yes, I know, Aaron Rodgers still has to face one of the toughest defenses in the League, but given the kind of zone he was in earlier in the playoffs and that this game will be inside, I have little concern that he will be able to produce. Whether Green Bay's offense will outwit Pittsburgh's defense is a mystery that won't be solved until the two sides take the field -- both units are top notch. And while one will certainly get the better of the other in the end, there is no discernible mismatch here that a prognosticator like me can exploit.
But that isn't so on the other side of the ball.
A fact that has gone somewhat unnoticed for the first two games Pittsburgh has played this postseason is that Pittsburgh's offensive line hasn't been playing too well. Both Baltimore and New York had their way with the Steelers' offensive front for significant stretches and this looms particularly large when one considers that Green Bay's Raji has been absolutely stellar at eating space, disrupting plays and penetrating into the pocket to wreak general havoc on offenses he opposes. If Raji and the rest of Green Bay's impressive defensive line can play as well as it has this postseason, it will pose a massive problem for Pittsburgh's offense. This problem is exacerbated enormously by the absence of rookie Pro Bowl center Maurkice Pouncey, who will miss the game with multiple ankle and foot injuries he suffered against the Jets in the AFC Championship Game. In his place will be Doug Legursky, an undrafted free agent who has never started a game at center before.
Sunday will be Legursky's first ever start at center. Sunday is the Super Bowl.
Call me crazy, but I can't see Legursky having an easy time of it against the quick, massive block that is Raji, and given that Legursky fumbled a snap to Roethlisberger in the AFC Championship Game, resulting in a safety, this does not bode well for Big Ben's protection. Luckily for the Steelers, this hasn't always been an issue. Roethlisberger, despite his size, is known for his impressive mobility, his ability to extend plays with his legs and his ability to throw on the run outside the pocket. Typically he has evaded pressure and found open receivers on broken routes with little problem. But he's also never faced two linebackers like Clay Matthews and A.J. Hawk. They are big, strong and they have speed to burn.
This is where the fate of this game lies.
Yes, Pittsburgh has faced impressive defenses, with New York featuring the likes of Bart Scott and Baltimore showing Ray Lewis and Terrell Suggs. But Scott had no partner to match the combined ability of Mattews and Hawk, and Ray Lewis, despite his sideline to sideline speed, is old. He is one of the greatest middle linebackers of all time, but he didn't get the chance that Green Bay's middle linebackers, in their primes and with a defensive line that could potentially eat Pittsburgh's offensive line apart Sunday night, will have in the Super Bowl. I see Raji getting a huge push up the middle, I see Roethlisberger leaving the pocket earlier than he wants to, and I see Matthews and Hawk chasing the Pittsburgh QB all around the field to keep him from having enough time to make plays work. It won't be easy and it won't be a blowout -- the Packers' offense will be given plenty of fits -- but ultimately this is how I imagine the game playing out.
That's why I'm taking the Green Bay Packers to win Super Bowl XLV.
Score predictions are meaningless, but if you all really want me to give one, let's go with Green Bay 23, Pittsburgh 17. It'll be exciting enough and we'll all be happy it happened in the end. I can't promise you I'll be right, but I can promise you that if I am, I won't be as obnoxious as some sportswriters who had the mysterious good fortunate to pick the right Super Bowl matchup in their season preview even if they actually changed their picks after the regular season.
And if I'm wrong, well, let's just forget I picked Green Bay just like we all forgot I picked Indianapolis last year. Enjoy the game everyone.
As you've all no-doubt noticed, hockey season is underway, and that means any of you who see me socially will probably seeing a lot less of me because I'll be busy churning out exciting stories like this one. I hope you're able to handle it. One of those days in which I will not be in the office, however, is tonight, and I am celebrating the occasion in the only way I possibly know how.
I'm going to a hockey game.
Yes, it seems like an odd choice, but I do enjoy seeing them in person once in a while, particularly since my Devils actually got off the shnide and won a game on Wednesday. Hopefully that'll be the release that gets the team moving, and I suppose I'll be finding out tonight when I take my mother to see the glory that is the Prudential Center. Tonight's foe will be the Colorado Avalanche, which almost certainly will stir up angry memories in me of the 2001 Stanley Cup Finals, but what can you do? More than anything, I'm just happy to get out to my first hockey game of the year, even if it isn't a new or exciting arena.
Sometimes you go with what you're comfortable with. I'll get to those new buildings eventually.
Now, I know going to this game will cause me to miss the first half of Game One of the ALCS, but I'm prepared to except this eventuality as the cost of seeing one team I care about immeasurably as opposed to two teams I'm highly ambivalent about. Besides, I'll still catch the back end of it, and while I'll be watching both the ALCS and the NLCS, where the Giants will be taking on the Fighting Satans, most of the next 48 hours really just involve counting down the minutes until I get to watch football.
Don't worry, though. When rooting for the San Francisco Gigantes, I will have the best charm anyone could need at my side courtesy of one Stephanie Bowen.
