First Game of the Season

We all have something we’ve been counting down the days till it arrives. Let me preface this by saying, I am super active. I see two-four Broadway shows per month. I regularly hit all the top museums. The Guggenheim is my fave. But nothing beats my first game of the season. I’ve been dreaming of this since the day, I paid Ticketmaster the ridiculous but mandated service charge. Well today I got there. As the four went above ground heading toward 161 Street, my heart pounded and my blood rushed with excitement. I knew I was getting to the Stadium. For those of that don’t know me. Or don’t know me well. I am a very ritualistic person. It could stem from Judaism. Or very likely stems from the rituals I participated in the Order of the Arrow when I grew up. I’m not sure if did or ever will. But that’s for another post. But I realized as I went down the stairs in the train station, I probably started my first traditions in the House that Ruth built. At each game, I eat a variety of foods. But according to tradition, I must eat them in a certain order. My eating habits depend on the inning. The required food must be finished by the bottom of the prescribed inning. My mother once said, I have more traditions than, Tevye. Today, I realized I even walk down the same flight of stairs off the platform at 161 Street. I exit through one of two turnstiles and always climb up the same flight of stairs to exit the station. Upon exiting the station, I took my usual gaze at the Stadium. Then I crossed the street to walk on hallowed grounds, the site where the real Stadium, the House that Ruth Built lived. It opened April 18, 1923. Babe Ruth inaugurated it with its first home run. Yeah, he made the stadium’s first error that day. Even the most important ballplayer in the sport’s history was human. After they tore down the world’s holiest sports venue, they promised to build a park with baseball fields on its soil. That park is now open. I watched a little bit of some little league games and walked over to the park. There were some kids on the playground. They probably weren’t even born when the Stadium stood. I hope their parents told them what was on the grounds of their park. I strolled into the new Stadium. I went to Monument Park and saluted the baseball greats, Ruth, Gehrig, the Clipper, Martin, Mantle, the Scooter and many more. As mentioned, I have required eating habits. This dates to my first game in ’77 with my dad. The Yankees won it all that year. We had hot dogs, knishes and Pepsis. To this day, I must eat that and finish it by the conclusion of the first inning. At times finding potato products had been tough. I used to bring Wise chips. But in the new Stadium you can find more potatoes than you ever wanted. Fries are prevalent. But at a ballgame, I want a knish. I knew the Glatt stands had greasy ones. I came up a different ramp than usual. Oh, how I get toward my seat makes no difference. It is not part of the tradition. You must have some freewill. My eyes zone in on some people in Stadium concession stand uniforms wearing tzitzits. You don’t have to be Vulcan to make the logical deduction that they would be manning the Glatt stands. I hiked over, got my hot dog and knish. They were super nice. They gave me a small paper cup to fill up by the water fountain adjacent from their stand for Netilat Yadayim (hand washing prior to eating bread). I bought my Stadium cup Pepsi, peanuts, washed and hiked over to my seat. I dove into my hot dog, knish and chugged my soda. As usual, I finished with about 30 minutes before the fist pitch. We all stood for the National Anthem. As it played, I looked up at the sky. My mind was filled with images of a photo of my grandfather wearing his U.S. Army Officer’s uniform. I can’t believe June 26 will be his first Yazhreit. On that fateful day, I was sitting in the Stadium at Old Timer’s Day when for some reason, I walked away from my seat during the bottom of the first. I rarely leave my seat until the end of the fifth. I saw I had a VM from mom. I played it. She frantically said, “Call me”. I did. I got the news. Today’s game began, C.C. pitched really well. Jeter, Granderson, Jones and even A-Rod made the pinstripes proud. Thanks to them, we didn’t even need to play Enter Sandman. I finished the game with all of my traditions and caught the four. I will be attending 6 more games. I hope I am 7-0. More important is my dream of our four game sweep of the NL team on Oct. 28, in the fall classic. This will happen.