Well, on this St Patricks Day, while I am safely enconsed at work, lets go back into my archives for a St Patricks Day brouhaha! Reprinted without permission.
I am one of those few fabled drinkers that gets calls from long-lost buddies on St Pats, wishing me a good one, like people get on their birthdays or on Christmas morn. My friend Dave just called me after many a month, and after we blew the dust off things he recanted a favorite Sheriff Tom St Pats memory, the time I was roughed up by a female cop who I had just happened to have attended high school with on that storied day.
I was quite the Irish rover that day. Green beer, a shot here and there and Hell, I think at one point I even took my beer soaked shirt and stuck a bit in my mouth to suck off the excess foam for a while. I sang Irish ditties, and danced a jig. I told every Irish joke I knew, loudly. With each drink i found the bagpipe more and more amazing. By the time I left the last bar, not by choice mind you, I decided I wanted to put aside the harmonica I had at home and forget about my allusions to playing the violin or viola and learn the bagpipe. But those thoughts were quashed by a more pressing issue....an altercation inside your friendly neighborhood West 4th Street Subway Station.
I approached the ticket booth cause these were the arcane pre-Metrocard days, and was chagrined to find a line. Its one thing to wait in line to buy Yankee tickets or pee on the grave of an enemy, but not to buy a token to give you the means to pass out on the C train and ride back and forth from the Bronx to Queens all night. I decided to move things along, by saying real loud, "um, can we move along please?" Just like that. Only a little slurrier. And with more urgency. Oh, and curse words too.
You see, heres why we had this line in the first place. Cause it was St Pats you had a lot of people that decided to take their alcoholism to the streets and not out of their cupboard at home or hidden desk drawer at work for a change, and you had people in the city for the first time solely to buy a plasic green leprachaun hat or a "Kiss Me, I'm Irish!" balloon. While I hated the idea of the line in front of me, I will admit it was a pretty line, with all the green colors decorating the people going nowhere in it.
Amazingly enough I made it to the front of the line without having to flash dukes or even tell anyone that was too curious to face eyes front, but I could not leave it well enough alone once I came face to face with your resident token clerk. She was almost as unhappy enough to be working the booth that day as I was to have to stand in that line while already having to pee. We ended up in a verbal altercation, and I am not too sure what precipitated it. She may have simply said "Top of the morning to you!" for all I know. Still grumpy about the turtles engaging in foreplay speed of the line, I had a few cracks for her, which I spiced up with an epitaph or two. All in a brogue tinged with as much cadence as rancor.
And then it happened. The schmoe behind me put thier hand on my shoulder. I cant have that, I dont like to be touched there except during the tender act of lovemaking. I sort of shrugged it off, as by now I was pointing at the lickspittle in the booth and telling her where to go, and exactly how to get there. It was to Hell, via way of suc*ing my *@()@ or some such thing.
By now my shoulder was being tugged and I was being led away. At this point I already had my token so I really did not need the booth anymore anyway. But as I turned I decided to shove whoever decided to take me for a waltz. I mean why not? I am a man, not a bag of chips to rustle your hands through.
It was only after I made my contact that I noticed the police uniform. Not just any police uniform, these duds just screamed Double-XL. It was a woman, or a reasonable facsimile of such, big enough to crush dreams as she walked. And she was not happy with me. But how many women were back then?
You ever see footage from the 1880s of little girls in dresses smacking a hoop in front of them on some prairie grass as they run? Well, she was that little girl and I was that hoop. And the cement was that prairie grass. I ended up on the cold subway surface, after having taken a right turn at the corner of "upside down" and a quick stop at "on my head."
I knew I was in trouble now. For one thing, I still had to pee. For another, I had a cop standing over me, cursing, and there were kids around. And they were laughing. I envied them and their balloons. They had the whole night in front of them, and I had this female cop that looked like Kathy Bates and was snarling down from an Andre the Giant frame.
I started to get up but she must have been tired and chose to use me for a footstool. Hey, I like a little foot fetish here and there, who doesnt want a boot on the back of thier head now and then? This, though, was not my idea of that fantasy evening. She was quite the tease too, that firebrand, telling me to get up as she grinded a heel on the head. I think that is where I got my bald spot, from her boot.
To make a long story even longer, she picked me up, with help from her stereotypical cop buddy, as I was listless and drunk. I was led out of the subway station to the applause of those I regaled with my improv performance at the ticket booth. "Please tip your waitresses! Try the veal!" I remember saying to the guffawing minions. "Keep walking, motherf***er" my new friends in badges snarled in response to my one-man show.
I was put in the back of a van, which already had a couple of sullen sods, one wearing a Hawaiin Lei for some reason. I wish I could give you more details of the denizens in the cramped van (or at least make some good ones up) but my mind was in, "oh, s**t. This is going to take some explaining" mode. I still had to pee but I think asking to stop at the Wendy's on the way was a bad idea. Didnt stop me from asking...I could have used a Frosty too. Obviously the trip continued sans Frosty.
The behemoth, now in the passenger seat with a s**t-eating grin on her face (in place of the usual cake frosting usually on there) then hit me with the most sobering statement of the day (at least since one of the bagpipers told me, "no, the Chinese dont play the bagpipes as far as I know") when she said, "I can't believe we went to high school together."
My heart dropped and I burped and it tasted like beer. Normally I would try to burp again to taste more beer, but for now I had to put these words together in my cloudy and already prematurely balding head. High school together??? Oh, crap, I realized. It was {name deleted to protect the guilty). My only memory of her was a comic one, sitting on her shoulders in a pool only 5 or so years before, playing chicken at a party at a mutual friends house. She was obviously pretty big even then if I was on her shoulders. She and I sure did have quite the relationship, huh? First I ride on her shoulders and then she sticks her boot on the nape of my neck.
I honestly dont remember much after that, outside of sitting in a cell almost as small as the bathroom in my apartment in Long Island City (although the cell was much cleaner). One of those cops that masquerades as a tough guy behind the other side of the bars from those he accosts came to visit and threaten to "beat me up" for HITTING A COP. I "hit a cop" now??? All i had done was shoo my arm away from her. If all the hot dogs she ate had the same idea maybe she would have never gotten that fat.
In sumnation, the charges were dropped. NOTHING came of it. I was left to stew overnight in a vain effort to scare me (I dont scare easily, I once lived in a roach-filled apartment in Albany) and I think I visited a judge, but I am not sure. (I have seen so many they kind of all blend in together)
The moral of this story? There is none, cept maybe turn around to take a peek at who you may or may not shove in the future when they grab at your shoulder. And do your own research on bagpipes and who invented them and plays them before you ask a bagpiper that is not in the mood to answer any questions.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Thursday, December 16, 2010
PLAYOFFS! 10/4/95 - THE LEYRITZ HR GAME!
1995 Wildcard - Game 2!!
October 4th, 1995 - Yankees host the Mariners
The Leyritz home run game!
Handwriting is a little more sloppy on this scorecard, so I obviously found some time for pregame drinks, whereas I did not partake before game 1. But it is all highly legible, so I was coherent and lucid, unlike, say, game 6 of the 1996 World Series...but we'll get to that in due time.
The cynical bastards that we were, we were already joking about the bunting adorning the tiers. We were already tired of looking at it, and thinking about it now it was something we grew to completely take for granted. "Looks like Grandma sewed that fu*king stuff." someone said.
"Welcome to the fu*king show!" howled the burly Captain Bob, with both beefy arms held aloft. I remember when he got so excited about the Yankees even getting a sniff of first place during a regular season campaign...I have a picture at home of Captain Bob holding up a newspaper aloft in the street by the Stadium, with Jim Abbott pitching on the back cover, with the headline tag, "Hey,Abbott, Yankees are in first!" And there is Bob in the picture, with the biggest shit-eating grin ever, celebrating a first-place tie in the month of July...did not take much to please a Yankee fan in the dark days.
Phil Rizzuto threw out the first pitch, which caused people to yammer on and on about how much he was missed in the TV booth. There was a guy going topless on this cool, drizzly night, but knowing he was inviting trouble in his attempt to get on TV he had "I'm an asshole" painted in blue paint on his back. "What an asshole" we muttered, as he walked by.
While we settled in we discussed our pregame activities, which included a "God bless the bowling alley bathroom" from me. Hell, they just closed down that bowling alley this year of 2010, and I wanted to out there to light candles and hold vigil. There had been a guy walking around outside the Stadium beforehand, gladhanding and drinking out of a bag, dressed as the Pope with big Pope hat and everything. We looked around for him in the bleachers as he was last seen by the gate, but to no avail. "He must be in Stans, drinking out of the almighty chalice" someone speculated.
I gave a nod to the true old-schoolers who were on hand. From Captain Bob to our loud friend Kevin, Animal to Elder George, Queen Bee Tina to Cowbell King Ali, and a cast of thousands that "no one wants" - it was all for them. Tina was on seat patrol, and got into quite the spat over a corner seat that she would not relinquish. "What, is your name on that seat?" one guy snapped, to which Tina shot right back with "as a matter of fact, now that you mention it..."
I see where we were hung up over a bad call on the field for a while. It even got a "bull-fu*king-shit" out of someone named Joey three different times. Someone blamed it on us all standing up during the play. "Every time we stand up, something bad happens." he grumbled. Wish I could have introduced him to Junior years down the line, who would stand up at something as meaningless the appearance of a bird. Regarding the call on the field, someone shouted, "Ump, you couldnt lead Ray Charles through the forest! You asshole!"
We were keeping a running tab on bad umpire calls, and it reached 3. And, in quite the coincidence, Buck Showalter made 3 different appearances on the field to question calls on that cool October evening.
A fistfight actually broke out, and to no one's surprise our very own Animal was involved. I wrote down an abridged play by play - a guy was arguing over a seat, Animal told him to get to stepping, he went after Animal, and a third guy jumped in. Well, first guy and third guy gone, Animal gets to stay. Amazing how that worked in our own gated community out there.
"Bear Ass", my tagalong stuffed bear, was back on hand, with the Yankees record with him now on hand standing at 12-1. The unthinkable happened as he dissapeared at exactly 8:08, and I thought he was stolen and cut to shreds for shits and giggles, but he reappeared at 8:20. In a comic note, I handed him off to one of the old crew to "babysit." The babysitter on that night? Some fine chap named John Hughes. You know, the guy that was later "arrested for counterfeiting money." This was a story I made up years later to explain his sudden dissapearance. Of course years laster he shows back up, and everyone thinks he just got out of jail for counterfeiting money. Meanwhile, he was out getting an education.
He ended up autographing the scorecard (another bad gimmick bought back for the playoffs) as did Syphills Joe, who even added the tagline, "Syphillis....it all started with a simple kiss!"
This game went deep, into the 15th, and by the time I got to page 2 "The Pope" from outside reappeared. "Jesus Christ, the Pope is here!" someone howled, bemused. By then the ground beneath our feet was covered in a sea of empty beer cups and George, among others, proudly announced, "after we win, these cups are going that way" - pointing either to the field or to the people in front of us that annoyed us all night by standing up for all the wrong reasons.
When I remember in my head some of the funny lines over time and recount the simplicity of some of our wit and humor, this one always came to mind, and it was from this very night....a guy with a Gilligan hat was one of those people standing up and blocking our view at all the wrong times, and finally fed up with it someone shouted, "Down in front, Little Buddy!"