As for football, and those other Giants -- you know, my Giants -- I'm reaching the point where one needs to both be excited and yet temper their expectations. They've looked good the past two weeks and last Sunday's solid whipping of the highly touted Texans has got people talking about that No. 1-ranked defense. I enjoy the good feelings, but maybe they're talking a little too much. Don't get me wrong. I like how Big Blue is playing and a strong defense is the backbone of nearly any championship team, but when even Adam Schefter is talking about the Super Bowl potential of New York's defense, the idea is clearly no longer held to just the minds of irrational and hyper excessive fans.
But I get antsy.
So, in the interests of my own sanity, can we wait until we're past, you know, Week Six of a 17-week season before we start bouncing around all the Super Bowl talk? Pretty please? My anxiety issues depend on us all consuming a dose of reality until at least Thanksgiving. Then maybe we'll chat, but until then, lets keeping assuming the Giants are underdogs.
And speaking of underdogs, let's do some picking. Last Week: 8-6-0 Season: 36-36-4 (Back to .500!)
NY GIANTS (-10) over Detroit CHICAGO (-7) over Seattle GREEN BAY (even) over Miami San Diego (-9) over ST. LOUIS Baltimore (+3) over NEW ENGLAND Atlanta (+3) over PHILADELPHIA PITTSBURGH (-14) over Cleveland New Orleans (-5) over TAMPA BAY HOUSTON (-5) over Kansas City NY Jets (-3) over DENVER Oakland (+7) over SAN FRANCISCO MINNESOTA (-2) over Dallas Indianapolis (-4) over WASHINGTON Tennessee (-3) over JACKSONVILLE
Alright, I'm spent, kids. And off to the hockey game. Have a good weekend, everybody.
Alright kids, if you can pull yourselves away from that awesome Blackhawks-Predators preview you're reading, I've got two things I'd like to talk to you about. The first one has to deal with that oh so irritating presence of thunder and lightning at the Meadowlands. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but the Jets have been on national TV twice this year and both times they had to put off their start times because of weather.
Now, for a sport that prides itself on playing in the elements this has raised some irritation both over the decision not to build a roof at the New Meadowlands Stadium and the concern over lightning. These complaints are silly. Lets point out a few things.
A) Retractable roofs are nice, but watching football outside is nicer. As someone who has seen football under a retractable roof just one month ago in Indianapolis, I can attest to the fact that the feeling of being connected to the elements simply isn't there even with the roof open. Also, weren't those images of the Vikings and Jets playing through a rainstorm totally awesome to see in HD?
B) You may want to go to bed and the fans may have places to go so they can be at work in the morning hours, but you can't play through lightning. Why? Well, it's pretty damn dangerous. No that's not a joke. An entire soccer team was killed by lightning in a match in the Congo 12 years ago.
I think it's ok to delay the kickoff. You'll all be a little tired in the morning, but that's the price you pay for being a fan sometimes.
Elsewhere some of you might have noticed this baseball game last night. I was always aware of the fact that the Texas Rangers were one of only three teams to have never appeared in the World Series, along with Washington/Montreal and Seattle, but until last night I hadn't realized that Texas was the only franchise to never even win a postseason series.
In a 40-year history that has included Nolan Ryan, Rafael Palmiero, Juan Gonzalez and Alex Rodriguez, you've got to wonder how on Earth that happened. Particularly since the franchise has been run by such able people for large swaths of its history. Apparently all the team really needed was other-worldly ace Cliff Lee and a delightful curly-haired Jewish boy named Ian Kinsler to finally pull off the task against a Rays team that I had winning the World Series until Sports Illustrated got their messy hands involved.
Not that I'm bitter.
It should be interesting to see if Lee can repeat his magic in the next round against his maybe-future teammates in the ALCS, but considering Texas has been to the postseason three times before this year and lost each time -- to the Yankees -- the fates may be against them. The bigger question is just who am I going to be rooting for for the rest of the postseason. And since I've been looking for ways to ignore the Devils' poor start, I've been spending a lot of my free time pondering just that. Though I should note, the Giants and their No. 1-ranked defense have been helping with that.
Well, I will obviously be rooting for the Giants over the Phillies in the NLCS, with little hesitation. As for the AL, I'm pretty ambivalent about this one after discarding my Yankee hatred for a girlfriend five years ago. Let's say I'm rotting for Texas for variety's sake, though I'm sure the Yankees will find some way to win, since they always do. Everyone seems to think we're headed for a Yankees-Phillies World Series again -- and they're probably right, but I'm holding out hope.
Giants-Rangers it is. Oh and hell, let's say the Giants take it in six. At least then I'll have gotten one of my pennant winners right.
Ah, October. The leaves are changing color, the temperatures are dropping, college football provides endless entertainment, political races obscure our sense of reality with an endless stream of TV ads and baseball reaches its climax: The postseason.
Now, some of you may be scoffing at my acknowledgment that the Mets are playing baseball in October, because, you know, they aren't playing baseball anymore.
Oh, but God Bless the schedule makers who decided to start baseball season a week late this year. Because of that peculiar delay, the Mets -- and the rest of the Major Leagues -- didn't play their last game until October 3, which, it should be noted, was the 12th anniversary of my Bar Mitzvah, a Bar Mitzvah-versary if you will. And so, because of that scheduling quirk, Omar Minaya and Jerry Manuel will always be able to tell people that they took the Mets into October in their last year with the organization. Then again, considering Minaya's legacy it's probably better to have that as his final act than some other instances. As for Manuel, he's probably going to be remembered best for somehow assuming he wasn't going to get fired because he hadn't been told it yet, even though everyone seemed to know it was coming and Joe Torre had already publicly campaigned for his job. That may not be the wisest decision for Torre of course. He should already know what he'd have coming for him in Queens.
Wait, what's that? You don't care and want to hear about the teams that are actually playing?
Ugh. Fine.
So, if you've been paying close attention, there are actually eight other teams in the Major Leagues that matter. Sort of. And they'll be starting play in MLB's annual postseason playoff tournament Wednesday at 1:37 p.m., when Cliff Lee and David Price take the mound in a humdinger of a series opener between the Rangers and Rays at Tropicana Field. Now, I don't want to alarm all of you, but if the Rays wind up winning the World Series it may be less than legitimate. A woman in Florida appears to have cracked the code and blown the doors open on a vast Zionist conspiracy that is causing the Rays to start James Shields in Game 2 Thursday because he's Jewish. Why would this matter? Well, the team's ownership is Jewish and we bastards band together of course. Just listen to the kindly Floridian who's uncovered the scandal. She sounds very sure of herself.
As a Jewish person, I am going to recuse myself from commenting on the nature of our vast conspiracy to get only Jewish pitchers on the mound, but I do think the radio host makes a valid point in that Gabe Kapler is nowhere to be found in tomorrow's starting lineup. Of course, it should be noted that there is also a question as to whether or not Shields is even Jewish, though he certainly fights like one. If he isn't, clearly we Jews aren't as smart as we think when it comes to these conspiracies. It's kind of like how we still claim Sage Rosenfels even though he's raising his kids to be Christian. Essentially what all of this boils down to is that our presumed Jewish conspiracy has officially supplanted what I thought was the most embarrassing thing I had seen this week.
The only thing more embarrassing that you might see this October? Probably how badly my picks fare over the next four weeks. Nonetheless, here we go. If you're impatient, I say Tampa Bay finally wipes the stink of Jose Canseco from its franchise highlights.
ALDS (1) Tampa Bay over (3) Texas in four games (2) Minnesota over (4) NY Yankees in five games
NLDS (1) Philadelphia over (3) Cincinnati in three games (2) San Francisco over (4) Atlanta in four games
ALCS (1) Tampa Bay over (2) Minnesota in six games
NLCS (2) San Francisco over (1) Philadelphia in seven games
2010 World Series (1) Tampa Bay over (2) San Francisco in six games
I know, it seems peculiar, but for some reason I've got a hunch the Giants could pull off the upset as the only team in the NL with pitching that comes close to matching Philadelphia's. It may just be wishful thinking on my part, but if there's any chance for someone to stop the Phillies from taking a third straight National league Pennant, this would be it. As for the American League, Minnesota has been on fire for the second half despite not having Justin Morneau around. Morneau is out for the postseason, and the Twins have slowed down in the last two weeks, but so have the Yankees, whose pitching seems to be discombobulated. Not that it'll matter, because for the Rays, this is their time. They are talented offensively and in the rotation, have a sharp manager in Joe Maddon and have one last shot to go for it all with Carl Crawford in tow, which means, to me, that all signs point to the Rays winning their first-ever World Championship in front of all 38 of their fans.
It's probably a Jewish conspiracy. We won't know for sure until the franchise moves to Tel Aviv.
As a teenager, I hated George Steinbrenner. Growing up a Mets fan made that awfully easy -- in fact almost necessary. Watching your team constantly in the shadow of the pinstripes as they won four World Series in the late 1990s was an irritating and frustrating thing, and Steinbrenner, who had the gall to actually reinvest his profits into the team so they could continue winning, was the prime enemy.
Of course now that I'm 24 (well 25 tomorrow) instead of 13, I have a better understanding both of human nature and of baseball as a historical entity and a business. Given that added perspective it is simply impossible not to understand -- and appreciate -- the absolutely massively important, influential and, yes, great figure George Steinbrenner was in baseball, New York and American culture. When I awoke this morning from a text message that George Steinbrenner had passed away at 80 from a massive heart attack, it was hard not to be affected in some sense. The impact he had was so far ranging and history-changing that you cannot ignore what he did for baseball.
I personally feel something of a connection with "The Boss" -- not just because he happened to be an assistant coach on Northwestern's football team in 1955. But to understand his influence is to understand how sports business has grown and changed today. Many will quote the statistic that Steinbrenner bought the Yankees in 1973 for $8.7 million and grew them into a property worth more than $1 billion, but that is not simply the tale of a man fostering a fledgling enterprise into success. Steinbrenner fundamentally changed professional sports from a pleasant pastime to a business.
