Calling Nick Swisher! I’m coming over!

Would you believe I’ve never seen my Yankees in person? My sad, sad story of deprivation after the jump.

My place of worship

My place of worship

Living in Atlantic Canada has its perks – lower cost of living, a more relaxed way of life, impeccable scenery, great beaches, delicious microbrews. But it’s tough when you live so far away from your favourite professional teams, or for that matter any professional team.

Now don’t get me wrong. We have excellent university basketball, football and hockey and several Q teams. There’s minor baseball. We’ve hosted NHL and CFL exhibition games, oh, and world curling!

But from where I stand, the nearest professional sports market is a seven-hour drive away. In, um, Boston.

Now I know plenty of Maritimers who don’t allow distance to get in the way of taking in a Blue Jays game or the Habs once or twice a year. I wish I could count myself among those people. Sadly, I cannot.

The last major league ball game I took in? August 11, 1992. Skydome. We were in Toronto on vacation. This was the year Jays games kept selling out. I begged my dad to buy tickets from a scalper. He paid $60 for four seats in the fifth level in left field, which I loved because I could stare at Kelly Gruber’s ass the whole time (I know! What the Farnsworth was I thinking?!)

Baltimore beat the Jays 3-0. Ripken went 0 for 5.

A few years later, my boyfriend (he who would later be my husband) and I made plans to see his sister in the GTA and catch the Leafs. The timing was perfect, considering there was a players’ lockout going on. So instead of experiencing Maple Leaf Gardens, we went to stupid Square One Mall in Mississauga. Oh, but we did take in the Hockey Hall of Fame, so the trip was salvageable.

Then life got in the way (job loss, returning to school, job gain, first baby, mortgage, second baby, house renos…) and the idea of a sports roadie was a far-off ideal. Until this year, when Mr. Bee and I decided damnit, WE ARE GOING TO SEE THE YANKEES IF IT KILLS US!

Kid and kittycat care has been arranged. Tickets have been purchased (thank you, StubHub). Flight and hotel have been booked. MasterCard has been cleared to prepare for impending damage.

This is thrilling for us on several levels. We never had a honeymoon. We’ve never experienced the Big Apple. We’ve never seen a ball game together. The fact that in less than two weeks we’ll be taking in our favourite ball team, viewing Monument Park, drinking nine dollar beer, seeing Posada and Cano and Rivera (hopefully!)…well, I am beyond excited! It’s almost surreal. We talked about this over supper last night and I literally had shivers running up my spine at the thought of seeing Jeter at the plate, under the lights, hearing the roar of the Yankee faithful, anticipating the contact between ball and bat.

Yes, I know I sound like an absolute cheeseball. But when you consider how long it’s been since I’ve seen since I last saw a live MLB game (my God, the first Bush was in the White House, people!), well, maybe you can understand.

So this story is obviously to be continued. In the meantime, share with us your first time. No, not that one!

4 thoughts on “Calling Nick Swisher! I’m coming over!

  1. Bee, you’re not a cheeseball! I especially understand as we never got to have a proper honeymoon either and I haven’t been to a Bengals game since ’94 (it was Shula vs. Shula and I spent most of the game ogling Marino’s ass!) It sounds like it is going to be an awesome time & I can’t say that I’m not a little jealous. With our first one on the way any day now, we’ll probably have to wait until at least next year to get to a game together.

    • Thanks thistlewarrior :) I trust your next trip will be all the more sweeter for those very reasons.

      Any day now? That’s wonderful! Hope you’re feeling good! You’re in for such an amazing experience!

  2. From the sounds of it, you are long overdue for catching a live game. Can’t think of a better place than Yankee Stadium. You are going to have a great time..Enjoy!

  3. Glad you’re finally getting to catch a game. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with spending a game staring at Kelly Gruber’s ass. It was practically a national pastime. (Saw him a few months ago – he still looks FINE.)

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