**I'm pretty sure I have all of one male reader (hi Dad!) aside from Matt. So ladies, even though this post is about sports, please give a warm welcome to my husband. He requested to be a guest blogger for the day.**
I've always been leery of guy bloggers (gloggers) and yet find myself asking permission from Jenn to post about a night to remember (not what you think).
As lifelong Yankee fans, my father and his sons (myself included) have ridden the roller coaster ride of fanhood. It started in the early 70's when my parents packed up the family and moved to New Jersey from the baseball deprived hills of Salt Lake City. What's followed has been countless hours of over-analyzing every roster move, trade and managerial decision ever made by the famed Evil Empire of the MLB.
When I realized that my Dad would be staying at our house while the Red Sox were town, I couldn't help but think how great it would be to have all the Woodbury men together for the game. The last year in Yankee Stadium, the best rivalry in sports, and my dad with all his sons in the Bronx was simply too much. We had to make it happen.
It took little arm-twisting to convince my brother traveling the longest distance (Vegas) to complete the foursome and minutes later the tickets were purchased. It was immediately afterward that I realized we'd see Mike Mussina against Josh Beckett. It was then that I adjusted my expectations. Moose vs Beckett is like asking Spud Webb to post-up Shaq - it can't be done.
Still, the night did not disappoint. We met at Grand Central and took the subway to 161st street. With three of us adorned in Yankee gear (One brother, who shall remain nameless, somehow forgot to bring his Yankees hat to the game. This is the same individual who openly admits to weeping after being told Yankee captain Thurman Munson died in a plane crash in 1979. This is the same individual that was in the stands for both the first and last games of the 1996 season when the Yankees ended their longest World Series drought in history. This is the same individual that considered growing a groomed mustache while in junior high to match that of Yankee great Don Mattingly. Somehow, this guy forgets to bring his Yankee hat on the night the Woodburys raided the Bronx. Disgraceful? Yes, but I digress.), we "tooled" the streets and perused the vendors selling fantastically vulgar t-shirts about the Red Sox and their fans. The vulgarity of the shirts was only rivaled by the $300 price tag for a Phil Rizzuto autographed ball, "Holy Cow!"
Once through the full cavity security search we started our walk to the top of the stadium (did I mention how good the seats were?). The hike didn't matter to us. You couldn't have beaten the smile off our faces if you tried. We found our seats (front row, top tier) and took in the sights, sounds, and smells of the stadium. Awesome! It just felt right to be there with my dad and brothers. What ensued was an overindulgence of carbs and calories. While my brothers favored the spicy Italian sausage, my dad and I played it safe with the grossly overpriced Yankee Frank. Washed down with soda from our one-gallon sized memorabilia cups, we were ready for the game.
Even though the Mussina vs Beckett duel played out as expected, we truly enjoyed the experience. Between scoring the game, booing all things Red Sox, and watching fights in the stadium, the night went by too fast. Before too long, Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" was played on the PA and the game was over. While the Yanks lost, it felt like a win. It was a great night. One I'll remember for a long time and hope to replicate in the years to come.
(By the way, I'm convinced that first picture was taken by Al Pacino's
brother. The face was the same, the voice was the same, and the bling,
while slightly cheap looking, was all Pacino.)