The Yankees do not grow into the massively valuable entity they have become without Steinbrenner's ingenuity and business acumen.While some may question his capabilities as a baseball man -- many have noted that the 1990s Yankees dynasty was not built until Steinbrenner was suspended from baseball for two years in the early part of the decade -- there is no questioning what he did on the business side. By forming the YES Network, the Yankees' regional cable channel that is estimated to be worth roughly $1 billion, as well as allowing the Yankees to become a part of MLB.com's web umbrella in a bit of Wellington Mara-esque altruism, Steinbrenner played a crucial role turning Major League Baseball into a multi-billion dollar enterprise, which in turn has dramatically altered the landscape of how each sports league and sports media outlet does business.
If, indeed, without Steinbrenner those entities would exist at all. I think it is hardly far-fetched to think that without Steinbrenner, and the changes he helped bring about in this industry, I wouldn't even have a job right now -- or at least not this one. Because of his influence, professional sports in America changed from men on a field and a television camera to a multifaceted segment of culture with media implications ranging far and wide.
And beyond all of that, perhaps, indeed, most importantly in the grand scheme: George Steinbrenner was a winner.
He loved to win. And he wanted to do it frequently. Now given his meddling ways, the Yankees did run an almost unfathomable 15-year stretch between World Series appearances under his watch, but the true sign of just how much he loved to win comes not from the seven titles the Yankees won in his 37-year tenure as owner, but from how much money he invested into the franchise once business truly started to boom in the 1990s and 2000s. The Yankees payroll has totaled well over a billion dollars over the last decade, with untold more millions going into the pockets of other owners as a result of baseball's luxury tax and revenue sharing policies.
I remember in high school complaining to a football coach of mine that old fallback commentary that the Yankees "buy" championships. My coach's response: "Where does it say that's against the rules?" Right he was. Not only is it not against the rules to spend such obscene amounts on your players, but when the other option is to put the money into your own pocket rather than the product on the field, it is in many senses both refreshing and noble to see that Steinbrenner put so much into developing a product that would bring satisfaction to so many fans. Other dramatically wealthy owners of the past, such as Minnesota's late Carl Pohlad did not do the same for the people spending money on tickets -- and while those tickets are, indeed, not cheap, they do come with the promise that you will be seeing the best possible team the Yankees could offer.
Much is made of Steinbrenner's gruff and irascible temperament -- he is famous for having fired numerous managers, namely Billy Martin, who was hired and fired five times -- but what set him apart from other similarly disdained and at times irrational owners like Robert Irsay or Walter O'Malley is how much of himself was put into the organization, personally and monetarily. It was of the utmost importance that the Yankees be among the championship contenders every year. That can't be said for every man that heads a sports franchise.
Of course, in the end, what will probably be the greatest reminder for people of my generation of Steinbrenner as a part of American culture is in his caricature as voiced by Larry David on Seinfeld during the 1990s. And with the glory of YouTube and DVD, those moments will be forever rememberedin perpetuity. While people of my generation, sports fan and nonsports fan alike will probably remember Steinbrenner as the goofy, nonsensical boss of the Yankees from those Seinfeld episodes, this was clearly not a bother to the Boss, who took the caricature in stride and even played himself in a scene that was left on the cutting room floor.
While that may be his lasting impression for many, it will hardly be his lasting influence. He is responsible for so many changes to how we know sports today that his mark will continue to be felt as long as professional sports are played in this country. Perhaps most remarkably of all, that may even be an understatement.
A few years ago, I started obnoxiously coining the phrase "Hat Trick Day" while scanning the sporting events around the office TVs. No, I'm probably not the first person to develop this concept, but I may be the most irritating at bandying it about. Essentially, a Hat Trick Day is when three different teams you follow all win in the same day, and yesterday was a Hat Trick Day of momentous proportions.
Let's start with exhibit A: the one none of you probably know, or almost certainly care the least about, which involved Northwestern's Women's Lacrosse team trouncing Duke to the tune of 18-8 in the National Quarterfinals. Some of you may understand why I think this is noteworthy, but women's lacrosse is big business in my collegiate hamlet of Evanston, Illinois. Northwestern hadn't won a National Championship in any sport in more than six decades before the WoLaxers took the title in 2005 -- in only the fourth year of the program's existence. Not only was the campus taken by storm at the time, but it continues to be taken by storm as the program now sits just two wins away from its sixth consecutive National Title.
This one of course came fairly early in the day and with minimal stress. For one, I wasn't watching it, just following it on an online scoretracker. But perhaps more notably, Northwestern pounced early, taking a sizeable 11-point lead by halftime, making the Wildcats coast to victory fairly easy.
The Cats now move on to the National Semifinals, which will be played this coming weekend in Towson, Maryland where they'll face North Carolina, the only team to beat them this season before possibly reaching the final on Sunday afternoon. If they get that far, I just may be tempted to make the trip down south if someone else will be crazy enough to go with me.
Of course, that particular event paled in comparison to the next big win of the afternoon, which was easily the biggest, and probably the most angst inducing. The Chicago Blackhawks, I've noted on more than one occasion, hold a special place in my heart after I worked for them in college. They're not the Devils, who hold the pre-eminent place in my hockey heart, but they're also not the Devils in that while I grew up watching the Devils win three championships in nine years, the Hawks were stumbling through the obscurity of mediocre, decades removed from the franchise's traditional grandeur.
