During the Yankees’ dynasty it seemed like every player they called up filled a role and no one did it better than Shane Spencer.
Former Yankee and three-time World Series champion Shane Spencer joined me to talk about September 1998, the 1998 World Series against his hometown Padres, Gary Denbo and the Yankees’ minor league staff, the 2001 World Series, playing after 9/11, his success against Curt Schilling, the breakdown of the Flip Play, his relationship with Paul O’Neill, coming up through the minors with the Core Four and how the team changed in 2002.
The 2012 Yankees will be remembered as a failure. Not because they didn’t win the World Series, but because they didn’t even show up.
How will you remember the 2012 Yankees? It’s a question that’s staring me down like something you have to answer for your senior year high school yearbook.
I’d like to believe in the whole “Win the World Series or the season is a failure” concept, but even I know that is an impossible expectation even if it sounds good and makes the Yankees organization sound good for supposedly living by it. But you can’t win the World Series every year. You can only hope you get to October and then from there get good pitching, some timely hits, a few lucky bounces and avoid the injury bug.
On Tuesday night, I was at a bar with my roommates and Game 4 of the 1996 World Series was on YES. The Yankees trailed 6-0 before Derek Jeter, Bernie Williams, Cecil Fielder and Charlie Hayes were able to make it 6-3 in the sixth. The Yankees tied it up in the eighth on a three-run home run from Jim Leyritz, and the bartender actually changed the channel to NBA preseason basketball in the middle of Leyritz’s at-bat. But as much as I wanted to see that home run off Mark Wohlers for the 593rd time, I also didn’t want to see it. I wanted to be reminded of what October was like when the Yankees were going to find a way to win, but I also didn’t want to be reminded of what October was like when the Yankees were going to find a way to win.
The 2012 Yankees wouldn’t have come back against Denny Neagle. They wouldn’t have even scored against him. The 1996 Yankees lost the first two games at home of the World Series and then had to go to Atlanta, to the home of the best team in baseball over the last two years, and they came out alive. The 2012 Yankees lost the first two games of the ALCS at home against the 88-win Tigers and then had to go to Detroit and try to send the series back to the Bronx. They shouldn’t have even gotten on the plane.
The 2012 Yankees season ended before they made Anibal Sanchez look like Cliff Lee and before Justin Verlander shut them down without his best stuff and before Max Scherzer repeated his 2011 postseason performance against them. The 2012 Yankees season ended when Derek Jeter couldn’t get up from the field and when the Yankees couldn’t win a home game in which they scored four runs in the bottom of the ninth to tie it. Seriously, how do you lose that game? No team in any sport loses a game in which they comeback in improbable fashion at home. Ever. It doesn’t happen. But I guess it’s a lot easier to happen when Nick Swisher 007 is playing right field.
I wasn’t as upset as I should have been when the Yankees lost Game 2 or Game 3 because of how upset I was after Game 1. After Game 1, I left the Stadium in the early hours of Sunday morning, devastated and depressed. I knew the season was over. Even though there was still technically a lot of baseball left to be played, I knew without Jeter and without winning Game 1 following the comeback that the season was over. I went into Phase 1 of the Yankees Elimination Process when Nick Swisher misplayed that ball in right field and it carried over to Sunday before Game 2. Phase 1 is when you know the season is over, but it’s not over yet. You probably experienced Phase 1 after Game 6 in the 2004 ALCS or after Game 3 in the 2006 ALDS or Game 2 of the 2007 ALDS or Game 4 of the 2010 ALCS. Sure things can change, but you know the inevitable isn’t far away.
Depending on when you enter Phase 1, the time between Phase 1 and Phase 2 can do crazy things to your emotions. You start to believe that even with the odds stacked against you that you can come back and the season can be extended. You can talk yourself into a comeback of epic proportions the way I did after Game 3 when I started asking, “Why not us?” to anyone I encountered throughout the day leading up to Game 4 like I was Curt Schilling eight Octobers ago. The time between Phase 1 and Phase 2 is full of false hope and that’s the last thing you need before Phase 2 sets in. Phase 2: The season is actually over.
