I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m married to my childhood sweetheart (the Yankees), and live with an annoying roommate (the Red Sox), so sometimes I yearn for something new and exciting. Last summer I had a sweet dalliance with the Seattle Mariners. This year, on Opening Day, I decided to flirt with the A’s.

It’s been quite an interesting long distance relationship. There were thrills in April–the hot start, Carlos Pena equaling former-A Jason Giambi’s home run total, the resurgence of David Justice, and Eric Chavez’ fascinating habit of making every hit an extra base hit. But then the A’s turned cold on me, went into a slide–what, don’t you love me anymore? Next thing you knew, Carlos Pena was gone, the other Giambi as well, and I wondered if my A’s would ever be the same.

Interleague play brought the fun and passion back. Did they lose a single game to the NL Central? Noooo….. And how about them Giants? Hah! Watching Barry Zito facing Barry Bonds I knew I’d made the right choice.

It’s been a torrid affair since then, and finally consummated.

That’s right, consummated. I found myself in San Diego on Labor Day Weekend for a convention: the World Science Fiction Convention, where I was speaking, reading, autographing … that is in-between running back to my room to check ESPN for updates on the baseball labor negotiations and the state of the A’s historic winning streak. The strike was averted, the winning streak continued, and how fortuitous it was that I was not scheduled to appear at the convention on Monday. I checked out of my hotel Sunday night and spent the night in San Francisco with only one thing in mind: be at the Coliseum for Game Nineteen.

It’s not every day one witnesses history. The 1947 Yankees were the last team to win 19 straight. I knew from a quick visit to MLB.com that tickets were available. So 10:30 am of Labor Day 2002 found me at the walk up window asking for the best ticket available.

One thing I love about the A’s. They’re a cheap date. Twenty-two bucks got me a great seat on the first base side of home plate, just far enough back to be in the shade most of the day. Adjacent to the ticket window was the entrance to a souvenir shop that led into the stadium. I knew what I was going to do. I had been planning it since the night before, but I still felt extremely naughty doing it. I bought an A’s cap, black on black (adjustable, not fitted, that’s how you know it’s not everlasting love…) and brought it to the counter.

"You want the tags off it?" the man at the register asked.

"Yes, please."

He clipped the tags. I took my weather-beaten NY cap from my head, and slipped the A’s cap on. The people behind me in line clapped. Thank you, thank you. The pleasure was all mine. The store clerk put my Yankees hat into a bag and handed it to me. I was ready for "baseball, A’s style."

Out in the Coliseum a rare heat wave had coincided with the hot streak. The sky was cloudless and the temperature climbed toward ninety. To beat the heat, the Athletics had taken early BP and had conceded the field to the Royals. I waited behind the A’s dugout along with some green-clad faithful, but the only A who signed that day was submariner Chad Bradford, and I missed him. That was alright by me–I’d rather see Barry Zito pitch than have his signature. And just my luck, Zito was scheduled to start.

Much to my shock, though, Zito did not perform as expected. He struggled from the very first batter, missing high in the strike zone and going to a full count. He recorded a 1-2-3 inning, but threw 24 pitches in the process. The crowd, and I was right there with them, was geared up to see something amazing today, and expected it from Zito. But when he gave up a single with one out in the second, there was a very audible groan from the crowd. The A’s were going for 19 in a row, to tie the American League record, Barry was going for 20 and a legitimate shot at the Cy Young (Pedro was scratched from a start), and it seemed so possible that a miracle could occur. But "no-hitter" was not the miracle we would witness.

We would instead see Zito give up back to back homers in the third, to two guys who didn’t have ten homers between them coming into the game (Neifi Perez, two, A. J. Hinch, six). And the Royals would slash him up for three more in the fourth, on four singles, a sac fly, and an error. But Barry hung in there. In the fifth he struck out two and retired the side on only 8 pitches. Momentum was beginning to swing. By the end of the sixth, the A’s led the game 6-5, on a David Justice two run shot in the fifth, and another Justice hit, a two-RBI single in the sixth which followed a double steal! If there is one thing you cannot say about the A’s, you cannot say that they are not exciting. This game was all about clutch hitting.

But the Royals would not lie down and die. They scored the tying run in the eighth on a double play. 6-6 score! It was all to set up the drama of the ninth, I guess. The A’s will take you to the edge, but will they take you home?

Terrence Long led off the ninth inning with a triple. Wait, let me try that again. T-long f–ing tripled!!! With no one out, Tony Pena’s hand was forced to desperate measures. Two men were intentionally walked to set up the force out at home plate, an outfielder became a fifth infielder as they stood on the infield grass, while Jason Grimsley tried to get a ground ball. He got one, out of Scott Hatteberg, and there was one out. But that brought Miguel Tejada to the plate.

There are many guys to love on the A’s, but Tejada has to be one of the most lovable. The night before the streak had been in jeopardy, and they lost the lead in the top nine on three consecutive home runs! No problem, said Miggy, who whacked a three-run game winner in the bottom half of the frame. This time, all he had to do was get a ball through five infielders and a sinkerball pitcher.

He did. No, wait, let me try that more like an A’s fan. Did you see that?? He f—ing slashed it right through! Clutch baby, clutch! The Coliseum exploded. There were only 26,325 on hand (9,000 in walk up sales), but we were loud, our throats were already raw from all the screaming and excitement that preceded it, but we kept right on yelling. Right through the A’s mobbing Miggy near second base, right through the interview he did in the dugout, right until the final roar as he came up for a curtain call.

Oh, Yankees loyalists may call me Hester Prynne, but I will wear my A proudly. At least until October.

[Retrosheet play by play of the game: http://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/2002/B09020OAK2002.htm]

I don’t mean to shock anyone, but I’ve always believed in "open relationships." Sure, of course I believe in true love and having a special partnership with that special someone, but I also think experiencing the fullness of life means leaving the door open to other things as well, so long as everyone involved agrees it’s okay. I know a lot of people disagree with me on this. Especially when it comes to baseball.

I have my first love–my deep, abiding, long-term love–and that is the Yankees. If I had to choose between the Yankees and another team, there would be no question who I would choose. I fell in love with the Yankees before I ever even looked at another team. When I was a fan in the seventies, I could name you the whole Yankees starting lineup, but I could probably only name you four or five players in the rest of the league. I’m more mature now, and have expanded my tastes a bit.

Last year, I had a summer fling with the Seattle Mariners. I had picked them during the offseason, when A-rod had jilted them for the Rangers’ money, I found myself really wanting to root for the M’s. The Mariners turned out to be a good choice. After all, their games don’t start until 10pm Eastern, when most of the Yankees games are ending. They’re in a different division, so there was very little direct conflict of interest for me. And then, of course, the M’s went on a tear, as Ichiro proved his star burned just as bright in the American League as in Japan, Bret Boone blossomed, and Mike Cameron continued to make it look like Ken Griffey, Jr. wasn’t missed. It was a historic campaign for the Mariners in 2001, as they went on to win 116 regular season games and tie the major league record.

But they didn’t come close to matching the 125 wins of the 1998 Yankees, thanks to the Yankees. Oh, I had a wonderful time, traveling to Seattle in the summer, getting to root for the M’s and get autographs from Bret Boone and Mike Cameron. It was fun. But when October came, it was clear who my primary partner was. I wanted the Mariners to beat the Indians, but as soon as my two teams faced each other, well … you dance with the one that brung ya. Thanks for the memories, Mariners, and drop by and see me when you’re in Boston. (Hm, I guess it’s me who will have to do the dropping by.)

Speaking of Boston, I suppose if I’m married to the Yankees, the Red Sox are like the annoying housemate you can’t get away from. You know all about their problems and you have to live with them. Sigh. Anyway, you can be sure there will be no love affair between me and the Red Sox.

So who will my fling be with this year? I thought about the San Francisco Giants, because I had a great time at PacBell last year, and I know I will have an eye on Barry Bonds, as will everyone else. But… nah. I like the Giants, but they just don’t get my heart racing. How about the St. Louis Cardinals? Tino Martinez is there now. But I already have a longstanding flirtation with the Cubs, so I can’t really go with another National League Central team. I thought about maybe adopting the Kansas City Royals this season, to see how things go with Chuck Knoblauch there, but I don’t enjoy suffering enough to make it with KC. (See Red Sox, above.)

