Our entire trip up until the trek to Yankee Stadium had been magnificent. Contrary to what we had heard, the New Yorkers we met were as nice as they could be. We asked and received directions many times throughout the week. It was opposite from everything I had heard about New Yorkers. I could not have been more impressed with their hospitality. Little did I know, everything was about to change.
First, we caught the subway to the Bronx, which is the borough of the city where the stadium is located. Unlike our other subway rides, this time it was packed. We were like sardines in a can. About halfway there, the train made a stop. People were squeezing on and getting off. It was then that I felt it. Amidst the pressing throng of people, I felt someone trying to get into my back pocket. I could barely turn but I did manage to get my hand on my pocket and thwart the theft attempt. Maybe it helped me to be a few pounds over my desired weight since the pickpocket couldn’t pry the billfold out of my tight back pocket. Finally, we got to Yankee Stadium.
The Yankees were playing their cross-town rival the New York Mets in an inter- league game. Steve had arranged the purchase of what he thought were the best seats available to us at the time he bought them. We purchased eight tickets in the right centerfield bleachers. This was the NON-ALCOHOLIC FAMILY SECTION of the stadium. You see, you could not purchase any alcohol in this section of the stadium. Furthermore, this section of the stadium did not connect to any other part of the stadium that did sell alcohol. Sounds like a pretty good plan for a family trip to the ballpark. Little did we realize ...
Apparently there must have been some fine print on our tickets that we missed. There must have been a clause somewhere that you were supposed to be anywhere from slightly intoxicated to rip-roaring drunk before you ever entered the non-alcoholic family section of the stadium. Out of the few thousand people in our section, there appeared to only be about three families that were not under the influence of either drink or stupidity. Maybe all of the bad New Yorkers we had heard about just happened to be having a convention at the ballpark that night. This led to some interesting occurrences. As Paul Harvey would have said, tune in next week for the rest of the story. You will hear about the following: Lady cop gets smacked, sitting behind Mr. Clean the Milkman, guy with good looking girl and her fake monkey, Zeke picks up cash at the ballgame and attemped subway suicide/murder or something.
Enthusiasm Makes the Difference Mike Wright is the head coach of boys basketball and cross country at Trigg County High School. Emails concerning Coach’s Corner can be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org.