The Hawks spent most of the late 90s wallowing outside of the playoff picture, and enduring a seven year stretch without a postseason berth this decade before finally returning to spring last year. Yesterday the team with possibly the greatest jersey in sports, and almost certainly one of the best fight songs, rallied from two goals down to polish off a sweep of San Jose and reach the Stanley Cup Final for the first time in 18 years.
If that seems like a long drought, the last time Chicago hoisted the Cup was in 1961.
With the Hawks to be pitted against Montreal or, at this point, more likely Philadelphia, they're just four wins away from ending the longest current Championship drought in the League, with 49 years of shortfalls in their rear view mirror. If they pull it off, it'll be an awfully nice spring in Chicago, and that longest title-drought mantel will get shifted north to the Maple Leafs, who haven't won the Cup since 1967.
Last on the day's docket, beyond that TV Show everyone was so excited about, was the conclusion to the first round of the 2010 Subway Series, where my utterly hapless Mets actually stood a chance at taking the rubber match at Citi Field against the Yankees. While the game was billed as a pitcher's duel between aces Johan Santana and C.C. Sabathia, Sabathia didn't keep up his end of the bargain, as the Mets jumped on him for four runs early, which including an awfully surprising two home runs by Jason Bay.
Of course, the bullpen did its effort to make it interesting before K-Rod finally struck out A-Rod in an epic battle where the latter had come to the plate as the potential go-ahead run. It never does come easy for the Amazins. But either way, taking the subway series' first round and conquering the Empire State Building was a fitting capper on the day. Particularly since I hadn't had a Hat Trick Night in a while.
So yeah. It was a pretty good day. They can't all be like this, of course, but I'll hold out hope that the next one isn't so far away. If the Hawks can seal up a Championship, well, I may not have to wait too long.
Is a healthy rivalry that is entirely unrelated to judicial review and entirely related to New York baseball.
That's right, people. Yesterday Barack Obama announced his next move to shape the future of this country by naming the successor to the seat that will soon be vacated by Justice John Paul Stevens (Northwestern graduate, natch). And with that choice, Obama has selected Elena Kagan, a woman who has experience as White House Counsel, the Dean of Harvard Law School and Solicitor General -- being the first female to have either of those last two positions -- but there is a considerable red flag in that she's never been, you know, a "judge".
Don't be surprised if some Republicans pull that out when they try to turn Kagan into Obama's Harriett Miers, but some might be surprised to hear that the last Justice to be nominated with no prior experience as a judge was William Rhenquist, and things worked out ok for him, at least as far as competency is concerned. It might be wiser to attack her on her previously declared judicial stances, but without her being a judge, attacking any sort of track record seems difficult, which likely was a factor in selecting her for the bench. And so, it seems, with a Democratic congress, that Kagan is likely to be confirmed to the Supreme Court -- and become the third Jewish Justice to currently be serving -- but what happens once she's there could be awfully interesting.
And here's why.
Most of you reading this, I'm sure, are wondering what I'm doing blabbing on about Supreme Court nominations when this blog is mostly supposed to be about sports. And you all have a point. This is an unusual turn for me to take here, though I do find politics to be similar to sports in a number of ways. But the reason I'm mentioning this is because of one little important nugget that Obama squeezed into the introductory speech.
I think to make truly make wise decisions impacting all Americans from the wealthiest to the less fortunate, it will serve Kagan well to have had her heart broken almost annually by that delightful squad in Queens. As as some people have speculated, perhaps she can use her new position to rule it unconstitutional the next time New York nepotistically signs Frank Catalanotto, who, unsurprisingly, was designated for assignment last night.
I doubt Kagan will actually lean on the administration in such a manner, though it might be helpful, but what makes this all particularly interesting is that Obama's previous nominee, Justice Sonia Sotomayor, is a Yankees fan who hails from the Bronx. The tension could be acrimonious, as Obama noted in his speech introducing Kagan yesterday that Sotomayor has "ordered a pinstripe robe for the occasion". In the case of Sotomayor, her Yankee fandom is hardly just an auxiliary characteristic -- it was her ruling that ended the Major League Baseball Players strike in 1995.
Sotomayor also has played a crucial role in football where she reaffirmed the NFL's eligibility rules in requiring draft prospects to be out of high school for three years, effectively ending Maurice Clarett's efforts to leave school early.
The only unfortunate thing about Sotomayor's place on the bench and Kagan's appointment and expected confirmation, is that the two baseball fans have no jurisdiction over Canada, and if they did, they might just stop the Montreal Canadiens from unleashing the worst blight on sports fan music since Nuts About the Nats.
Yeah, that's right. "We're right in the mix and it feels a little like '86." And "the cradle of organized sports?" Really?
