Out in the Cold

It was not a night to be outside. Only those who were foolhardy would venture into a combination of wind, rain and temperatures that seemed more like early March than mid-May. But, I was meeting my much loved daughter at a Yankee- Red Sox game. Rational thought gave way to emotion. I was going to the game.

Turtleneck, check. Fleece, check. Rain gear, check. Hat, check. I stepped into the elements and was immediately intensely uncomfortable. It was that combination of conditions that seems to attach to your skin, penetrate your pores. This unwanted companion would spend the evening in my company. That much was a given.

Once I reached the parking lot outside the Stadium and found Alex we made our way inside. It was but a few minutes before game time, but we both knew the reality. This game would be delayed, and we would have to find ways to amuse and shelter ourselves for an indefinite period. As we stared out at the tarp, still covering the infield, and still being pelted by the rain, we looked for alternatives.

This is not as easy as one would think, not in this Stadium. Have you ever been to a first class establishment and been made to feel like a second class citizen? Welcome to the new and improved home of the 27 Time World Champions. This place reeks not so much of class but class warfare. It is bad enough that entry to the better seats is guarded like the crown jewels. On a night where only those whose love for the game dictated their presence, you would have hoped that the powers that be would have shown the huddled masses some compassion in the city where Lady Liberty shines her welcoming beacon. Not a chance.

And what about all those diners who escaped the cold and were laughing and chatting in the dining establishment on the ground level? Surely, as I stood outside its glass windows looking in, I could join this gathering. Don't even think about it. Those empty tables would remain that way, unless you proved worthy (by the price of your ticket) to pass the royal guard that stood watch.

An hour later, the game began. Alex and I, after having been unsuccessful in seeking to 'upgrade' our seats, made our way to the top level of the Stadium, looking not for the best seat, but the best place to avoid being overwhelmed by the piercing wind. Our first stop, at the very, very top of the stadium behind home plate, proved an unwise selection. I held up the towel that I had used to wipe my seat dry, and watched as the wind whipped it to and fro.We had placed ourselves directly in the wind's path. We made our exit from this locale in haste.

It would be almost a full inning before we ended up past the flagpole in the outfield, in the upper reaches of the upper deck. At least here there would be some protection from the elements. As the game moved on in the far distance, barely making an impression upon us, we started to discuss when it would be appropriate to leave.

Each of us presented our position. Work obligations early in the morning, things we had still to accomplish at our respective homes this evening. It all made perfect sense. And in addition, it was a typical Yankee- Red Sox game, moving at the pace of some of my writing (very slowly).

By the end of the third inning, we departed the Stadium. I do not even remember what the score was at that point. It seemed irrelevant. As the giant spit us out from its belly, we emerged into the continuing mist and whipping wind. It was decided that we would walk to the car, that I would then drive Alex home to her apartment at the bottom of the city,and thereafter make a return to my home in Fort Lee.

Given that it was a Yankee- Red Sox game, all my travel was finished and I was removing the chill from my bones in the warmth of my living room before the end of the 5th inning.

As it turned out, there was a late game meltdown by Joba and Mo and the Red Sox ended up stealing a victory. It was an unsatisfying end to a difficult night.

I am, at my core, a Yankee fan. I am, with every ounce of my being, one who cherishes time with my children. Would I repeat the idiocy of this evening again? If my daughter called and said, as she did that night, "Dad, I wouldn't go normally, but this is the Red Sox", I would be out the door in a heartbeat.





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