You know how usually, even if your team has a pretty bad game, you can console yourself by telling yourself that a bad day at the ballpark is often better than a good day at work? That doesn’t work so well when it’s 97 degrees out when the game starts. When the two Yankee fans in front of you end up running down to tend to an unconscious old man in the upper box seats while they wait for the EMTs to arrive, you just know that you’re in for it.
Roger Clemens was the starting pitcher for the Yankees, and he was no match for Bedard, who I believe leads the league in strikeouts. In fact, we saw Clemens’ first game in which he went 6 innings without recording a strikeout in many, many years.
He was doing OK for several innings–he worked into and out of trouble, but by the end, it was becoming painfully obvious that he didn’t have anything left in the tank. The trainer even came out to the mound at one point, but even so, nobody in the bullpen stood up. This would prove to be Joe’s fatal mistake–in trying to get Roger his 350th win, he left him in way too long–with the way the Yankees were batting, an RBI single followed by a 3 run home run were enough to do the job. I can’t blame him for tiring out, because it was so miserable out, but I do blame Torre for not pulling him in time.
Another thing sort of marred the evening for us. When you go to watch your team in another ballpark, you don’t expect the fans of that team to greet you as liberators, but you do expect civility from the organization that was happy to charge you a premium for your seats at the game and to collect your money for food and beverages throughout the night. On an individual level, a number of people who worked for the O’s were absolutely lovely, especially the lady at the souvenir stand who gave me one of her own supply of pencils so I could use my scorecard. However that courtesy didn’t extend to the folks running the scoreboard and PA system–playing a recording of “New York, New York” interrupted by a record scratch after (yet another) half inning in which the Yankees didn’t do much offensively was just the icing on the cake. For the most part, the fans of both teams were polite to one another and got along OK–it was management that was the problem. If that’s how they like to treat paying customers, then I don’t really have any desire to be one ever again.
Overall, though, despite ending on a down note, it was a good trip to Baltimore. My father got to help fold up the “post” flag at Fort McHenry after some rough weather on the horizon caused them to exchange it for the “storm” flag, and we also made a trip to the St. Jude Shrine downtown.
I’m still working on my Razor Cami, and I’m finally at the point where I’ll have to divide for the front and back. I really can’t wait for it to be ready–I’m so looking forward to wearing it!