Letters from the World Series with SDNN’s Len Simon

Last weekend I had to be in Durham, N.C.

As you know, New York is on the way between San Diego and North Carolina, so I decided to attend Game 2 of the World Series.  Since Philadelphia is on the way home, I took in Game 4 in the City of Brotherly Love.

I learned a few things along the way.

And speaking of brotherly love, I learned on my way into Yankee Stadium that my brother is gay. No, he did not choose this time to come out.  I found out from a Yankees fan.

And he did not whisper it in my ear, but rather shouted it loud enough for hundreds of people to hear.  In fact, just in case any of them missed it, he repeated it continuously from the time he noticed us exiting the subway until the time we entered the House that replaced the House that Ruth Built.

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And for emphasis, he did not use the term gay, or homosexual, but rather the same gay slur that got Chiefs running back Larry Johnson in trouble, preceded by a variant of a four-letter word that also begins with F. Classy.

Now, you might ask, how does this fit in my sports story? And even more curiously, how did this New York “gentleman” know my brother’s sexual orientation?  Well, I’ll give you a hint — my brother was wearing a Red Sox jersey.

That was all it took to produce an explosion only slightly smaller than Vesuvius.   I hasten to add that there were Phillies fans, decked out in their regalia, in every location where these verbal assaults took place, but none of them took any serious abuse.

And I can also tell you that there were Yankees fans in Philly, as well as random fans in the outfits of other teams in both cities, and no one else got this kind of hostile and profane reception.   (I was wearing a Padres hat and a guy on the subway pointed at it and immediately said to his friend, “Do you remember that home run Gwynn hit in the Series in ‘98?  Out of the park in a flash.”)

So lesson number one is that Yankees fans hate the Red Sox more than anything else in the world.  And more than Philly fans hate anyone at all.   Yankees fans in Philly had the audacity to cheer “Let’s go Yankees” without being assaulted, something I don’t think would work in reverse. Who knew Philly fans had it in them?

Let me also say that I do not write to defend my brother.  I told him he was crazy to wear that jersey, as did his girlfriend. But he’s a stubborn guy.  I guess you have to be stubborn if you remained a Red Sox fan through the decades of futility.

Lesson number two is that, unlike Philly, it is hard to get anything decent to eat at or near Yankees Stadium.  Despite the hundreds of millions spent on the new ballpark, the neighborhood offers nothing, and the concession stands have such long lines that you have to choose between going hungry and missing two innings.  Not good.

Philly has neighborhood Italian places, cheese steaks, and other delicacies within close range, and better access to food at the stadium.

Lesson number three is a surprise – even Yankees fans can be cowed by a great performance.  I was shocked at how subdued the Yankees crowd was before, and during the early innings of, Game 2 when Pedro Martinez had early control on the mound for Philly.

Most of them had probably been there the night before for Cliff Lee’s masterpiece, and the rest had seen it on TV. They seemed to be stricken with a gnawing fear that Martinez might also beat them, or A. J. Burnett might blow up as he did in his last start in Anaheim.

Although they chanted, “Let’s go Yankees,” they seemed very nervous.  Interesting.  Almost like seeing John Wayne sweat before a gunfight.   They did not sound like an arrogant Yankees crowd until they took the lead 2-1.

Of course, this works in reverse, and even more so. Phils fans at Game 4, trailing two games to one, were very nervous to start, and could be quieted by the smallest things going wrong.  After the heartbreaking ninth-inning loss, they were entirely demoralized.

The momentum of a long series can give baseball crowds a different feel than, for say, a Final Four or Super Bowl, where everyone thinks his team will win and is screaming his heads off at the start. Not so in a best of seven soap opera.

Lesson number four is that Derek Jeter, like many stars, cannot bunt, and Joe Girardi, like many managers, makes decisions that make no sense at all.

When Jeter came to bat with runners at first and second with no one out, I thought:  “They should bunt.  But Jeter is a good hitter so they probably won’t.”

I wouldn’t ask Albert Pujols or Ryan Howard to bunt — why Jeter? But the smart play in this position is to get the extra run in scoring position.

To my pleasant surprise, Jeter bunted on the first pitch.  Foul, strike one. Well, Girardi is managing smart — but Jeter didn’t look so good bunting.  Now is the bunt off?  No, he tries again, and it’s foul again.  Well, the end of the experiment.

Now Jeter will assuredly swing away, and with the Yankees’ luck, will probably hit a three-run homer to ice the game.  But instead, he tries to bunt again, it goes foul again, and he is out!

What?  A two-strike bunt from a star hitter?  Who has just shown you (twice) that he can’t bunt?   So Girardi drops, in my estimation, as a manager.  Bruce Bochy would never do this (of course, he never bunted except with the pitcher up or a guy who was batting .202).

Lesson number five is that Girardi is not so dumb after all. He used Mariano Rivera for two full innings in Game 2.  I marvel at the modern notion that a relief pitcher like Trevor Hoffman can be trusted to get three outs, but not four.  Or that Rivera can get four or five outs, but not six.

This is nonsense, especially in the playoffs.  These are trained athletes.   If you believe the standard approach on this, let me ask you this question.  When an NFL game goes into overtime, can Peyton Manning still contribute?  How about Ray Lewis?  Aren’t they all tuckered out?

And relief pitchers routinely went two innings or more in the ’60s and ’70s.  Indeed, given the rest of the Yanks’ bullpen, I wouldn’t be surprised to see Mariano go — believe it or not — three full innings, to try to clinch the Series.

Lesson number six is that Philly has the best in-park gimmick — a large electronic replica Liberty Bell that lights up and rings when the Phillies hit a home run.  Very cool.  Too bad they didn’t hit a few more and tighten up the Series.

P.S. — It’s colder on the East coast than in San Diego.  In the ninth inning of Game 4, I thought I was in Juneau for the Alaska high school championships.  We need another World Series in San Diego, for more reasons than one.

Len Simon is an SDNN contributor.

Tags: cheese steaks, Cliff Lee, concessions, Derek Jeter, Joe Girardi, Mariano Rivera, Pedro Martinez, Phillies, SDNN, World Series, Yankee Stadium, yankees

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