Apparently there was something filtering through the air vents of the East School library in the early 1970s that infiltrated the kids' grudge receptors. As demonstrated the other day, I can still hold one that's more than thirty years old. And so can somebody else.
Since this has been a night for opposing viewpoints, it is my privilege to present unedited, as received via faithandfear@gmail.com, the other side of the Harry Truman's 88th Birthday story. Ladies and gentlemen, the first “arrogant, argumentative, generally didn't know what he was talking about” Yankees fan I ever knew and my best friend from third grade…
Here's something to add to your blog:
Clearly, I knew more baseball at 9 years old than you know now. Since that day in May 1972, the Yanks have won 5 World Series, each more glorious and filled with heroics than the one that preceded it. Great players, great teams, great wins, great times and great baseball — still played at the site where its always been played, 161st Street and River Avenue in the Bronx. Even unsuccessful years — 2001 for example — provided for the greatest sports moments a fan could witness in person (WS, Game 5, Brosius' turn to make BK “Someday he'll be pitching for the Mets” Kim cry). Last year was rough, but your Schmetties were once again barely worth watching. Moreover, Old Timers Day at Shea continues to be nothing more than a parole opportunity or a rare paycheck for the rogues gallery of miscreants, malcontents, morons and deadbeats that typically underachieved in Dodger blue and Giant orange — and a lot of mortuary black added of late. Lastly, with regard to HST, it was my idea and I never received the postcard back from him that you and the Debbies and Beths and your other fellow copycats did. Of course, that you still begrudge a great American dead 30 years a meager franking privilege suggests to me that in addition to the character flaws and deficient understanding of America's pastime that has led you to willingly choose baseball in a place appropriately called Flushing, you probably also find fault with how WWII was ended with swift and decisive action by the then Commander in Chief. President Truman, likely a Cards fan, had some choice words to describe that type of thinking and those who engage in it. You can look it up.
Jon Hymes
Washington, DC
P.S. To complete the historical record, I feel it's important to note that in 1979 you stole my review of Led Zeppelin's “In Through the Out Door” from Lindauer's The Tide inbox.
Good to hear from Jon for the first time in many a year. I appreciate his knocking one WS title off the Yankees' post-1972 tally, presumably 2000's. Did I mention he always had a terrific generosity of spirit?
Man, he can really write too. Must have been quite a school.
Old Timers' Day at Shea? When is that this year? I didn't see it on the schedule for some reason, but I'd sure like to go and watch this yearly rogues' gallery of miscreants and morons. Sounds like fun! While I'm at it, maybe I'll pick up some tickets for the Mayor's Trophy Game and Banner Day.
I couldn't agree more that the Yankees' “unsuccessful years” (oddly enough, like most Yankee fans, you don't think past 2001) have been filled with some of the greatest sports moments ever witnessed… I could watch the 2001, 2002, 2003 and 2004 WS a million times and never get bored. Good times.
And of course the Yankees' “great baseball” hasn't always been played at “the site where it's always been played… in the Bronx.” Don't make me remind you that more than once the Yankees have had to make their temporary home in good old Flushing while that crumbling slum of a ballpark has been made fit for human habitation. You could look it up. ;-)
(I may love Greg Maddux, but at least I'm not a Yankee fan. Geez!)
I wouldn't get into slum ballparks. That's a fight we're not gonna win. Hey, look! The feral dogs have taken down one of the pizza-counter women! And she's biting them back! Auggh! Yipe! Yipe! Grrrr! The police are coming — but none of the escalators are running! They're stopping halfway up to rest! And here comes Felix and his feral cats! Rowrrr! Fffft! Oh, the humanity!
Jace, I don't know about you, but I've never been clocked with a piece of the section above me, or showered with life-threatening construction materials, at Shea. And we've certainly never had to repeatedly show up at the door of Skank Stadium, cap in hand, begging “can we play here again? Our place is falling to bits… again!” All threats to life and limb at Shea are down to the fans, not the ballpark.
(And as if the police or any form of “security” would actually come to the aid of the $8 pizza slice lady. That's a Shea Stadium Fantasy if ever there was one.)
Hey Laurie, I hear they're thinking about installing some larger-than-life players (batters, pitchers, catchers, and the like) in multi-colored neon artwork on the facade of Shea Stadium. It sounds kinda weird. Take a look when you go for Old Timer's Day and see if you think it's a good idea. Me? I'm headed to Banner Day right after a bite at the Top of the World Cafe. Oh, and I think the Mets are absolutely right; this really is “Baseball Like it Oughta Be!”.
They're doing WHAT?! That's not going to make much sense during football season when the Jets are in the house.
(OK, dead horse soundly flogged. I'll stop now.)
I was. May 1, 1999. It was just a little crumbling concrete that fell like chunky snowflakes from the upper deck to the mezzanine where I sat. After the game I took the remnants to a stadium official to “report” it and hand over the evidence (which I've always been sorry I did; imagine owning a piece of Shea on something other than the bottom of your shoe). The guy was like, yeah, you see why we're getting a new ballpark. I said, yeah, but we have to sit here for the next four years. Good thing it got built, huh?
But our boys never had to make a road trip to play a home game.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to Manufacturers Hanover and buy my tickets to Player Family Day.