Its amazing at how, even during a playoff game, we could find time to argue about something dumb, or wonder about stupid minutia that has nothing to do with the task at hand. After a couple of innings of seeking out the answer we finally learned that the song that "Dancing Homer" did his thing to was in fact called "The Baby Elephant Dance."
I went through both sides of the scorecard during this extra inning tilt, and Page 2 has the 11th through the 15th innings, and even that late we were still grousing about the umps. "The ump needs to get out of here early, he has to get up in the morning for umpire school." someone reasoned. "Even the OJ jury would not find those umps innocent of killing us" someone chirped in. "This is a tragedy...a debaucle" someone surmised.
But all is well that ends well. I dont remember exactly what happened, but leading into Leyritz' home run apparently the Yankees got handed an "even-up call." "I can hear the ump now" someone said just before Leyritz laid into one. "Games over, Yankees win, go home."
You always get some of these...I had to comment on the spate of people that actually got up, collected their coats, and left with a 4-4 playoff game in front of them. I understand the game ended up at 1:20 in the morning, but come on now...
And after that ending, one of the moments out there that will stay with me FOREVER, maybe the first one I experienced of dozens of magical moments the next few years. 10 minutes of celebrating in the rain, singing to New York New York, hugs and handshakes, dancing on the benches, slipping off and falling down, only to clamber up again. Someone passed around a flask, and we struggled to light soggy cigars. But that singing....I will never forget the Stadium singing in unison, and our high hopes for the rest of the playoffs. And it was incredible to spend it with that crew that was out there on that night, in that fashion. Good times, good times...
I'll make this quick. You dont need a recap from me on a playoff game, and this is long already. Here are your starting lineups for posterity...the Yankees marched out 3B Boggs, CF BW, RF O'Neill, DH Sierra (a few "where's Strawberry"s were uttered despite Sierra's monster spurts), 1B Mattingly, LF Dion James (lol), C Leyritz, SS Fernandez, and 2B Velarde. Your Yankee hurlers on the night were Pettitte, Wickman, Wetteland, and Rivera, who went 3.1 innings of scoreless ball to notch the W just a day after I had written down that he was not eligible for the playoff roster.
And Sierra did it AGAIN. Another home run, and for the second time in a matter of weeks a home run right to our little gaggle out there in Section 39. Don Mattingly, in the middle of his last stand, followed that with a home run of his own, there to lead off the 6th, and put the crowd all agog.
The Mariners countered with LF Coleman, SS Sojo, CF Griffey, DH E Martinez, RF Buhner, 3B Blowers, 1B Tino, C Wilson, and 2B Cora. That pesky bastard. On the hill we saw Andy Benes, Bill Risley, Charlton, Jeff Nelson, and of course, Timothy Belcher, who belched up the winning HR.
5 hours and 12 minutes to play. Yes, 5 hours and 12 minutes. 57,126 on hand, with no less than 678,203 claiming they were there that night currently. Your umpires on hand were none other than Dale Scott, Jim McKean, Larry McCoy, Rich Garcia, Mike Reilly, and the ever-popular Jim Joyce.
And THAT puts a wrap on the playoffs of 1995. And what comes next but 1996.....the jokes will become more biting, the characters the more vivid, the beer even better.
See you soon with your first installments of the wild ride that was 1996!!!!!!!!
October 4th, 1995 - Yankees host the Mariners
The Leyritz home run game!
Handwriting is a little more sloppy on this scorecard, so I obviously found some time for pregame drinks, whereas I did not partake before game 1. But it is all highly legible, so I was coherent and lucid, unlike, say, game 6 of the 1996 World Series...but we'll get to that in due time.
The cynical bastards that we were, we were already joking about the bunting adorning the tiers. We were already tired of looking at it, and thinking about it now it was something we grew to completely take for granted. "Looks like Grandma sewed that fu*king stuff." someone said.
"Welcome to the fu*king show!" howled the burly Captain Bob, with both beefy arms held aloft. I remember when he got so excited about the Yankees even getting a sniff of first place during a regular season campaign...I have a picture at home of Captain Bob holding up a newspaper aloft in the street by the Stadium, with Jim Abbott pitching on the back cover, with the headline tag, "Hey,Abbott, Yankees are in first!" And there is Bob in the picture, with the biggest shit-eating grin ever, celebrating a first-place tie in the month of July...did not take much to please a Yankee fan in the dark days.
Phil Rizzuto threw out the first pitch, which caused people to yammer on and on about how much he was missed in the TV booth. There was a guy going topless on this cool, drizzly night, but knowing he was inviting trouble in his attempt to get on TV he had "I'm an asshole" painted in blue paint on his back. "What an asshole" we muttered, as he walked by.
While we settled in we discussed our pregame activities, which included a "God bless the bowling alley bathroom" from me. Hell, they just closed down that bowling alley this year of 2010, and I wanted to out there to light candles and hold vigil. There had been a guy walking around outside the Stadium beforehand, gladhanding and drinking out of a bag, dressed as the Pope with big Pope hat and everything. We looked around for him in the bleachers as he was last seen by the gate, but to no avail. "He must be in Stans, drinking out of the almighty chalice" someone speculated.
I gave a nod to the true old-schoolers who were on hand. From Captain Bob to our loud friend Kevin, Animal to Elder George, Queen Bee Tina to Cowbell King Ali, and a cast of thousands that "no one wants" - it was all for them. Tina was on seat patrol, and got into quite the spat over a corner seat that she would not relinquish. "What, is your name on that seat?" one guy snapped, to which Tina shot right back with "as a matter of fact, now that you mention it..."
I see where we were hung up over a bad call on the field for a while. It even got a "bull-fu*king-shit" out of someone named Joey three different times. Someone blamed it on us all standing up during the play. "Every time we stand up, something bad happens." he grumbled. Wish I could have introduced him to Junior years down the line, who would stand up at something as meaningless the appearance of a bird. Regarding the call on the field, someone shouted, "Ump, you couldnt lead Ray Charles through the forest! You asshole!"
We were keeping a running tab on bad umpire calls, and it reached 3. And, in quite the coincidence, Buck Showalter made 3 different appearances on the field to question calls on that cool October evening.
A fistfight actually broke out, and to no one's surprise our very own Animal was involved. I wrote down an abridged play by play - a guy was arguing over a seat, Animal told him to get to stepping, he went after Animal, and a third guy jumped in. Well, first guy and third guy gone, Animal gets to stay. Amazing how that worked in our own gated community out there.
"Bear Ass", my tagalong stuffed bear, was back on hand, with the Yankees record with him now on hand standing at 12-1. The unthinkable happened as he dissapeared at exactly 8:08, and I thought he was stolen and cut to shreds for shits and giggles, but he reappeared at 8:20. In a comic note, I handed him off to one of the old crew to "babysit." The babysitter on that night? Some fine chap named John Hughes. You know, the guy that was later "arrested for counterfeiting money." This was a story I made up years later to explain his sudden dissapearance. Of course years laster he shows back up, and everyone thinks he just got out of jail for counterfeiting money. Meanwhile, he was out getting an education.
He ended up autographing the scorecard (another bad gimmick bought back for the playoffs) as did Syphills Joe, who even added the tagline, "Syphillis....it all started with a simple kiss!"
This game went deep, into the 15th, and by the time I got to page 2 "The Pope" from outside reappeared. "Jesus Christ, the Pope is here!" someone howled, bemused. By then the ground beneath our feet was covered in a sea of empty beer cups and George, among others, proudly announced, "after we win, these cups are going that way" - pointing either to the field or to the people in front of us that annoyed us all night by standing up for all the wrong reasons.
When I remember in my head some of the funny lines over time and recount the simplicity of some of our wit and humor, this one always came to mind, and it was from this very night....a guy with a Gilligan hat was one of those people standing up and blocking our view at all the wrong times, and finally fed up with it someone shouted, "Down in front, Little Buddy!"
Its amazing at how, even during a playoff game, we could find time to argue about something dumb, or wonder about stupid minutia that has nothing to do with the task at hand. After a couple of innings of seeking out the answer we finally learned that the song that "Dancing Homer" did his thing to was in fact called "The Baby Elephant Dance."
I went through both sides of the scorecard during this extra inning tilt, and Page 2 has the 11th through the 15th innings, and even that late we were still grousing about the umps. "The ump needs to get out of here early, he has to get up in the morning for umpire school." someone reasoned. "Even the OJ jury would not find those umps innocent of killing us" someone chirped in. "This is a tragedy...a debaucle" someone surmised.
But all is well that ends well. I dont remember exactly what happened, but leading into Leyritz' home run apparently the Yankees got handed an "even-up call." "I can hear the ump now" someone said just before Leyritz laid into one. "Games over, Yankees win, go home."
You always get some of these...I had to comment on the spate of people that actually got up, collected their coats, and left with a 4-4 playoff game in front of them. I understand the game ended up at 1:20 in the morning, but come on now...
And after that ending, one of the moments out there that will stay with me FOREVER, maybe the first one I experienced of dozens of magical moments the next few years. 10 minutes of celebrating in the rain, singing to New York New York, hugs and handshakes, dancing on the benches, slipping off and falling down, only to clamber up again. Someone passed around a flask, and we struggled to light soggy cigars. But that singing....I will never forget the Stadium singing in unison, and our high hopes for the rest of the playoffs. And it was incredible to spend it with that crew that was out there on that night, in that fashion. Good times, good times...
I'll make this quick. You dont need a recap from me on a playoff game, and this is long already. Here are your starting lineups for posterity...the Yankees marched out 3B Boggs, CF BW, RF O'Neill, DH Sierra (a few "where's Strawberry"s were uttered despite Sierra's monster spurts), 1B Mattingly, LF Dion James (lol), C Leyritz, SS Fernandez, and 2B Velarde. Your Yankee hurlers on the night were Pettitte, Wickman, Wetteland, and Rivera, who went 3.1 innings of scoreless ball to notch the W just a day after I had written down that he was not eligible for the playoff roster.
And Sierra did it AGAIN. Another home run, and for the second time in a matter of weeks a home run right to our little gaggle out there in Section 39. Don Mattingly, in the middle of his last stand, followed that with a home run of his own, there to lead off the 6th, and put the crowd all agog.
The Mariners countered with LF Coleman, SS Sojo, CF Griffey, DH E Martinez, RF Buhner, 3B Blowers, 1B Tino, C Wilson, and 2B Cora. That pesky bastard. On the hill we saw Andy Benes, Bill Risley, Charlton, Jeff Nelson, and of course, Timothy Belcher, who belched up the winning HR.
5 hours and 12 minutes to play. Yes, 5 hours and 12 minutes. 57,126 on hand, with no less than 678,203 claiming they were there that night currently. Your umpires on hand were none other than Dale Scott, Jim McKean, Larry McCoy, Rich Garcia, Mike Reilly, and the ever-popular Jim Joyce.
And THAT puts a wrap on the playoffs of 1995. And what comes next but 1996.....the jokes will become more biting, the characters the more vivid, the beer even better.
See you soon with your first installments of the wild ride that was 1996!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
PLAYOFFS! 10/3/95 - Yankees / Mariners Game 1!
PLAYOFFS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
October 3rd, 1995 - Yankees host Seattle
GAME 1 - Wild Card 1995
"check him out, getting high on the handy horn."
