MAY 20, 2024
This was my first game of the year. My
tickets were like $20, which is a complete bargain, especially because Juan
Soto was lighting up the American League, and Aaron Judge
had just broken out of his terrible slump. I had wanted to go to the game on May
17th against the White Sox because of the giveaway (a hockey jersey),
but my parents would not let me, and tickets got expensive. So I chose to go to
this game. I had just gotten home from college about a week earlier, had some
money left over, and decided to go. I went by myself, which would become a
common theme. My parents are safety freaks, and hated the idea of me going by
myself to the
I
like to go to the games very early. My train left at 4 PM, which was rather
standard for me. It takes me an hour and a half to get there; I take the LIRR
(pronounced “lurr”) to Grand Central, usually transferring at
My tickets were in Section 203, home
of the very famous and very misunderstood Bleacher Creatures. I had sat here
once last year. I had heard all about “Oh, the big bad Bleacher Creatures, with
all their “Why Are You Gay” singing (banned since 2010, by the way) and
ruthless heckling, and who can forget the roll call, this is where the real
fans sit!” and other 
recycled
garbage from the days of the old stadium. I can go into that another time. I
spent about an hour just slow cooking in the sun, on these hot metal bleachers,
with my very expensive Aaron Judge burger (very good, by the way). I usually
get the chicken buckets, which are a great deal for the amount of food you get,
but I decided to spend like a drunken lord because I was about to start
working. I mean, I didn’t know anybody here… what was I supposed to do? Talk to
the pigeons?
Little
Marcus Stroman was starting tonight for the Yankees. When he was throwing in
the bullpen before the game, he fucked up on a pitch and he very loudly
exclaimed “Those Jews! Their space lasers are fucking me up.” He was riding a
cool 3.33 ERA heading into the game, with a much less cool 4.81 FIP. Logan
Gilbert started for the Mariners (Did I ever 
mention
that? We played the Mariners that day), with a very good 3.07 ERA, even though
putting up those kind of numbers is not impressive when your ballpark is Hell
on Earth for batters. Plus, Gilbert’s numbers against the Yankees at that time
were awful; in three starts against them, he had allowed six, seven, and five
earned runs, with six walks to eight strikeouts in 5.1, 4, and 4 IP. Awful!
As
had been done since the late 1990s, as 5-foot-7 Stroman threw the first pitch,
a man stood up and led Section 203 (and 204, and even some of 202) in the
reciting of the names of the Yankees on the field, save for the pitcher and
catcher. Back in the day, a shirt salesman named Vinny, better known as Bald
Vinny by basically everyone, was in charge of roll call duty. Now, it was up to
a man who I later found out was named Marc. Starting with Aaron Judge, then
going to Alex Verdugo, then to a large reason to why the Yankees had risen from
the trenches of 2023, Juan Jose Soto Pacheco, and then Rizzo, Torres, Volpe…
you get the idea. No Box Seats Suck chant after, as they had been banned back
in 2010, along with the infamous “Why Are You Gay” song. I yelled as loud as I
possibly could, and my voice was already gone by the first inning. Nice! Anyway,
Stroman quickly sat down the first three Mariners batters.
Anthony
Volpe led off for the Yankees, and drew a HBP, what I consider to be a skill.
After all, it gets you on base. As Juan Soto came up to bat, a man had brought
his cowbell and starting banging the shit out of it, no offense to Tommy Lee. A
small percentage of people were actually getting up and chanting along to these
sounds. I could understand the “Yankee baseball, Mets suck… ...Everybody
sucks.” I felt like a lost puppy. It was nothing like my last foray into
Section 203 (a very hot and boring game, rife with once-in-a-blue-moon frat
douches). Soto hit into a sure DP, but beat the throw to first. Aaron Judge had
been red-hot; since his ejection against
I
won’t lie, I don’t really remember what was said to
the poor man playing right field for the Mariners, Dominic Canzone, who could
not keep a job in the majors at the ripe old age of 26. He probably heard the
usual and very true “he’s a bum” and how his name sounded similar to “calzone”.
Some stupid shit like that. Nothing really happened during the game after the
first inning, save for a Verdugo RBI to cap off three straight singles off of
Gilbert. J-Rod booted a ground ball, allowing Judge to move to third with
I
talked to a guy that looked like he embodied a “Bleacher Creature”, a man that
explained how he wore the same shoes he had been wearing to the old Yankee 
Stadium
for over twenty years. He told me that he was the drummer for a band named 100
Demons. (If you look up pictures of the band, he is the guy with the Red Sox
“GARBAGE” shirt.) Good guy. I was offered marijuana (Not by this same person,
who is named Rich, by the way), but I passed on it. I’m so old school, I only
drink alcohol (not old enough to drink and don’t have a fake) and use “Under
Construction ‘98” to make my websites. Don’t fuck with me!! I should mention
the fact that I enjoyed sitting here because I liked getting on television
(picture included.) Anyway, Stroman was taken out after allowing a home run in
the eighth inning to none other than Dominic Canzone. Calzone motherfucker
heard it all and hit a huge home run to cut the Yankee lead to 3-1. Luke Weaver
came in and did his job. I love him. In the bottom of the eighth, Jon Berti
singled to score Gleyber Torres, a player loved by younger fans for his hitting
and detested by older fans for his lazy, back-breaking errors. Berti was caught
stealing after review to end the inning.
Enter Clay Holmes.
Heading
into the game, Holmes had an ERA of 0.00 and a FIP of 1.77. Hitters were
hitting .479 against him, with a BABIP of .294, around league average. While
he was truly awful later in the year, he cannot be blamed for his second (first
was in