I wouldn't claim the Habs should stop trying to win titles, and considering that they've just forced a second straight heavy favorite to a Game 7 last night, they haven't stopped trying, but there's something irksome about a pump up song that a) ruins "Don't Stop Believin" for me more than any crowd of drunks in a bar ever could, and b) boasts of the need for a 25th banner. Twelve NHL franchises have multiple Cups. Only seven have more than three titles. Only three have more than 10. And the Canadiens have 24 Stanley Cup Championships. I think you can tone down the anxiety just a bit, though I do enjoy the shot of Montreal's 1993 Cup-winning head coach Jacques Demers giving a thumbs up. And to think no one in the organization at the time knew the man was completely illiterate. Oh yeah, he's a senator now. And why the hell do they even bring up the Expos in this video?
I have no problem with confidence. Even musical confidence. But unfortunately, they just don't make them like the Super Bowl Shuffle anymore. If only Kagan could write an opinion making "Feels Like '93" unconstitutional.
That kind of Championship monopoly has to violate the Sherman Antitrust Act, right?
It’s a dirty not-so-secret of mine that despite my masochistic dedication to the New York Mets, my parents are both Yankees fans. It helps that their early lives took place when only one Major League Baseball team was in New York, but in the case of my mother, it helps even more when you grow up with Archie and Jughead in the Riverdale section of the Bronx. My father grew up in the Westchester town of White Plains, and while his grandfather was an enormous New York Giants fans – a picture of my father as a toddler in a black and orange uniform is reputed to exist somewhere – by my father’s 7th birthday there were no New York baseball Giants. With nowhere else to go, he held fast to the pinstripes, though it should be noted that for years after I was born he continued wearing his White Plains High School Class of ’69 T-Shirt, which prominently featured a pennant of the Miracle Mets.
I grew up in a different world. While my father occasionally humored me by pulling for the Amazins my mother made no such ambivalence over her loyalty. That is not to say she didn’t appreciate my fandom. She and I went to dozens of Mets games together over the years, but she made no illusions. She pulled for the Bombers. That was that.
Considering her love for the Yankees, something seemed appropriate about the New Yankee Stadium opening on her 55th birthday, but when I attempted to buy us a pair of tickets, the prices were so high even I couldn’t justify it. And then a plan was hatched. Rather than take my mother to Opening Day at the Stadium for her birthday for what would have been at least $500 for nosebleeds, it seemed a far better idea to get better seats for far cheaper to the second game for not just her and I, but the entire family, with a dinner in the Stadium’s steakhouse beforehand.
Because apparently new stadiums have those things.
Unfortunately, the best laid plans of Mets and Yankees, as they often do, ran astray. After tickets were purchased for the Friday night game against Cleveland on April 17, 2009, the game time was shifted to a 1 p.m. start, which threw an awfully large wrench with my sister, brother and sister-in-law to be all working 9-to-5. My brother and his girlfriend would only be able to make it for dinner afterwards, while my sister would be late. All of this put the screws on three extra tickets that had to be dealt with.
With the date fast approaching, my mother’s close friend, Emily and her son Harry, who was one of my close companions for most of my childhood, took two of the tickets and the final one I managed to sell online – at a profit no less.
With the anxiety gone and the day here, I gathered myself on the subway to check out my 15th Major League stadium. My sister Stephanie would be meeting us at the stadium while my mother, Emily and Harry would drive in from New Jersey. I arrived early for my requisite picture taking, and as the subway pulls up near the park, it’s pretty hard to miss. Indeed it dwarfs the rest of the area, fulfilling an intended impression of massiveness. The building sits across the street from the Old Yankee Stadium, which, at the time of Opening Day for the new park was still standing, albeit eerily empty.
The pinstripes’ new home and the various plazas around it bustled, however, with many people playing tourist just like myself. The most noticeable external feature of the building is the limestone wall that surrounds it. While most new stadiums opt for the aged friendly feel of brick on the exterior, Yankee Stadium doesn’t want to be friendly. It wants to intimidate. It wants you to know that you are not walking into a baseball stadium. You are walking into a temple.
And for $1.5 billion, it ought to. That was the price tag for the building, at the time the second most expensive stadium ever built after the renovated Wembley Stadium in London. The $1.5 billion nearly went for naught after a construction worker, who was also a Red Sox fan, boasted he had put a hex on the new building by placing a David Ortiz jersey in the concrete while on the job. As I’ve said, with the exception of the Chicago Cubs, curses are silly, but sports bring out a peculiar anxiety in the masses, and fake or not, the threat of constantly playing on top of buried Red Sox paraphernalia was of deep concern not only to Yankee fans, but the club’s front office.
Of course, at the time I first showed up that was a ways off. Things hadn’t been hunky dory in the Bronx – the Yankees were coming off their first non-playoff season since 1995 – and it was important to open the pinstripes’ new home with a bang. They didn’t get it the day before. Cleveland beat the Yankees in their first regular season game there, 10-2. Not that this was the worst thing for me. Despite not being a Yankee fan, I still appreciate history, and the team’s home opening loss afforded us the chance to see the first win at the new home.
