Mike Bongiorno has attended numerous sporting events of various types. These range from the biggest major events including Super Bowls, the World Series, and Final Fours, all the way down to minor league and high school games.
Once in a while he documents his experiences at his favorite events. We are sometimes lucky enough to publish these here at ChampionshipCup.com!
Red Sox/Yankees Game 7, 2004
Game 7 in NY. It's been a week now. I ready to discuss.
Game 6 was surreal. Front row, incredible stuff. But Game 7 was just one of those days. Huge anticipation. Not sure what would happen. I started to hear from my buddy around 2 that we could have the same tickets as the previous night (face value $230), but that it would cost us 1K per ticket. I declined, just too much for one game, and what if they loose. Yes, sitting basically with the Sox for the biggest game in the history of organized baseball would be cool, but spending, you know, .1% of the Hammer's annual income seemed like too much. So the guy said he would find some other seats for us and left my office. I quickly realized I had just jinxed the team. I had the opportunity to sit in the SAME seat that I was in for Game 6, which was just a miracle of a game, and I said no because of money! I had turned into the Hammer!
4 minutes later he came back. OK, we can have the tickets for $750. Now, understand, these tickets are selling on ebay and through brokers for 5K a piece, and they aren't comparable to what I am looking at. I realize that I have already potentially ruined the karma, so I say yes to avoid further damage.
At 5:30 he comes back to me. The tickets are gone. All four of them. Someone from boston made an offer the season ticket holder could not refuse. 50K for the four seats. Good news is that we still have seats and don't have to pay $750 for them. 6 rows behind the Yankee dugout; double face value, which is about 20% of street value. I'm thinking, drug dealers have such easy jobs. You just have to know the right people.
I sneak out to the gym because I am way too nervous to concentrate. I get back from the gym at 6:45. My buddy can't go to the game; he's stuck at work. We are scrambling to find someone worthy of a ticket for the second night in a row. Unreal. Finally we find a partner with whom I can tolerate such a stressful event. Not a die hard Sox fan, but friend in the Sox cause (a Met fan). We're off.
The Yankees have pulled out all the stops for the game. Full blown pregame ceremony. Loud music. Celebrities everywhere. First pitch isn't Tommy John, it's Bucky f'in Dent. A total bush league approach. Yogi catching. Then I notice the music. Usually they play the Who and some other stuff. On this night an interesting selection is intermingled: "Tonight, Tonight" by Smashing Pumpkins. Bad choice for the Yanks. It is the Sox who are seeking a miracle, not the 800 time World Champions. Through the cold air and the midst, I am hearing "The Impossible is possible . . . . Tonight . . . . Tonight . . . . . " I am absolutely positively CERTAIN that the Sox will win this game.
The waitress shows up and I order everything I can think of: Cheeseburger, Sausage, large soda, and peanut M&Ms. Oh, and you know what, I have resisted this for every game, but since I am feeling it tonight, I'll take a program too. And put it all on my good friend's card. Thank you so much.
The first inning goes just as planned. Well, not exactly. Dale decides that we haven't had enough outs at home plate since Wendell Kim got the boot, and sends Damon for no reason at all. So, instead of two on one out, it's one on, two out. No problem. Ortiz then hits a rocket, an absolute rocket, into the stands. Life is good. It's clear that Brown might make more than just about anyone in the Sox lineup, but he can't fool any of them.
D Lowe comes in. By the second batter it's clear that his sinker weighs about 50 pounds by the time it reaches the plate. From the 1st base side of the infield where we are sitting, it looks like the most unhittable pitch I've ever seen. The Yankees behave that way too. After a fly to center to lead off the game, the Yankees look like they just want to get the ball out of the infield again. They only do so two more times over the first six innings. Lowe is basically unhittable.
By the bottom of the second, it's becoming clear that Brown has nothing. He loads them up and is given the boot. The stadium is still buzzing though. People are cheering, razzing Sox fans, chanting 1918, Manny Sucks, and the rest of it. And here comes Vazquez, who was pretty good last time he pitched.
Damon has being swinging the bat like a wet noodle all series. A strikeout is inevitable. Somehow the 2 run lead seems meager. The momentum is about to switch. The fans are going nuts. Then Damon just turns on one. Grand Salami. 6 - 0.
The whole atmosphere changes. Where is F is Bucky Dent now, some crazed Sox fan is screaming (oh, that was me). Suddenly the 2000 or so Sox fans are filling the place with cheers. The Yankee fans are silently squirming.
Lowe is now clearly on. But Vazquez settles down and whiffs a couple at the top of the 3rd. Starting to think about how long Lowe will last, and deep in the back of my mind I am hearing "and the grand slam was the last Red Sox hit of the game . . . . " type of stuff. But I push it out of my mind. This is a win.
Top of the fourth, Vazquez walks our number 9 hitter Caberra (don't ask me why he's in the 9 hole, it just didn't make any sense). We are wondering, OK, Damon jacked a slam off him last at bat, why the hell did he just walk the guy in front of him? Vazquez didn't know either. But Damon went yard again, this time in the upper deck, a true bomb. Unreal.
Suddenly, the corporate fraud scum around me identify themselves. They are the ones hugging and kissing each other and wishing each other well. They are LEAVING. It is the TOP OF THE FOURTH in the SEVENTH GAME of the ALCS. And they are leaving. This makes forcing a time out in Big East play about as significant as a layup in warmups. Here I am, at Yankee Stadium, the location of many a death, watching Yankee fans leaving the park, not for the game, but for the YEAR.
Then the most insane thing I think I have ever seen happens. On TV I am sure that they were hyping it, but in the park we had no idea what was to come. The bottom of the seventh is about to start. The Sox players head out on to the field. Where is DLowe? Can't find him. By my count he had retired 11 in a row. We were up 8 runs. What the hell is going on? I see a defensive replacement at first. Ok. Then I look out at shortstop and see someone new there too. Oh, wait, he's not playing short, he's doing something else. He takes his hat off in the middle of the infield and hair gel goes everywhere. PEDRO!!!!!!!! I scream. Not in horror or excitement. Just pure shock. If Clemens had shown up in a Sox uniform to take the hill, I would have been no less surprised. The stadium goes INSANE. It had been dead for 4 innings. Suddenly it was rocking like it was a tie game. Two doubles later, it felt like we were LOSING. Pedro is giving up doubles, a single, he hits a guy, someone steals a base, and still only one out. Oh, and Olerud is up. He has recently taken Pedro deep. Horror show.
Tek visits the mound. Pedro covers his mouth with his glove and nods. Tek goes back. Olerud strikes out. Cairo pops out. Innning over. 8-2. Big sigh of relief. Oh, and Pedro hits the gun at 97 a few times after the visit from Tek.
I say to my friend, you know what, we need a run right now. We just need one. This is too insane. Belhorn gets up and jacks one off the pole. CLANG. It's as loud as it could be. I lose what's left of my mind. The game is now officially OVER.
The bullpen does its job, and the next two innings are routine.
But then it happens. The game ends. The Yankees don't accept it fully: the play Sinatra instead of Liza's New York New York. But the Sox are the ones on the field celebrating. Jumping on top of each other, going nuts. The fans have congregated around the dugout, and the players are going NUTS. Throwing hats, balls, and random equipment into the stands. Sox fans stay for an hour celebrating on hallowed ground. I take off to the subway, where a death march of Yankee fans awaits. Total silence the whole way back. Beautiful.
