the world series. history.





im sitting here. on the futon. legs hanging over. watching mariano rivera's long run in from center field.

the man is unflappable. someone asked him what he hears when approaching the mound. silence. he said. he comes to do his job. and he does it.

i can't imagine what it must be like to be there at yankee stadium right now. the noise, deafening. the energy, full and tangible--a moving thing.

baseball was my first love. the field, my first home.

my father was raised in the bronx. the booze for my grandparents wedding provided by three yankees of the day. my destiny was tied to the team long before i ever entered this world.

but it was the summer after my junior year of high school that i began the slow and steady apprenticeship of becoming a true lover of the bronx bombers.

my uncle (the phillies fan, ironically enough) taught me the bulk of it. and my aunt the yankee die-hard and devotee of past great center fielder, bernie williams, added her own. i spent that summer falling in love with new york city and all it had to offer, most especially, its most decorated--most storied baseball team.

it is the history of it all that really gets me. it tells the history of this country. of my own childhood. and i am indebted to the sport for that alone.


there it is. line drive to jeter for the first out of the ninth inning. the yankees lead seven-three.

two to go.

the last time my boys were in the world series was the year of my apprenticeship. they lost. i have yet to see them win the world series. for me this story is new. this is a new part of my history.

i know many think baseball is boring. but its like the equivalent of a strip-tease. it's all about tension. give and take. gentle undulations.

fly to right-field. my boy swisher gets it for out number two.

hideki matsui got six rbi's tonight. seven runs we have, and he drove six of those babies in.

the whole stadium is on its feet, but my legs are dangling. off of the futon. kicking a bit wildly at this point.

there it is!! they did, they just did it.

their bodies coming together in one mass huddle. bobbing in a sea of green.

i love baseball. i'm so proud of my boys.

november is the month, indeed.




bronx bombers.




so after a five hour and ten minute game the yanks just took game two of the ALCS series against the angels

(for non baseball fans, this means they have to win two more against the angels to head to the world series--it's best of 7)

i almost lost my mind.


i promise i'll be a more consistant blogger this next week. i've got plenty to say i've just been distracted. by lots of things. like...umm...

a little october baseball magic. 

#10: see the yankees play in the new stadium. check.




i love baseball. i love the history of it. the experience of it. i love baseball uniforms and hats. i was raised on a baseball field with a mitt on my left hand. i was raised kicking the dirt with my cleats and taking practice swings in the batter's box. baseball is in me. i understand it. take me out to the ball game--oh please take me out to the ball game. i'd go any day. it's the ideal date. the ideal way to spend a sunday afternoon--any afternoon.

so when my aunt offered me her extra ticket for last thursday night i did everything in my power to finagle my way out of of work. and finagle it did--success! 

so dressed in my blue and white striped t with my yankee cap placed firmly atop my crown (i've been to many a stadium and seen many teams with many fans--but no one dresses for the occasion quite like new yorkers) i headed uptown to see the bronx bombers play in the brand spankin' new stadium.

in many ways the new stadium looks much like the old (phew, relief)--it's just newer. but the really interesting thing is that baseball fields are as influential a player of the game as anyone else involved. each field in each stadium differs: where are the holes, the gaps? how easy is it to hit a home run? well, in this stadium, it would seem that home runs are easier to come by than in others (it will be interesting to see how this comes into play in the years to come).

so on thursday night i sat in my seat way (way, way) behind home plate with its magnificent view, covered in a fleece blanket and cheered and cheered. and i dreamed of the day that husband-to-be and i will have season tickets. and then when mo (perhaps the greatest closer of all time--a closer is a pitcher who comes in to finish the game when his team is ahead) sauntered down from the back of center field we all stood and cheered as he delivered three easy outs. mariano rivera (mo) is a rockstar of baseball if ever there was one. and so with the win the voice of frank sinatra wafted through the stadium--when the yankees win they play sinatra's "new york, new york"--and we all hummed along as the thousands of new yorkers dispersed back to their own personal pockets of the city.

and i went to bed happy. in my pocket. in my bed. on the upper west side. dreaming of the fields of my youth and the games of the future.