I took several pictures around the stadium’s external façade. Its limestone was inspired by the original pre-renovation Yankee Stadium and it makes the building seem more fit for the National Mall in Washington than it does for the Bronx. It is, indeed a beautiful and impressive exterior. After rendez-vousing with my mother, Emily and Harry, there were more pictures to take before we finally entered.
Interestingly, the limestone walls are less a wall than an outer shell, which might explain why the plot of land the New Yankee Stadium covers is dramatically larger than the old one. Between the limestone walls and the seating areas is a huge, open, naturally lit area known as “The Great Hall”. While it is decorated with banners and signs echoing the club’s rich history, “great” seems like a bit of a dramatic adjective for a building that hadn’t actually had anything great happen in it yet.
But as the family Mets fan, who am I to argue?
Along the inside it seems as if every square inch of wall space has been set aside for some purpose to symbolize Yankee history, and when you reach the seating area, which continues to reinforce the franchise’s richness and importance, the full impression is complete. If the purpose of Citi Field was to provide you with an adorable, care-free family outing at the ballpark, the New Yankee Stadium’s aim was to impress upon you the grandeur of its tenants. And it pulls it off with flying colors, with the icing on the cake, and personally my favorite aspect, being the wonderful white frieze that crowns the upper deck.
The white fencing was a key characteristic of the original building when it opened in 1923, but when George Steinbrenner renovated the building in the mid-70s, select sections of the frieze were moved to the outfield while the rest of the stadium was bereft. In the decades since, the team acknowledged a mistake was made, and the frieze has since become a symbol incorporated into the franchise that is as ubiquitous as the interlocking NY. The frieze featured prominently in the stadium’s inaugural season logo and mini friezes adorn the top of each player’s locker.
The frieze was a reminder. It may be in a different place, but this was still the Yankees’ home. In fact, great lengths were made to ensure that the New Yankee Stadium was less a change for cash than an update necessitated by the wear on the old building. Of course, that cash did flow. In its opening season, seat prices ranged as high as $2,625 per seat for a regular season game. Unfortunately for the front office, the stadium opened in the midst of a recession and the embarrassment of empty seats behind home plate, as well as the bad press that came with such high prices while a segment of the fan base was seeking work, prompted the team to cut the cost of the most expensive seats in half.
Because $1,250 is clearly more affordable.
We were not sitting in those fancy chairs, nor in any of the other upper class clubs around the building. We sat in the northern reaches of the upper deck, but behind home plate. Perhaps what is most remarkable about the building is that when you sit in your seat it doesn’t feel like you’re in a different building. Certainly it feels newer, cleaner and, given the wider seats, roomier, but it still feels like Yankee Stadium. And considering the team went to pained extremes to ensure that, it makes sense.
The field itself has the exact same dimensions with the lone exception being a backstop that is now 20 feet closer. While the players must have felt as though they were at familiar environs, however, the stadium didn’t play like it. Perhaps it was the slightly different angle of the building or the vaguely different construction of the outfield stands, but as the Yankees would find over the next six months, baseballs flew out to right field at a stunning pace. Through 23 games at the stadium, 87 dingers would be clocked out of the yard. Right field itself was considered a major culprit, with heavy criticism levied by the media and the park being decried as a joke by some. Numerous wind studies were commissioned but as of the first year at the stadium no certain reason had been determined.
Tensions eased when the pace of homers slowed over the course of the season, but Yankee Stadium’s reputation as Coors Field East, would be firmly entrenched, and true to form, the Yankees won their first game at the new park that day by way of the long ball. A solo home run by none other than uber Yankee Derek Jeter in the 8th inning provided the margin of victory, with Mariano Rivera appropriately nailing down the save in the 9th. Jeter’s homer was the fifth by a Yankee that day.
Despite being stunned that the urinals were already dirty, and confused as to why the Yankees were showing H&R Block Provided Tax Tips on the jumbotron two days after taxes were due, the rest of the experience couldn’t be argued with. From the frieze, to the sightlines, to the hand-managed scoreboard along the outfield walls, the stadium feels like a cathedral, a place befitting the most decorated franchise in American sports.
And despite my own opinions of the Steinbrenner family, they got it right.
With our dinner reservations at NYY Steak in the right field corner waiting, we stayed in our seats while most of the fans filed out to the blaring Frank Sinatra. All the traditions remained to a T. We headed to the restaurant where Elliott and Danielle arrived for dinner and while I felt my porterhouse was slightly overcooked, the meal was a pleasant coda to my mother’s birthday. The restaurant itself doesn’t look over the field, but it does have a wall with the signatures of nearly every famous Yankee ever. In addition, my dessert, was a ball of ice cream topped with chocolate, toffee and a flaming shot of Bacardi 151 rum. They tell you the alcohol burns off, but that is a complete lie. It was the drunkest I’d ever gotten from dessert.
I was quite smug paying for the dinner with my New York Mets credit card, but given that I was going to be back the next day, that may not have been the wisest move. My stepmother had decided months earlier to buy tickets for herself, my father, my stepbrother Jake and I for a Saturday afternoon game, and while I wasn’t necessarily going to have the time to explore the stadium nearly as much, given that we were seated with the Bleacher Creatures I was sure to be entertained.