My favorite non-Yankee player last year was Jason Giambi. I saw him play in person twice, once in Anaheim and once in Oakland, and he hit home runs both times. I thought he should have won the Home Run Derby. And I have really enjoyed watching the upstart A’s romp all over the league. So I kind of thought, hmm, maybe the A’s?

Then, of course, Giambi came to the Yankees, but I find myself still very interested in the A’s. They lost Giambi and Johnny Damon, and their closer, but might they still get better? Mulder-Hudson-Zito, deadly. And you have to love a guy like Barry Zito, a lefty in the Bill "Spaceman" Lee mode. Eric Chavez got the Gold Glove last year–but will he finally get over his postseason jitters this season? Jermaine Dye broke his leg and has yet to return, but when he does you hope he rebounds well…

I listened to the first three A’s games of the year and that settled it. They were against the Texas Rangers (boo hiss, A-rod, Rocker, and Carl Everett all in one place! And glove-thief Ruben Rivera in their minor league system now!). So here you have the three best young pitchers in the league, facing the scariest lineup in the league three nights in a row. And beating them. Oh man, talk about exciting games! The A’s play exciting baseball. Wow, my heart is starting to beat harder just thinking about it. Home runs, awesome pitching, a lot of heart, grit, and fun.

I’m making a business trip to the Bay Area at the end of August. I guess I’ll have to make a date with my boys then. Because by October, you know it’ll be over.

I may be a Yankees fan, but I can appreciate the intensity and devotion of fans of other teams. That’s why I’m so fascinated by Red Sox fans, even though they make my life hell from time to time, and why I can’t understand Giants fans, who I’ll tell you all about in a future entry. Last month, however, I got my first look at Oakland A’s fans in their natural habitat, the largely maligned Network Associates Coliseum.

Having heard many a radio broadcast and watched many a postseason telecast from the coliseum, you’d think that the place was some kind of a pit. Well, it’s not. In many ways, the Coliseum is to Yankee Stadium what the Bay Area is to the New York Area–there are some striking similarities, and yet some sharp distinctions. Two of the most cosmopolitan and colorful cities in the world, both famed for their diversity, culture, their place in American history, with lots of Old World blood mixed with an always future-minded fashion sense. There are moments when I’m there when I, as an urban-born New Yorker, feel right at home. But there are times when a familiar situation suddenly seems odd. California is undeniably different.

You can’t go anywhere in San Francisco, Berkeley, or Oakland, it seems, without being panhandled. There are bums in the streets holding cardboard signs at every major intersection: "Homeless. Hungry. Please Help." "War Veteran-Disabled." "No lies, no stories, just need help." The weather is mild enough that the winter doesn’t drive people south, and squatters set up cardboard houses under highway overpasses. While we were there, nine homeless people were arrested for taking over a city building to protest the lack of cheap housing–a building with an earthquake crack so large in it, even an East Coaster like me could see it. I suppose when you’re used to sleeping in a shopping cart, even a deathrap seems like a good thing.

Earthquakes were on my mind a lot at the coliseum, as I tried hard to remember what park the teams were in when the Loma Prieta earthquake hit in 1989, as we felt tremors pass through from time to time, and as the A’s played earthshakingly great baseball. They swept the Red Sox and then turned their sights to the Yankees.

corwin and I arrived at the park the day after the A’s drove Ted Lilly from the mound and walloped the bombers 8-1. We took the subway, just as we have to games in Boston. In our pinstripes, hats, and other Yankees fan gear, we were heckled a bit by Oakland fans, but always in a nice way. They say what distinguishes the A’s from other teams (especially the angst-ridden Red Sox) is that they know how to have fun. Their fans seem to carry that spirit as well. "You like the Yankees?" one guy said to us as the train approached his stop. "Gee, what was your first clue?" I answered back. "Oh man, just go easy on my boys tonight, a’ight?" he said, as he stepped of the train. "Y’all had enough fun last year, hear?"

On the walking bridge from the train station over to the coliseum, a man approached us. "Got any tickets?" he asked, as we expected. "Nope," we answered. "Got any loose change?" he then asked. Geez, come on man, one schtick at a time! Did I mention the incessant panhandling? At least in the Bronx it’s one OR the other, not both!

A few moments later, we were at the ass end of the coliseum, entering behind the outfield stands.

I tend to judge the dedication level of fans by the cleverness and quality of their handmade signs. At Fenway, signs are prohibited, but not so in the free-spirited Bay Area (though I did read in the rules that broom handles are not allowed… too dangerous). As we made our way down the wide ramps toward the dugout level, I saw a kid carrying a well-drawn sign sporting the A’s elephant mascot ("Stomper") that read "Trample The Yanks." Looking good!

After a quick look at the food options (garlic fries, barbecue, ballpark fare), I made my way down to the Yankees dugout. The A’s were still taking batting practice and it was early yet. I had fun showing my photos from spring training and Camden Yards to the other fans there while we waited and hoped for some autographs and photo ops. Randy Choate came out and signed for quite a while, going back and forth along the dugout. He’s such a cutie, and such a nice guy. Then the Yankees took the field, and he went out to stretch with the team.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched the Yankees team stretch. I could probably lead the routine myself. After doing their leg work–jogging backward, side to side, etc.–each player got a giant rubber band and stretched his legs and torso. Then, as always, as they’d probably done since their Little League days, they warmed up their arms by playing catch.

I guess when you play catch every single day, and you’re a jokester at heart like Luis Sojo is, you just can’t pass up any opportunity to liven things up. At Camden Yards, Luis played catch sitting in a chair. In Oakland, he was throwing with Clay Bellinger, who was a sometime catcher in the minors. Somehow their normal throwing turned into Luis pitching and Clay squatting to catch. Enrique Wilson got into the act as a batter–first with an actual bat and then just miming swinging and missing. Clay called balls and strikes. You know something? Sojo’s got pretty good control.

It’s tough to know where to stand when you’re waiting for autographs. Just a few feet to one side or the other can make a difference. I felt I was in a pretty good spot, but baseball is a game of inches. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, wanted Derek Jeter’s autograph. I had some photos of him I hoped to get him to sign, but I wasn’t too anxious. Ever since I got him that once in spring training, I’ve felt like I didn’t want to take away chances from others who haven’t had the chance yet. But if he happened to come right to me, well, I wouldn’t walk away!

All eyes were on Jeter as he took BP. You can usually tell what kind of a game Jeter will have at the plate by watching his BP. This time, he didn’t really light up the audience by spraying hits all over, but he did jack a few into one section of left centerfield seats. When he was done, the Yankees were just about finished with their allotted forty minutes of BP time. Jeter then came to the dugout roof, and began to sign. He started about three feet over to my left, and unfortunately for me, then worked his way further left. He had time for about two dozen signatures before he ducked into the clubhouse with the rest of the guys.

Just for the record, when we were seated in the stands and Jeter came in to lead off the game, I told some friends of ours, baseball neophytes, that I wasn’t sure what Jeter was going to do in the game, but that he had hit a bunch of BP balls into that… section… of… well, before I could finish my sentence, Jeter took the first pitch over the wall into that very section of seats in left center. Thanks for making me look like a genius once again, Derek!

Before I forget to mention it, Paul O’Neill signed a bunch, too, down at the other end of the dugout. That kind of shut up some guys behind me who had been going on and on about how O’Neill had gotten too "stuck up" to sign for people since going to the Yankees from Cincinnati…

Up in the stands, we settled ourselves in my favorite place, upper deck behind home plate, and discovered one of the drawbacks to the football-favoring coliseum. The scoreboards are too damn small–instead of one big scoreboard in centerfield, there were two smaller ones in each end zone (off first and off third). I couldn’t read the Runs Hits Errors totals they were so dinky! I had not brought my binoculaurs from the East Coast, but heck, you shouldn’t need binoculaurs to read a major league scoreboard!

As long as I’m on the subject of the Oakland Coliseum’s shortcomings, here’s a big one, but one that is common to many stadia, and that is not enough food vendors wandering the aisles. I don’t like to get up during the game, and in fact, sometimes I get downright superstitious about it (e.g. if I get up now, the other team will score). In Yankee Stadium, you see a hot dog vendor about once an inning. I also don’t like to stand in line and miss any of the game when I DO get up. So I am big on people bringing me food. In Oakland, there are NO roaming hot dog vendors. In fact, the only vendors I saw were one selling Red Ropes (giant, yard-long Twizzlers), and one selling frozen chocolate malt in a cup.

