Bronx, N.Y., June 24, 2002 — One of my father’s proudest moments, I’m sure, was when he bought the house in Central Jersey and moved us out of the Bronx when I was five. But my father and mother had seven sisters between them, all good Irish Catholic girls with families like ours, so we spent much of my formative years traveling back and forth between the City and Jersey visiting, driving through oil-refinery-congested Northern Jersey.

And whether we (my sister, two brothers and I) were counting out-of-state license plates, playing a very confined version of dodge ball with a glove or other “harmless” object, “acting” angelic (rarely) or teasing one another in the back seat, all activity ceased when we hit that spot in Elizabeth. We called it the “Hold Your Nose Zone.”

I feel like I just came out of the Zone again, and it’s good to breathe the fresh air of first place on this, the other side. I don’t have to tell any Yankee fans out there that the trips to Colorado and San Diego were roller coaster rides in more ways than one. Scoring either a bazillion runs or just one; starting a three-gamer with two uplifting and loud victories and suffering through a third-game stinker, or being humiliated in all aspects of the game (and a few we hadn’t even thought of, like beach ball etiquette in the stands) in an opener, and then winning two nail-biters where the pitching, at least, was superb.

Mike Mussina was very efficient, as usual, in Sunday’s 3-2 win. His 62/41 strikes to balls count approaches a 2/1 ratio, very good. And first-pitch strikes? He threw more than not each of the three times he worked their order, and his 18/9 count is exactly 2/1, once again an excellent ratio. He pitched into the seventh, and notched seven strike outs. Need you ask? He got one in each and every inning, of course. Only one aspect of Mike’s game convinces me that my impression that he would have made a great efficiency expert is bogus. He bats left-handed! What’s that about? It so doesn’t fit the profile of “Quiet Mike.”

Moose is obviously edgier than I give him credit for, and he certainly deserved a win yesterday, even if his work was sloppy when compared to Lilly’s Saturday gem. And Stanton and Mendoza have had better innings, but coming off Mariano’s 15-day DL stint, I hereby profess myself to be profoundly happy with the pen (even after Thursday’s meltdown). Rondell, who owes himself and Yankee fans a few, finally hit a huge homer, and a struggling Jeter showed one more time why he may be the best ball player I’ve ever seen, as he toughed out those base hits in the seventh and ninth. And even though I’ve had a soft spot in my heart for the town of San Diego and their team (which was even worse when I caught a game there in 1972) for years, I think the break we caught when Bernie’s bouncer stayed airborne just long enough is one we deserved after all the hot smashes that have become dp’s this year.

But lovely San Diego is not the culprit that reminded me of the North Jersey stench of my youth. Rooting for the Yankees to win, though not always easy, is my “job” (not one anyone pays me to do, however), my raison d’etre, it’s what I do. But rooting for the L.A. Dodgers (in their three-gamer with the Red Sox)? Ouch! Gag! Someone get me a paper bag; I think I’m hyperventilating!

I have had a deep enmity toward that club for almost as long as I can remember. I know that “dem bums” served as more of a humorous and bumbling foil to the great Yankee teams of yesteryear, but my first distinct (as in “stink”) Dodgers memory is of the all-too-short Series of ’63, when Koufax and company made short work of my heroes. But I was “just a kid” then; the fact that they were favored over the Yankees I supported as a young adult in the 1977 World Series was a deep insult, one that beating them back-to-back just did not erase. More than anything, I felt deeply offended at the pride they seemed to take in their 30-homer-hitting infield, with Ron Cey, Bill Russell, Davey Lopes and Steve Garvey from third to first, because I felt that there was never a more defense-challenged, yet successful, infield in baseball history.

But I digress. Their greatest sin, undoubtedly, is that they crushed my dreams as a kid, and that they then had the audacity to sweep us out of the ’81 series after we went up 2-0 in games. (And please think of our next Series appearance before pointing out that other teams have beaten us in the Series too. Fifteen years is a lot of anger.) Over the years I have had to try to ignore Dodgers games with the Mets, or root for both teams to lose. (I’m very positive as a fan, so it surprised me just how negative I could be when I put my mind to it.) But with the long and frustrating climb these 2002 Yanks have been making toward first place in the AL East, held for so long by the pesky Boston Red Sox, I was forced to actively (and disgustingly) root for the Dodgers. Ugh!

It is some serious rooting tools I bring to this, my most complete and professional avocation and, once I had decided that enough was enough, and the West Coast guys just had to sweep the Sox, I threw myself into it. It takes some serious concentration to stare at the CNN Headline news sports ticker as it gives those unending golf updates screaming (or thinking, when not alone — people can be so narrow-minded about “aberrant behavior”), “C’mon Dodgers, you can do it, you can D-O-O-O-O it!”. I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done, but I do feel cheap, and strangely hung over! C’mon Yankees (and Andy). Show me it was worth it. I like the air up here.

BTW,TYW

YANKEE BASEBALL!!!