Bronx, N.Y., September 23, 2002 — I always like to get to the game early, particularly when it’s going to be a big crowd, which was certainly not the case tonight. I was making my way up the escalators in the left field corner at around 6:25, just in time to catch the very tail end of Tampa Bay batting practice, though the paraphernalia, and the Devil Rays team, had left the field by the time I grabbed a dog and soda and went to my seat. El duque was running in the outfield, preparing to warm up, although strangely, Jorge had not joined him yet. I checked the out-of-town scoreboard — I like to see if there are any intriguing pitching matchups — but the meager three-game, out-of-town schedule couldn’t hold my interest.

On the field behind the plate, two people were holding one of those huge cardboard (I assume) checks that are used in promotions, and I wondered what the presentation would be about this evening. More often than not a corporate entity has paid a certain amount for a promotion, and a player (usually an end-of-bench guy happy for the exposure — Clay Bellinger was a regular the last few years) comes out, shakes hands, accepts the donation (a stadium giveaway, a free or reduced-price ticket offer for low-income families, perhaps a charity) and has his picture taken with the CEO, the marketing manager, etc. But this one was different — and fun.

The corporation was Anheuser/Busch; the cause, to raise money for developing a prevention and/or cure for craniosynostosis; the charity to whom the funds would go, the Jorge Posada Foundation; the Yankee player, a real treat: not only Jorge, but also wife Laura (carrying baby Paulina) and that notorious scene stealer, Jorge Posada, Jr. Anyone who has seen the introductions to this year’s All Star Game is familiar with this comic genius’s act.

Junior barreled out of the dugout, leaving his mom, dad and sister behind, and made for the third base side of home plate. He momentarily obeyed his father’s call, slowed and joined his family for the photo op, but then he busted out into the clear again, this time heading for the mound. As the crowd laughed, even veteran emcee Bob Sheppard was distracted; calling Paulina’s name out first; he quickly recovered and called out that Jorge (Junior) “and the Yankees thank you.” It was a priceless moment, worth every exertion I made to get there early, and much more. Junior actually continued on to steal second base, although it was a short trip as it lay propped up behind the mound, not placed in the basepath yet, as the grounds crew was watering the infield dirt. Jorge (Senior) got Junior to turn and start back, then grabbed him and carried him to the dugout to the vigorous applause of the crowd.

The sky was gorgeous, though it would soon be very dark, as the almost full moon struggled to rise above the clouds (hidden in the black sky) strewn along the horizon. The air was cool as el duque’s 7:09 first pitch went wide for a ball. A called strike and ball followed, and then Damian Rolls swung and topped the ball. It barely made it five feet beyond the dirt patch that rings home plate. Jorge busted to get there, picked it up, wheeled and threw all in one motion, but the throw went wide. Although an accurate throw would have had the runner, the infield base hit ruling was deserved. The ball was perfectly placed, and Jorge made a game attempt. Unfortunately it spelled disaster for the whole evening. El duque’s next pitch was in the dirt, and Rolls moved up a base. He took third on Crawford’s single, but The Duke regrouped and popped Winn up to first, and coaxed a slow grounder to second out of Huff — too slow it turned out. Huff just beat the throw on the dp attempt, scoring Rolls. Compounding matters, Huff would score on Grieve’s 0-1 liner to right center, and we were down 2-0 in a game where runs were very hard to come by. But I decided to adopt a positive attitude. It was early, we were the better team, we had plenty of time. I did the “Stevie” dance:

Baby. Everything is all right.
Uptight. Outta sight!

And come back we did. Alfonso (for whom the crowd cheered lustily to hit a home run all night) was hit by a pitch, but Jeter bounced into a 4-6-3, and Jason, looking rusty after two days of inactivity, struck out. But Bernie singled hard to left leading off the second. Then Jorge rolled one softly toward the shortstop hole, but Gomez just got to it, and nipped Bernie at second. Robin singled hard to right, but Rondell rolled another one toward the shortstop hole, which Gomez got to again. The force at third was a godsend; he couldn’t have gotten a runner at first or second. When Nick Johnson closed a promising inning by bouncing back to the box, I found myself wondering how often I had seen the three outs in an inning made on one force out at each of the three bases.

We got to Zambrano in the third, or he got to himself. Alfonso blooped a one-out single to right and Jeter worked out a walk. Jason’s bouncer to first should have ended it, but Zambrano dropped the ball at first on the attempted 3-6-1 for an error, and Bernie walked on four pitches to load the bases. I felt good for Jorge (and myself) that he came through with the two-run single to tie it. Robin walked on six pitches to reload the bases, but the pressing but aggressive Rondell White swung on the first pitch, and lined out to center on 1-1. I know Rondell is trying to get three hits every at bat now, but I would have liked him to take the first pitch against a guy who had already walked three in the inning.

