“You don’t think it is, but it is.”
That was Oscar Gamble’s take on Yankee Stadium in 1979. The new Yankee Stadium hasn’t sunk to that depth, thanks largely to seats costing around first-class international travel fares and the general shift of all live spectators at sporting events that dish out more wine and cheese while the actual fans are either pushed up into the gossamer air or out of the stadium altogether. It didn’t help that Yankees fans haven’t been too enamored with their team lately.
There is probably a treatise on how the temperature of our contemporary society – the pretentiousness and rudeness in every facet – is best exemplified in the places where we gather en masse. We’ve seen more incidents of fans and players clashing in various forms. Just this week there was the canteen meeting of Kyrie Irving and Celtics fans. After being locked away for two years, more and more are feeling their oats when they are back outside and having a good time.
Or it could be that Yankees fans are just angry assholes:
That had started a few minutes before as a couple of bleacher creatures taunted Cleveland’s Steven Kwan after he crashed into the wall while chasing a Kiner-Falefa double that tied the game at the end of the ninth game. Whatever was said went so far over the limit that the other Guardians’ two outfielders, Myles Straw and Oscar Mercado, confronted any rock man who had a little too much to say.
After Gleyber Torres ended the game in the next at-bat, the Guardians outfielders were pelted with trash and full beers, to the point where the Yankees had to call off their celebration and instead went to right field to greet their dim-witted supporters to truncate it out. All in all a pretty sad sight.
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Whenever that happens, there’s a rush to yell “Some bad apples!” You can bet the demographics of those who throw shit on the field and those who yell that exact line in much more serious arenas are an exact match, and you’ll forget the rest of the idiom: “…ruin the whole thing.” Bundle.” There was no word on the other fans in right field calling the pitchers to safety, nor have the Yankees themselves said they’ve identified them. Hopefully soon. We’re only as good as our weakest or dumbest links. We learn this lesson every day.
It’s all dismissed as a combination of one of those first fine days in New York, drunks in the sun, etc. Hopefully it’s an isolated case at Yankee Stadium, although we can probably expect otherwise soon elsewhere.
There’s no excuse for whatever this is:
Bud, you can’t simulate the idea of a bratwurst cooked in beer by treating your $27 beer in the Bronx as some sort of cocktail sauce for your certainly under-intoxicated dog. It’s hard to imagine the mindset that would spend $30 on a beer and a dog or whatever the ransom is, only to have them both ruined. Have you ever thought, “Mmm, this beer is good, but what it could really use is a hint of mustard on the finish?”
I now fully expect a New York brewery to offer a hot dog IPA, and the most annoying person you know will tell you it’s really, really good. Whenever society really does collapse, if we haven’t already, historians will know the roots of it from yesterday’s The Boogey Down.