I can understand why this is, if what I’ve heard is true–the A’s don’t make any money from concessions, it all goes to the Oakland Raiders. Feh, there’s that damn football thing again. So what incentive do they have to sell more food faster? They don’t.

This doesn’t explain why you don’t see hot dog vendors in many other parks, but that is an essay for another day. But Oakland is not unique in this deficiency.

Otherwise, really, the Oakland Coliseum is nowhere near as bad as people have been making it out to be for years. In fact, there’s nothing wrong with the place that couldn’t be fixed by the removal of the football influence. That includes getting rid of the sky-high seats behind centerfield, the dinky scoreboards, and the strangely zealous fans with the air horns.

Yeah, air horns. Oh, and you probably know about the drums. Some guys get seats in left field, and they form a kind of marching band drum section. I actually didn’t mind the drums–I think they’re kind of nice, but you know I love it when fans take initiative. And they beat the pants off that monotonous tom-tom in Cleveland. But the drums are another football influence. Take it from a marching band veteran such as myself–I know.

Up at our seats that night, we initiated two friends to Yankee baseball, and baseball in general. Behind us was a large group of Bay Area Yankees fans, who started the Let’s Go Yankees cheer the moment the National Anthem finished. Below us were some die-hard A’s fans with an air horn, next to them a pair with one of those giant plastic trumpets. I finally figured out what is so great about those giant foam fingers. THEY’RE SILENT. Anyway, these two groups of boisterous fans took each other’s presence with good humor and we all got along pretty well. Like I said, A’s fans know how to have fun.

For example, Jeter was leading off, with Justice batting second, and Bernie third. At one point in the game, Jeter came up to bat and the A’s fans in front of us began chanting "Ma-RI-ah Ca-rey!" because, well, Jeter used to date her in the olden days. Well, Jeter got a hit. Then came Justice. They started chanting "Ha-lle Ber-ry!" (who David was formerly married to) and lo, Justice got a hit. Bernie then came to the plate, the A’s fans shut up, and all the Yankees fans in our section started chanting "Miss-us Wil-liams!" That cracked the A’s fans up but good. But what do you know? Bernie got a hit, too!

Here’s another something you wouldn’t see in New York. It was Law Enforcement Night, which meant that before the anthem, a few dozen police officers from local precincts were introduced. The notable thing is that they each came onto the field riding a motorcycle with full lights and sirens blaring. What is it with Oakland and loud noises? Each pair of cops came riding in through a gate in center, then split up and went down the warning track to either side. It was only a few under a zillion motorcycles and the whole thing took forever–well, several minutes anyway as they lined up about thirty motocycles on a side. I suppose motorcycles couldn’ tbe worse for the field than pre-season football. And this is the land of CHiPs… When they were done, they rode off into the sunset. I will note that we witnessed no brawls during the game. Hmmm.

The A’s. What can you say about their muscular, energetic lineup? They stumbled out of the gate in 2001, but began a mid-season surge so exciting, so tantalizing, that GM Billy Beane reversed plans to dismantle the team and send soon-to-be free agents Jason Isringhausen and franchise player Jason Giambi elsewhere, instead acquiring Jermaine Dye.

When the A’s are running wild, they look unbeatable. They swept the then-favorites for the AL Wild Card, the Boston Red Sox, in the days before the Yankees came to town. And, as we Yankees fans discovered, everything has to go right if you’re going to top the A’s when they are surging.

My prediction for Saturday night’s game was that the Yankee offense would be buzzing like a bunch of frustrated hornets after the 8-1 loss the night before (the only run was a Paul O’Neill homer), and as Jeter’s leadoff homer showed, it certainly was. But even though they tallied thirteen hits, the Yankees were always fighting the tide, scratching out one run at a time but unable to get a big rally going. Meanwhile Sterling Hitchcock, the Yankees other recent stretch-run acquisition, was looking shakey on the mound. We all know Hitchcock can pitch, but as he’s still not fully recovered from Tommy John surgery, he’s only at 75-80% much of the time. The result is enough chinks in the armor that a team of hot, young sluggers like the A’s can jump all over him. And they did, scoring eight runs on eleven hits and driving him from the game after only 3 1/3 innings. It was like a boxing match with the two lineups landing blows, and with both teams within reach of the win until the very last out.

Unfortunately for the Yankees, the A’s held them off. The turning point of the game came early–in the second. After Jeter’s leadoff homer, the A’s got two back in the bottom of the inning. Going into the bottom of the second it was still 2-1 A’s, and it would have stayed that way if after recording a quick two outs, Hitchcock had been able to retire the number eight batter, Ramon hernandez (catcher) and avoid facing Jeremy Giambi, who was DHing in the nine hole. Unfortunately, Hitchcock walked the only light hitter on the team, and with Hernandez on you just knew what was going to happen… and it did. Jeremy hit a two run home run, and the A’s followed with a rally for two more runs with three singles and a walk before Terence Long, the ninth batter in the inning, grounded out. At the time, I explained to my friends that I thought the walk was the turning point, and it was all a question of whether the Yankees would be able to turn the tide back again.

Soriano tried to do it. He hit the first pitch of the third inning into the seats, but rookie pitcher Erik Hiljus (no, I don’t know who he is either…) was able to keep the damage to just the one run, despite giving up hits to Jeter and Bernie. When he left the game in the fifth it was 6-2 A’s. The Yankees scratched out single runs in the fifth, sixth, seventh, and ninth, but the A’s tacked on two more–final score 8-6 A’s. If Hitchcock had not had that four run inning in the second, if he’d only gotten Hernandez instead of walking him, we would have likely won it. But as I said, everything had to go right. It’s pretty rare for the Yankees to have eleven hits and lose. Jeter went four for five and Soriano went three for four.

The rowdy New Yorkers behind us were placing bets on who would hit a home run. One fellow had Clay Bellinger as his player. Clay Bellinger, for those of you not familiar with him, is one of Torre’s favorite players, because he can play any position, even catch. But he never plays enough to be a consistent hitter and his average coming into the game was something like .170. He had hit a home run a few days before, though, which gave the poor fan some hope. "Come on Clay, hit one out!" he yelled when Bellinger came to the plate. "I’ll split the fifteen bucks with ya!" Later, when Torre lifted Bellinger for a pinch hitter, he called out, "Joe! You owe me fifteen bucks!"

Anyway, we lost. Yankees fans were thinking: Oh yeah? So you beat up on our two suspect lefties. Just wait ’til you face one of our GOOD pitchers. That’s what we were saying as we sat for about an hour in the car trying to get out of the parking lot (our friends had come by car). So, okay, put one more thing on the list of improvements the coliseum needs–better traffic control. Maybe they’re just not used to getting a sell-out crowd out of there? Our friends then took us on an excursion south to the only Krispy Kreme donuts in the Bay Area. Mmm, nothing like a good load of poping hot sugar, fat, and starch to assuage the sting of a tough loss. Very exciting game though, lots to cheer about. We just didn’t get a W out of it.

The next day we boarded BART again, and again made the walk over the concrete bridge to the coliseum. This time I actually had a ticket to sell, so I had my eye out for scalpers. My experience the day before led me to think I wouldn’t have much trouble finding someone. In the Bronx, no one ever wants to take just one ticket, though, and you can expect to haggle a bit to get a decent dollar value out of someone. But here in Oakland, as I have probably said, things are different. At least this time I didn’t get panhandled. Instead, a guy approached asked if I had any extra. I said yeah, just one. He offered me five bucks. I said how about ten? He said "Okay" and handed me ten bucks. Now, I’m sure he was able to sell it for more than that, but still, the New Yorker in me couldn’t help thinking "what a pushover…"

That Sunday Mike Mussina took the hill with Yankee pride resting on his shoulders. Let me say this about Mussina. He has been absolutely everything the Yankees wanted when they blew their wad picking him up as a free agent in the off season. Casual fans or those who don’t watch all the games, who just look at the stats, are going to see his won-loss record this year and think, jeez, this for $88 mil? But you have to see him pitch game after game (in which the Yankees usually score three or fewer runs) to realize what a master he is. Once in a while he just doesn’t have his stuff, and it’s obvious. But when he’s on, you can see him going to school on hitters, setting them up the way Coney used to (and still does, up on Boston). (NOTE: I wrote this entry BEFORE the near-perfecto in Boston…)

Mussina was masterful that Sunday in Oakland, finishing each pitch with a pounce to the foot of the mound, ready to grab an up the middle smash, looking almost like he’s ready for the batter himself to rush him like a linebacker. He looked good, struck out nine, walked none and gave up only two hits in eight full innings of work. THe gem was only marred by the twohits–back to back home runs in the fifth to Miguel Tejada and Eric Chavez. You know the cliche: he pitched good enough to win.

