I have a
long history of missed opportunities at Yankee Stadium. There was that game
against the Royals that my brother and I decided to skip back in 1996, only to
miss a walk-off, two-run homer by Darryl Strawberry. There was the playoff game
against the Mariners in 2001, when I landed tickets only to fall ill the day of
the game and miss it entirely, including a home run by my favorite player,
Bernie Williams.
There was the game against the Red
Sox back in 1993, when my friend Stew and I drove to Yankee Stadium to see
then-Red Sox stars Roger Clemens and Wade Boggs take on the Yankees only to
realize when we got there that Stew’s automatic car window wouldn’t close on
the driver’s side. He said there was no way he was leaving his car window open
in a city parking lot, so we drove home. And,
to top it all, there was that Billy Joel concert at the Stadium back in 1990,
when Amy and I had field-level seats but got caught in so much traffic that we
arrived in time for the second encore. We stood on the field and sang along to
the final three songs.
When you go
to events, you’re bound to miss some things. I obviously have. But I don’t get
to Yankee Stadium as much anymore, so there’s not much room for any regrets. If
I go to a game, I stay until the end and enjoy every minute. That was the plan
last weekend, when I went to the big ballpark in the Bronx with my family.
My mother
had a tough summer health-wise, and we’re all thrilled that she’s feeling much
better. So we decided to celebrate her birthday with a game at the Stadium. We
arrived in our upper-deck seats behind home plate in time for the Saturday
matinee, with six of us excited to watch the game together – my mom, my
brother, my wife, our two girls, and myself.
By the time
the first inning had ended, the game was one hour old. The Yankees held a 3-2 lead
in this sloppy contest, and our younger daughter was already wondering when the
game would be over. But the girls settled down and started to enjoy the details
of this ballpark, from the foul poles to the flags atop the stadium to the
groundskeepers dancing to the Village People’s “Y.M.C.A.” Unfortunately, the
Yankees and their opponent, the Oakland A’s, had not come ready to play their
best baseball, and they dragged a 5-5 tie into extra innings.
Our oldest
daughter got caught up in the excitement of the late-innings drama, and we hung
in there through 12 innings. When the 13th inning began, we’d been
in Yankee Stadium for five and a half hours. Everyone was hungry, and the girls
were restless. By the time we’d made our way down to the lower level, the A’s
had started the 13th inning with three home runs, taking a 9-5 lead
and sending us out of the park with no regrets. True, the Yankees would have
last licks in the bottom of the 13th, but we had seen enough for one
day.
We took the
D train downtown, and got off on West 4th Street to stop for dinner
before driving home. As we walked toward the Italian restaurant we’d chosen for
dinner, I passed another restaurant that had its windows wide open on this
beautiful evening. As I glanced at the tables and diners to my left, I noticed a
wide-screen TV behind them. And on that TV, I saw a live shot of Yankee
Stadium. Atop that image was a score: A’s 9, Yankees 9.
Say what? My
mouth dropped. I turned to my mom and told her what I’d seen. She called out to
the others, who found another restaurant window in time to stand on the
sidewalk and watch the Yankees score yet another run in the 14th
inning to win by a score of 10-9. We stood beside a man who’d left the game
himself, back in the eighth inning, and he shared high-fives with us after the
winning run crossed home plate.
Sigh.
So yes, the Yankees did execute the
ultimate comeback while we were cruising along an underground tunnel in
Manhattan. And yes, we missed it all. Add it to the list, right?
But I have
to say, I have a different spin on those missed opportunities at age 41. Sure,
I wasn’t there to see the end of the game, and it was chaotic and dramatic and
wonderful for the home fans. But remember, this day was never really about a baseball
game. It was about a family celebrating a birthday, a mother, and good health.
The only missed opportunity would have been to not go at all.
And that’s
how it’s always been. The day my brother and I missed the Strawberry home run?
We actually spent that afternoon hanging out together at the Jersey Shore. The
time I missed that playoff game because I was ill? I got to relax at home with
my wife, and she pampered her sick husband. The day that Stew and I missed a
game because of his window malfunction? We ended up taking another car to enjoy
a nice dinner together that night.
The Billy
Joel concert? Well, that just stunk however you look at it. No silver linings
there.
But last
weekend, as the Yankees gathered around home plate to celebrate their win, my
family stepped into a fabulous restaurant on Houston Street to cap our day together.
The girls had perked up, they were hanging out with their uncle and grandmother,
and my mom was telling stories. The pizza arrived at our table, and we dug in
hungrily.
It was a
success, however you look at it. There are no regrets about quality time with
the people you love. And hey – somehow in the midst of it all, our baseball
team had won a ballgame. Go Yankees. Go Mom.
2 comments:
Catching that score in the open window, tied? Ugh, that must have been tough LOL.
I like how you look at it, it's not always the end of the game that matters most, especially when family is involved.
.. Warren, meet Mark, above. He is also talented in the writing department, although he'd scoff at that. You oughta check out his blog some time.
SO glad your mom is out and about again!!
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