Tuesday, September 25, 2007

BEST DAY EVER. Seriously.

Jere-haters, stop reading now. You can't have a better baseball day than I just had. As I write this sentence, the Rays are celebrating a walk-off win that puts the Yanks three behind us, and our magic number at three. Hell, yeah!!!!!!!

Let's go back to the beginning, though.

I'm borrowing a car this week, so I park it in the perfect metered spot at the perfect time. I buy a Mrs. Fields' cookie to get some quarters. I head over to Fenway. First order of business: See if Yaz' 8 outside Fenway had been turned right-side up. (Someone on uniwatch had noticed the "big hole" was incorrectly on the top of the 8, and then someone else there noticed the 8 had been removed.) I got there to see the new, correct 8, and took some pics, which I will send to uniwatch.

Then I saw Doris Kearns Goodwin walking around. I'd like to see Billy Crystal show up at Yankee Stadium on a Tuesday against Oakland! Also saw El Tiante driving his Lincoln Navigator toward the park.

Then I went inside. My goal tonight was to get a ball. You gotta understand, before I was "picture taker guy," I was "try to get a ball guy." In fact, sometimes I curse the existence of cameras, as I go to a lot of games, but am always too busy to try for balls in batting practice. So, today, I brought the camera, but I decided balls were the top priority. I thought I'd go to dead center, maybe ten rows up, and get any homers that went beyond the people that stand at the front wall. That wasn't working for me, and with Papi's group coming up, I opted to go to straight away right, about 20 rows up. This gave me a good view, and lots of space to work with, as most people stand in the front. Papi proceeds to launch one, right toward me. I'm right in an aisle, of course, and I see it's gonna land in the section to my right (41), a little in front of me. I start trotting down the steps, carefully watching the ball, despite the tough sun. It clunks into the empty seats, and I'm sprinting. I make sure to go down farther than the row I've estimated it's sitting in. Because it could roll down, and because my only competition is coming from below. I choose my row and bolt into it, manically thinking, "Don't mess this up." I'm running along the row, looking to my right, hoping I see the ball. If I don't, I have to guess whether it's a row above or a row below, and start jumping seats. At that point, others will have gathered. Fortunately, I see the ball, right there in the row above me. Sweet. I know it's mine. I reach over and grab it. David Ortiz, dude. David Ortiz. Ball. My fifth lifetime, all batting practice. One tossed to me, two hit that I fielded cleanly, and two hit that I ran and got. I'm only 3,000 or so behind that Zack kid.

Then, while walking around the park to get some pics of A's players, at two different times, someone drops something and I'm right there to pick it up for them.

Then, I get some great shots of Lenny DiNardo, the only A I care about.

At this point, I'm thinking I can do no wrong. Schilling gives up an early homer, but I'm still confident, out in my single seat right by the section 3 pole. Beautiful view. The Sox tie it, and later take the lead. I get to see the comeback of Manny AND Youk. The Yanks, they've gone way up, and I've forgotten about them. I usually pay VERY close attention to the board, but once it was 5-0, I thought, Eh, whatever. Then, there's a cheer. Fan on the field? Nope. What are we cheering? Oh my, god! 6-5 Devil Rays!! An amazing cheer. As everyone notices, it's a standing O. Eric Gagne, on the mound, probably has no idea what's going on--probably only knowing for sure that it's definitely not for him. The cheer turns to a "Yankees Suck," and we move on with our game.

Here's the video I shot of this--I kept rolling as I knew it would turn into a "Yankees Suck" chant:



Then the A's manager, for some reason only known to the Martians that gave birth to him, walks Varitek to pitch to Ellsbury! He gets a hit to basically put it away--although Papi's blast cements it. Oh, and tonight's "Sweet Caroline" was as perfect as it gets. The final bit of the music ended right before a chorus, so we did the self-sing for a full chorus, which is really the holy grail of Sweet Carolines.

The game, exciting as it was--and it's in my top, well, 10 easily--became enough of a blowout in that last inning that I got to run all the way to a spot behind the Sox dugout to watch the ninth. Nice little DP ends it. I head out for the car, and I'm starving! But fortunately I have a Mrs. Fields' cookie to help me on my walk/jog!

I make it home in about 15 minutes; no static on Storrow at all.

I sit and listen to the Yanks in the ninth in the car, as 880 is coming in fine. Still tied, so I head inside--to see my playoff tickets waiting for me!

I get the Yanks on mlb.tv, and I can say to you with all honesty that after the day's series of events, I know that the Yanks are going to lose. And that brings it back around. Home dong for the Rays--mlb.tv is giving me the Rays' channel and not the Yanks!--and it's over. A Thursday or Friday clinch (I'll be at both games) is looking better than ever.

All this happening on about the most beautiful, full-ish mooned night you could imagine. Especially for late September. I made the call to not even bring a jacket to Fenway, and I nailed it. T-shirt and shorts. Totally comfortable all night.

If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go pan the Mystic River. We can all split the gold later. Pictures of this sweet night to come. Update: Pictures are here.

Comments:
sweet.
 
I was at the game too, except I got there right at game time so no chance for BP. Also I got vomited on. Other than that though, real cool night.
 
You're a big jerk, your cat is ugly and I hate you. Or maybe I'm just a little jealous since I was at work last night. Definitely one of those two...
 
cue Ice Cube.... "no barking from the dog, no smog, and this morning momma cooked my breakfast with no hog...
 
ric, funny you should say that, as I've used the term "I didn't even have to use my AK" describe "good day"s here at this blog in the past.

Matty: Right as I read your comment, the cat came and brushed up against my leg. You know how they have cosmic powers? I had to explain the joke to him.

Andrew: Vomit is always a good sign at Fenway, what with that girl who puked after Lowe's no-hitter.

Reb: indeed.
 
I was SURE this story was going to end with you getting back to where the borrowed car was supposed to be, only to find it had been towed.
But I like your ending much better.
 
Ugh! If I could have chosen one game to be at (after Buchholz's no-no, that is) I would've picked yesterday. The return of Manny AND Youk!
 
Oh, believe me, the whole walk back to the car, I pictured seeing the ticket on there, even though I KNEW I put in enough quarters.
 

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