But the A’s young pitchers are something special, and Mark Mulder was matching Mussina pitch for pitch, almost like he was learning from him every time they traded places on the mound.

And there were sparkling defensive plays all around. We had brought a friend with us to the game this time, a Giants fan, who remarked at one point what a remarkably well-played game it was. Our answer was, well, actually, this is what we’re used to seeing regularly! The Yankees are not an overpowering team–they don’t homer you into submission, their pitching depends on rock solid defense, they have to manufacture runs. They take advantage of errors and don’t let their own hurt them. And every team, even the lowly Devil Rays, raises their game when they play the World Champions. So yeah, we’re used to seeing a high level of play all the time, we’re used to a lot of one run and two run games. We’re spoiled rotten, in fact, and we love it.

By the fourth it was clear that this game would not be an offensive romp for either team. Mussina hadn’t allowed any hits yet, and Mulder had allowed only a Bernie Williams double. "Betcha fifteen bucks Clay hits a home run," I said to corwin, who laughed. Well, I should have made that bet, because the big moment for Yankees fans came in the eighth, when Bellinger came up to the plate. Soriano was on first, having singled. You figure Clay’s one advantage is that he plays so rarely, opposing managers don’t have much of a book on him. But, well, the one thing they ought to know is that bench guys can hit the fastball. That’s the only pitch they see (in BP), and that’s the only pitch they’ll sit on. Bellinger sat fastball, got one, and hammered it into the seats. Everyone in blue in the stadium went bonkers. corwin was up getting food at the time and when he got back I said "You owe me fifteen bucks!" Tie game, 2-2.

The excitement came back for the A’s fans though, in probably the most dramatic way. Ninth inning, tie score, Mike Stanton on the mound. Stanton traditionally goes through a slump in August, but we thought he had a shot to be great here. He struck out Menechino looking, then walked Johnny Damon on four pitches, oops. Again I felt the walk was the downfall, because if he had gotten Damon out, then we wouldn’t have reached Jason Giambi that inning. Instead, with a man on he struck out pinch hitter Saenz, and then there was Giambi. One on, two out, tie game, bottom of the ninth.

Stanton worked the count full and then threw ball four.

Unfortunately for us, Giambi–who was the real winner of the All-Star home run derby this year, as far as I’m concerned–golfed that ball into the right field seats for a walk-off game winning two-run homer. I just knew that was going to happen when Damon walked. And sure enough, it did. The A’s had swept the Yankees and had won eight straight. The crowd stayed in their seats, not a single one moved for several minutes until Giambi came out for a curtain call. I’m glad I like Jason Giambi because otherwise it would have been a hard moment to take. As a Yankees fan, it was a tough loss, but as a baseball fan, what a scene, what a moment. Giambi is a great player, and on that day, his greatness was greater than Stanton’s.

The idea that keeps Yankees fans from worrying about the postseason, though, is that this is the absolute best the A’s can be. They are at their peak, whereas the Yankees will take it to another level when October comes. At least, we hope so. Last year, there were moments of doubt, as the team sputtered in September and squeaked into the postseason with only 87 wins, and then ran hot and cold in the ALDS and the ALCS, pouring it on only when things began to look desperate. But they did reach that higher level of play, and by the time they faced the Mets, they were clicking on all cylinders.

This year Yankees fans look forward to the same thing. At the time I write this, the Red Sox are deep into their patented annual slide–they fired their manager and immediately slid further in the standings, and were just swept by the Yanks at Fenway 3-1, 2-1, and 1-0–they are now nine games out of the AL East and eight behind the A’s in the wild card race. With Seattle running away with the West, it looks likely that the Yankees will face the same opponents they did last year: the A’s in the best of five series, and the Mariners in the best of seven, or possibly the other way around, depending on how hot Cleveland is.

The A’s and their fans are great. But we’ll see you in October.

I actually watched the crazy extra-innings Braves-Rockies game in which Mayne got the win on television from the Jersey Shore one night while on vacation. I wrote about it the following year, when I tried to get Mayne’s autograph one night in Seattle at Safeco Field, when he was playing with the Royals and I was there for a game. I never did get Mayne’s autograph, but I did get a batting practice ball that night, and the autographs of Mike Cameron and Brett Boone, back when they were both stars for the M’s.

So here’s the flashback post from August 16, 2001, in which I recount my trip to the ballpark and Mayne’s pitching performance along the way:

I arrived in the city known for coffee, Microsoft, and rain with tickets to a Mariners game in my pocket and a copy of Baseball Weekly in my bag. What does an East Coaster like me know about the Mariners? I know what every body knows, about the three superstars who left, about the best winning percentage in baseball, about a seventies expansion team that’s never seen the World Series, about a nice new ballpark that hosted the All Star Game, in this, the year the Mariners have put it all together with pitching, speed, and defense.

I work a job back in Boston that keeps me on the clock until 9pm most nights, which means I don’t get to hear much of my beloved Yankees games on the radio. But I do get home just in time to log in to MLB.com and listen to the Mariners’ broadcasts.

I picked a good year to start following the Mariners, what with the splash of Ichiro, the surge of Bret Boone, the return of Jeff Nelson, and the sudden dominance of their no-name rotation. When I realized my summer travel plans were going to take me to Seattle I immediately made plans to hook up with a friend to see a game and investigate Safeco Field for myself.

The first thing I noticed my first day in Seattle was how many Mariners hats I saw on people’s heads. I’ve been to a lot of major league cities, Chicago, New York, Baltimore–and I live in Boston. Only the Yankees in New York in October rival the sheer quantity of hats you’ll see people wearing this summer in Seattle. And not only a lot of standard design M’s hats, lots of funky variations, green bill, blue bill, “Mariners” spelled out in script, reverse color combinations, you name it. I rode the bus into the city from the ‘burbs and noticed people of every different class and ethnic background sporting the teams colors.

Once I got into downtown Seattle, the M’s fever became as obvious as the measles. So many store fronts had Mariners signs in their windows–”You Gotta Love These Guys,” “Go M’s,” were the standards, but also handmade signs exhorting individual players to greatness… and in every type of store I could find: art galleries, musical instrument shops, craft boutiques, drug stores, restaurants, most of which were NOT in the neighborhood of the ballpark.

When I did head toward the park late in the afternoon, I stopped in to the Elliot Bay Bookstore, one of the best literary bookstores in the country. There on the rack facing the entrance was a special display of sports magazines featuring the Mariners on their covers, a few racks over were the expensive hardcover books on baseball, including Roger Angell’s A PITCHER’S STORY, Don Zimmer’s autobiography, and THE BALLPARK BOOK.

From Elliot Bay, the park is walking distance, and I found myself walking with two fans from Oregon who had driven up just for the game. “We live on an island and the last ferry runs at 9pm,” they told me. “So we’ll stay overnight in a hotel and go back tomorrow.” They told me I’d love Safeco Field.

Walking from there, the new stadium doesn’t rise majestically out of the horizon. Instead, you walk under a highway overpass, and onto a side street that runs along the newly erected, not-quite-finished football stadium and convention center, built on the site of the old Kingdome. Along one side of the street are the businesses you see outside all the old ballparks like Fenway and Yankee Stadium, pizzerias, souvenir shops, beer joints. Out on the curb and in the street vendors have set up stalls selling caps, pretzels, t-shirts, bottled water, boxed pizza. As one pizza vendor proclaimed into his bullhorn, yes, you can bring food into the stadium! At first I thought, oh, how nice, but then I remembered, hey, you’ve ALWAYS been able to bring food into Yankee Stadium! When I was a kid we used to bring in buckets of fried chicken, sandwiches, pastry…

What you can’t bring into Safeco field is any liquid. Oddly, it’s not bottles themselves that are banned, they just make you empty your water bottle at the door. By contrast, Edison Field in Anaheim lets you bring in plastic water bottles so long as they are under a certain reasonable size. At Yankee Stadium, although it says no bottles of any kind, ushers have always okayed my bottle of Poland Spring. It was a bit surreal to see people pouring the contents of their spring water bottles into garbage cans at the entrance before proceeding into the stadium.