Phase 2 can’t begin until the final out of the season is made. Even after CC Sabathia got rocked and the Tigers were still scoring runs against the Yankees bullpen in the final innings of Game 4, I was stuck in limbo on the outskirts of Phase 1, but oh so close to Phase 2. Phase 2 is when there are no more outs or innings or games. It’s over and it’s not coming back until April.
Phase 3 is the final phase and the phase I’m currently in. It’s the phase when there hasn’t been a game for a few days, so it feels like the All-Star break. But then there aren’t games for a few more days then a week then two weeks and then you realize there won’t be real, meaningful baseball until April. Usually this phase becomes easier because it is negated by the NHL season, but because Gary Bettman thinks a fourth lockout during his tenure as commissioner is a good idea, Phase 3 and the winter are going to drag on.
How will I remember the 2012 Yankees? As a failure. The 2012 Yankees won’t be remembered as a failure because they didn’t win the World Series. They will be remember as a failure because they didn’t even show up to get to the World Series.
I will remember the 2012 Yankees for the Goof Troop. That’s Alex Rodriguez, Robinson Cano, Mark Teixeira, Nick Swisher and Curtis Granderson. If you don’t think Mark Teixeira belongs in the Goof Troop because he had nine hits in the postseason then you’re lost. He had one extra-base hit, no home runs and zero RBIs. Let me remind you that he makes $23.5 million to be a power-hitting first baseman and a presence in the middle of the lineup. If he wants to be given a free pass for being a singles hitter then maybe he should give back some of his money away and he can hit with Brett Gardner at the bottom of the order. And if you believe that he makes up for Jason Giambi-like transformation with his defense then maybe you missed his defense in the postseason.
But for as bad as Teixeira was power-wise, the other four were a flat-out embarrassment. The only thing you can really do with Cano is chalk it up as the worst slump ever at the worst possible time. He is the “best” hitter on the team and the future and foundation of the lineup. You can only hope some team is willing to take on A-Rod and a small part of his contract. Granderson will likely be back for at least 2013, so you have to hope the eye doctor he recently visited found something related to why he is now a three-pitch strikeout. And Nick Swisher? The next time I want to see Nick Swisher in person is in right field at Yankee Stadium in the bottom of the first inning, playing for another team. If Nick Swisher is a Yankee in 2013, I won’t be going to the Bronx and that’s a promise. And you can’t even laugh and say, “I’m sure the Yankees will be fine without you there” because if you were at the postseason games, you know that they can use every single person in attendance they can get at the Stadium.
The Yankees finally got the starting pitching in the postseason that they needed in 2004 and 2005 and 2006 and 2007 and 2010, but they got the hitting they had in 2011. They had the easiest path to the World Series since 2006 when the Tigers also ended their season, but instead they ended up as the first Yankees team to be swept in a postseason series since the 1980 ALCS. They were a regular-season success and a postseason failure, and they didn’t even put up a fight. But after six months of laying down in the final innings of games (aside from Raul Ibanez’s late-inning heroics in the final week of the regular season and in the postseason), I should have seen it coming. You can only rely on your 40-year-old left-handed designated hitter making $1.1 million so many times. At some point A-Rod ($29 million), Teixeira ($23.5 million), Cano ($14 million), Swisher ($10.25 million) and Granderson ($10 million) have to do something. Anything! Seriously, get a hit with runners in scoring position. One effing hit.
Before the postseason started, I was scared that Bruce Springsteen’s “Land of Hope and Dreams” was going to be forever ruined if the Yankees were eliminated the way that Tinie Tempah’s “Written In the Stars” was last year. But even though this was the most embarrassing postseason performance from them since 2004 (though it’s hard to discount 2006 and 2007), I decided that the 2012 Yankees had ruined enough for me and they couldn’t ruin the theme song for the 2012 postseason too. Instead the song will serve to remind me of what went wrong over the final four games and six days of the season.
Ya leave behind your sorrows
Ya this day at last
Well tomorrow there’ll be sunshine
And all this darkess past
157 days until Opening Day.
Sheriff Tom goes back to April 25, 1996 in Section 39 of Yankee Stadium for a Yankees-Indians game.
This is a recurring series of recollections, where I will be marching though my old scorecards from my halcyon days in good old Section 39 of the Yankee Stadium bleachers. You’re invited to join me. Please bring beer.