Its ironic, I actually flipped on a Yankeeography the other night (I generally avoid them, i like my pancakes with not so much 'syrup') and the subject was Don Mattingly, and they went into depth about the crowd reaction when he took the field on this fateful night. I remembered all of that but it was nice to watch it again. I do remember a lot of things regarding that game...it was only in later playoff games in later playoff runs where I would get sloshed.
In a prophetic note I wrote "Beginning of a Run" in the "Date" section, and oh, was it ever the beginning of a run, for the Yankees and we fans that merrily followed along.
I was very cogent of my surroundings on this night, as although the scorecard is full it is legible (attributed to little to no drinking) and therefore not the funniest card I had seen. There was business at hand! In the intro section on the card I also remarked on the "bunting" we would get to know so well in future years, and that I forgot my friend, the little stuffed bear "Bear Ass", an inexcusable faux pas, as the Yankees were 11-1 with my furry friend on hand.
This was a year where we had our tickets taken care of us beforehand, as during the last game of the season elder George and Queen Bee Tina had gone up to the Yankee offices with $600 or so, cash money, and secured our ducats. This was a wonderful and pretty much exclusive privelage which died in later years, mainly cause some of us could not keep our fu*king mouths shut.
Before the game a "mystery guy" in a Seattle uniform was down and hurt on the warning track. Took a BP fly off the noodle, apparently. We later learned who it was, but it never made the scorecard, and its now lost to time.
They actually carted out what was then an 11 year old to sing the Anthem, which bought snickers and some groans. I mean, really, this was the best they could do? Joe DiMaggio threw out the first pitch, and we all remarked how nice it was to see the Yankee Clipper. I tagged on the names not eligible for this rounds go-around, including - lol - Jeter, Mariano, Melido Perez, Jimmy Key, and the other Joltin' Joe, Mr. Ausanio. I noted one thing from the introductions, the fact that Steve Howe was "booed." Of course, by this point whenever he entered a game someone would invariably mutter, "Howe big a disaster is this?"
We were letting all of our friends and familiars nudge in with us no matter where their ticket was, and the seats were packed, but you guys all know that well. Nothing new. I actually kept my headphones on that night, and listened to the WABC-Radio feed during the game, which bought me a lot of little bon mots and pearls of wisdom that I added to the card. It also screwed up the normal run of jokes I would have heard and later shared.
For one thing, if I marked this correctly, the Yankees were 10-15 on the season if Randy Velarde was not in the starting lineup. Who woulda knew? During much of the game you could hear a lone voice chirping up in favor of Seattle over the radio feed, causing John Sterling to muse, "99.9% of those on hand are rooting for the Yankees...the other .1% is right here next to me." I got to hear the always smarmy Michael Kay, then Sterlings running buddy in the booth, refer to someone as a "dolt", as he broke that one out when a fan ran onto the field during the evenings proceedings.
People were ID'ing me across the board, with one fan telling me I looked like Don Mattingly, and another fan mistaking me for "Cousin Brewski." "Got the night off?" he asked, patting me on the back. In a little hilarity old Cowbell King Ali swiped Fat Daddy Chico's walker and hid it up by us, shrugging and explaining, "Chico can roll his ass out of here."
Your regular quips were flying from 39. After a call that did not go our way someone moaned, "all this money you got, Steinbrenner, and you can't buy the ump?" I mentioned that the Mayor was taking what was soon to be the obligatory trip to the radio booth, which raised a, "thats why the city sucks." Someone even found the time to mention that Gloria Estafan was "accident-prone."
I happened to be sitting behind the tallest guy in the whole place...I am sure many of you have been there. I actually looked around, all the way down the rows in front of me, and could not find anyone even remotely as tall as the guy that was sitting directly in front of me. And of course the fact that fans filed into the seats little by little, all the way to and above the 5th or 6th inning of play, was mentioned ,with a surly scrawl.
There were few Seattle fans out there in the bleachers, but they were there. One of them completely "ran the gauntlet" as he took the stairs all the way up to the top, and heard it from the rowdy mob step by step. Another Seattle fan was greeted with a "Seattle jerkoff" tag, and told to "step on a mine." I later remarked that "Seattle hats flying all over" so there must have been more of them out there than I implied, and by the end of the night they were lid-less.
"Fu*k you, Buhner!" was an epitaph that got through, as I remarked on a remarkable lack of security out there. There were innings at a time where there was stone-cold NONE. Of course, that would change in later years. Vince Coleman was met with a loud, "shoulda stayed with the Mets, you fu*king prick!" Tina gleefully added, "you fu*king National League piece of shit!" Ken Griffey Jr was also "ripped" just so he would not feel left out.
It was a little disheartening to see The infamous "Wave" making its way around the Stadium during a playoff game. And humiliating, no way for a Yankee fan to behave. I am shocked and appalled. To top all of this off, there was a smattering of rain throughout the game, dunking the 57,178 on hand.
I heard a great quip regarding the quick shot off a weedy one-hitter, as someone said, "check him out getting high on the handy horn."
One of our friends who carted beer let us know that once this season finally wrapped up, he would not longer be around. "Don't retire" we pleaded in earnest. "We're already short beer guys." Playoff game or no, Crazy Devil Fan Billy was regaling us with his tales of visiting the Dawg Pound in Cleveland, and how he had a picture at home where fully half of them were giving him the finger. When we said that was nothing special cause we did the same thing to him he added, "the other half were throwing shit at me."
Yankees won this one 9-6, of course, with David Cone pitching 8 before John Wetteland made it interesting in a bad way in his one inning of work, giving up 2 runs on 3 hits and a walk. It got so bad that when Wetteland ran up 2 strikes on someone one of our fellow fans snarled, "one more, dickhead!"
Yankees had home runs from Wade Boggs and Ruben Sierra, with Boggs, Sierra, and Bernie each driving in 2. Chris Bosio started and was rocked by the Yankees, and was followed by Jolly Jeff Nelson, my archnemesis Bobby Ayala, Bill Risley, and Bob Wells, a complete facial clone of Ayala.
The Yankee lineup for this first playoff game in eons was 3B Boggs, CF BW, RF O'Neill, DH Sierra, 1B Mattingly, LF James, C Stanley, SS Fernandez, 2B Velarde. The Mariners countered with LF Coleman, 2B Cora, CF Griffey, DH E Martinez, 1B Tino, RF Buhner, 3B Blowers, C Wilson, and SS, our friend, Luis Sojo.
Game slogged along, played in 3:38, and your umpires on hand were Mike Reilly, Dale Scott, Jim McKean, Larry McCoy, Jim Joyce, and Rich Garcia.
Thanks for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
October 3rd, 1995 - Yankees host Seattle
GAME 1 - Wild Card 1995
"check him out, getting high on the handy horn."
Its ironic, I actually flipped on a Yankeeography the other night (I generally avoid them, i like my pancakes with not so much 'syrup') and the subject was Don Mattingly, and they went into depth about the crowd reaction when he took the field on this fateful night. I remembered all of that but it was nice to watch it again. I do remember a lot of things regarding that game...it was only in later playoff games in later playoff runs where I would get sloshed.
In a prophetic note I wrote "Beginning of a Run" in the "Date" section, and oh, was it ever the beginning of a run, for the Yankees and we fans that merrily followed along.
I was very cogent of my surroundings on this night, as although the scorecard is full it is legible (attributed to little to no drinking) and therefore not the funniest card I had seen. There was business at hand! In the intro section on the card I also remarked on the "bunting" we would get to know so well in future years, and that I forgot my friend, the little stuffed bear "Bear Ass", an inexcusable faux pas, as the Yankees were 11-1 with my furry friend on hand.
This was a year where we had our tickets taken care of us beforehand, as during the last game of the season elder George and Queen Bee Tina had gone up to the Yankee offices with $600 or so, cash money, and secured our ducats. This was a wonderful and pretty much exclusive privelage which died in later years, mainly cause some of us could not keep our fu*king mouths shut.
Before the game a "mystery guy" in a Seattle uniform was down and hurt on the warning track. Took a BP fly off the noodle, apparently. We later learned who it was, but it never made the scorecard, and its now lost to time.
They actually carted out what was then an 11 year old to sing the Anthem, which bought snickers and some groans. I mean, really, this was the best they could do? Joe DiMaggio threw out the first pitch, and we all remarked how nice it was to see the Yankee Clipper. I tagged on the names not eligible for this rounds go-around, including - lol - Jeter, Mariano, Melido Perez, Jimmy Key, and the other Joltin' Joe, Mr. Ausanio. I noted one thing from the introductions, the fact that Steve Howe was "booed." Of course, by this point whenever he entered a game someone would invariably mutter, "Howe big a disaster is this?"
We were letting all of our friends and familiars nudge in with us no matter where their ticket was, and the seats were packed, but you guys all know that well. Nothing new. I actually kept my headphones on that night, and listened to the WABC-Radio feed during the game, which bought me a lot of little bon mots and pearls of wisdom that I added to the card. It also screwed up the normal run of jokes I would have heard and later shared.
For one thing, if I marked this correctly, the Yankees were 10-15 on the season if Randy Velarde was not in the starting lineup. Who woulda knew? During much of the game you could hear a lone voice chirping up in favor of Seattle over the radio feed, causing John Sterling to muse, "99.9% of those on hand are rooting for the Yankees...the other .1% is right here next to me." I got to hear the always smarmy Michael Kay, then Sterlings running buddy in the booth, refer to someone as a "dolt", as he broke that one out when a fan ran onto the field during the evenings proceedings.
People were ID'ing me across the board, with one fan telling me I looked like Don Mattingly, and another fan mistaking me for "Cousin Brewski." "Got the night off?" he asked, patting me on the back. In a little hilarity old Cowbell King Ali swiped Fat Daddy Chico's walker and hid it up by us, shrugging and explaining, "Chico can roll his ass out of here."
Your regular quips were flying from 39. After a call that did not go our way someone moaned, "all this money you got, Steinbrenner, and you can't buy the ump?" I mentioned that the Mayor was taking what was soon to be the obligatory trip to the radio booth, which raised a, "thats why the city sucks." Someone even found the time to mention that Gloria Estafan was "accident-prone."
I happened to be sitting behind the tallest guy in the whole place...I am sure many of you have been there. I actually looked around, all the way down the rows in front of me, and could not find anyone even remotely as tall as the guy that was sitting directly in front of me. And of course the fact that fans filed into the seats little by little, all the way to and above the 5th or 6th inning of play, was mentioned ,with a surly scrawl.
There were few Seattle fans out there in the bleachers, but they were there. One of them completely "ran the gauntlet" as he took the stairs all the way up to the top, and heard it from the rowdy mob step by step. Another Seattle fan was greeted with a "Seattle jerkoff" tag, and told to "step on a mine." I later remarked that "Seattle hats flying all over" so there must have been more of them out there than I implied, and by the end of the night they were lid-less.
"Fu*k you, Buhner!" was an epitaph that got through, as I remarked on a remarkable lack of security out there. There were innings at a time where there was stone-cold NONE. Of course, that would change in later years. Vince Coleman was met with a loud, "shoulda stayed with the Mets, you fu*king prick!" Tina gleefully added, "you fu*king National League piece of shit!" Ken Griffey Jr was also "ripped" just so he would not feel left out.
It was a little disheartening to see The infamous "Wave" making its way around the Stadium during a playoff game. And humiliating, no way for a Yankee fan to behave. I am shocked and appalled. To top all of this off, there was a smattering of rain throughout the game, dunking the 57,178 on hand.
