Let's set the scene. Tuesday night, Sept. 20, 2005. Hideki Matsui at the plate in the eighth inning. Yanks holding on to a 12-7 lead with one out. Matsui swings and fouls a ball off toward the Tier Box area of Section 12, Row E, seat 14, right where I'm sitting. After 25 years and between 100-150 Yankees games attended, this is my shot. Don't drop it. Don't drop it. And, for god's sake, don't let the lady in seat 12 get in the way...
I make a perfect two-handed grab. The section cheers in appreciation.
Thank you, Tom Gordon, for allowing a run in the top of the eighth and forcing me to stay instead of bailing, as hoped, with a four-run lead and three outs left to get.
Thank you, whoever should have been sitting in seat 13 for not showing up. The ball would have been right in your lap. Sucka.
Thank you, gods of baseball, for giving me a chance to catch a ball cleanly instead of hurling myself into a row of kids like some asshat, or rummaging through hot dog wrappers and mustard packets underneath a seat after it bounded off some uncoordinated chunkmonster's spare tire.
Aside from the one-handed grab while holding a beer, you just can't beat a flawless snare of a foul pop when the ball makes a bee-line for ya in the upper boxes. The worst? Leaning over the rail on a foul grounder, like a garbage-picker. Simply a product of your overpriced seats, not a devine reward.
What a relief to have my first foul catch come off the bat of a name player. It just doesn't sound the same to say you caught a pop from Bubba Crosby.
Walking out of the stadium with ball in hand was cool as shit. You know I was flipping the thing from hand to hand, making sure everyone on the subway noticed I had an Allan H. Selig original.
Way to go Paul!
Posted by Christine Deborah at September 21, 2005 7:09 AM