April 25, 1996: Yankees host the Cleveland Indians
Ah, a Thursday night at the Stadium, and I was right back at it. Weekday or not, I was drinking again, as judged by the squiggles and slashes that make up this scorecard. Fun fact: the Yankees and Baltimore were fighting it out for the division and Boston was languishing in the rear with a disgusting 6-16 record. They should have been ashamed. The more things change…
Not much here, and I promise not to simply try to get blood out of a stone. This should be a rather rapid effort and you should be in and out of here quickly!
I see we mentioned “Jerkin’ Joe Girardi-o” on this card. This was probably not simply tossed to the field from our perch, it may even be a nod to our good friend Bad Mouth Larry, who in the past had asked me to look for random Girardi mentions on the card, as that is what we were calling Larry in early days. If you have or had been around to see this guy morph from “Joe Girardi” to BAD MOUTH LARRY you have had a hell of a ride. Seeing that Joe Girardi was not in the Yankees lineup that night, I can probably safely say “Hi, Larry!”
At 7:23 p.m. they had still not read the lineups for the 7:35 start, which caused someone to crack that they were probably trying to find one of the ticket guys to do the job (the ticket guys were notorious for opening the windows for daily game sales a few minutes late for no particular reason). Talk turned to fare from around the league, particularly on how the Twins had battered Tiger pitching for 35 runs in the last two days. Stuff like that was always a cause for chuckle. I was happy to rat out our bleacher friend Crazy Dave, who had been spotted on the A train in a Pittsburgh Pirates cap, which has yet to be explained, these 16 years later. Queen Bee Tina used this to call out our friend Jeff, who she swore she saw once in Central Park in a Mets jacket! “He saw me coming and he ran away!” she snarled, adding that she tried in vain to chase him down.
Brian Setzer, best known for fronting the Stray Cats, sang the National Anthem or a reasonable facsimile of such. Not everyone saw it that way as someone howled, “Arrest that man for murder! He just killed the crowd!” Yet another fan cracked, “He’s a stray cat … he licks his own balls!” After Setzer slinked off the field to polite applause and a smattering of boos an “Italian skier” came out to throw the first pitch. To commemorate this fact I wrote on the card, “Some Italian skier throws out the first pitch, then eats pasta.” And yes, I happen to be half-Italian and I’ve had my share.
Ah, a cowbell battle raged on this night. A random fan bought his own cowbell, and it got him into fisticuff action. As Gang Bang Steve described it on the scorecard, “First he got the point … then he got the fist.” We’ve all been there. Someone had accosted him for encroaching on the legendary cowbell man Ali Ramirez’s turf, an argument ensued, and a finger was pointed, followed by the punch. Both combatants were tossed for their troubles and for our entertainment. For the record Ali rang his first cowbell serenade at 7:35 p.m. and sadly, less than a month later, he would no longer be with us.
I see here I dropped a beer, which was known as the “Five Dollar Fumble” back then. That always sucked, but hey, it sucks more in 2012 with prices of beer being what they are.
After a spirited “Mets suck!” chant someone snidely asked, “What do they suck?” and Tina snapped, “They suck everything!” Ah, she has never changed. One funny line I see on here was directed at someone running (lets assume it was a player on the field as there was not much running room out there in Section 39). “Run, you lanky ass!” someone howled. LOL at “lanky.”
Mystery outs all over this thing. For the unencumbered we would scroll “MO” for any play that whoever was scoring at the time failed to witness. Alarmingly, this happened way to often. I’m quite embarrassed at my behavior seeing them all over this card. One MO in the first, one in the second, two in the third (along with a mystery “HIT”), two more in the fourth, another mystery HIT in the fifth, two more MOs in the sixth, another two in the seventh and the entire ninth was a mystery. I guess we gave up by then. It wasn’t just me, Gang Bang takes some of the blame for this as we were passing the card back and forth like a peace pipe.
I see I was missing outs here and there, but still had time to scroll down the classic line we’d howl after a particularly impressive pop-up in the infield: ”Hey, if you were at the carnival you would have won a stuffed animal with that!” Another fun “pop-up” joke was, “That would have been a home run in a silo!”