I heard a great quip regarding the quick shot off a weedy one-hitter, as someone said, "check him out getting high on the handy horn."
One of our friends who carted beer let us know that once this season finally wrapped up, he would not longer be around. "Don't retire" we pleaded in earnest. "We're already short beer guys." Playoff game or no, Crazy Devil Fan Billy was regaling us with his tales of visiting the Dawg Pound in Cleveland, and how he had a picture at home where fully half of them were giving him the finger. When we said that was nothing special cause we did the same thing to him he added, "the other half were throwing shit at me."
Yankees won this one 9-6, of course, with David Cone pitching 8 before John Wetteland made it interesting in a bad way in his one inning of work, giving up 2 runs on 3 hits and a walk. It got so bad that when Wetteland ran up 2 strikes on someone one of our fellow fans snarled, "one more, dickhead!"
Yankees had home runs from Wade Boggs and Ruben Sierra, with Boggs, Sierra, and Bernie each driving in 2. Chris Bosio started and was rocked by the Yankees, and was followed by Jolly Jeff Nelson, my archnemesis Bobby Ayala, Bill Risley, and Bob Wells, a complete facial clone of Ayala.
The Yankee lineup for this first playoff game in eons was 3B Boggs, CF BW, RF O'Neill, DH Sierra, 1B Mattingly, LF James, C Stanley, SS Fernandez, 2B Velarde. The Mariners countered with LF Coleman, 2B Cora, CF Griffey, DH E Martinez, 1B Tino, RF Buhner, 3B Blowers, C Wilson, and SS, our friend, Luis Sojo.
Game slogged along, played in 3:38, and your umpires on hand were Mike Reilly, Dale Scott, Jim McKean, Larry McCoy, Jim Joyce, and Rich Garcia.
Thanks for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, November 22, 2010
September 23rd, 1995 - Im 48 sheets to the wind!
September 23rd, 1995 - Yankees host Detroit
A double-dipper! End of regular season, bitch!
Contrary to popular belief, I was not 3 sheets to the wind on this day. I was 48 sheets to the wind. At one point on this scorecard someone blamed it on Gang Bang Steve and admonished, "Steve, why did you let him get SO drunk?"
This was an old trick of mine in which I am not proud, but years after the fact as I lounged at my computer table chattering with my daughter, who was drawing on her leap pad to my left as I first prepped this blog entry, I can laugh about it. I used to get bombed even before game one, and hear the inevitable, "um, you got 7 more hours to go, dude" as I was helped up the stairs. During one legendary doubleheader a couple of my cronies got tired of holding me up and walked me outside to "get some air." I ended up going to sleep on the sidewalk, where people shuffled around me for the next 30 minutes before I woke up in time for game 2.
But I digress, lets go to 9/23/95, shall we?
Top left margin was pretty clear cut, as Steve crytically penned, "Tom is seriously drunk." So this entire card was his baby, I did not even attempt to write the lineups, which I often did even under the influence, in comic fashion. Someone else who had taken one look at me said and transcribed for posterity "this is going to be an ugly day."
Ugly enough that early on a fan in the box seats, who was under verbal attack, snapped the finger at us and was booted for his efforts. This is the sort you hope came all the way in from Monticello for the day, only to get thrown out 3 innings into the first game of a doubleheader. What a tool. But it was even uglier before the game started as none other than Meatloaf sauntered onto the field to sing the National Anthem. "Meatloaf?" someone whined. "I'd rather have steak."
Steve was actually enough on point to mention my little bon mot about the Yankees being 9-1 with my teddy bear "Bear Ass" in attendance. By the end of this day they would make that 11-1, and the playoff possibilities were endless. But for the rest of the day Steve simply kept to the business at hand, the game, and did not really get into the bufoonery around us in the bleachers. With me essentially out of commission there may not have been much.
So I wont get too deep into Game 1, aside from telling you that the Yankees won 5-2 with David Cone besting Jose Lima (2-9 in his first year of regular work) John Wetteland notched save 28, striking out the side in the 9th, and Ruben Sierra hit a Yankee jack. Your Yankee lineup was 3B Boggs, CF BW, RF O'Neill, DH Sierra, LF James, 1B Mattingly, C Stanley, SS Velarde, and 2B Jughead. Tigers countered with CF Curtis, SS Gomez, 3B Fryman, DH Fielder, 1B Clark, RF rookie Bobby Higginson, LF Phil Nevin, C John Flaherty, and 2B Steve Rodriguez. (lol) - Lima was followed on the mound by Greg Gohr, Dwayne Henry, and Ben Blomdahl. I mean, why even bother showing up if thats what you are going to parade out there?
GAME 2
I seem to have come around a bit, although Steve wrote "Tom's still piss drunk." For some reason this game was scored on yellow paper. I had some cool scoresheets I had run through and i had taken to photocopying more, but for some reason I went with the mustard hue. To celebrate the last regular season game I would attend in 95? Who the Hell knows, but it does look ghastly.
I actually managed to pick up the pen during game 2, but added nothing, really. I wrote "Curtis sucks" and "Sweep!" I also mentioned we started a "Central Park Killers!" chant at a band of brigands hanging around the railing. We were in the mood to compare fans with criminals I see, as there was also a Unabomber chant.
Other notes of interest - Steve sang a "good" Gang Bang, a man was walking around with a sticker on his back, Curtis "looked at us", and a stringent observation by Steve that "there's an asshole born every day." The old even then line of "Higginson, you suck so bad you aren't even in the video game" was dusted off.
At one point, with yet another beer in hand, I lifted it up for a toast, waving Bear Ass around in my other hand, and announced (or I should say slurred) "this is the best $6 I spent this year."
Yankees won this too, notching Bear Ass's mark in attendance to a cool 11-1. This was a 3-1 win, behind Scott Kamienieki of all people. He evened up his season mark to a middling 6-6. Wetteland fanned 2 in the 9th for his 29th save, so he pitched a perfect 2 on the day, fanning 5 of the 6 men that came up to face him. Then again, this WAS the Tigers..
For the Tigers Felipe Lira was the hardluck loser, and he had the ignomity of being followed by Brian Bohanon, Brian Maxcy, and Mike Meyers. Lira especially had a fun day, throwing two wild pitches and plunking Jughead Kelly. The Yankee lineup facing the Bengal arms in game 2 was 3B Boggs, CF BW, LF O'Neill, DH Sierra, a rare appearance by Strawberry in RF, 1B Mattingly, C Leyritz, SS Velarde, and 2B Jughead Kelly. The Tigers "countered" with CF Curtis, SS the aged Allan Trammel, 3B Fryman, DH Fielder, 1B rookie Tony Clark, RF Higginson, LF Phil Nevin, 2B Scott Fletcher, and C Ron Tingley.
Sad day for the city of Detroit, 9/23/95, cause not only were their Tigers getting swept in New York, but fabled Tiger alum Lance Parrish was wrapping up his great career in a Toronto Blue Gay uniform, out at Fenway on this Saturday.
I was not going to do a profile, but seeing Ron Tingley's name made me laugh, so he it is. A good old "backup catcher" that managed only one seasons worth of ABs (563) in only 278 games over parts of NINE seasons of mlb baseball. First appeared in 1982 (!) in 8 games for the Padres of all teams, then dissapeared until showing up for the Angels in 1988 (where he stuck around till 93) - he split 94 between Florida and the Chisox, and closed the curtain in 1995 for the Tigers, where he batted .226 in his second-largest amount of ABs in his career (124)
Overall he left the game with a lifetime .195 average - holy fu*k! - with 10 homers and 55 RBIs. Walked 54 times and fanned 165, a ridiculous number. Stole 2 bases over time, and was nailed 5 times. What the Hell was he doing running? This is the kind of guy that was always fun to watch. 10th round draft pick in 1977 by the Padres, he was born in 1959 in that baseball hotbed of Maine. Baseballreference.com page had 1,613 hits as of 11/22/2010. Goodnight Mr. Tinsley, wherever you are!
There were an announced 36,248 on hand for this twinbill, with game 1 being played in 2:44 and game 2 being played in a hyper 2:38. I dont think the Tigers wanted to be there...your umpires on the day were none other than Rich Garcia, Dale Ford, Larry Young, and Mike Reilly.
Thanks for reading, and the regular season on 1995 is a freakin' wrap! Stick around for playoff action!
RON TINGLEY!
A double-dipper! End of regular season, bitch!
Contrary to popular belief, I was not 3 sheets to the wind on this day. I was 48 sheets to the wind. At one point on this scorecard someone blamed it on Gang Bang Steve and admonished, "Steve, why did you let him get SO drunk?"
This was an old trick of mine in which I am not proud, but years after the fact as I lounged at my computer table chattering with my daughter, who was drawing on her leap pad to my left as I first prepped this blog entry, I can laugh about it. I used to get bombed even before game one, and hear the inevitable, "um, you got 7 more hours to go, dude" as I was helped up the stairs. During one legendary doubleheader a couple of my cronies got tired of holding me up and walked me outside to "get some air." I ended up going to sleep on the sidewalk, where people shuffled around me for the next 30 minutes before I woke up in time for game 2.
But I digress, lets go to 9/23/95, shall we?
Top left margin was pretty clear cut, as Steve crytically penned, "Tom is seriously drunk." So this entire card was his baby, I did not even attempt to write the lineups, which I often did even under the influence, in comic fashion. Someone else who had taken one look at me said and transcribed for posterity "this is going to be an ugly day."
Ugly enough that early on a fan in the box seats, who was under verbal attack, snapped the finger at us and was booted for his efforts. This is the sort you hope came all the way in from Monticello for the day, only to get thrown out 3 innings into the first game of a doubleheader. What a tool. But it was even uglier before the game started as none other than Meatloaf sauntered onto the field to sing the National Anthem. "Meatloaf?" someone whined. "I'd rather have steak."
Steve was actually enough on point to mention my little bon mot about the Yankees being 9-1 with my teddy bear "Bear Ass" in attendance. By the end of this day they would make that 11-1, and the playoff possibilities were endless. But for the rest of the day Steve simply kept to the business at hand, the game, and did not really get into the bufoonery around us in the bleachers. With me essentially out of commission there may not have been much.
So I wont get too deep into Game 1, aside from telling you that the Yankees won 5-2 with David Cone besting Jose Lima (2-9 in his first year of regular work) John Wetteland notched save 28, striking out the side in the 9th, and Ruben Sierra hit a Yankee jack. Your Yankee lineup was 3B Boggs, CF BW, RF O'Neill, DH Sierra, LF James, 1B Mattingly, C Stanley, SS Velarde, and 2B Jughead. Tigers countered with CF Curtis, SS Gomez, 3B Fryman, DH Fielder, 1B Clark, RF rookie Bobby Higginson, LF Phil Nevin, C John Flaherty, and 2B Steve Rodriguez. (lol) - Lima was followed on the mound by Greg Gohr, Dwayne Henry, and Ben Blomdahl. I mean, why even bother showing up if thats what you are going to parade out there?
GAME 2
I seem to have come around a bit, although Steve wrote "Tom's still piss drunk." For some reason this game was scored on yellow paper. I had some cool scoresheets I had run through and i had taken to photocopying more, but for some reason I went with the mustard hue. To celebrate the last regular season game I would attend in 95? Who the Hell knows, but it does look ghastly.
