Funny story about last night: So I met my friend Amanda around 5:45 p.m. at her office uptown, which is on the way to the Stadium. We were sitting there, drinking from a flask (because we are sketchy and hardcore). I already knew the game was rained out; however, I did not understand why Amanda kept refreshing her browser. Finally, around 7:15 p.m., I was like “Um, why are we still here?” She looks at me quizzically and says, “Aren’t we waiting to see if the game eventually gets played tonight?” Mind you, the game had been canceled for approximately 90 minutes at that point. Clearly, she confused the difference between a rain delay and a postponement. After I broke the news and she got over her disappointment, we went back to her apartment, rocked out, and finished the bottle of vodka. Needless to say, my head is pounding and these crazy subway fuckers are not helping.
12:45 p.m.: HOLY CRAP! We are sitting in the front-row. Like, hanging over the right-field wall first-row, Section 105. Until this very moment, I thought we were in “Row 10,” and we are – but apparently in the outfield, Row 10 is the first row. AND I AM AMAZED! I probably shouldn’t be – these seats were gotten through ESPN, so I should have assumed they would be great. But I had no idea how great. I have been to probably 50 or more Yankees’ games, but I have never ever been this close to the field. It is incredible. Like, I can’t get over how incredible these seats are. I can obstruct any ball hit to right field. Andruw Jones and I may become best friends by the end of the afternoon. Jeffrey Maier 2.0? Yes please. Look for me getting arrested on SportsCenter tonight, thanks.
12:55 p.m.: My dream in life is to catch a foul ball or homerun at a baseball game. This is my fucking chance, people. I have this planned out already. I got Andruw’s attention (and a nod), so I made inroads there. A wink-wink and a promise of sexual favors should get me at least a foul ball hit into the corner, right? I have also decided that, for a homerun, a broken hand is totally worth it. I mean, I would break my face for a Yankee homerun ball. I told my brother that he has my permission to push the old man with the cane next to us. But I also told him that if a ball is hit directly to us that he better move out of the way, since I am clearly the family jock. He nodded in agreement. I like that he knows I am absolutely serious.
1:04 p.m.: The game is about to start and the atmosphere is electric. You can tell that everyone here is anxious, nervous, and excited to see greatness. The seats are packed already, it is hot as a motherfucker, and the jumbotron is showing Jeter highlights on repeat. Good god, I adore him.
Bottom 2: Let’s hit around and get the Baseball Jesus his second at-bat, shall we Bombers? Yeah, they didn’t listen. Robbie was hit by a pitch (which does nothing to help Joe Girardi’s Braces, so thanks for nothing David Price), Andruw Jones walked, and everyone else grounded out. Lame. 1-0, Rays.
Top 3: Um, no one cares about this half-inning. We are too excited about the bottom-half. So can we hurry this along? AJ does exactly that, impressive. He strikes out two and gets Johnny Damon (who I also love, even with his ridiculous faux-hawk) to ground out. Baseball Jesus time!!!! 1-0, Rays.
|The pitch Derek Jeter knocked for #3,000.|
|The bullpen running in to celebrate.|
Top 8: Robertson, that bastard, just let the Rays tie the game. Really? We could not just end this day on the perfect note? Because it was sort of perfect until that. It made me miss Joba, which says a lot. Sigh. Tied fucking game. 4-4.
|The Mo Montage.|
Now, in retrospect, after having some time to reflect, I am still in total appreciative shock over the fact that I sat in the first-row to see Derek Jeter make history. More photos in a separate post. But one more thing before we go. The series of pitches before Derek Jeter hit #3,000 after the jump: