Along about Game 5 of this year’s World Series between the Yankees and the Phillies, my mind started to wander, and not just back to the Bronx for Game 6. I got to thinking: If Philadelphia’s team is called the Phillies, shouldn’t we be the Yorkies? How much would you enjoy seeing former Mayor Giuliani in the stands yelling, “Who loves ya, Yorkies?!” And what better end to that gratuitous locker room interview with the multimillion dollar pitcher than for him to look down humbly and say, “I’m just thrilled to be here. All my life I wanted to be a Yorkie.” I think it could grow on us.
I haven’t been to the new stadium yet. It certainly looks modern and spacious. And well it should because for the price of your first car you can get a seat behind first base. Unless Giuliani makes your family switch seats with him, as he reportedly did in one postseason game. Since this is our first High Definition TV, Husband and I have been switching back and forth from the regular broadcast to the HD channel pointing things out to each other like a couple of hillbillies in the big city. “Look! You can see the little raindrops on his batting helmet. And his nose, look at the raindrops on his nose. Oh, he has a booger in his nose.” Which begs the question, how much is too much?
Particularly during the World Series, it’s rare to find a New Yorker who isn’t either thrilled the Yanks are in it or miffed the Mets aren’t. One morning a week I volunteer to make tactile art for visually impaired kids, and several members of the group that gathers are fairly opinionated older retired folk. After a playoff game that went into extra innings, I asked one of the women if she stayed up to watch the whole thing. “I HATE the Yankees!” she sneered. Oh, I responded, I guess you’re a Mets fan. “I HATE the Mets!” Well, I said strategically, soon it’ll be time to get ready for the holidays. “I HATE the holidays!” I backed off and got busy with the glue.
Now that Daughter is permanently living in NYC, she was probably relieved the Red Sox were out of it this year. Going to school in Boston really scrambled her baseball loyalties to the point where she didn’t know which side of Fenway’s Green Monster she wanted the ball to land (see Before The House Comes Down). Loyalty is no longer an issue in major league baseball anyway. Just ask Johnny Damon and Pedro Martinez, both former BoSox. They’ll tell you the Cal Ripken era is over. Ten years ago, Daughter was in the thick of it when she got egged on Massachusetts Avenue during the New York/Boston World Series her freshman year. She was outraged. She was also wearing a Yankee shirt. Go Bossies.
Daughter’s Fotos from the Dumbo Arts Center hit us with their Best Shot
red paper trees
recycled plastic bottle home
steel wool beards and needlepoint
silly putty face specimens