Two other stalls worth mentioning outside the park. One sold t-shirts and bumper stickers with the slogan TWO OUT … SO WHAT?! and a variation shirt that reads “Alex out, Junior out, Randy out… SO WHAT?!” There are some folks in the stands in left field who hang out a large black banner with the slogan in glowing green whenever there are two outs. I didn’t actually notice the crowd paying attention to it–there’s no rhythmic chant to go along with it, for example–but these kinds of things only pop up in towns where people are seriously crazed for their ballclub. The other stall I’d never seen before outside a ballpark was one selling roof tiles and reroofing services. I guess in a place where it rained 90 straight days last winter, that’s important.

Of course, the best and newest roof in Seattle is the rolling roof over Safeco Field, which I was interested to see at work, but was happier to have nice weather. It was a 96 degree heat wave when I left Boston, and in Seattle I found it sunny, pleasant, warm in the day, and comfortably cool in the evening. Still, it was a nice feeling of security to know that if rain were to appear, the game would go on no matter what. I’m sure the couple from Oregon would agree with that.

I reached the end of the street and there was the back side of the ballpark. Several thousand people appeared to be milling around it–then I realized they were all IN LINE to get in. It was 4:30 and the gates didn’t open until 5pm. Through various wrought iron openings we could see clear through the centerfield concessions concourse and into the outfield where Mariners were shagging BP flies. Two Japanese men ran up to the doorway, pointed and said something very excitedly to each other in Japanese, one word of which I made out: Ichiro.

From that vantage point, Ichiro was pretty much a speck. How could you even be sure that was him over there? One appeared to talk the other out of trying to take a photograph from there. They wandered away, undoubtedly to try to find the entrance closest to the right field seats that Mariners fans have dubbed Area 51. (Ichiro’s number and, of course, where this particular alien has landed.)

I ended up in line with some young M-Heads, their faces painted blue and green and one of them sporting the actual giant foam M on his head. They seemed surprised that I, and then several other people as we stood in line, wanted to take their picture. How unlike New York where one would be disappointed if no one took a picture or if you didn’t at least once get picked up by the scoreboard camera. (Skipping ahead just a bit, I did notice that M’s fans are amateurs when it comes to the scoreboard camera between innings. In New York, people start waving and trying to get on the screen before the pitcher even gets to the dugout. In Seattle, the camera sometimes had to search for several seconds before finding someone who was aware they were on screen… Then again, watch the news in New York some night. At any murder scene, car crash, train wreck, or what have you where there’s a news reporter live on scene, what do you see in the background? Bunch of people jumping up and down and mouthing “Hi Mom.” So maybe it’s something about New Yorkers…)

Five pm came and the lines crept forward toward filling up the park. When I finally made it inside it was close to 5:30 and I was surprised to find the Mariners still on the field. Two hours before first pitch many home teams, like the Red Sox, are just clearing out as the fans arrive in their seats. (For the record, Yankees BP goes on until 5:40.) I explored the centerfield concourse area: sushi bar, barbecue pit, a bar where you can sit and face over the bullpen … how about three Nintendo set ups? Very cool, but I, like most other people there just then, were more interested by real life than the virtual game. Not far from the Nintendo machines, people stood behind a chain link fence to watch pitcher John Halama do some throwing. The bullpen is constructed on the same level as the concourse, and so you stand literally a few feet from the pitching rubber. The fence seems inconsequential except for the fact that if it were not there, you’d never stand that close to a pitcher on the mound. Even the bullpen coach watching the session is further from Halama than the spectators are.

Even more impressive was walking the sixty or so feet to the other end and standing next to the bullpen catcher. Halama was bringing some heat, if the loudness of the pop in the catcher’s mitt was any indication. Some of the pops were so loud, I would have wanted earplugs if I’d been catching.

From the centerfield concourse I went up the stairs into the main sections of the stadium, and investigated the concessions there. I quickly identified the theme of names of the various stands–any baseball pun relating to food that could be made, was. High Cheese Pizza, The Sweet Spot (bulk candy), Frozen Rope Ice Cream, Good Hops Beer, and how about the fresh stir fry place called Intentional Wok? That’s your cue to groan, but it’s hard to complain about the variety of food available. And how about those garlic french fries! Mmm!

I noticed the Mariners were still batting, but that I hadn’t seen a program vendor since outside the park. Weird. I’m used to places where they sell one thing outside the park, and something different inside, but I didn’t find them selling anything inside and began to wonder if I should have picked up that thing with Bret Boone on the cover while I was out on the street.

I KNEW I should have picked it up when I went down alongside the Mariners dugout a few minutes later. A tv crew was getting set up to do some onfield interviews and I figured I’d see who they got. Ichiro was out there in right field and every time he got a ball, people would scream for him to throw it to them. The coach hitting fungoes didn’t appreciate the intense hunger for souvenirs and made him throw them back in most of the time. Still, a lot of balls did get tossed into Area 51. Meanwhile, down near the dugout, I was standing next to a pretty blond woman, her boyfriend, and a kid who was one of their younger siblings, I believe. She kept waving to Boone, who was taking grounders at second base.

Suddenly he came trotting over. “Sorry! I didn’t see you, didn’t recognize you!” he said to the woman. “I don’t have my contacts in!” He proceeded to autograph everything the kid was carrying and his shirt, while exchanging pleasantries with the woman. Then he went on to sign at least fifty more autographs, including one for me. Unfortunately, all I had was my ticket! He graciously swooped his double B’s across the stub and then I yielded to other people trying to reach him. After he stopped signing, said goodbye to his friends, and headed for the dugout, Freddie Garcia came out and signed for quite a while, too. I don’t know why, I wanted Boone’s autograph but didn’t feel like fighting for Freddie’s. Maybe it’s because he beat the Yankees in the postseason last year? I didn’t even think of that until later though–at the time I was only thinking of the Mariners. One autograph from a star was enough for me, maybe, and I decided to check out my upper deck seat.

My favorite place to sit in many parks is upper deck, behind home plate (above the press box, usually) because of the complete and panoramic view of the action it gives me. I can watch a runner tagging up on the bases while watching the outfielder going back for the fly ball. I also like the view of the pitches it often gives. I made my way up several long flights of stairs (stairs! there ain’t no stinkin’ stairs in Yankee Stadium except in the seats themselves!) to my level. There an usher looked at my ticket and seemed as psyched about Bret Boone’s autograph as I was. “That is so cool!” he enthused and then pointed the way to my seat.

Stanley Jordan, the amazing jazz guitarist, played the national anthem by playing two guitars simultaneously–a very appropriate rendition here in the city that was home to Jimi Hendrix.

Now, the night before, the mighty Mariners had been humbled by the lowly Kansas City Royals. Today, the Royals learned they had lost their last remaining star, Jermaine Dye, to the same Oakland A’s who had taken Johnny Damon in the offseason. It didn’t seem too likely that they were going to be able to beat the Mariners.

But baseball is a funny game, and even the worst team can beat the best team on a given day. As I found out as they game went on and the Mariners were held scoreless until the ninth inning, when they scratched out a run on a double, single, and sac fly. Now, the Mariners bullpen stacks up favorably against just about any in baseball, but the Royals’ starter, a fella named Paul Byrd, pitched the complete game, holding the M’s to six hits in the game and walking only one. The result was a very pleasant evening in Safeco Field for me, but some measure of frustration. These weren’t the Mariners I had been hoping to see!

Instead, I spent most of my time watching the crowd. A few more observations about Mariners fans. In many stadia around the country, people start to leave en masse after the seventh inning. Not M-Heads. Maybe it was that they were still hoping for a miracle in the late innings? In any case, people did not really start to quit the ballpark until the ninth inning itself.

I saw some very clever home-made signs. KA-BOONE! and OLERULES! were among the slogans I saw, but my favorite was one in the distinctive maroon stripes of a certain overnight delivery company that read “AIR BOONE EXPRESS.”

