Monday, July 02, 2007
So, I went to Yankee Stadium yesterday. That photo you're looking at is, of course, former Sox Mike Myers, whom I still can't bring myself to dislike even though he now wears the Pinstripes of Great Evil.
I will freely admit that I went to Yankee Stadium expecting to hate it. It's the Lair of the Beast, the Den of Foulness, the place where iniquity and depravity are nurtured until they are hatched and spewed forth all over the AL East. You don't expect much from a place like that.
Yankee Stadium, however, refused to live up to my expectations, instead turing out to be fairly pleasant, as ballparks go. The place is architecturally bland, without the charm of a Fenway or the innovative interest of a Comerica. The seating, at least in our section, was roomy compared to Fenway (then again, everywhere is). The section numbering was, if I may be so bold, absurd. Half the stadium is odd numbers, and half is even numbers... this means that section 28 is not next to section 27, it is directly across the field. Does that make sense? No. Why not have them consecutive? It's not hard. Who sets up a building like that? Just plain old weird.
ballpark as Captain Obvious
The fact that EVERYWHERE YOU TURN are NY symbols and pinstripes is extremely unnerving. I liken it to the first time I ventured into East Lansing... green and white and Spartans helmets everywhere. I felt like I could barely breathe. SURROUNDED BY THE ENEMY. I didn't want to touch any surfaces for fear of getting the Spartan stench on me. And the thing of it was that I KNEW it was irrational, but that was my gut reaction.
Anyways. That, only with Yankee stuff. Let me tell you: the merchandise stands? With row upon row of Yankee hats and nothing else? The human body can be trained to react with a physical sense of revulsion to a simple symbol. 100% of fact.
With all that said... the park just wasn't as bad as I was expecting. While it lacks any particular personality beyond those arches 'round the top, it also manages to avoid the "inexplicable design elements because we can't think of anything better to do" sickness that afflicts US Cellular in Chicago (random pinwheels for the win!). There were a lot of food options, the hot dogs were (horror of all horrors to a seasoned Fenway-goer) cooked through, there was even a catdamned bakery in the ballpark (did not partake, mostly due to horror at the sight of... cookies frosted with the Yankee symbol. Shudder-inducing).
I didn't see one single rat.
many Yankee fans, no rats
The pitching matchup was to be Pettitte/Haren, which sounds good on paper. It turned out to be not so good. Haren wasn't as sharp as he usually has been this year, and Pettitte got creamed. The A's batted around on him in the 2nd inning, and in that inning managed to score SEVEN RUNS. After having already put up a run in the first inning.
ahhhhh I'm fallliiiinnnngggg
You know how lovely it was to see Pettitte get lit up like that? We're supposed to fear him. And here he was, throwing all the hell over the place. A Yankee meltdown, like a fine wine, should be savored.
i am bobby abreu. i am sad. i make error. crowd make fun of me for rest of game.
i am andy phillips. i play first base because everyone else dead. look at my silly walk.
i am derek jeter. i have owie. i get hit in hand because i lean over plate like homeplate is magnet for my nose.
Oakland, on the other hand...
i am jack cust. i get congratulated because i am perpetual backup who suddenly showing power. i hit 3-run homer against big bad yankees. i da man.
i am kurt suzuki. i am baby. i play almost never. i get RBI single and two runs in this game because yankee pitching really IS that bad.
It was exactly as fun to watch as it sounds.
The entire photo set is here, for your viewing pleasure. I just have one more thing that I want to draw you attention to.
We are all, of course, familiar with the catcher ass pat. It's a time-honored baseball tradition, as everyone knows that a pitcher's sense of courage and stamina is directly tied to his ass, and patting of that ass will ease his pitching woes. Normal. Baseball-y. Imagine my surprise, then, to see that Jorge Posada has taken this tradition a step further.
You're probably going to have to click that to get to the larger version to see this, but Posada is TUGGING ON MIKE MYERS' PANTS. Like, he has a bit of pants material between his fingers, and is pulling on it. This would be totally unremarkable except that baseball pants are so tight... it's like walking up to someone wearing spandex, grabbing a bit of it (probably having to pry it up off their thigh), and tugging. I mean, imagine that. Am I wrong in thinking that's a little... weird? I can't imagine doing that to my friends (whereas ass pats, depending on the friend, I can see in a joking context), so... yeah, I don't know.
Posada has DEFINITELY upped the pitcher/catcher love ante on Pudge Rodriguez, the previously acknowledged king of such displays. Pudge has to step his game up now. All Star Weekend is a prime opportunity, so be on the lookout for that.
Labels: Athletics, baseball, in attendance, MLB, photoblog, Yankees