The Big Boy, The Sherrys, Mikey Juice, Sean, and the Ferocious Lion

      “It’s turning into a frenzy up here,” said Tony Sherry, a bit anxiously. As well it might. Mikey Juice and Tony had just come back with “the first wave.” Three sausage heroes, three plates of chicken fingers, two hot dogs, three cheeseburgers, and a few high piles of french fries (did I forget anything, boys?). Well, you can call it the first wave if you don’t count the warm-up – two bags of peanuts. Mike Sherry quickly appeared with two more rounds of beers. Before long, Juice was hunched against the left field wall, mumbling, “I’m so fat that I’m holding myself up right now.” At one point the kid behind us says to Acc, “Is that a chicken finger on your hamburger?” The big boy calmly replied, “Yes. And French fries.” They were referring to the fact that the Big Boy had stacked a piece of chicken and a bunch of French fries on top of the burger, underneath the bun. Acc really is an amazing man. After that display all of them swore off food for the next two weeks. So about one inning later Mike Sherry was asking when Acc was getting his usual round of “dippin’ dots.” Acc reminded him that it’s bad luck to get them before the seventh inning. So Mike Sherry and Acc tided themselves over with a bag of cracker jacks…

      The sixth is when things started frantic. I was getting surlier by the second as the Yankees had failed to score in 10 straight innings going back to last night. And when the Rays pushed a run across, I was unfit for conversation. But along came the sixth. We knew we got our break when Branyan booted that ball and the Yanks put men on first and second with two out. A-Rod gave us some nervous moments working out that walk, and we felt the right guy in Giambi was up with bases juiced (no pun intended). But before the first pitch of the at-bat, Tony Sherry turned around and said, “On deck.” I nodded my head. “Dude, if he was any more due they would be letting him swing the “big green wiffleball bat” (you guys know what I’m talking about – the huge wiffleball bat you had as a kid until you broke it trying to see how far you could hit a ball. Yours may have been a different color). So Giambi rolled the most pathetic ribbie groundout you’ve ever seen to first. But it did the trick. After the last few days, we weren’t at liberty to split hairs. Tie game. Up stepped the Ferocious Lion. Tony Sherry leaned out against the wall, focused. I asked him if he had a plan for the dance if “it” happened. “You don’t plan these things,” he scolded me, puzzled that I would ask such a ridiculous question. First pitch, base hit up the middle. The crowd erupted. Tony went nuts, but held off on the actual dance, because he says he can only do it after a bomb. Didn’t matter. People from two sections over were coming over congratulating him on the Lion’s hit. Finally. The game was over right then and there, any everybody knew it. The next inning Sean stopped bye and we all celebrated with five helmets of dippin’ dots – one of each flavor. Mission accomplished.

      Later I called Mikey Dantone, just as “Enter Sandman” started to rip through the stadium. He knew why I was calling. “I’m home, bro. But I’m watching.” “Can you hear what’s playing in the background?” I asked. “I hear. Bring it home, bro.” And so we did.

      Worth noting that before any of this, Tony and Mike Sherry met me downtown at around 5:30. We made a quick pit stop into the Yankee clubhouse store at the Seaport to gear up. Tony got the Matsui t-shirt with the Japanese writing, Japanese flag and Yankee symbol, along with a nylon zip-up. Mike got a Yankee t-shirt and sweatshirt, and I got another Bernie shirt (just for good measure), a windbreaker-pullover, and a wool Yankee hat, which I proceeded to wear all night (hey, it was a little chilly – I don’t apologize for that; even though the Sherry brothers were wearing shorts…..). We still need to figure out which articles are officially lucky, but I’d say they all got off on the right foot. Any way you slice it, we came back with a win for the fellas…

      A few notes on the game. Derek Jeter is crushing people’s lives. He is completely locked in. Shawn Chacon was lucky to wiggle through his last outing, but he looked solid tonight. I know, it’s the Devil Rays, but he kept the Yanks in this game until the law of averages kicked back into gear. It wasn’t exactly pretty, but when you’re hitting and pitching is near the top of the league, you’re going to win some games both ways. Tonight we won because of pitching. Nice way to win.

      Can’t help but notice the Red Sox got their bumpers peeled off tonight. Beckett. Maybe this will finally shut people up a bit. We’re talking about a guy who had a career record of 41-34 before this year, with a 3.51 career ERA and a history of injuries. He was never the second coming. But everybody (specifically Red Sox fans, Met fans, and everyone who hates the Yankees) was hoping and praying he would be the next Clemens for the Sox. Nine runs in 3 plus innings, eight earned. Whoops. First Clement, then Schilling, now Beckett. The Sox staff is quickly coming back down to Earth. I will say this, though. Those Cleveland Indians can hit, and they are going to be tough, tough, tough.

      Welcome back, Ras and Saif. We missed you guys for a while. Don’t worry. We’ll catch the Sox. We always do. Just ask H8n….Happy Meds Geoff, nice work on the link. A-Rod has to start using his head. JD, No dance, but I took plenty of pictures that I will post this weekend. G-deuce, no Deki-Dance, no video. Maybe next time we’ll hook it. Reid, thanks for the clarification on the comment. I agree with Lucky, Jason and JD. Schilling is a d*uch*bag. By the way, guys. Nine comments. So close. So close…

      The BPS has a solid won-loss record in games attended so far this year. And why not? You have a job to do, you do it. And if you can be there when your favorite player wins the game for his team, even better. Tony Sherry smiled all the way home.