bktheirregular (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bktheirregular) wrote2004-10-20 11:05 am
bktheirregular) wrote2004-10-20 11:05 am
A catalogue, or perhaps, early Thanksgiving
Instead of further agonizing, I think I'll just run through some of the good memories. Just in case that's all I've got 'till next year after tonight.
- My first game in Yankee Stadium with my family. July 4, 1983. We were in the upper deck, and we were all battling heatstroke. It was worth it, though, when we heard the mutterings about how Dave Righetti hadn't given up a hit all day, and then when Wade Boggs came to bat with two out in the ninth ... strikeout. No-hitter. What an introduction to baseball.
- Hearing the radio and enjoying the first mention of a promising rookie by the name of Don Mattingly.
- October 1995, recovering from the 1994 strike, watching the Yankees climb back into the postseason, into respectability, hoping that they could get Donnie Baseball his World Series ring in his final year.
- Watching in amazement as Joe Torre, "Clueless Joe", who I remembered being the hapless manager of the Mets way back when, carry the Yankees through the season, losing one brother to cancer, wondering whether another would survive the year, and then that 1996 Series. Everyone thought Atlanta was going to repeat, and after the Yankees went down two games to none, they were written off as dead and buried. Then they won three in Atlanta, came back to New York...
When the last out was made in Game Six, the PA system immediately struck up the fanfare from "Independence Day" (cheesy movie, good music), segued from there into "New York, New York," and I was officially gone for the Yankees.
- Watching David Wells get carried off the field. (No, they didn't need a forklift, just a bunch of infielders and outfielders.)
- Watching David Cone get carried off the field.
- The growing knowledge that these guys are professionals, they know how to play the game, and when I follow them, most of the time I'll get more than my money's worth.
One nail-biter finish doesn't take all that away.
- My first game in Yankee Stadium with my family. July 4, 1983. We were in the upper deck, and we were all battling heatstroke. It was worth it, though, when we heard the mutterings about how Dave Righetti hadn't given up a hit all day, and then when Wade Boggs came to bat with two out in the ninth ... strikeout. No-hitter. What an introduction to baseball.
- Hearing the radio and enjoying the first mention of a promising rookie by the name of Don Mattingly.
- October 1995, recovering from the 1994 strike, watching the Yankees climb back into the postseason, into respectability, hoping that they could get Donnie Baseball his World Series ring in his final year.
- Watching in amazement as Joe Torre, "Clueless Joe", who I remembered being the hapless manager of the Mets way back when, carry the Yankees through the season, losing one brother to cancer, wondering whether another would survive the year, and then that 1996 Series. Everyone thought Atlanta was going to repeat, and after the Yankees went down two games to none, they were written off as dead and buried. Then they won three in Atlanta, came back to New York...
When the last out was made in Game Six, the PA system immediately struck up the fanfare from "Independence Day" (cheesy movie, good music), segued from there into "New York, New York," and I was officially gone for the Yankees.
- Watching David Wells get carried off the field. (No, they didn't need a forklift, just a bunch of infielders and outfielders.)
- Watching David Cone get carried off the field.
- The growing knowledge that these guys are professionals, they know how to play the game, and when I follow them, most of the time I'll get more than my money's worth.
One nail-biter finish doesn't take all that away.