Fans who spend their days beyond the right field wall at Yankee Stadium are notorious for their dedication, rowdiness and enforced sobriety. Beginning in 2000, the Yankees had banned beer sales in the bleachers in an attempt to curb the wild behavior of its denizens, but this was tenuously overturned for the new building. While we would be in the right field bleachers, we were fortunate enough not to be in the almost comically ill-placed seats at the edge of the section that are next to a wall and as a result have the view of left field completely blocked. Those seats, did, however, provide a clear view of the most expensive seats behind home plate which were predictably empty while the cheaper sections were filled to capacity.
The Bleacher Creatures are noted for their first inning roll call. After each pitch they begin chanting one of the fielder’s names until he acknowledges them with a wave, which is met with a cheer, and each game they go through every man on the field. In addition to that heartwarming connection, however, they also live up to their reputation in amusing vulgarity. It became very obvious very quickly that I could be dominating the field were I playing a game of swear word bingo.
The group was emboldened by an early Yankee lead. Mark Teixeira hit a two-run homer in the first inning – to right field of course – and with two-time 19-game winner Chien-Ming Wang on the mound, surely it was a victory in the making. As Indians right fielder Shin-Soo Choo approached the plate with two men on, one fan in the rows in front of us yelled out, “You suck, Choo! You fucking suck!” Ever the classy gentleman, the bleacher creature’s comment was met with a three-run jack by Choo, putting the Indians in front.
Surely, an isolated incident.
Well before the inning was out Cleveland would string together 13 hits and 14 runs, the largest inning ever surrendered by the Yankees in their history. The frame created a number of records for the new building, and the eventual 22-4 loss for New York would be the third most runs ever allowed by the franchise. Remarkably, the first, second and fourth most runs allowed by the Yankees were all reaped by the Indians in a bizarre coincidence.
The early collapse created dissension among the bleacher creatures who were extremely displeased when one frustrated fan started chanting, “Jeter sucks!” There are certain lines you do not cross in Yankeeville. That particular fan tip-toed it ever so precariously. With the entire section’s ire raised, massive booing and grumbling commenced. One thing they did agree on, however, was that with a pitching change needed, right fielder Nick Swisher was the man for the job. Indeed, Swisher, was no pitcher. But as teams will sometimes have position players take in a few innings to spare bullpen arms in blowouts, Swisher had recently gotten his chance.
Five days earlier the Yankees were routed by the defending-AL Champion Tampa Bay Rays, and with arms at a premium, manager Joe Girardi put Swisher on the mound, where he responded with a scoreless inning, including a strike out of Gabe Kapler on a blistering 78-mile-per-hour fastball that made even Swisher laugh. With the Indians in the midst of their second-inning onslaught, cheers of “We want Swisher” rang from the crowd, but the right fielder was unlikely to come out again.
As he said after his 22-pitch outing in Tampa Bay, "I'm walking out of my professional career with a 0.00 ERA.”
With the result not in doubt, I seized the opportunity to check out one of the few areas of the park I missed the day before, the Yankees museum. Evidently I wasn’t the only person with this idea. When I left a line stretched hundreds of feet outside the doors. The museum features a heaping amount of impressive memorabilia from Thurman Munson’s locker, to Babe Ruth’s jersey, to Mickey Mantle’s cap, to several of the Yankees’ World Series championship trophies.
The literal centerpiece of the museum is a wall of autographed baseballs by nearly every man to have worn Yankee pinstripes from the legendary (Joe DiMaggio) to the forgotten (Woodie Held). While there is an impressive amount of items on display, the room itself is small, and I got the sense that they could have done more with it. After all, these are the Yankees, the most historic, successful, renowned franchise in the history of American sports. If the building befits their greatness, why doesn’t the museum, the place that is supposed to put all the accomplishments on display?
Perhaps I’m being picky. It is still worth the trip, particularly given that Monument Park closes well before game time each day. As I walked past the long line outside the museum and back to my seats, the game’s momentum, unsurprisingly, was still firmly behind Cleveland. The Indians had tacked on another run in both the third and fourth innings, but evidently it took until a three-run homer by Mark DeRosa in the fifth inning for fans to finally give up hope. After the 19th marker had crossed home plate, the stands slowly began to empty, as if that 19th run was the final one that had clinched it for the visitors and made a comeback impossible.
Surprisingly, perhaps out of a desire to look around the new building, my father and stepmother stuck it out until the end of the game, which I was fine with. It was a beautiful day and I make it a point not to leave early if I can help it. Good thing, too. Had we left, we would have missed the third go round of the “We Want Swisher” chant in the eighth inning.
As we and whatever fans left exited the stadium – and there weren’t many – there was laughter and disappointment. Sure these blowouts happen and most educated fans know you just have to let them go, but it was clear that after three games and one win in their new building, for many people this didn’t yet feel like home. They wouldn’t suffer the same malaise I did after visits to Citi Field, however. While the Mets collapsed brutally, the Yankees brought home their first title in nine years that November. With another trophy in tow, I’m sure the new residence felt plenty comfy.
And maybe that new trophy would spruce up the museum some.