And just to prove that the world really does revolve around ME, the scoreboard department made the oldies trivia song of the day “Cecilia” by Simon and Garfunkel.

Somewhere around the sixth inning I asked myself, what the heck does Safeco do, anyway? Looking around at the other ads sprinkled throughout the ballpark there were a number of head-scratchers. Cloverdale Meats? Try to imagine Perdue Chicken having a billboard in Yankee Stadium. Les Schwab Tires? Oberto Beef Jerky??

For the record, some M’s fans do know about the two strike clap, but they wait until the late innings to use it. Some of them out to give lessons to the Orioles fans at Camden.

Probably the final surreal moment of the night was, as my friend and I were walking from the ballpark to the big parking garage adjacent to it, there was a group of people there yelling “Free Money!” It was a group of Microsoft employees, giving away copies of the checkbook management software called “Money.” You know, in other parks they give things away free as you come IN to the ballpark, things like t-shirts, towels, cups, pins… Definitely something you’d only see in Seattle.

Well, maybe it was the delicious garlic fries, or maybe it was my still-not-quenched desire to see some exciting Mariners baseball that brought me back to the ballpark the next night to see if any seats were to be had. They had announced that only “single seats” were available, but hey, that’s all I needed. I arrived around 5pm again and went up to the window. For a mere $36 I was seated in the SECOND ROW just past the Royals dugout, close enough to third base to hear David Bell sneeze. Wow–I’ve never sat that close to the field even in spring training.

The Mariners hadn’t lost three in a row the whole season, and I was hoping I wouldn’t be on hand to see them finally do it. I’d really think I was a jinx then. But they were sending rookie Joel Piniero to the mound, and he’d been battered a bit in his previous two starts. Confidence–or maybe it was naivete–was high among fans though. When your team has a completely ridiculous winning percentage, that’s what happens. And even if you lose, so what? The nearest division rival is what, thirty games back? Among the fans gathered behind the dugout, I was the only one mildly concerned.

In fact, the only thing these fans weren’t cocky about was their team’s ability to make it to the World Series. One woman wouldn’t even say the words “World Series.” Yet another difference between M’s fans and Yankees fans, who repeat the words “World Series” like a mantra.

I was once again in the right place at the right time. This time I had bought the magazine (The Grand Salami) outside the park and was prepared with my Sharpie to get autographs. This time it was Mike Cameron who took time to make the fans happy! Now, if I had really planned ahead, i would have gotten Boone to sign the magazine which has him on the cover, and would have had Cammy sign on the ticket stub. But there’s no planning for random good luck. Cammy graciously signed the magazine and then I found myself trapped by the crush of fans. I served as a conduit for several people behind me, including a woman who played softball and wanted a softball signed. Cammy signed everything within arms reach for a good ten minutes. Then BP was over, and the team came in, and he joined them in the clubhouse.

The Royals then had their BP and I caught sight of the guy they had gotten in trade recently, Brent Mayne. He was taking grounders at first, even though he’s a catcher most of the time. I yelled to him, but didn’t expect him to turn around while he was busy. If there was one non-Mariner player whose autograph I would have liked it was Mayne’s. Why? Well, last year, when he was with the Rockies, he was a part of the weirdest game I’ve ever seen.

I was on vacation in New Jersey, and turned on the tv to find the Braves and Rockies game was on TBS. The game went into extra innings so long that the Rockies were down to their last pitcher, John “Way Back” Wasdin (who they had picked up from the Red Sox), facing Andres Galaragga. Wasdin hit Galaragga with a pitch, then while Andres was trotting to first, exhorted the Big Cat somehow with commentary from the mound. He said something that made Galaragga suddenly snap, veer toward the mound, and deck Wasdin. Benches cleared and when all was done, Wasdin had been ejected.

Let me say for the record that although I like a lot of the individual Braves players (Galaragga, Tom Glavine, John Smoltz) I really don’t like most of them (Chipper Jones, then John Rocker, etc…) and don’t like the Braves in general. I really wanted to see the Rockies beat them. But the Rockies were out of pitchers. Mayne was on the bench and they ended up bringing him in to pitch.

At this point the Braves were now out of pinch hitters, and had to use Tom Glavine as a pinch hitter. So here’s Glavine, a starting pitcher, pinch hitting against Brent Mayne, a catcher. it doesn’t get much wackier than that. No wait, yes it does. Mayne pitched a one-two-three inning, and when he got back to the dugout, his teammates made a big thing out of it, wrapping his arm in a towel, getting him a drink, etc. Then in the bottom of the inning, they got him the win! Thus Brent Mayne became the first position player to be credited with a pitching win in a million years. Okay, not a million, but I’m too lazy to look up the actual stat. A long time. The point is, that’s why I really like Brent Mayne, and why I would have really like to meet him.

With this in mind, I went over to the Royals side of the field, where I discovered just how close to everything my seat was. I had my glove on in case any foul balls should come my way, and lo and behold, one did. It kicked off the wall and rolled onto the grass. A stadium employee went and picked it up and I yelled and waved my glove–and he tossed it right at me. Without the glove, I think the kid next to me would have grabbed it. But I got the ball in my glove, and hung on.

The ball was a bit muddy and had bits of wet grass stuck to it. I turned it over and found it was marked with a red circle and the letter KCR. For Kansas City Royals, I presume. Wow, do major league teams need to bring their own balls to each park they visit?

I didn’t get a chance to get Mayne to sign the ball, though. The Royals were doing a good job of ignoring the crowd, who were also mostly ignoring them. They hustled into their clubhouse at the end of their BP, and that was that.

People began filling in their seats and I wondered who I would be next to. A few rows over from me I spotted one guy in a NY Yankees hat, blue turtleneck and home white pinstripes. I went over and chatted with him for a few minutes, but then went back to my seat. Next to me were two Japanese tourists, who spoke just enough English that they could ask me questions,and I could come up with answers that they seemed to understand. They were a couple, I think, a man and a woman, young and nattily dressed.

The first question they asked me was after the fourth inning. Rookie Piniero had allowed only one hit up to that point (to Brent Mayne! yeah Brent!) with four strikeouts and one line drive comebacker that he snared out of the air himself to end the inning–after which he shook his glove hand in pain! “This one of the best pitcher?” the woman asked me. “No,” I said, “rookie.” “Ah, rookie?” her partner asked. They knew the word rookie perfectly well, they were just finding it as hard to believe as everyone else what a gem Piniero was pitching.

The Mariners began to score in the bottom of the fourth, scratching out a run on back to back doubles by Boone and Olerud, but that was all they could get. They got another one in the fifth, spreading out the excitement and making Piniero bear down to hold the lead. Which he did, leaving the game after six still having only yielded that one hit to Brent Mayne.

The next question the tourists asked me was “What does SODO MOJO mean?” This was after the Mariners got their third run on hits by Cameron, Bell, and Stan Javier. First I had to explain that SO- DO- is short for “South of the Dome” since that neighborhood where Safeco is now is south of where the Kingdome used to stand. There’s no dome anymore, but they still call the area SODO. And Mojo? That’s another word for magic. So, SODO MOJO is Seattle Mariner’s Magic. Phew–they seemed to understand my explanation.

“Take Me Out to the Ballgame” I did not have to explain–they both sang along perfectly, so I can only assume that they sing it in the seventh inning in Japan, too.

Nelson pitched a perfect inning. Arthur Rhodes pitched a perfect inning. There was much cheering and excitement for every Ichiro at bat, and I don’t mean just from my neighbors. Ichiro, unfortunately, never made it to third base so my neighbors could take lots of pictures of him–though he did steal second in the eighth. But if you want to hear Safeco Field get loud, have a listen to the place when Kazuhiro Sasaki comes in for the ninth.

Kaz did not have a one-two-three–I’ll be darned but Brent Mayne got the second and only other Royals hit of the night off him–but he did the job. And so the Mariners streak of not losing three in a row continued, and I finally got to see what the buzz was all about.

My next ballpark sojourn would be to the Oakland Coliseum, to see the A’s take on the Yankees for two games. Coming soon!

