Taconic

Apparently the New York Yankees are going to be playing in some big important game or something soon, I hear.  This time of year has eaten my ass in regard to professional baseball for the past six years, but it's fun to have your team in the final two for a major sport and I'm genuinely psyched my Yankees are back in it.  I still get the bandwagon tag, but truthfully the next person who tries to pull that should get piss pounded as I get bored when I fire back by asking what year(s) the Jesse Barfield-Steve Balboni duo in the lineup was rockin' out K's and pop flies like you couldn't imagine, and people give me a blank stare or customarily respond with a "Go pick up your Red Wings jersey at the dry cleaners."

In any event, some thoughts:

• I hate to say it, but $1.5 billion apparently turns a pretty fervent fan base into a wine-and-cheese crowd.  If you're a Yankee fan and are immediately offended by this, clearly you need to have witnessed a game or games first-hand to be able to engage in the debate at all.  For me, I had the absolute pleasure of having my first game Sox/Yanks on a perfect Saturday evening in late-September, with CC going against Dice-K.  Took the #4 in from Grand Central, I believe, and I was probably about as maximally (definitely a word) psyched for the game as I could be.  Came in very hot.  Very, very hot.  Certainly too hot, by many measures.  Apparently this state of mind manifested itself into me launching a digital photo-taking daisycutter on the Stadium and maybe a dozen or so different videos.  When you first see it from the subway as you're coming in, it just blows you away.  First thing I remember anyone saying when we first got into the Stadium and were going to our seats, other than the usual jibber jabber between my brother and my friend, was this guy who just got his beers from the vender near our section who yelled as he headed back to his seats, "Sweet!  It's nine-dollar beer night!"  Fortunately for me I was mistakenly using our debit card instead of my personal credit card for the duration of the game, brilliant, and will be forever reminded of my "$45.50" for, drumroll please:  4 Bud Lights and a dog.  No, that's really it.  Throw on the $10.00 I spent on a program, and while you haven't used a full benjamin you've jacked one up pretty good.
• The game was low scoring and when you've come in too hot and just stayed way too hot you lose track of what's going on unless people are screaming and fighting and whatnot.  A couple in our row, probably mid to late-40s but still working like hell to make 30 work, disappeared for like 4 innings - went to some VIP or suite area or some shit - come back to their seats and each order a glass of white wine.  White fucking wine.  I do distinctly remember thinking, "White fucking wine?" but for some reason or another we started chatting them up and they were relatively cool.  As cool as you can be for drinking white wine at Yankee Stadium.  But it was quiet at times.  And the game was close, but just kind of quiet.  There were a couple guys talking near the vendors about their preference of the new Yankee Stadium and the Mets' Citi Field and they each agreed that Citi was a lot more fun.  I said something about it being on the quiet side and they agreed.
• Maybe those fans will be there during the World Series, the ones I remember cheering with from whatever spot I was in watching them on TV a decade ago, we'll see.  '96 seems like forever ago, and I remember being on my couch in my room at college, not able to move when Charlie Hayes caught the last out in foul territory along the 3rd base line, my ankle torn to shreds from a football game earlier that day.  I started a fight among my own team that day in the tunnel that leads out onto the field, weird.
• ARod is dialed in.  Which makes me more and more confused about steroid use than ever, because I just don't understand why.  He's a primadonna d-bag most of the time but can pound the living piss out of a baseball.