Bronx, N.Y., July 18 — It came to me in the traffic jam. I thought I was being clever, avoiding Rt. 95 altogether, and taking the Merrit to the Hutch, as I escaped work with one hour to get to the Bronx. Of course, my plan proved disastrous, but I wasn’t at work, and I was on my way to a game!

The roadwork on the Merrit Parkway was extreme, and I had barely cleared Connecticut as Sterling and Steiner were giving the lineups. Alfonso was rounding the bases after his eighth homer to lead off a game as I approached the Bronx, and the Tigers tied the game in the third as I was making my way upstairs in the Stadium.

Taking my seat in the oppressive early afternoon heat, I was watching a game that had, in effect, begun again, at 1-1 in the third. Although the Yanks went down in order in the bottom of the third, the top of the fourth sandwiched great plays by Alfonso and Shane around a Fick double, and Shane Halter hit a routine grounder to second to leave Fick stranded.

After the bottom of the third, the Scoreboard showed a new 2002 feature where fans are asked to spell a player’s name, and those selected invariably do a pretty poor job. Today’s player was Paul O’Neill (I know, but most are tripped up over the “i before e” thing or the double “l”), and when Paul was shown spelling it correctly at the end, he finished by saying it was spelled “the true Irish way.” (My father would be so proud.) Other Scoreboard features included birthday congratulations for many including the beloved skipper, Mr. Torre, and a welcome to R.H. Donnelley, a big name in the printing biz, I can assure you. The only “K” hangers I could see for Boomer were both along the Tier facade, in sections one and six.

Lifting my look above the facade, however, I was struck by the beauty that is a hot afternoon summer game in the South Bronx. I beheld a cacophony of color as groups of people of all sizes and ages were clothed in the cool comfort of similarly hued cotton T-shirts in the unforgiving hazy sun. Large patches of the same color were indicative of the presence of Little League teams, clubs, religious groups, neighborhood organizations and the like. Red, beige, fuchsia and yellow patches dominated the right field tier, with metallic gray, blue, teal and orange sprinkled from my seat in section 12 down to the left field corner. The left field bleachers were awash in magenta and red; their neighbors in right were dotted with orange and chrome yellow. Even the main and field boxes in fair territory in the right field corner showed red and yellow, while much of the main and all of the loge remained hidden in shadow. Possible grist for a future sociological study was the overwhelming fact that the only area in the entire Stadium containing large sections of seats in the unyielding glare of the sun where people were not grouped in similar colors at all were the $65 and up box seats behind both dugouts and home plate.

I was still grumbling over Dimuro punching Bernie out on a high pitch to start the bottom of the fourth as Maroth threw ball one to Mondesi, and then I unleashed my first of two extremely well-timed cheers of the day, giving a Werewolves of London-like “R-a-u-u-u-l!” as our new right fielder broke the tie with a lofty shot to left. Rondell’s double to right was greeted by a “Rondellicious” sign and super sub Ron Coomer made George Lombard see that four K’s are not the only bad thing can happen on a hot day in the Bronx, as his booming double was just beyond George’s reach. Backup catcher Widger added a third run on our third double of the frame, and it seemed we were in business.

Boomer was going pretty well, though the Bengals scraped for one in the sixth. Once Joe removed Wells with one out in the seventh, it was clear that the remainder of the game would essentially be a lab experiment to see how our four star relievers have recovered from recent troubles. Having experienced the earlier frustration of the stop-and-go Merrit Parkway, I was able to look at it that way, but many in the stands were not nearly as forgiving of Stanton’s implosion, particularly in light of the fact that he gave up both Higginson’s booming run-scoring double and Simon’s just-enough homer down the right field line (giving the Tigers their first lead at 5-4) on 0-2 pitches, without ever throwing a waste pitch either time. (Simon, at least, seems a batter likely to go after a pitch diving into the dirt, for instance, on an 0-2 pitch.)

There are many ways to describe the mini-rally that got us back to even in the bottom of the seventh, but the simplest way is to simply say, “Alfonso, Derek and Jason,” the first two with singles, the third on a sac fly to left. But Mike’s lefty presence in the pen is key to our chances (or at least Joe and I feel that way), so even though he allowed a hard liner to left for the seventh’s last out after surrendering the lead, he started the eighth, happily this time, as he struck Pena out. Karsay and Mendoza performed well, with Ramiro getting a win for his trouble (at Boomer’s expense).

Just as Rondell followed up Raul’s fourth-inning homer by igniting two more runs with his base hit, he got the game-winning action going in the eighth. He moved to second on a passed ball as Robin was pinch hitting, and then Ventura was intentionally passed. And it is noteworthy, and a happy thing for Yankee fans, that righties Rondell and Shane did all the damage off righty relievers Rodney and Henriquez in the rally. (In the post-game interview Shane revealed that he had faced Henriquez both in Venezuela winter ball and in the minors, referring to it as the “advantage of having played minor league ball for nine years.”) Shane got ahead 2-1 as the loudspeakers blared the trumpet battle call, and I was still in the middle of an extended “C-h-h-a-a-a-a-r-r-g-g-e!!!” call as Shane boomed one into left, down the line. The view from Box 622 is good, but we do lose the left field corner, and I was very nervous when the home plate, third base and second base umpires conferred after Shane had plated two with his double. “They can’t overrule and call it a foul ball now, can they?” I worried. But, although the conference was indeed bad news, it only cost one of the two runs, as they ruled that a fan had touched the ball. They therefore sent the totally spent Ventura back to third after he was forced to run three bases and slide into home, as it turned out for no reason.

But our four-part bullpen test wasn’t over yet, and Mo came on for the ninth. And he did great, aside from the gapper in left center by Easley (I can’t believe he arrived in the Bronx hitting .180 and got five hits in two days!) that Shane’s quick work held to a single. I noticed in Mo’s stats as the Scoreboard blared “Enter Sandman” that he had 32 K’s in 34 innings, “almost a strike out an inning,” Sterling would say I’m sure. Part of tying up the loose ends here, then, will be removing the word “almost” (35 K’s in 35 innings now that he struck out the side). Another matter of business: conratulating Don Mattingly on this, the 15th anniversary of his tying the record for homering in eight straight games. And last I’ll tip my Yankee cap to the late comedian “Red” Skelton, who would have been 92 today. You see, today was all about color (and a Yankee win) for me.

BTW,TYW

YANKEE BASEBALL!!!