And that was about it really. Alfonso singled in the fourth and walked to lead off the seventh, but the remaining offense consisted of a long fly to left center, single and long fly to left center by Giambi, Williams and Posada in the fifth. Zambrano left after six, having thrown 90 pitches, but 31 were in the two-run, three-walk third. Wilson Alvarez shut us down except for Alfonso’s walk and a — you guessed it — long fly to left center by Bernie in the eighth.

Meanwhile el duque was pitching quite well. He struck out eight and only walked two in eight innings, extending to 114 pitches and attaining a 23-11 first-pitch strikes to balls count. Of the eight hits he surrendered, five were to lefties (his old bugaboo), and one of the three to righties was Rolls’s 25-foot topper in the first. But leading off the fifth he gave up a single to switch hitter Winn and a double to right center to Huff. The play at the plate was close, and Winn appeared to miss the plate we thought, but Reilly ruled he swiped it with his foot I guess. Juan Rivera broke entirely incorrectly to start with, and a correct read might have made the difference. Juan has been opening a lot of eyes with his late bid for the postseason roster, which he is sure to make. But neither his defense nor his offense looked good this night. It’s entirely unfair, perhaps, to judge him on one game, but we only have six games left to make some decisions, and I did not like what I saw Monday night. However, I did think el duque was good, Alfonso got two hits and reached base four times, and Mariano in the Bronx, well, that’s a sight that does my heart good. He gave up a single but he broke two bats — a very good sign.

The evening featured a few more surprises. Although I’m sure I’ve heard it dozens of times, I became aware right after the lineups were announced that the loudspeaker was playing “The Boys Are Back in Town,” obviously in honor of the Yanks’ return from the road trip. And the grounds crew has another new toy I’ve noticed over the last month or so. Two or three years ago they always watered the infield from two taps located at the far (outfield) end of each dugout. Last year, they added a tap right behind the pitcher’s mound. Now they’re watering the home plate area with a new (or at least not formerly seen) tap behind home plate. Edie Falco (Mrs. Carmen Soprano), who is appearing in a Broadway show now (most theaters are dark Mondays) was shown enjoying the game in the fourth inning, and an idiot ran on the field from behind first base in the eighth, to the (incomprehensible!) delight of the crowd, who actually booed security when they cuffed him.

I really thought Monday would be 40/40 day for Alfonso, it’s the date Canseco became the first to do it in 1988. Sigmund Freud died on September 23 in 1939, and Mickey Rooney and Ray Charles were born on the 23rd in 1920 and 1930, respectively. And the mention of this guy’s birthday shares a sentence with nobody else: Bruce Springsteen was born September 23, 1949.

It seemed to be front-row-of-the-tier night for foul balls, as a fan in Row A of Box 617 made a fine one-handed catch on a Juan Rivera foul in the third. But the next two lucky fans couldn’t keep it going as someone in Row A of Box 627 dropped one off Jeter’s bat later that inning, as did a fan in Box 641 off Rolls in the fourth, and these last two didn’t just miss; they dropped the balls down to the more expensive seats below. Boo! Hiss! And from the creepy file: The playing of God Bless America at the seventh-inning stretch ended at exactly 9:11 for the second time when Ive attended a game this year.

Earlier in the column we had a little sing-along with Stevie Wonder, celebrating that not only were things OK, they were “…outta sight,” and I meant that, even though we did lose the game — and best record (on the loss side) in the AL — 3-2. And it’s not simply that I’m putting on a happy face either, as in “Out of Sight; Out of Mind.” Joe’s protestations notwithstanding, I hope to the core of my being that we can turn the tables on the A’s and recapture best record by end of day Sunday.

The score already stood at 3-2 when Tampa Bay catcher Toby Hall strode to the plate with one out in the eighth. In Box 622 (Tier section 12) we take special notice when lefties bat, because if they fail to get around we are peppered with foul balls. Righty Hall took a ball, fouled off a pitch, took another ball. Then el duque let fly a slow curve and Toby swung. He got around, big time. He drove the ball high and hard and more than 100 feet foul. It cleared my head in a blink, and I rose and turned to track its path. It was gone as quickly as it had risen, so I scanned the crowd, up higher and higher in the tier reserved seats, and saw them all doing what I was doing. There would be no free ball memorializing this game on this pitch, at least not to a paying ticket holder anyway. One or two Septembers ago I saw Detroit Tiger (at the time) Juan Encarnacion hit a home run into the left field bleachers, the first time I saw someone reach them in 35 years of games, lots of ’em.

Tonight, I saw Toby Hall hit a ball out of Yankee Stadium! Come to the ballpark. I guarantee you’ll see something you’ve never seen before. It may be a formerly very sick little boy running in the grass for the sheer joy of it. Or you could just see a ball disappear…

YANKEE BASEBALL!!!