I guess the Knicks had a big game or something on that night as “Knicks by 19” is written on here in a messy scrawl. The only other things of note on here are a “Hit him in the head!” command written next to Hall of Famer Eddie Murray’s name and a “You f-cking punk!” written next to that of Manny Ramirez. It’s also been noted for history that some guy named Dave (who may or may not have been my brother) purchased cotton candy.
The Yankees dropped this one to the Tribe 4-3 with Andy Pettitte taking his first loss on the young season, getting spanked for 11 hits in seven-plus innings of work before Bob Wickman and Steve Howe came in to shut it down. Howe got his ERA down to 7.36 with his sterling work. Old friend JERK (Jack) McDowell started for the Indians. He kept his finger to himself and though the Indians won thankfully he didn’t get the win. That accolade went to Jim Poole. We also saw Julian Tavarez and that dope Jose Mesa toe the slab for Cleveland. Martinez had the sole Yankees homer, and he and Jim Leyritz each had a pair of the Yankees hits. Here is your full Yankee lineup on that eve.
1. Wade Boggs, 3B
2. Bernie Williams, CF
3. Paul O’Neill, RF
4. Ruben Sierra, DH
5. Tino Martinez, 1B
6. Tim Raines, LF
7. Jim Leyritz, C
8. Andy Fox, 2B
9. Derek Jeter, SS
For the Indians, Julio Franco notched three hits, and Eddie Murray, Sandy Alomar and Omar Vizquel each had a pair. Albert “Joey” Belle homered, as he always did against the Yankees. It seems he also made an error, which I’m sure went over great with the crowd. Your Indians lineup shaped up like this:
1. Kenny Lofton, CF
2. Julio Franco, DH
3. Carlos Baerga, 2B
4. Albert Belle, LF
5. Eddie Murray, 1B
6. Manny Ramirez, RF
7. Sandy Alomar, C
8. Scott Leius, 3B
9. Omar Vizquel, SS
For a profile lets go with Yonkers, N.Y. native Scott Leius, who went 0-for-4 in this game with a whiff.
Leius haunted the league from 1990-99, wearing the colors of the Twins, Indians (only 27 games, all in ‘96) and Royals. A nifty .244 lifetime batting average, with a mere 28 home runs and 172 RBIs in 557 games of action. He stole one more base than he was caught stealing, at a 16-15 mark. Sketchy. He walked 161 times and struck out 236, nothing askew there. He played all over the place, but mostly was ensconced at short and third. He did log some outfield action (which made it easier to yell at him from bleacher seats) and a few stops at first base. He was born in 1965 and was a 13th-round pick the very month I graduated from high school (I will let you guys look that up) by the Twins out of Concordia College, which actually sports four MLB alumni. His Baseball-Reference page has a low 8,839 views as of today, which to me seems limited to friends, family and me. That said, I’m quite happy I got to see this man ply his trade!
As for the game, it was played in front of the scant crowd of 18,580 (which should show some of us Yankee fans that are laughing at Baltimore fans coming out of the woodwork that this was nothing new around baseball) and went off in three hours and seven minutes. Your umpires on the night were Mike Reilly (HP), Terry Craft (1B), Rich Garcia (2B) and Gary Cederstrom (3B). They were booed.
Sheriff Tom goes back to April 24, 1996 in Section 39 of Yankee Stadium for a Yankees-Indians game.
This is a recurring series of recollections, where I will be marching though my old scorecards from my halcyon days in good old Section 39 of the Yankee Stadium bleachers. You’re invited to join me. Please bring beer.
April 24, 1996: Yankees host the Cleveland Indians.
A Wednesday night affair at the Stadium, one of those comic 10-8 games that featured balls bounding down both lines, walks galore, and more mosh-pit celebrations in Section 39 celebrating deep Yankees tags. Be that as it may, we could not combat what they had going on that night in Detroit, where the Twins were pounding the Tigers 24-11 (or I should say the Vikings were beating up the Lions, apparently) as we watched that score flip around on the scoreboard like the National Debt Clock and laughed all night.
