Bronx, N.Y., August 8, 2002 — I’ve attended hundreds of these parties the Yankees have been throwing the last few years. And even though most of the time I have been seated in the boxes that are home to my two partial plans (Sundays in the Tier Section 3, Weeknights — and days — in Tier Section 12), over the years I have sat in pretty much every area in the Stadium. I was perhaps 14 when my oldest brother took us first, and we sat behind home plate a little down the first base side.

Then middle brother and I got in the habit of allowing the fates to decide our location (and price), as we started shopping at the lamppost where “Murray the Scalper” hung out. “Boxes right on the field” was his motto, and we invariably spent game after game well down the right or left field line, far from home plate and the pitcher’s mound, where much of the action was taking place.

Proximity to home plate improved once the glory years of Thurm and Lou and Graig and Gator passed, and the attendance at the Stadium dwindled through the eighties. But it was still a revelation to me when I spent my first evening right behind home plate in the Tier. I had been up there down both wings when special promotions packed the place, and I remember the climb to the back row of the Upper Reserves for Phil Rizzuto Day (and Tom Seaver win No. 300) in 1985. Years later I used a freebie ticket so close to the right field foul pole that I thought I could touch it when we witnessed Doc’s no-hitter. I’ve even seen a few games in the right field Tier “Bob Euker seats,” but that corner has exuded a steadying influence for years with Paulie patrolling below.

I honestly thought, however, that I had found the nadir of spots when I finally got through to Ticket Master for Game 6 of the 1998 ALCS. Hanging up the phone, I was torn between being excited at having seats at all and distressed at their location. Tier Reserve, Section 34, Row N, Seats 13 and 14! Game 6 would be the clincher of the toughest postseason series we had that year or the next, and I left my midtown (at the time) job really early, zoomed a la D Train to the Bronx, and was in my seat the moment we were allowed into the Stadium. It was a pretty horrible place from which to watch a game really. I’m used to “losing the left field corner” from my section 12 seats, but from up in 34 the beyond-my-view swatch grew, and my attempts to call balls and strikes along with the ump quickly became a very unfunny joke.

But the location did have a special feature I hadn’t anticipated. Although David Cone was that night’s starter, it must have been el duque’s throw day and here, more than two hours before the opening ceremonies, he took the bullpen mound and put on a pitching display for only three people: his catcher, Mel and me. The bird’s-eye view was incredible. He really does have some great off-speed breaking stuff, and the repeatability of the sharp break was impressive. The Duke threw 35 or 40 pitches, and it is a view of a professional at the top of his game the likes of which I have never seen since.

If there is anything more enjoyable than a beautiful evening in the Bronx, it’s a beautiful day, and today certainly qualified. We traded in the play of dramatic color shifts as the sun sets for the relentless heat and brightness of the (one hour after) noonday sun, and the march of big, fluffy clouds across the sky. Fans appeared unaffected with the foul ball “dropsies” that pervaded the Stadium Tuesday night, and good friend Steven, seated in front of me today, nabbed a foul ball lofted by Royal first baseman Raul Ibanez our way in the sixth. Once we had taken a comfortable lead, I spent a little quiet time trying to decipher animal shapes in the lazy clouds overhead, seeing stampeding broncos, a puppy dog, a sea turtle and a huge alligator with a curvy tail on different occasions throughout the afternoon.

Byrd was throwing well, as was Andy, despite the fact that he gave up a run on a scratch single in the second. He went 8-1 on first-pitch strikes his first time through the order, and 34 pitches got him through the first eight guys in the Royals order into the third (though Febles as No. nine would extend him to eight throws by fouling off a third strike three times before grounding out to Robin). This was the Andy I relax watching: not the guy whiffing one or two an inning, as he did two starts ago against the Rays, but the guy who hits bats and causes them to ground out weakly. He threw the old-fashioned way, “letting them hit it” because he had “a great defense behind” him.

And any game report worthy of the name needs to talk about that stellar glove (and leg) work. There were fully six great plays today, mostly in the outfield, and Rondell deserves full credit for the most stupendous, even if his initial circuitous route to Guiel’s deep drive to the left center warning track in the fourth added to the difficulty level, and drama. Rondell has not run into walls (and broken body parts, as advertised), but he is certainly throwing his body to the ground with abandon of late, to magnificent results. Bernie was great too, making a couple of his look easy, something I don’t think you’ll see from Rondell. Andy coaxed 10 ground ball outs, notched only one strike out and didn’t walk a batter. (Heck, he only went to three three-ball counts). Once we took the lead in the bottom of the second, he was never seriously threatened.

But the real story was the bombs, as it has been the story of this entire season so far. Robin got the equalizer (after Bernie lined out to center) in the second on a second-pitch drive deep into the left field boxes, a no-doubt-about-it tracer that reached the seats before many had turned their heads reacting to that distinctive “crack.” Jorge followed with a hard double to the wall in right center, and then Raul Mondesi strode to the plate swinging the dark-wooded bat he began using Tuesday night. Alex Rodriguez is the last guy to reach the left field Tier in my presence. I think I go all the way back to Cecil Fielder (as a Tiger!) for the time before that. But pitch six made that level easily (and at least 20 feet fair, though that was the only concern), and we were up 3-1.

And a quick note about the best news of the day. It was 14 years ago today that Goose Gossage garnered his 300th save (pitching for the Cubs at the time), and Mariano only reached 240 today, but he has had more postseason saves than anyone, and it was an unexpected thrill to see, applaud and cheer him. The only reason it took another of those “great plays” (by Bernie) to get one of the three outs on the only seven pitches was the usual with Mo: It was hit too softly to reach where Bernie was playing.

Four people named Velarde were greeted on the Scoreboard, but I couldn’t tell you if they were related to Randy. And it was the first time I’ve seen them use a different player to give the correct spelling to a player’s name (after several young fans had failed miserably in a between-inning scoreboard feature), but Shane provided the spelling of Pagliarulo. Then in the fifth, Alfonso interrupted his three-swinging-strike-out day long enough to hit our third homer, and account for the last three of our runs, all scored on homers. Alfonso’s shot did not make the upper deck in left, but he threatened it, and with him and Raul swinging power lefty bats in the Bronx, there may be a new reason why section 34 and 36 Tier seats aren’t such a bad place from which to see a game after all, even if you don’t arrive two hours early.

BTW,TYW

YANKEE BASEBALL!!!