I actually managed to pick up the pen during game 2, but added nothing, really. I wrote "Curtis sucks" and "Sweep!" I also mentioned we started a "Central Park Killers!" chant at a band of brigands hanging around the railing. We were in the mood to compare fans with criminals I see, as there was also a Unabomber chant.
Other notes of interest - Steve sang a "good" Gang Bang, a man was walking around with a sticker on his back, Curtis "looked at us", and a stringent observation by Steve that "there's an asshole born every day." The old even then line of "Higginson, you suck so bad you aren't even in the video game" was dusted off.
At one point, with yet another beer in hand, I lifted it up for a toast, waving Bear Ass around in my other hand, and announced (or I should say slurred) "this is the best $6 I spent this year."
Yankees won this too, notching Bear Ass's mark in attendance to a cool 11-1. This was a 3-1 win, behind Scott Kamienieki of all people. He evened up his season mark to a middling 6-6. Wetteland fanned 2 in the 9th for his 29th save, so he pitched a perfect 2 on the day, fanning 5 of the 6 men that came up to face him. Then again, this WAS the Tigers..
For the Tigers Felipe Lira was the hardluck loser, and he had the ignomity of being followed by Brian Bohanon, Brian Maxcy, and Mike Meyers. Lira especially had a fun day, throwing two wild pitches and plunking Jughead Kelly. The Yankee lineup facing the Bengal arms in game 2 was 3B Boggs, CF BW, LF O'Neill, DH Sierra, a rare appearance by Strawberry in RF, 1B Mattingly, C Leyritz, SS Velarde, and 2B Jughead Kelly. The Tigers "countered" with CF Curtis, SS the aged Allan Trammel, 3B Fryman, DH Fielder, 1B rookie Tony Clark, RF Higginson, LF Phil Nevin, 2B Scott Fletcher, and C Ron Tingley.
Sad day for the city of Detroit, 9/23/95, cause not only were their Tigers getting swept in New York, but fabled Tiger alum Lance Parrish was wrapping up his great career in a Toronto Blue Gay uniform, out at Fenway on this Saturday.
I was not going to do a profile, but seeing Ron Tingley's name made me laugh, so he it is. A good old "backup catcher" that managed only one seasons worth of ABs (563) in only 278 games over parts of NINE seasons of mlb baseball. First appeared in 1982 (!) in 8 games for the Padres of all teams, then dissapeared until showing up for the Angels in 1988 (where he stuck around till 93) - he split 94 between Florida and the Chisox, and closed the curtain in 1995 for the Tigers, where he batted .226 in his second-largest amount of ABs in his career (124)
Overall he left the game with a lifetime .195 average - holy fu*k! - with 10 homers and 55 RBIs. Walked 54 times and fanned 165, a ridiculous number. Stole 2 bases over time, and was nailed 5 times. What the Hell was he doing running? This is the kind of guy that was always fun to watch. 10th round draft pick in 1977 by the Padres, he was born in 1959 in that baseball hotbed of Maine. Baseballreference.com page had 1,613 hits as of 11/22/2010. Goodnight Mr. Tinsley, wherever you are!
There were an announced 36,248 on hand for this twinbill, with game 1 being played in 2:44 and game 2 being played in a hyper 2:38. I dont think the Tigers wanted to be there...your umpires on the day were none other than Rich Garcia, Dale Ford, Larry Young, and Mike Reilly.
Thanks for reading, and the regular season on 1995 is a freakin' wrap! Stick around for playoff action!
RON TINGLEY!
Friday, November 19, 2010
September 22nd, 1995 - "This is a Ramily Section! Rit down!"
September 22nd, 1995 - Yankees host Blow Jays
"Sit down, you big booty bitch!"
A Friday night at the Stadium, with the wildcard there for the taking. Lets get on with it.
I must make immediate note of one of the funnier little ditties we came up with out there, a nod to nondescript Yankee reliever Rob MacDonald. Sung to the tune of, what else, Old McDonald Had a Farm. Here goes...
"Rob MacDonald has no arm" (alternated with "Rob MacDonald gave up a bomb") with the tagline chorus being "with an oh, fu*k here, and an oh shit there" -pretty solid stuff from amatuer songsmiths such as ourselves!
Before the game Orlando Cepeda of all people was on the field getting some sort of award or gushing over some cause, and he never seemed to leave. "What, did he take up residence on the field?" someone finallly snarled. A fan was out there with one of those party bags of potato chips, selling the chips in there for $1.75 a bag. He sold his chips, but took a lot of grief while doing so. Some tart then marched out on the field and butchered the national anthem, causing us to wait for the announcement of, as someone groused, "another moment of silence, to mourn the passing of our National Anthem."
How times have changed....someone ticked off the names of the Yankee starting pitchers of Cone, McDowell, Pettitte, Key and Hitchcock and bitched they were making "20 million." Damn, these days that would have only paid for one of them. A few people were pissed off at Key, and someone actually was clamoring for his "release" out there. Stunning.
The law was in full force out there in Section 39 that night. First two kids who had to be around 16 or 17 years old were busted for drinking beer right in front of the security guards. There is something to be said for "act like you belong there or should be doing it and you may get away with it" but, Jesus Christ, these kids did not look old enough to get into a rated R movie, yet alone drink beer. Someone up by us (name withheld or never tabbed at the time) was busted "smoking pot" which caused Sandy the Latina to go bezerk, so it was probably one of the vanful of people she bought along with her. Another in that group, her young daughter Christina, stole my teddy bear "Bear Ass" that night, and held him hostage most of the game.
Our gangly friend Bird was making messes, first knocking over someones beer and then talking the ear off of a security guy against the rail, which bought a heavy downpour of "sit the fu*k downs!" and "fly away, Bird!" 's. Even old Ali the Keeper of the Cowbell got into it, turning to us and snarling, "Bird makes me sick."
Speaking of Ali, already, in 1995, there was talk about what to do with the bell once Ali was no longer around. Although it sadly turns out that he was merely 7 months from his passing, one would not know it as he was a walking party in a ballroom. Queen Bee Tina went so far as to describe a "ceremony" to pass the bell when the time ever came. Mmm, dont remember it transitioning so formally when "Mo Love" Milton took over the important duties that carry to this day.
An Asian fellow was bitching about us and our boisterous behavior to anyone who would listen, and even took a trip to the rail himself to rat us out. For all I know, he could have been the one that pegged the marijuana smoker. People mocked him, of course, he being an easy target Asian and all. "This is a Ramily Section" we smirked. "Rit down."
One funny crack was directed to a busty Latina that was dancing on the seats between innings. "Sit down, you big booty bitch!" someone shouted, adding "you take it up the ass!" Soon enough, though, people were clamoring for her to stand up, with her exotic dances that many of us had seemingly never been privvy to. After Shawn Green doubled in the 9th to make the Yankee lead tenous someone was able to see the bright side of things, as the ball skipped into the corner and bounced around. "Well, at least that got her to stand up again."
After the game ended people were watching her gather her things, getting ready to go, mentioning how they felt they just had a free showing of a "latin porn." As she passed old school Elder George on the way down the steps he sincerely told her, "thanks for not charging us."
Lots of mentions of a security guard named Harold out there, especially on a night like this when things seemed out of control to a point. I actually noted on here that at this point in late 1995 he honestly did not know who Derek Jeter was, although he worked the Stadium. Well, what did we expect, as we noted that he seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with Sandy's daughter Christina. Unhealthy as in I am not even sure she was in double figures in age...we were watching a lovely Latina dance around and here was Harold, feeding Christina potato chips and having a pretend conversation with my stuffed animal "Bear Ass", who was firmly in her grip. Christina herself was very funny, at one point marching up to Tina and saying, "you bleacher bimbo." Someone coached her well.
Some yoke was hanging around, wearing a football jersey with the # 85 on it, and he had to hear the old, "what's 85, the last time you got laid?" Someone than chirped, "nah, thats what he paid for it."
This was one of the very few occassions I was on hand for a homer that dropped in a 2 or 3 seat radius of where I happened to be. It was off the bat of Ruben Sierra, a 3-run bomb in the 8th that basically put it in the books for the Yankees. I remember watching it off the bat, muttering, "looks like it is coming this way.....coming right here....holy shit, thats coming to me." Well, I did not get it, I was knocked down by the wave reaching for it, but I still remember that shot for sure.
Looking at the scorecard I see we played with the names in the lineups again, a little. Ed Sprague was "Ocean" Sprague, and Shawn Green was "Queen" Green. Of course Oleruds name came with a "nice helmet ya got there!" attached to it. Funny moment on the REAL scoreboard, as when Green batted for the first time Roberto Alomar's sketchy looking visage smiled down on us next to Greens stats in err.
I used to have real chops back then, and screamed Mattingly's name a few times during the game. This was pre-roll call, but I got Mattingly to turn around and give a little wave. But even as he was doing that, a ton of people were turning to one another out there and shaking their heads, talking about "Mattingly's last stand." We knew it was done for him.
Yankees pulled this one out, 6-4, behind a litany of pitchers. Jack McDowell started and was beaten about a bit before he left in the 5th. MacDonald came on, and despite our mocking song, caused no harm. Wickman, Howe, and Wetteland finished up, with Howe notching the W and Wetteland the save. For the bats, the Yankees had 11 hits, with Boggs, Sierra and Velarde having 2. The big hit was Sierra's 3-run gift to us in right. Your Yankee lineup was 3B Boggs, CF BW, RF O'Neill, DH Sierra, LF James, 1B Mattingly, C Stanley, SS Velarde, and 2B Jughead Kelly.
Paul Menhart (lol) started for the Jays, and went 7, giving up 10 hits and leaving the hardluck loser. Mike Timlin, a longtime bleacher nemesis, wrapped up for Toronto. The Jays mustered 9 hits of thier own, and Green had 3 of them. Alomar and Olerud also had multi-hit games, with Olerud driving in 3. The Jay lineup was 2B Alomar, DH Molitor, CF Carter (in center!), 1B Olerud, 3B Sprague, RF Green, LF Delgado (lol - Delgado in LEFT!), C Sandy Martinez, and SS Tomas Perez.
For our profile lets go with the esteemable Mr. Menhart. Did not stick around long, but played the vagabond. A year in Toronto, a year in Seattle, and a year in San Diego. It all added up to 41 games (23 in starts) and a lifetime tally of 5-9. A sickly 5.47 ERA, thanks to his 100 earned runs allowed in 164 plus innings of work. In that time he was lit up for 169 hits, and walked 85 to 90 strikeouts. It all started so promising, he was a 9th round draft choice by Toronto in 1990 out of Western Carolina University, a school that bought us the likes of Wayne Tolleson. 95 was indeed his rookie campaign, and Mehnart can always say he was involved in a trade for Miguel Cairo, in December 95. His page on Baseballreference.com has only had 1,455. I bet 1,200 are from people with the last name Menhart. I am happy to have seen him work!!
As for the 21st, the Thursday night game was played in 3:03, in front of only 17,766 fans. Considering the Yankees were clawing for a playoff spot, that is pathetic. No wonder Mattingly was able to hear me at first. Your umpires on the evening were Dan Morrison, Al Clark, Larry Barnett, Greg Kosc.
Thanks for reading!!
PAUL MENHART! GIVE HIM A HAND!
"Sit down, you big booty bitch!"
A Friday night at the Stadium, with the wildcard there for the taking. Lets get on with it.