The first thing I noticed about this DVD is that it’s really good to be the winner. The clips you see that cycle through in the menu while you wait for your boyfriend to finish folding his laundry so you can watch the DVD together? They are all of the Yankees. The only Phillies player you see is the hapless schmuck chasing Damon from second to third. Even Damaso Marte gets a full slo-mo clip, which is better than you can say for Cliff Lee, Ryan Howard, or Chase Utley. This is probably a reflection of the fact that MLB Productions knows darn well that these DVDs are bought by the fans of the winners, and they cater to them. These are the fruits of victory, after all, and I plan to enjoy them all winter.

Yes, in many ways this is less a “World Series film” than it is a Yankees celebration, and given the title of the “film,” and watching the actual DVD, it’s no surprise that it’s very Yankee-heavy. Not only is there a much longer and more extensive recap of the Yankees’ regular season than the Phillies’, but the Yankees’ ALDS and ALCS exploits are sketched in somewhat more fully than the Phils’. In fact, the names of the Phillies’ opponents aren’t even given and the highlights shown from the NLDS and NLCS are more of a montage, not even giving the scores of the games.

I didn’t mind this as an entertainment experience, but part of me feels like if you gloss over too much, the DVDs really can’t serve as much of a historical record. (Well, not to worry, one of the OTHER gifts I got under the tree this year was the 2009 Yankees World Series set, which includes the complete game broadcasts of Game 6 of the ALCS and all the World Series games. My favorite feature of the DVD set? You can choose which audio track to listen to. At last, the perfect synchrony between Fox HD tv and the John Sterling/Suzyn Waldman broadcast.)

But back to the single WS DVD. Ultimately it is the story of the Yankees’ coronation and I feel this may have worked against the entertainment value of the disc ultimately, because it didn’t create much of a sense of suspense. Granted, suspense is limited since anyone watching the DVD in the first place knows that the Yankees won. But if the DVD isn’t going to serve as a historical record because of how much it leaves out, then shouldn’t it at least attempt to recapture the excitement of the games? It was fun to revisit the games in the presentation the producers chose, but it didn’t succeed for me as drama.

Perhaps part of that is the fact that nothing can compare to being there, which I was for every postseason game at Yankee Stadium except two. Or perhaps 2009 just didn’t have the same level drama that the 1996 or 2001 World Series had, the two in recent memory that I automatically compare each year to. But I feel the lack of drama in the DVD is more caused by the fact that they chose to present it less as a tension-filled drama and more as a fait accompli.

My favorite of all the World Series films I’ve seen so far is still the 1996 one, which managed to capture both sides’ points of view, and incorporated a lot of really good footage (Cone walking by himself down the tunnel to the field) and fun stuff of fan interest. And the writing did a great job of really slowing down and capturing the turning point moments in the games (Jeter’s pop fly that wasn’t caught because the umpire was in Dye’s way).

My favorite parts of the 2009 DVD actually are all the time-lapse sections they have of action around Yankee Stadium. Cooking sausages, fans going through turnstiles and up the ramps, et cetera. Really nice touch. But there’s no mention of the fact that Nick Swisher changed his batting stance drastically partway through the series, nor of Matsui’s cortisone shots in his knees during the season, nor of the Posada/Molina flap. For a two hour presentation, it felt like a lot was missing. The best segment in it is actually the recap of the Yankees’ 2009 season at the beginning.

This isn’t to say you shouldn’t buy it, of course. The fait accompli style of reporting is fine for evoking nostalgia, and probably when I watch this again in five or ten years, I’ll enjoy it more. And don’t get me wrong. I like it now. I just would have made different choices about the presentation and the writing. Lucky for me I can always re-read my own gamers from here in Why I Like Baseball.

FTC Disclosure: I was not given this DVD to review, nor do I receive any monetary compensation for its mention UNLESS you count the small kickback I could receive from people purchasing the DVD through the Amazon affiliate purchase box below:

Dear God, Creator, Universe, thank you for this winter holiday that brings all friends and family together every year to enjoy the bounty of each other’s company and good food and drink. Thank you for this season of celebration.

Amen.

So this year my friends pooled their money and got me the gigantic DVD collection of all 65 World Series films!

(I also got this year’s DVD of the 2009 championship, and the 8 DVD set of all the actual games, which will be a lot of fun to watch since I was present at most of the games but haven’t seen the broadcasts of them.)

But back to the complete collection of World Series films. I am thinking I’ll review each year separately, or at least the top 20? But rather than just working my way through chronologically, I thought it might be fun to look first at the years you all nominate as your favorites first.

So please reply to this post with what year(s) you think I should see first and why! (You don’t have to leave a real name and email address if you don’t want to, it just has to look plausible to the software.)

Reviews will come soon!

Anyway, I know the likelihood of all members of the family giving each other the World Series DVD and such are high. I want to avoid duplicating.

So, what are your suggestions for gifts for each age group, dear readers? baseball-related, but not necessarily Yankees or World Series related. What are you getting for your loved ones? (Hoping of course that they don’t read this blog so they won’t see…)

Comment below please! (A name and email are required to comment, but they don’t have to be real.)

(P.S. There are also plenty of baseball-loving women in my family. But I tend to find other common enthusiasms with them to share, whereas baseball is the big one for the guys.)

It’s been difficult for me to follow the Yankees the past few days since I am in Charlotte, North Carolina running a small convention here. And Friday night we could not get the Internet working, so I thought my only choice was to stare at my iPhone watching the pitch by pitch from MLB.com’s mobile site (which is quite snazzy). This was difficult because I was continually having to talk to people, do things, help people, et cetera.

But instead I found a whole new way to follow a long distance ballgame. As it turned out, I did stare at my iPhone, because corwin went off to watch the game at the Forest Cafe, our neighborhood baseball-loving watering hole, and he texted me the game play by play. Yes, this is the story of two people who love the Yankees, and are in love with each other.

It went like this:

corwin: Joba 123 in 1st. So far, so good…

me: Cool. I sadly can’t get wireless to work in the ballroom here.

him: :( but :) jeter lead off single on first pitch
him: And takes 2nd on pb on next pitch!

me: Yay!

him: And arid cashes in w/2 out RBI single! (*He meant A-rod)

me: Woo!

him: The mastui bb while a-rod stole 2nd, and then 3rd, but Jorge struck out.

me: Ah well. Lester for them?

him: Yup.
Joba looks so much better tonight.
Ortiz hit a little looper to right and Swish fell to his knees to make a weird catch. Both he & ortiz cracked up.
Lester can’t hold runners. Yanks have stolen 3 + a past ball.

me: They must have him timed. And they get in his head from running a lot.

him: Unfortunately, Damon grounded into fc to end the inning. 1 hit, 1 walk, no runs, 2 lob.

me: Bah.

him: Watching tek “running” to first next to Jorge after a dropped third strike is really funny.
Through 3, joba is perfect!
An a-bomb from a-rod, 2 run shot, no out in the third.
Later in 3rd, with 1 out, bases loaded, Melkite hit a shit which hit Lester in the knee. (*Melky, shot…)
He limps off more or less under his own power. 4-0 yankes, bases still loaded.
Everyone at the Forest says hi.
Yanks bat around. 5-0 top 4.

me: Hi to everyone! And thanks for the updates. I just haven’t been able to text back.

him: I figured.

me: Bat around!!!

him: Joba’s not perfect. Victor Martinez solo shot w/2 outs in the 4th.

me: Dang. Martinez has a serious hit streak going.

him: Then youk singled but ortiz hit a tapper to joba. Yeah Martinez now has a 24 game hitting streak.

me: R they out of inning now?

him: Yeah the he was w/2 out.
By he I mean HR.

me: Two vendors are huge yankee fans so I am passing on the updates.

him: A-rod just walked with 1 out. Hunter Jones replaced Lester, and he works slowly, and has gone to a full count on everyone.

me: I don’t even know him.

him: A-rod steals second (his 3rd steal tonight)!

me: His hip must feel good!

him: Matsui singles, a-rod to 3rd.
Pitching change.

me: Cool.

him: Michael Bowden now pitching.

me: Huh, I don’t know him either.

him: Jorge joins the party! 6-0, men on 1st & 2nd, one out.
Sorry, 6-1.
Cano GIDP
Bay leadoff single.
Nick Green doubles in the gap, bay to third.
Tek pop foul to third, 1 out.
A-gon is gone K!
Ellsbury grounds to first, sox don’t score!

