I took Dad to his first Yankee game ever Wednesday night. It was Yankees vs. the Red Sox, so he was in for quite a treat. Back in March when single game tickets went on sale online to the public, I figured I’d splurge (half a month’s rent? No big deal) and just buy a season ticket package (x 2 so I could bring a friend). I called Dad soon after and asked him if he wanted to come to the Red Sox game with me, and he didn’t have to think twice.
I walked up to Grand Central after work and met him by the clock around 5:15. I figured we had time to go downstairs and grab some food from the food court, but Dad was ready for the Stadium and asked if there was a McDonald’s near the stadium as that would do. While we were in line to buy Dad’s metro card, I decided to take the few minutes to tell him I had started a blog. His initial reaction was, ‘You can’t write a blog!’ I was a bit taken aback at this until he added, ‘You’d offend too many people!’ It’s amazing how well he knows me…
Anyway, we made our way down to the 4 train, and I started to tell Dad the proper way to get on the subway. ‘Dad,’ I said. ‘When you see the train coming, turn your hips parallel to the tracks and stick your elbows out.’ I knew Dad knew how to get on a subway, but the advice proved to be good when the train arrived. We squished onto the train, and Dad was stuck between two short and rather plump women and the pole. He gave me a look, and I told him, ‘Welcome to my commute.’ The ride was uneventful until 125th Street when a bunch of rowdy fans made it onto the train. One was particularly excited and tried to fill the train with as many as people as possible so the kid in the Boston shirt couldn’t get in the car. His efforts were fruitless, but that just meant he got to heckle the whole way to the stadium. The Boston fan’s girlfriend looked completely unenthusiastic, and it came out that she wasn’t a baseball fan. So the guy asked her if she like the Patriots. Her answer was no, so the next question was, ‘Fine. Who do you want to win American Idol?’ She returned a blank stare, so the guy said, ‘You don’t like baseball. You don’t like football. And you don’t like American Idol. How can you call yourself a true American?’
I turned to Dad and said, ‘These are my people.’ It was good natured heckling, and everyone was laughing, but the Boston fan looked pretty relieved when the train pulled into 161st Street. Dad and I walked into McDonald’s, and I had my second Big Mac in 3 days. I grabbed one Monday night after Irish Dancing. I didn’t feel like cooking, and it was on my walk home. And both were delicious. It was fun to watch the workers ignore the Boston fans and give them a little bit of attitude.
After our delicious meals (I maintain that McDonald’s has the best fries), we went to one of the vendors where Dad got a Yankees / Bronx, NY baseball cap, and I got my first Yankees cap. Dad told me I was picky when I said no to every cap he suggested, but it was a serious decision. I wanted a blue one, because, well, the Yankees are blue and white. They’re not brown (the hat they made for people from Vermont), they’re not Kelly green (the hat they made for ‘Irish’ people) and they are most definitely not pink. I think of all the new Yankees paraphernalia, I hate the pink stuff the most. If you’re a girl and you’re a Yankee fan, wear blue. It won’t kill you, and you’ll look cooler. Do not get the pink hat, do not get the pink foam finger, do not get the pink Jeter jersey, and definitely do not get the blue hat with pink lettering and pink jewels. No jewels ever. This is baseball, not the club. I found my hat, explained my thought process to my dad, and we were on our way.
Outside the stadium, Dad found a Derek Jeter bobble head doll that he bought for my mom. ‘Now she can look at this thing’s ass all day,’ he said. My parents have been Yankees fans since we moved to the US from Ireland in 1990, and any time anyone asks them why they like the Yankees and not the Red Sox, Mom always says, ‘Have you ever seen Derek Jeter’s ass?’ She says this to everyone – friends, foes, [ex-]boyfriends (always a bit of an awkward moment) and acquaintances, but it’s her opinion, and let’s be honest – it’s quite a nice ass. NB: The Derek Jeter doll is Mom’s second. Dad got her a Hillary Clinton doll last week when he was in DC. How cute are they?
Armed with our new hats and Mom’s bobble head, I pulled out the tickets and we headed for into the Stadium. I knew Dad wouldn’t be able to resist peaking at the field before we made it to our seats, so we paused between escalators, and he got a close-up view of the bull-pen and left field. It was pretty cool to see how excited he was.
During the trip up the escalators, I told him about the degenerates that were sitting in front of me at the last game I went to. They were obnoxious drunks (not funny drunks), the three of them had a combined IQ of 40, and I really hoped they weren’t going to be there again tonight. We found our seats, and Dad was totally pumped. He was impressed that I owned those seats for 10 more games this season. We took some pictures, and he texted Mom (awe), and I started heckling my Boston friends via text.
The degenerates showed up around the 4th inning (they missed both homeruns), but weren’t that bad this time. Dad yelled at them to sit down a few times, and each time he turned to me (I was cringing, but giggling) and said, ‘I’m just giving you material for your blog!’
More about rowdy fans, newly weds, and lippers later.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: baseball, bobble head, dad, derek jeter, grand central, heckling, mcdonald's, red sox, subway, text, yankees