I must make immediate note of one of the funnier little ditties we came up with out there, a nod to nondescript Yankee reliever Rob MacDonald. Sung to the tune of, what else, Old McDonald Had a Farm. Here goes...
"Rob MacDonald has no arm" (alternated with "Rob MacDonald gave up a bomb") with the tagline chorus being "with an oh, fu*k here, and an oh shit there" -pretty solid stuff from amatuer songsmiths such as ourselves!
Before the game Orlando Cepeda of all people was on the field getting some sort of award or gushing over some cause, and he never seemed to leave. "What, did he take up residence on the field?" someone finallly snarled. A fan was out there with one of those party bags of potato chips, selling the chips in there for $1.75 a bag. He sold his chips, but took a lot of grief while doing so. Some tart then marched out on the field and butchered the national anthem, causing us to wait for the announcement of, as someone groused, "another moment of silence, to mourn the passing of our National Anthem."
How times have changed....someone ticked off the names of the Yankee starting pitchers of Cone, McDowell, Pettitte, Key and Hitchcock and bitched they were making "20 million." Damn, these days that would have only paid for one of them. A few people were pissed off at Key, and someone actually was clamoring for his "release" out there. Stunning.
The law was in full force out there in Section 39 that night. First two kids who had to be around 16 or 17 years old were busted for drinking beer right in front of the security guards. There is something to be said for "act like you belong there or should be doing it and you may get away with it" but, Jesus Christ, these kids did not look old enough to get into a rated R movie, yet alone drink beer. Someone up by us (name withheld or never tabbed at the time) was busted "smoking pot" which caused Sandy the Latina to go bezerk, so it was probably one of the vanful of people she bought along with her. Another in that group, her young daughter Christina, stole my teddy bear "Bear Ass" that night, and held him hostage most of the game.
Our gangly friend Bird was making messes, first knocking over someones beer and then talking the ear off of a security guy against the rail, which bought a heavy downpour of "sit the fu*k downs!" and "fly away, Bird!" 's. Even old Ali the Keeper of the Cowbell got into it, turning to us and snarling, "Bird makes me sick."
Speaking of Ali, already, in 1995, there was talk about what to do with the bell once Ali was no longer around. Although it sadly turns out that he was merely 7 months from his passing, one would not know it as he was a walking party in a ballroom. Queen Bee Tina went so far as to describe a "ceremony" to pass the bell when the time ever came. Mmm, dont remember it transitioning so formally when "Mo Love" Milton took over the important duties that carry to this day.
An Asian fellow was bitching about us and our boisterous behavior to anyone who would listen, and even took a trip to the rail himself to rat us out. For all I know, he could have been the one that pegged the marijuana smoker. People mocked him, of course, he being an easy target Asian and all. "This is a Ramily Section" we smirked. "Rit down."
One funny crack was directed to a busty Latina that was dancing on the seats between innings. "Sit down, you big booty bitch!" someone shouted, adding "you take it up the ass!" Soon enough, though, people were clamoring for her to stand up, with her exotic dances that many of us had seemingly never been privvy to. After Shawn Green doubled in the 9th to make the Yankee lead tenous someone was able to see the bright side of things, as the ball skipped into the corner and bounced around. "Well, at least that got her to stand up again."
After the game ended people were watching her gather her things, getting ready to go, mentioning how they felt they just had a free showing of a "latin porn." As she passed old school Elder George on the way down the steps he sincerely told her, "thanks for not charging us."
Lots of mentions of a security guard named Harold out there, especially on a night like this when things seemed out of control to a point. I actually noted on here that at this point in late 1995 he honestly did not know who Derek Jeter was, although he worked the Stadium. Well, what did we expect, as we noted that he seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with Sandy's daughter Christina. Unhealthy as in I am not even sure she was in double figures in age...we were watching a lovely Latina dance around and here was Harold, feeding Christina potato chips and having a pretend conversation with my stuffed animal "Bear Ass", who was firmly in her grip. Christina herself was very funny, at one point marching up to Tina and saying, "you bleacher bimbo." Someone coached her well.
Some yoke was hanging around, wearing a football jersey with the # 85 on it, and he had to hear the old, "what's 85, the last time you got laid?" Someone than chirped, "nah, thats what he paid for it."
This was one of the very few occassions I was on hand for a homer that dropped in a 2 or 3 seat radius of where I happened to be. It was off the bat of Ruben Sierra, a 3-run bomb in the 8th that basically put it in the books for the Yankees. I remember watching it off the bat, muttering, "looks like it is coming this way.....coming right here....holy shit, thats coming to me." Well, I did not get it, I was knocked down by the wave reaching for it, but I still remember that shot for sure.
Looking at the scorecard I see we played with the names in the lineups again, a little. Ed Sprague was "Ocean" Sprague, and Shawn Green was "Queen" Green. Of course Oleruds name came with a "nice helmet ya got there!" attached to it. Funny moment on the REAL scoreboard, as when Green batted for the first time Roberto Alomar's sketchy looking visage smiled down on us next to Greens stats in err.
I used to have real chops back then, and screamed Mattingly's name a few times during the game. This was pre-roll call, but I got Mattingly to turn around and give a little wave. But even as he was doing that, a ton of people were turning to one another out there and shaking their heads, talking about "Mattingly's last stand." We knew it was done for him.
Yankees pulled this one out, 6-4, behind a litany of pitchers. Jack McDowell started and was beaten about a bit before he left in the 5th. MacDonald came on, and despite our mocking song, caused no harm. Wickman, Howe, and Wetteland finished up, with Howe notching the W and Wetteland the save. For the bats, the Yankees had 11 hits, with Boggs, Sierra and Velarde having 2. The big hit was Sierra's 3-run gift to us in right. Your Yankee lineup was 3B Boggs, CF BW, RF O'Neill, DH Sierra, LF James, 1B Mattingly, C Stanley, SS Velarde, and 2B Jughead Kelly.
Paul Menhart (lol) started for the Jays, and went 7, giving up 10 hits and leaving the hardluck loser. Mike Timlin, a longtime bleacher nemesis, wrapped up for Toronto. The Jays mustered 9 hits of thier own, and Green had 3 of them. Alomar and Olerud also had multi-hit games, with Olerud driving in 3. The Jay lineup was 2B Alomar, DH Molitor, CF Carter (in center!), 1B Olerud, 3B Sprague, RF Green, LF Delgado (lol - Delgado in LEFT!), C Sandy Martinez, and SS Tomas Perez.
For our profile lets go with the esteemable Mr. Menhart. Did not stick around long, but played the vagabond. A year in Toronto, a year in Seattle, and a year in San Diego. It all added up to 41 games (23 in starts) and a lifetime tally of 5-9. A sickly 5.47 ERA, thanks to his 100 earned runs allowed in 164 plus innings of work. In that time he was lit up for 169 hits, and walked 85 to 90 strikeouts. It all started so promising, he was a 9th round draft choice by Toronto in 1990 out of Western Carolina University, a school that bought us the likes of Wayne Tolleson. 95 was indeed his rookie campaign, and Mehnart can always say he was involved in a trade for Miguel Cairo, in December 95. His page on Baseballreference.com has only had 1,455. I bet 1,200 are from people with the last name Menhart. I am happy to have seen him work!!
As for the 21st, the Thursday night game was played in 3:03, in front of only 17,766 fans. Considering the Yankees were clawing for a playoff spot, that is pathetic. No wonder Mattingly was able to hear me at first. Your umpires on the evening were Dan Morrison, Al Clark, Larry Barnett, Greg Kosc.
Thanks for reading!!
PAUL MENHART! GIVE HIM A HAND!
Thursday, November 18, 2010
September 20th, 1995 - Ali needs that marijuana!
September 20th, 1995 - Yankees host Toronto
"He would smoke out of that bell if he could"
This appeared to be a wacky night. I cant believe some of the crap I am seeing on this scorecard.
Old Ali, the Keeper of the Cowbell, was a centerpiece on this night. He started the "Hip Hip, You're Gay!" with a random holler chant, even. He admitted to a bunch of us that he needed "some of that marijuana smoke" to "really go crazy on the bell." When we laughed him off Queen Bee Tina said, "no, its true. He would smoke out of that bell if he could." At one point, feeling the mood, Ali even handed off his bell for a beer vendor to clang in fervor. I got caught up in it and yelled "YANKEES Suck!" really loud, obviously in error during the chorus, totally screwing up as I was drunk. I took the appropriate amount of heat the rest of the night.
The night started off on a funny note, as Laura Branigan of all people sung the National Anthem. I guess Gloria Estafan was busy that night. While she (or I should say the anthem itself) was cheered as she was going off the field, she was booed heading on to it. Someone had a "Bleachers Suck" sign, and he was IN the bleachers. That, predictably enough, did not go over well.
It was "Long Island Firefighters Night" at the Stadium, and I remember getting all excited that I saw someone way down and way to the right in the same old black and yellow snazzy windbreaker jacket I was issued back in my Wyandanch Fire Department days. I finally put down my beer and made the long trek over there to see which friend of mine it was, and saw he was not even in my department. But I saw that they did indeed have the same exact color scheme and lettering inside of a cool yellow circle out there in Malverne...then a couple of innings later I noticed so did another fireman from Patchogue, and a third from Ronkonkoma later in the night on the beer line. Friggin A, didn't any fire department in Long Island have an original jacket, including my own? Geez, what a downer that was.
A buzzcutted blonde guy leaned over the loge to take a gander at us, and was met with a friendly, "jump, you fu*king Nazi!" We then turned our attentions back to the field and the idiot Robert Perez in right. "Perez, your Mom buys quarter Sun-Dew drinks!" someone howled in a friendly nod to his ethnicity. Our good friend Bird, the gangly and boring guy that everyone avoided, strolled up. "Bird, fly away already" someone grumbled.
A skinny elderly man with a white beard shuffled up the steps in sandles, and was promptly dubbed "Santa Lite." But in the true groaner of the season, and maybe of all-time, I mentioned that with all the beer that we drank, we truly made the mens room a "Urine-Nation" and wrote it on the card. Ugh....
The scoreboard filled us in on a fancy "this date in baseball" tidbit, accompanied by funny calliope music. In 1992 Mickey Morandini notched an unassisted triple play, so we ruminated on those for a while. At least we were talking baseball. The baseball talk turned to the Yankees, and Roy Firestone's recent and public observation that "Mattingly may be done." How right he was.....but I had been saying that since Opening Day, 1994. Tina, however, was already pushing him as the next manager of the Yankees. 15 years down the line, Id say she's a little off on that. At least she was ready to push him off the field, too.
The cotton candy guy was still catching shit after debuting the game before. "Hey, cotton candy, where's your clown?" someone asked. The beer guy was not spared our barbs either. While he dilly dallied on the lower reaches someone snapped, "what are you doing down there, brewing it?" When he finally started up the steps a bunch of impatient yokes, led by me, started exorting, "Run, beer guy! Run!"
"Im a a Former minor leaguer" Chris was on his "Jughead" kick when it came to Pat Kelly again, howling things like, "way to go, Jughead!", "Nice try, Jughead!" and "Kick him in the head when he slides in like that, Jughead!" We were still trying to incorporate Mike Huff's last name into obscene chants, with "Perez huffed it" being one of the lamer efforts, and a few more "huff and puff and blow" jokes. A girl was on hand with a Tenessee cap, which caused someone to crack, "You should be proud...Tenessee is the only state Arkansas can pick on."
