Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Think about the game

Last night I attended my first-ever Yankees game, at Yankee Stadium! Thanks to my future brother-in-law for obtaining the tickets, and to the fiance and his siblings for being just the sort of family a girl would want to marry into after being disowned by her birth family for having attended a Yankees game.

We had terrific seats, but I found it nearly impossible to concentrate on the actual game, what with all the other competing demands on my attention. The vendor situation is out of control -- the only thing they weren't selling was albatross, and I don't even want to think about what they would charge for that -- and yet regular people still find reasons to get up and walk around throughout the game. So there's always somebody shouting in your ear, or threatening to get into a drunken argument nearby, or wondering if you're sitting in their seats, and 50 percent of the time there was someone standing right between me and my perfect view of home plate. And then there's that guy with the frying pan and the signs. Mollie "sez" she just wants to watch the game! I don't understand why, at pro sporting events, there is this desire to occupy your attention at every possible second, with music blaring, video screens flashing, advertisements scrolling... But I need a lot more practice filtering it all out. Most of the time I felt like I was undergoing autism sensitivity training. And, of course, it's hard to focus on the game when you're busy cowering every time a ball is popped up into, or near, the stands, which is my MO. I have a fly-ball phobia that may be related to my days of getting beaned in Farm League (as a lefty batter facing nascent righty pitchers), so although nothing ever came near us (if by "near" you mean "within thirty feet of"), I still managed to dispel any notions of my "bravery" that have lingered since the whole fighting-cancer thing.

Nevertheless, the Yankees won, somewhat spectacularly, in the bottom of the 10th, in a game where most of the action involved non-hit-related base-advancing. And my (somewhat arbitrarily chosen) favorite player, Melky Cabrera, did his share. So it was a good first trip! But the next time I go to the theatre I may have a little more patience with my fellow patrons -- sure, those people behind me at City Center chewed gum very noisily throughout both acts of Gypsy, but at least they weren't banging on frying pans with spoons.

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