I had come walking in with my headphones and a wee one named Christina immediately accosted me and wanted to listen. I’m guessing she was somewhere around five years old at the time. I had some 80’s thrash metal in there, a folk/pagan metal act named Skyclad. I put the phones on her ear and before I was able to lower the volume she pushed play and the music screeched and bleated. I expected her to shy away at best, to throw the headphones in horror at worst, but she ended up listening to that damn cassette tape until the batteries ran out a couple of innings and hours later. To this day, even without seeing this note on the scorecard I could never play that band again without thinking of that kid and that night she commandeered my Walkman.
It was a night for enterprising by creative fans. First some fans set up a “K Corner” off the loge for Scott Kamieniecki of all people. Always a fan favorite, Kammy ended up leaving the game in the sixth with a whopping two Ks tacked to the wall, so there wasn’t much return on that investment. Yet some more fans that wanted in on the action had made a sign for Paul O’Neill, each of them holding up a letter of his last name … on loose leaf paper! Are you kidding me? Yeah, that will stand out from the batter’s box. Someone in tribute to this lackluster effort drew a tiny circle on my scorecard and promptly held it aloft, stating that it was now a home run target of the magnitude of the mini O’Neill tribute out there.
There was this idiot out there nicknamed Bird, a lanky guy that would shuffle around and annoy any and all. He was walking around with Slim Jims, offering them out like anyone would want them. Here’s something weird on here (aside from creepy Bird) … a UFO sighting at 9:19 p.m.! No, it was not yet another home run given up by John Wetteland. It was a mysterious hovering light overhead that was zipping about in a seeming trajectory that no plane, blimp or copter could do in our thinking. Nothing else came out of this big UFO news aside from a note in the margin of my scorecard that night that we saw it. For the record, I was never privy to another “UFO sighting” out there, in all my 600 games or 6,000 beers.
In the fourth inning, Tino Martinez clouted his first home run in Yankee pinstripes, setting off another pile-on out there in the bleachers. I don’t know what was taking security so long to put a stop to this dangerous endeavor. I mentioned current Cowbell Man Milton was flying all over the place, and I also mentioned that Gang Bang Steve once again ended up on the very bottom each and every time.
This is funny. That relic Dennis Martinez started for the Tribe and got the old heave-ho in the fourth for arguing balls and strikes. He was not long for the ballgame regardless, as before he left the mound he was tagged for seven runs and probably was looking to go out with a bang. He ended up leaving, an ejected man, to a savage chorus of boos. It was always fun to show the old-timers respect!
Ah, I see this was the night I actually spoke to Yankees legend Roy White on the phone from my bleacher seat. As alluded to on here before, a bleacher elder had something going with him, which seemingly everyone knew about but me. Well, at one point this now somewhat-forgotten woman walked up to me out of the blue and told me Roy White was on the horn, and I could say hello. I exchanged a few pleasantries, none of which I remember beyond referring to him a few times as Mr. White and him never telling me I could just call him Roy.
A couple of random musings on here. A tune from A Flock of Seagulls was blared over the sound system, causing a “What is this, 1982?” snarl. Some guy was wearing such a large and clunky hat he was promptly dubbed “Pepperoni Pizza Box Head.” There’s a mention that pro wrestling’s “The Giant” had won the WCW World Heavyweight Championship a few days before (he competes to this day as “The Big Show”). There was apparently a “box seats-bleachers altercation,” but sadly no further details. We even engaged in a pleasant conversation on how odd it was that after all the hoopla we had seen in previous seasons to this regard, not one person had been seen by any of us running on the field at Yankee Stadium so far that year.
Devils fan Billy (famous for once calling the Twins’ Marty Cordova “someone who would be remembered in time as the best left fielder of his generation”) was talking about the circus for whatever reason and someone snapped, “Why don’t you go back there with the rest of the clowns?” And speaking of clowns Gang Bang noted on the card I spent most of the game making funny clown faces at Christina. Hey, I was always good with kids out there, and she did have my headphones after all. I mentioned at one point that Steve “threw a cup,” but explained it away as simply “subterfuge,” which leads me to believe all these years later he was doing it to cover up for someone else at the time to keep them out of trouble.