Seven mystery outs on this thing. I seem to get worse with mystery outs as the seasons plod along. Too many distractions. Elsewhere around the circuit, history was being made as Joe Roa was making his major league debut for Cleveland, and Sam Horn and Chris Howard were both playing in their final major league contests for the Texas Rags.
We actually had a pitching duel for once, won by the Yankees and Sterling Hitchcock of all people. Fearing a misprint, I did check baseballreference.com and sure enough, he went the full 9 and gave up only a single tally (in the top of the 1st) on 6 hits and a walk through the game. Upped his mark to a piddling 9-10. Pat Hentgen was the hard luck loser, going 8 and giving up both Yankee runs in the first as well, so we saw a lot of blank frames after that early stage. After Hentgen threw 8 innings, giving up 5 hits, the nondescript Tony Castillo finished up for Toront-blow.
3 of the Yankees 5 hits were in that first inning, and this was your lineup. 3B Boggs, CF BW, RF O'Neill, DH Strawberry (who Windmill-ie Randolph got nailed at 3rd in the first), LF James, 1B Mattingly, Stanley, SS Velarde, and 2B Kelly. For the Blow Jays we saw SS Gonzalez, DH Molitor, LF Carter, 1B Olerud (nice helmet ya got there!), 3B Sprague, CF Huff, RF Perez, 2B Cedeno, and C Randy Knorr (lol)
Lets roll out a profile, and we will go with Mr. Knorr. Stuck around from 91-2001, but here were his game totals by year. 3, 8, 39, 40, 45, 37, 4, 15, 13, 15, and 34. The CONSUMATE backup catcher. 253 games total, in 11 seasons. A season and a quarters worth of at-bats, with 676, in which he mustered a cool 24 homers and 86 RBIs. It was the lifetime average of .226 that did not do him any favors. Never had more than 132 at-bats in a season, and this was the year, 95. Born 11/2/1968, he was a 10th round draft pick in 1986 by Toronto, whom he logged time for in 91-95. Moved on to Houston, Florida, Houston again, Texas, and wrapped up in Montreal. His career ended 2 days before 9/11. NEVER stole a base, but did manage to get caught once. Has become a vaunted minor league manager of note, and all with the middle name of Duane! Baseballreference.com page has 2,512 hits as of 11/18/2010. I miss him!
As for the 20th, another weak crowd of 20,541 saw a blazing quick game, played in 2:16. This may have been the quickest one I have officially scored to this point. I marked at the end of the 8th that it was only 9:47. When the game starts at 7:30 and change, you got something there. Your umpires pushing it along were Greg Kosc, Dan Morrison, Al Clark, and Larry Barnett.
Thanks for reading!
HEY! ITS RANDY KNORR!
"He would smoke out of that bell if he could"
This appeared to be a wacky night. I cant believe some of the crap I am seeing on this scorecard.
Old Ali, the Keeper of the Cowbell, was a centerpiece on this night. He started the "Hip Hip, You're Gay!" with a random holler chant, even. He admitted to a bunch of us that he needed "some of that marijuana smoke" to "really go crazy on the bell." When we laughed him off Queen Bee Tina said, "no, its true. He would smoke out of that bell if he could." At one point, feeling the mood, Ali even handed off his bell for a beer vendor to clang in fervor. I got caught up in it and yelled "YANKEES Suck!" really loud, obviously in error during the chorus, totally screwing up as I was drunk. I took the appropriate amount of heat the rest of the night.
The night started off on a funny note, as Laura Branigan of all people sung the National Anthem. I guess Gloria Estafan was busy that night. While she (or I should say the anthem itself) was cheered as she was going off the field, she was booed heading on to it. Someone had a "Bleachers Suck" sign, and he was IN the bleachers. That, predictably enough, did not go over well.
It was "Long Island Firefighters Night" at the Stadium, and I remember getting all excited that I saw someone way down and way to the right in the same old black and yellow snazzy windbreaker jacket I was issued back in my Wyandanch Fire Department days. I finally put down my beer and made the long trek over there to see which friend of mine it was, and saw he was not even in my department. But I saw that they did indeed have the same exact color scheme and lettering inside of a cool yellow circle out there in Malverne...then a couple of innings later I noticed so did another fireman from Patchogue, and a third from Ronkonkoma later in the night on the beer line. Friggin A, didn't any fire department in Long Island have an original jacket, including my own? Geez, what a downer that was.
A buzzcutted blonde guy leaned over the loge to take a gander at us, and was met with a friendly, "jump, you fu*king Nazi!" We then turned our attentions back to the field and the idiot Robert Perez in right. "Perez, your Mom buys quarter Sun-Dew drinks!" someone howled in a friendly nod to his ethnicity. Our good friend Bird, the gangly and boring guy that everyone avoided, strolled up. "Bird, fly away already" someone grumbled.
A skinny elderly man with a white beard shuffled up the steps in sandles, and was promptly dubbed "Santa Lite." But in the true groaner of the season, and maybe of all-time, I mentioned that with all the beer that we drank, we truly made the mens room a "Urine-Nation" and wrote it on the card. Ugh....
The scoreboard filled us in on a fancy "this date in baseball" tidbit, accompanied by funny calliope music. In 1992 Mickey Morandini notched an unassisted triple play, so we ruminated on those for a while. At least we were talking baseball. The baseball talk turned to the Yankees, and Roy Firestone's recent and public observation that "Mattingly may be done." How right he was.....but I had been saying that since Opening Day, 1994. Tina, however, was already pushing him as the next manager of the Yankees. 15 years down the line, Id say she's a little off on that. At least she was ready to push him off the field, too.
The cotton candy guy was still catching shit after debuting the game before. "Hey, cotton candy, where's your clown?" someone asked. The beer guy was not spared our barbs either. While he dilly dallied on the lower reaches someone snapped, "what are you doing down there, brewing it?" When he finally started up the steps a bunch of impatient yokes, led by me, started exorting, "Run, beer guy! Run!"
"Im a a Former minor leaguer" Chris was on his "Jughead" kick when it came to Pat Kelly again, howling things like, "way to go, Jughead!", "Nice try, Jughead!" and "Kick him in the head when he slides in like that, Jughead!" We were still trying to incorporate Mike Huff's last name into obscene chants, with "Perez huffed it" being one of the lamer efforts, and a few more "huff and puff and blow" jokes. A girl was on hand with a Tenessee cap, which caused someone to crack, "You should be proud...Tenessee is the only state Arkansas can pick on."
Seven mystery outs on this thing. I seem to get worse with mystery outs as the seasons plod along. Too many distractions. Elsewhere around the circuit, history was being made as Joe Roa was making his major league debut for Cleveland, and Sam Horn and Chris Howard were both playing in their final major league contests for the Texas Rags.
We actually had a pitching duel for once, won by the Yankees and Sterling Hitchcock of all people. Fearing a misprint, I did check baseballreference.com and sure enough, he went the full 9 and gave up only a single tally (in the top of the 1st) on 6 hits and a walk through the game. Upped his mark to a piddling 9-10. Pat Hentgen was the hard luck loser, going 8 and giving up both Yankee runs in the first as well, so we saw a lot of blank frames after that early stage. After Hentgen threw 8 innings, giving up 5 hits, the nondescript Tony Castillo finished up for Toront-blow.
3 of the Yankees 5 hits were in that first inning, and this was your lineup. 3B Boggs, CF BW, RF O'Neill, DH Strawberry (who Windmill-ie Randolph got nailed at 3rd in the first), LF James, 1B Mattingly, Stanley, SS Velarde, and 2B Kelly. For the Blow Jays we saw SS Gonzalez, DH Molitor, LF Carter, 1B Olerud (nice helmet ya got there!), 3B Sprague, CF Huff, RF Perez, 2B Cedeno, and C Randy Knorr (lol)
Lets roll out a profile, and we will go with Mr. Knorr. Stuck around from 91-2001, but here were his game totals by year. 3, 8, 39, 40, 45, 37, 4, 15, 13, 15, and 34. The CONSUMATE backup catcher. 253 games total, in 11 seasons. A season and a quarters worth of at-bats, with 676, in which he mustered a cool 24 homers and 86 RBIs. It was the lifetime average of .226 that did not do him any favors. Never had more than 132 at-bats in a season, and this was the year, 95. Born 11/2/1968, he was a 10th round draft pick in 1986 by Toronto, whom he logged time for in 91-95. Moved on to Houston, Florida, Houston again, Texas, and wrapped up in Montreal. His career ended 2 days before 9/11. NEVER stole a base, but did manage to get caught once. Has become a vaunted minor league manager of note, and all with the middle name of Duane! Baseballreference.com page has 2,512 hits as of 11/18/2010. I miss him!
As for the 20th, another weak crowd of 20,541 saw a blazing quick game, played in 2:16. This may have been the quickest one I have officially scored to this point. I marked at the end of the 8th that it was only 9:47. When the game starts at 7:30 and change, you got something there. Your umpires pushing it along were Greg Kosc, Dan Morrison, Al Clark, and Larry Barnett.
Thanks for reading!
HEY! ITS RANDY KNORR!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
September 19th, 1995 - "Sticky that cotton candy up your ass!"
September 19th, 1995 - Yankees host Blow Jays
One out - One week to go
The "Last Stand." A week to go, and one game out of the wildcard. I am stunned to this day to see there were only around 15,000 on hand with the Yankees one game out of the hunt, which got a succinct "where the fu*k is everyone?" tagged on the scorecard. The temp was getting cooler, as it was noted that the grounds crew actually were not wearing thier khaki "safari shorts" on this Tuesday night, having moved on to "pants"
Not only was the mood tense, it was a bit maudlin as there was announcement before the game that a "longtime ticket taker" had died. Of course, leave it to one of us to put it in perspective. "So what?" Gang Bang Steve groused. "He never passed me no bones...no free tickets. I dont care."
But we came in giddy nonetheless...during BP a fan in the bleachers took a batted ball off the head. Chris, the self-proclaimed "former minor league ballplayer" took a gander at me grabbing a chaw of Red Man that was offered and snarled with derision, "Red Man?? If I want candy I will bring a lollipop." Ironically enough this appears to be the first appearance of Cotton Candy out there, or at least the first time we noticed it, as this scorecard is littered with nods to that concoction known as Cotton Candy. "Take that shit to the carnival!" was one, as the vendor ambled on up. "What is this, Dodger Stadium?" was another. "Stick that cotton candy up your ass!" was a third, which was later amended to "sticky that cotton candy up your ass!" since it was cotton candy and, well, you know - sticky.
In the first inning a fan stood up holding a big sign, trying to get on TV. And he did not sit down...Hell, the seats were empty, he probably was not blocking anyone, so he felt free to continue his charade. We put a clock on him...he actually stood for over 4 minutes with his sign over his head, until the inning ended. Then he put the sign away for the evening. For some reason I did not save what exactly the sign said for posterity, but I am sure it was dumb.
There was a Met fan on hand trying furtively to hide his cap from view, but we saw it and were all over him. His "Where's Waldo" backpack did not help his cause any. An ugly girl strolled by, causing someone to crack, "Shit...I would not touch her with a 4,916 foot pole." Someone told us to tone it down, as there was "family about." "Yeah, family." we mused. "A bunch of bitches, motherfu*kers...." No one was safe from our barbs....when a Latino lad did not sit down fast enough to suit us at the beginning of a frame someone shouted, "down in front, beans and rice!"
