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I was raised a die hard Yankee fan since the day I exited the womb. We would go to games at least twice a year to get our fix and experience the great Yankee Stadium, and always watched them on TV. We never had great seats because we were such a large family and it would have cost a fortune, so just being there was amazing. But the most exciting game I have ever been to was on foreign turf at Fenway Park, and it was almost the best game I had ever been to.
It was all organized through a bus trip. The county offices which my brother was employed by got together and purchased several lots of tickets, rented the bus, and we were off to enemy territory. On the ride there, the person responsible for heading the trip announced that we were to be back on the bus immediately after the ninth inning, no exceptions. If we were not there and accounted for, the bus was going to leave, and we would have to find another way home.
We finally arrived, walking around the area surrounding the park waiting for to be let inside. I begrudgingly admitted the hot dogs were good, but would never swear to it back in New York. Finally, we got inside, and to my surprise the seats were very good. We were located on the fair side of the right field foul pole, front row against the wall. You could see everything. We watched batting practice, read the program, threw out a few Red Sox insults loud enough for the nearby Boston fans to hear. We were just being typical Yankee fans.
The game started off fast, Bernie Williams doubled to score Jeter, and we were quickly ahead one to zip. Boston battled back, and got the go ahead run in the bottom of the second inning, but Paul O’Neill put us back on top with a two-run homer in the fourth. And this is how the game went on, a run here, two there, and the lead changed with every inning. We stood nearly the entire game. The score remained tied going into the ninth, the Yankees had two on, two out, and Girardi flied out to end the inning. The Sox went down one, two, three in the bottom half of the frame, and my brother was tapping me on the shoulder, getting his jacket, and said we had to head back to the bus.
Like a little kid being dragged out of the candy store, I made it known I did not want to go. Reluctantly, we headed towards the exit, watching the game play on as I walked as slow as possible. By the time we made it to the doors, the Yankees had been retired, and it was heading into the bottom of the tenth. We got to the bus, as I sat there sulking in the fact that we had to leave with the game still undecided. After about 20 minutes, we were still sitting there, when I asked why we haven’t left yet. One of the other passengers said it is because three guys still haven’t returned. My chest began to pound as I became very irate. How come they got to stay for the rest of the game? I wanted off the bus immediately. One of the guys on board picked up the game on his radio, and I calmed down a bit. An hour later, Bernie Williams hit a homerun in the top of the fifteenth inning, and they held the Red Sox to go on and win the game. About ten minutes later, the three missing men, a county legislator and his two sons, climbed on board and the bus took off.
We were all stunned, pissed off, and the entire bus let them know about it the whole ride home. While we were all happy it was a good game and our team won, it would have been nice to actually experience it. Since I cannot count it as the best full game I have been too, it was still a good time; however, because I was not a high government official that got to stay without reprimand as threatened, it will always be tarnished in my mind.
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