Out on the field (speaking of clowns again) the Yankees pulled off a wild 10-8 win. Kammy got the win with a modicum of help from Jeff Nelson and John Wetteland, though they were both bopped around a bit. The Yankees had 13 hits, including pairs from Bernie Williams, Paul O’Neill, Ruben Sierra, Mariano Duncan and Derek Jeter. Tino drove in three on the night, and eight different Yankees scored a run. Your Yankees lineup was:
1. Wade Boggs, 3B
2. Bernie Williams, CF
3. Paul O’Neill, RF
4. Ruben Sierra, DH
5. Tino Martinez, 1B
6. Tim Raines, LF
7. Mariano Duncan, 2B
8. Joe Girardi, C
9. Derek Jeter, SS
On the Indians’ side of the ledger they mustered 11 hits with Yankee killer Manny Ramirez and Jim Thome each scoring three runs. Thome also drove in four, including a three-run jack. Omar Vizquel, of all people, also had a home run. After Martinez saved himself by getting the toss we were lucky to see Jim Poole, Eric Plunk and Paul Assenmacher (whose last name Steve managed to morph into an obscene word on the pitching line) on the hill for the Tribesman. Your Indians lineup on the night, met with boos, went like this:
1. Kenny Lofton, CF
2. Julio Franco, 1B
3. Carlos Baerga, 2B
4. Albert Belle, LF
5. Eddie Murray, DH
6. Manny Ramirez, RF
7. Jim Thome, 3B
8. Sandy Alomar, C
9. Omar Vizquel, SS
Lets do a quick profile, and we’ll go with the aforementioned Mr. Dennis Martinez, affectionately referred to by many, but not me as “El Presidente.” Not like most of you need a reminding of him.
He was no Tippy Martinez, that was for sure. Anyway, he hung around from 1976-1998, pitching for Baltimore, Montreal, Cleveland (’94-96), Seattle and a wrap with the Braves. He won 245 games, so no joke there. He lost 193 games and had an impressive 3.70 ERA. He made 562 starts (692 games) and has a whopping 3,999 innings on his ledger. He walked 1,165 and whiffed 2,149, by far the highest totals of each in my dozens of profiles over time. Actually, I don’t think all of the pitcher totals I ever did added up to Martinez’s stats in that regard if you combined all of them together. I had always found him pedestrian, but he was a solid hand for a long time. He never won more than 16 games, but reached double digits in wins 15 times. He was one to remember. Born in 1955, this Nicaraguan was signed by the Orioles in 1973. His profile page on Baseball-Reference has 70, 949 views as of today, which seems sadly low. Cheers to Mr Martinez, may he enjoy his golden years, the jerk!
As for the game itself, only a ragtag group of 20,187 came out for this one, and the game dragged on for three hours and 37 minutes. I bet Michael Kay was mad. Hell, as games started after 7:30 at this time, I was probably mad too! Your umpires on this cool evening (61 degrees apparently) were Gary Cederstrom (HP), Mike Reilly (1B), Terry Craft (2B) and that moron Rich Garcia (3B). They were also booed.
Sheriff Tom goes back to April 14, 1996 in Section 39 of Yankee Stadium for a Yankees-Rangers game.
This is the a recurring series of recollections, where I will be marching though my old scorecards from my halcyon days in good old Section 39 of the Yankee Stadium bleachers. You’re invited to join me. Please bring beer.
April 14, 1996: Yankees host the Texas Rangers. (The Sunday rubber game following a loss on Saturday and a win on Friday.)
Well, this was one for the books. Leave it to us to take an otherwise lazy Sunday afternoon and make a mess of it. So much stands out from this one game, it’s practically a defining slab of the era and it has become a legend in my litany. Starting with sipping cough syrup on the top deck of the parking garage simply because we ran out of beer to eating pieces of the giveaway calendar inside the bleachers just to say we did it to debuting a new tradition that thankfully was short-lived: the infamous Home Run Pile-On … this one will never be forgotten. Oh, and kids, don’t try this at home! Any of it!
The day began at one of the very first “Blue Lou Barbecues” – up on the parking garage roof across from the Stadium perpendicular to the jail – and it was a wild one, even by Bleacher Creature standards. Early on while the setting was still scant, people were taking Lou’s fancy golf clubs and balls out of his trunk and sending screaming moonshots in the direction of buildings along the way. Over the years many things were hurled out of those buildings in our direction, so consider this returning fire. Of course no one had the talent or sobriety to hit anything. At least I sure hope we didn’t.