I think the price of beer was getting to us, as we had a long talk on the subject of "Beer-noculars" and the benefits of such. "Hell, 16 ounce Beer-noculars won't do it for me." someone said. "I need at least a 32 ounce telescope to hide my beer in." Soon enough it was time to heckle the Toronto contingent, and that included a "dont you wish you were still in Cleveland, you fu*k?" addressed at Mr. Joe Carter in left. Someone actually thought calling him "Joe Farter" would be funny....then again, I wrote it down on the scorecard, so I am no better.
Other minor notes of interest.....Chris and I actually sung a duet version of "Friend of Mine" and everyones favorite, Dancing Ogre guy, was on hand. So was Howard the "anti-comic" lawyer who always got a frowny face on the card. A guy named "Joe from Rock Ridge Saloon" was on hand, that was worth a mention, too. Someone actually jumped up and said, "I'll huff and puff and blow your Mom!" whatever that means, but I am going to guess it was addressed to Mr. Mike Huff in centerfield for the Blow Jays.
The Yankees actually had only 3 hits on the night, but a 5-spot in the 2nd was enough to coast them to a 5-3 win behind Andy Pettitte. Jose Guzman, starting for Toronto walked a ridiculous SIX in 1.1 innings, and therewith lie your problem for Toronto. All 5 runs were tacked to his ledger, dropping his record to a staggering 3-14. Check out this bottom 2 with Guzman on the hill...
Dion James singled, then after a Mattingly flyout to right, Leyritz walked. Velarde singled to center, driving in James. Guzman hit Pat Kelly. Boggs walked. Bernie walked. O'Neill walked. Then Guzman was lifted, and I lost track. He had also walked two in the first, but Bernie Williams helped him off the hook by getting nailed stealing, causing someone to grumble, "he couldn't steal a base with a gun in his hand."
"Walks matter." someone aptly quipped.
Mystery outs all over the place on here. 7 in the 3rd and 4th alone, when I was apparently putting on a show for the kids on hand with my prop, Bear Ass the stuffed animal. I noticed another recurring theme on these recent scorecards....for some reason I was wearing a Hawaiin Lei late in the 95 season, and it appears on every scorecard recently. I was also chewing tobacco. What a freakin' mess I was.
Here was your Yankee lineup on the night - 3B Boggs, CF BW, RF O'Neill, DH Strawberry, LF James, 1B Mattingly, C Leyritz, SS Velarde, 2B Jughead Kelly. Pettitte upped his mark to 11-8, going 8 strong, and John Wetteland finished up for his 26th save, whiffing 2 in the 9th.
Toronto only had 5 hits of their own, including home runs by SS Alex Gonzalez (in his first full season) and Joe Carter. Your Jays lineup looked like this - SS Gonzalez, DH Molitor, LF Carter, 1B Olerud (nice helmet ya got there!), 3B Sprague, CF Huff, RF Robert Perez (lol), 2B Domingo Cedeno (lol), and C Lance Parrish batting 9th. On that team, that was a Hell of an accomplishment. A young Carlos Delgado ended up pinch-hitting for Perez late in the game.
After Guzman's comedy act, the no-name tandem of Ken Robinson and Jimmy Rogers got some work in, and Mike Timlin, that doof, wrapped it up.
For the profile, lets call on Mr Domingo "brother of Andujar" Cedeno. Yet another Dominican shortstop, not so high profile. Stuck around from 93-99, honing his trade for Toronto, the Chisox (12 games in 96), Texas, Seattle and Philly. Never played in more than 113 games in a season or batted more than 365 times. With a .251 average, 15 home runs and 121 RBIs in 1219 at-bats over 429 games, you kind of get an idea why. Did not offer much up in speed either, stealing 14 but getting nailed 12 times. Talk about a roll of the dice sending the runner. Walked 83 times and struck out 280, which is also way too much. He did play everywhere, and I dont just mean his 5 stops along the way. Logged time at second, short, third, and even the outfield. DHd here and there, when everyone else was too hung over to play.
Born on 11/4/68, the lanky Dummy-in-a-can was signed out of the Dominican in 1987 by the Jays scouting machine. His Baseballreference.com page had a paltry 2,333 hits as of 11/17/2010. How can you not be happy that you saw this man in his prime!
As for the 19th, a pathetic showing of 15,772 found it within themselves to attend, and the game was played in 2:52 (it takes a long time to walk so many guys) - your umpires on hand were the esteemable Larry Barnett, Greg Kosc, Dan Morrison, and Al Clark.
Thanks for reading!
DOMINGO CEDENO, EVERYBODY!
One out - One week to go
The "Last Stand." A week to go, and one game out of the wildcard. I am stunned to this day to see there were only around 15,000 on hand with the Yankees one game out of the hunt, which got a succinct "where the fu*k is everyone?" tagged on the scorecard. The temp was getting cooler, as it was noted that the grounds crew actually were not wearing thier khaki "safari shorts" on this Tuesday night, having moved on to "pants"
Not only was the mood tense, it was a bit maudlin as there was announcement before the game that a "longtime ticket taker" had died. Of course, leave it to one of us to put it in perspective. "So what?" Gang Bang Steve groused. "He never passed me no bones...no free tickets. I dont care."
But we came in giddy nonetheless...during BP a fan in the bleachers took a batted ball off the head. Chris, the self-proclaimed "former minor league ballplayer" took a gander at me grabbing a chaw of Red Man that was offered and snarled with derision, "Red Man?? If I want candy I will bring a lollipop." Ironically enough this appears to be the first appearance of Cotton Candy out there, or at least the first time we noticed it, as this scorecard is littered with nods to that concoction known as Cotton Candy. "Take that shit to the carnival!" was one, as the vendor ambled on up. "What is this, Dodger Stadium?" was another. "Stick that cotton candy up your ass!" was a third, which was later amended to "sticky that cotton candy up your ass!" since it was cotton candy and, well, you know - sticky.
In the first inning a fan stood up holding a big sign, trying to get on TV. And he did not sit down...Hell, the seats were empty, he probably was not blocking anyone, so he felt free to continue his charade. We put a clock on him...he actually stood for over 4 minutes with his sign over his head, until the inning ended. Then he put the sign away for the evening. For some reason I did not save what exactly the sign said for posterity, but I am sure it was dumb.
There was a Met fan on hand trying furtively to hide his cap from view, but we saw it and were all over him. His "Where's Waldo" backpack did not help his cause any. An ugly girl strolled by, causing someone to crack, "Shit...I would not touch her with a 4,916 foot pole." Someone told us to tone it down, as there was "family about." "Yeah, family." we mused. "A bunch of bitches, motherfu*kers...." No one was safe from our barbs....when a Latino lad did not sit down fast enough to suit us at the beginning of a frame someone shouted, "down in front, beans and rice!"
I think the price of beer was getting to us, as we had a long talk on the subject of "Beer-noculars" and the benefits of such. "Hell, 16 ounce Beer-noculars won't do it for me." someone said. "I need at least a 32 ounce telescope to hide my beer in." Soon enough it was time to heckle the Toronto contingent, and that included a "dont you wish you were still in Cleveland, you fu*k?" addressed at Mr. Joe Carter in left. Someone actually thought calling him "Joe Farter" would be funny....then again, I wrote it down on the scorecard, so I am no better.
Other minor notes of interest.....Chris and I actually sung a duet version of "Friend of Mine" and everyones favorite, Dancing Ogre guy, was on hand. So was Howard the "anti-comic" lawyer who always got a frowny face on the card. A guy named "Joe from Rock Ridge Saloon" was on hand, that was worth a mention, too. Someone actually jumped up and said, "I'll huff and puff and blow your Mom!" whatever that means, but I am going to guess it was addressed to Mr. Mike Huff in centerfield for the Blow Jays.
The Yankees actually had only 3 hits on the night, but a 5-spot in the 2nd was enough to coast them to a 5-3 win behind Andy Pettitte. Jose Guzman, starting for Toronto walked a ridiculous SIX in 1.1 innings, and therewith lie your problem for Toronto. All 5 runs were tacked to his ledger, dropping his record to a staggering 3-14. Check out this bottom 2 with Guzman on the hill...
Dion James singled, then after a Mattingly flyout to right, Leyritz walked. Velarde singled to center, driving in James. Guzman hit Pat Kelly. Boggs walked. Bernie walked. O'Neill walked. Then Guzman was lifted, and I lost track. He had also walked two in the first, but Bernie Williams helped him off the hook by getting nailed stealing, causing someone to grumble, "he couldn't steal a base with a gun in his hand."
"Walks matter." someone aptly quipped.
Mystery outs all over the place on here. 7 in the 3rd and 4th alone, when I was apparently putting on a show for the kids on hand with my prop, Bear Ass the stuffed animal. I noticed another recurring theme on these recent scorecards....for some reason I was wearing a Hawaiin Lei late in the 95 season, and it appears on every scorecard recently. I was also chewing tobacco. What a freakin' mess I was.
Here was your Yankee lineup on the night - 3B Boggs, CF BW, RF O'Neill, DH Strawberry, LF James, 1B Mattingly, C Leyritz, SS Velarde, 2B Jughead Kelly. Pettitte upped his mark to 11-8, going 8 strong, and John Wetteland finished up for his 26th save, whiffing 2 in the 9th.
Toronto only had 5 hits of their own, including home runs by SS Alex Gonzalez (in his first full season) and Joe Carter. Your Jays lineup looked like this - SS Gonzalez, DH Molitor, LF Carter, 1B Olerud (nice helmet ya got there!), 3B Sprague, CF Huff, RF Robert Perez (lol), 2B Domingo Cedeno (lol), and C Lance Parrish batting 9th. On that team, that was a Hell of an accomplishment. A young Carlos Delgado ended up pinch-hitting for Perez late in the game.
After Guzman's comedy act, the no-name tandem of Ken Robinson and Jimmy Rogers got some work in, and Mike Timlin, that doof, wrapped it up.
For the profile, lets call on Mr Domingo "brother of Andujar" Cedeno. Yet another Dominican shortstop, not so high profile. Stuck around from 93-99, honing his trade for Toronto, the Chisox (12 games in 96), Texas, Seattle and Philly. Never played in more than 113 games in a season or batted more than 365 times. With a .251 average, 15 home runs and 121 RBIs in 1219 at-bats over 429 games, you kind of get an idea why. Did not offer much up in speed either, stealing 14 but getting nailed 12 times. Talk about a roll of the dice sending the runner. Walked 83 times and struck out 280, which is also way too much. He did play everywhere, and I dont just mean his 5 stops along the way. Logged time at second, short, third, and even the outfield. DHd here and there, when everyone else was too hung over to play.
Born on 11/4/68, the lanky Dummy-in-a-can was signed out of the Dominican in 1987 by the Jays scouting machine. His Baseballreference.com page had a paltry 2,333 hits as of 11/17/2010. How can you not be happy that you saw this man in his prime!
As for the 19th, a pathetic showing of 15,772 found it within themselves to attend, and the game was played in 2:52 (it takes a long time to walk so many guys) - your umpires on hand were the esteemable Larry Barnett, Greg Kosc, Dan Morrison, and Al Clark.
Thanks for reading!
DOMINGO CEDENO, EVERYBODY!
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