me: Whee!

him: But then Bowden strikes out the side.
Ortiz 2 run shot with 2 out in the 6th.
Next batter pops out to end the inning.
Damon steals second and advances to third when Tex flies out to deep center.

me: Phew.

him: And scores on a-rod’s long double in the gap off ellsbury’s glove, 7-3 yanks.

me: Cash him in, cash him in… Yay!!!

him: Matsui bb

me: Good.

him: Runners advance on a wp!

me: Yeah!

him: Jorge singles in the gap, a-rod scores, matsui caught in a rundown between 3rd and home. Pitching change…

me: Nice!

him: Other than the bad base running by matsui, yes.
DelCarmen.
Cano pops up to the catcher. We go to the 7th.
Aceves gives up a single to Bay on the first pitch.
Tek GIDP 4-4-3.
A-gon pops to jeter!

me: Whew! Way to get out of it.

him: Ronan Tynan.

me: Wow, pulling out all the stops.

him: Jeter singles with 2 out.

me: Woo!

him: And steals 2nd. It seams the is to run Tek (7 SB tonight).
And Damon walks.
And Tex singles off the wall, jeter scores, damon to 3rd.

me: Yessss. That’s yankee baseball.

him: A-rod walks, duck on pond!

me: Quack quack.

him: But matsui grounds out to third.
Albaladejo now.

me: Hope he has it. Sox can put up runs in a hurry sometimes.

him: He’s 3-2 on elsbury.
Bb

me: Ugh.
He’s going to try t steal.

him: Fortunately, Hughes is ready.
Albaladejo has a nasty curve ball.
Pedroia K!
And he’s cursing up a storm in the dugout (yay HD)
Victor Martinez hits one just past Tex down the lins, elsbury to third.
You singles, elsbury scores, Martinez to third… :(
Pitching change.
Marte comes in to face Papi.
Broken bat FC, Martinez scores.
In comes Hughes.

me: Phew, coulda been worse there. 8-4?

him: 9-5.
He strikes out Bay to end the inning.
The sox just put in the entire second string except for youk.

me: Finally. That guy is a pain. (*I meant Bay.)
If Texas loses they both clinch tonight, right?

him: No youk is still in. Jorge bb to lead off 8th, pinch runner for him.
Yanks leave a man on third. To the 9th.
No one could clinch anything tonight no matter what TX did, but they’ve already won.
After tonight sox # for wildcard will stay at 3, yanks # for division will drop to 3.

me: huh, I thought the rangers were further back or something. (*I had heard a news story only partially, and apparently wrongly.)

him: Coke now.

me: And a smile.

him: We’ll see.

me: Heh.

him: Baldelli BB
Coke is really wild tonight.
But he Ks tek anyway, 1 out
4-6-3 Theeeeeeeeee Yankees win!

Meanwhile today we got the exhibit area wireless to work, and then at 6pm when the vendors closed up, I came up to my room to discover the game on Fox! So I got to watch quite a bit of it while chilling out in my hotel room for a while. Yay. Tomorrow’s game is on ESPN, but sadly I won’t have a TV down in the exhibit area, so it’s back to the iPhone and/or MLB’s gameday pitch by pitch for me.

These past two games with the Red Sox in the Bronx have been playoff-like. Neither of these teams really has to worry about making the postseason. The Yankees were the first team to clinch a berth, though they still have one game to win to take the division, and the Red Sox are very unlikely to be caught by the Rangers. Sure, there is home field advantage to play for and all that, but these games did not have to have the intensity and drama that they did.

But they did.

And now I have to root for the Tigers to stave off the Twins, too. Because a friend has tickets to games 3 and 4 of the ALDS there, and it looks likely to be Tigers/Yankees if things stay as they are. So I am planning to fly out there for that. New October adventures await! And of course you will be able to read about them here at WILBB!

As I write this, Jonathan Papelbon just walked Derek Jeter in the top of the ninth, in which Boston has a 16-11 lead.

There have been 28 hits in the game so far, and Papelbon is the 12th pitcher to appear. the lead has changed hands four (?) times, I think?

And this is on top of last night’s extra innings contest, which also used 12 pitchers, and featured 27 hits, even though the end score was only 5-4. Between the two games there have been seven home runs hit… I think? I keep losing track, that’s how many there have been.

And even though Pap is probably about to shut the door… the way things have gone this series so far… I better not count the totals until all is final and in the books! He just walked another one!

I heard the M’s game while driving from Boston to New York to be here in time for the inauguration of the new Yankee Stadium. While deciding which game to listen to on our XM radio, corwin opted for the chance to hear Niehaus have one of his trademark near-aneurysms.

It felt fitting to me that on a broadcast where Jackie Robinson was mentioned frequently, I would learn of baseball’s first Asian-American manager. Don Wakamatsu is, right now, in his first season as manager to the Mariners. Is it hard to believe that it’s taken this long to have an Asian-American manager?

Not really, when you consider there have never been very many players of Asian descent in American baseball, not when compared to hispanic or African-American players. And nowadays you find Asian players from Taiwan, Korea, Japan… but not very many who were born here. (Johnny Damon is part Thai, does he count?)

I do wonder if with role models like Ichiro, a generation of Asian-American boys might see themselves and their dreams differently? At least in the Pacific Northwest, where the Mariners have had Japanese players on their roster for such a long time? Remember when Sasaki was their closer? And now they also have catcher Kenji Johjima? And are owned by a Japanese video game mogul, so I should not be surprised, but it is nice that this means Don Wakamatsu, while he might represent a big step forward, also does NOT have to suffer through the kind of isolation that Jackie Robinson faced in his debut year in the majors.

Wakamatsu had a cup of coffee with the White Sox in 1991, mostly to catch knuckleballer Charlie Hough, and otherwise has done it all, playing minor league ball for years, coaching, managing, and being a bench coach at all levels of the game including with many major league organizations. His father was born in a Japanese internment camp. How’s that for a wake-up call on how different race relations in the USA is now versus the previous century?

It was a nice, tightly played ballgame, very enjoyable to listen to while driving. The Mariners managed their first run on a rare Torii Hunter error where he lost a ball in the lights, but then Hunter redeemed himself with a two-run home run. The Angels ultimately couldn’t stop either Rob Johnson (who came in to run for Johjima) who scored on a safety squeeze, nor history, in the form of two major milestones reached in the course of the game.

Ken Griffey, Jr.–once “the kid” and now an elder statesman on what could be his last tour of duty–is now back with the team where he made his name. The announcers were not shy to point out as he came to bat in the third inning that if he hit just one more home run, it would be his 400th as a Mariner, and he would become the first player to hit 400 homers with one team and 200 with another.

He struck out. But the possibility was still a nice addition.

Then Ichiro got a hit, bringing him to within one hit of a tie with the all-time Japanese hit leader, Isao Harimoto, who was in the stands. Harimoto-san has been waiting for Ichiro to come off the disabled list to pursue the record of 3,085 hits. If you couldn’t tell, I eat this kind of thing up with a spoon.

The score was still 2-1 Angels when little Endy Chavez came to the plate and hit a homer, only the 18th of his career, to tie the game. And then up stepped Griffey. The moment the ball touched his bat, Dave Niehaus’s vocal cords went into overdrive, as the deep drive was a no-doubter. The crowd went so wild and was so loud that Niehaus nearly described the Kingdome instead of Safeco Field, and then said that was why. Griffey tipped his cap to the crowd and got a hug from his son Trey in the dugout. 3-2 Mariners.

Much later in the game, we had arrived at our destination in New York, and the M’s had taken a much bigger lead, 7-3, but as we parked the car in the Bronx, Ichiro came to the plate with the bases loaded. We turned off the lights and the engine and sat and listened to see if maybe this time he could do it, tie the record. Ichiro isn’t known for being a power hitter, so I wasn’t even thinking grand slam, but he does have a flair for the dramatic.

Long high, drive… goodbye baseball!! We erupted into clapping and cheering in the car even before the call was over. A grand slam after all! And 11-3 Mariners. And some lucky fan won $7,000 because they scored seven runs in the seventh inning.

All in all, a wonderful night of baseball, brought to me by the magic of satellite radio, just one of the things that makes this world a smaller place, and people who once seemed so far away, or different from “us,” not so far or different after all.