We either drank too hard or bought too little as we all ran out of beer, and at a bad time too since it was too close to first pitch to make another run. (This was still the era when the drunkards would try to get in for all the action, as beer was still sold in the section and we could get our fix inside.) One vagrant guy that always seemed to be out there collecting our cans came over and started talking about things like cough syrup in times of need and oddly enough someone had some in their trunk. I know, don’t ask. Our shifty buddy took the first swig in front of our skeptical selves, passed the bottle on to Lou who glugged a bit and it went on to me and beyond. I think we all did two rounds of that and all was right in our world. Years later, I now see chugging cough syrup is practically a pandemic and it’s decried in the newspapers, and here was a cabal of Bleacher Creatures in 1996 setting quite the low bar in that regard. Anyhow, it was time to move this one inside.
People were getting thrown out all over the place. Ali, the legendary cowbell man, was trying to keep the peace, ringing his bell, raising his arms to invite dancing and song, and pleading to security to get a handle on things. Even though he was doing us all a favor by trying to save us from ourselves we chided him for it. It got so bad with people being thrown out that at one point another fan walked up to me and said, “What are you still doing here? I thought you got thrown out!” It was news to me, but anything was possible. I actually went down to security on the rail to check if this was true and was met with a, “Nah, you’re good for now.”
We had all been handed 1996 Yankees giveaway calendars at the gate and somehow decided it would be a good idea if each of us ripped off some pieces of the players housed inside and ate them. In retrospect, I blame the cough syrup for this. Yes, this was a perfect example of mob mentality spun out of control. Some of us folded the pieces into square bites while some ripped, crumpled and chewed, and others just made a big ball in one shot, but the players were (sigh) ate in their entirety. Here’s a roster of who partook and which player (or players in Big Lou’s case) they ate, fresh off the pages of this scorecard from 16 years ago.
Sheriff Tom – Tony Fernandez
Gang Bang Steve – Bob Wickman
Tom J (I don’t know who this is) – Tino Martinez
Blue Lou – Dwight Gooden and Joe Girardi. What a slob.
So even after all of this I had a fight with a pack of mustard and lost. I’m wondering now if I was using mustard to add spice to the paper I was eating. Otherwise why I was opening mustard on my own is beyond me. I was notorious for never eating anything out there one would put mustard on in fear of losing my omnipotent beer buzz. This one packet blasted back at me and I was marked. I looked like a Keith Haring poster. For the rest of the day people – most of them strangers – were literally lining up to hand me mustard packs to watch me open them, in the hopes I would get pasted with yet another yellow hue. Being drunk and increasingly belligerent, I was all about proving them wrong and showing them that, yes, I could indeed open a mustard pack. Even that was a disaster in itself, as once they were opened something needed to be done with them, and I decided simply dropping them on the ground would suffice. Of course your next step was someone actually taking a next step, right on top of them, shooting mustard about like shrapnel and getting it all over everyone.
“Sit down, you alcoholic!” someone yelled at me at some point while I was standing up, either eating mustard packets or eating a piece of the giveaway calendar. Oh, my Mom would have been so proud if she could have seen me then.
There was an old man sitting with us who was not our own Old Man Jimmy, spinning yarns about the old Yankee Stadium. Because he was very old and particularly wistful we decided he was full of crap. “Old man telling lies” was promptly scrawled on the scorecard.
In one of the more comedic faux celebrity sightings we have had out there over the years, a dead ringer for Burt Reynolds walked up the stairs to a serenade of hoots and hollers. Someone frankly asked him if he “took a Cannonball Run to the bathroom.” He gave a sheepish wave in response, made his way to his seat and plopped right down next to his date – a dead ringer for Loni Anderson.
Yet even more maniacal fun took hold after a seemingly innocuous Mariano Duncan home run in the Yankees’ half of the sixth, which made the score 8-2 in favor of the good guys. Two of the guys dancing a celebratory jig on the seats took a tumble and rather than help them up, someone decided to pile on instead. Then another daredevil shot through the air, crashing on the cluster, and then it was on! It’s noted here that our friend Gang Bang Steve ended up on the very bottom with an otherwise unidentified “John.” I ended up losing my Cousin Brewski pin in the ensuing melee. (More on legendary beer-slinger and bleacher crooner Cousin Brewski and his highly prized pins in time.)
After this wreck was complete everyone hopped up all grin, gusto and guffaw, which turned to winces and groans when no one was looking. Apparently some of us thought this was so much fun we reenacted the whole scene when Gerald Williams hit a totally meaningless home run in the Yankee eighth to make it 12-2. I friggin’ hated this tradition and I’m grateful that security tired of it almost immediately and put a kibosh on it. I mean, think about this: a bunch of drunken goofs taking running starts, flying through the air and crashing on a pile of others on and in between bleacher benches in uncontrollable daredevil fashion. Back then we averaged around 160 pounds and not today’s 260 (or is it 360?), but this still hurt like hell. I don’t miss it, no way and no how!
To cap the scorecard this time around I see there was an early nod to old friend Gail By The Rail (the infamous candy-thrower) along with random comments such as “Marge Schott should be Schott,” the ever popular “show your ti-s” and a note that a girl in a fur wrap was gleefully dubbed “animal killer.”
The Yankees pasted the Rangers on this day to the tune of 12-3. Andy Pettitte was the beneficiary of the Yankee attack with Kevin Gross getting smacked around on the hill for Texas. By the time he left in the second, to laughter, it was 5-1 New York. For the Yankees, Bernie, Tino and O’Neill all had a pair of hits, while Mariano Duncan cracked out three, including the jack that precipitated the original pile-on, and he drove in three on this day (bless the man). Gerald Williams also homered, drove in three and scored three times. Your Yankees lineup was interesting, and looked like this:
1. Bernie Williams, CF
2. Tino Martinez, 1B
3. Paul O’Neill, RF
4. Ruben Sierra, DH
5. Jim Leyritz, C
6. Mariano Duncan, 2B
7. Andy Fox, 3B
8. Gerald Williams, LF
9. Derek Jeter, SS
As for Texas, they managed 10 hits of their own, with fun foe Rusty Greer having three, including a homer. Their lineup shaped up like this:
1. Lou Frazier, CF
2. Ivan Rodriguez, C
3. Will Clark, 1B
4. Mickey Tettleton, DH
5. Craig Worthington, 3B
6. Rusty Greer, LF
7. Mark McLemore, 2B
8. Damon Buford, RF
9. Kevin Elster, SS (LOL)
Let’s wrap with a profile, and Damon (son of Don) Buford it is.
The guy drifted onto the scene in 1993 and wore many hats, making stops with the Orioles, Mutts, Rangers, Red Sox and Cubs. He usually played around 60-100 games a year, though the Cubs saw to it to give him 150 of the 699 career games he played over eight years in one campaign (2000). He rewarded them with a .251 average and a piddling 15 home runs for that blind faith. For his career, he batted a sickly .242 in 1,853 at-bats, with 54 home runs and 218 RBIs. He had some speed, swiping 56 bags, but was also nailed 35 times. He struck out 430 times – way too high a percentage – and took 173 free passes. He played all the outfield positions and when it was wrapping up for him he made cameos at both second and third. 1996 was actually his “high-water mark” as he batted .282 in 90 games (though he only had 145 at-bats) and we got to see him go 1-for-3 on this nice April day. Born in 1970, he was a 10th round draft pick in the 1990 draft by way of USC. This second-generation star’s Baseball-Reference page has exactly 13,000 views as I’m banging this out, which seems low to me. By no means was he was an All-Star, but I’m thrilled to say I got to see this somewhat fleet-of-foot, world-class athlete ply his trade for my enjoyment.
There were only 20,181 on hand (and a good portion of those were drunk and ended up being tossed out of the bleachers as the day went on) and the game was played in an even three hours time. Your umpires on this day were the late and lamented Durwood Merrill (HP), Gary Cederstrom (1B), Dale Scott (2B) and Rocky Roe (3B).
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this installment, and kids, only drink cough medicine if you have a cough!