Joe Tall
10-25-2004, 07:58 PM
One of my friends wrote about his experience at Yankee Stadium. Not that this couldn't happen in Boston but he happened to a friend of mine on Thrusday night. Funny thing is, I nearly went down with him that night but I had to stick to my seat where I watched the last 3 wins.
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Stolen Memories
My first playoff game experience began with high expectations. I knew I was about to have the best time of my life. I was able to buy tickets to Game 7 of the ALCS for $400 an hour before game six. I knew we could do it…. I believed. So my friend Chris and I got the time off from work and drove down to New York from Worcester MA in the early afternoon before game 7. We got all geared up in red, as proud as any two Red Sox fans alive. We had nosebleed seats but we could see the field and there was red all around us, life was good.
We met some excited Sox fans and befriended all of them. I took some great pictures of some real members of the nation and even some Yanks fans having a good time. Game 7 here we go!
By the 5th inning the Yankees fans around us were growing restless, it wasn’t hatred or anger that fed them…. it was fear. Which is the worst of the three. Loose change was being recklessly thrown at us from seats above. Full beers exploded on impact as they hit us, and those around us. It was lame, pathetic even. But given the situation it was easy to endure.
Before the second out of the 5th inning, a large contingent of NYPD men came up the stairs on both sides of our section. We were relieved, not from fear but relieved of annoyance, we thought they coming to eject those tormenting us. I wish the story ended here and ended happy, but it doesn’t. Dozens of Yanks fans started pointing at us trying to get the attention off the culprits who were sending beer missiles our way. The officers up front pointed at us and came down are row, they grabbed 3 of us, My pal Chris, myself, and some Sox fan we’d just met. Several Yanks fans showed me a lot that day by trying to stick up for us in front of the officers……. It didn’t matter. We were cuffed and stuffed and dragged to an outdoor detention facility.
Our ID’s were ran through the system (checking for warrants) and we were forced to stand, cuffed in the shadow of Yankee stadium. We knew nothing, not what we were arrested for, where we were going, or for how long. To make things worse, the boss on the job was a miserable man. He got kicks out of telling us the score was 8-9 Yanks coming back with no outs, Pedro getting shelled. It was 8-1 last we knew. The depth of poor treatment at the hands of these men was endless. Of course the street guys, the men on the beat, knew we were innocent just from the few Yanks fans that stood up for us. But none of it mattered, the officers in charge were Yankees fans, and they hated us.
When they cuffed me, I told the officer who had me in custody that I had just got my arm out of a cast and wasn’t fully healed. He was good about it. But when they loosened my cuffs in the holding pen the boss yelled at the officer and proceeded to recuff me, putting the cuffs on tighter than before and so the chain was on the outside of my wrist. Which twisted my whole arm around causing tremendous pain. I tried to not complain about it, but the pain was obvious. He thought this was funny, and ridiculed me for it. I stayed in that position for an hour. This was the moment I realized that we were behind enemy lines and the wrong words would make this situation more painful. We weren’t in the hands of men dedicated to protecting us, we were in the hands of men looking for an excuse….
Never in my life have I been treated this way. I was kidnapped in Yankee stadium by Yankee fans with badges, put through mild torture and ridicule. Then released right in time to be caught in the middle of 40 thousand angry Yankee fans (not a coincidence) leaving the game early because my team was destroying theirs.
Truth be told, out of all this only one thing bothered me. I wasn’t there! I wasn’t there when Pedro gave it his all but came up short. I wasn’t there when Bellhorn went yard. I wasn’t there when Timlin went lights out. I wasn’t there when thousands of Sox fans drowned out the home team fans and filled Yankee stadium with chants, and I wasn’t there when 40 thousand blue and pinstripe shirts filed out of “The House that Ruth Built” like spoiled brats who didn’t get the toy they wanted at Christmas. Even worse than that, I wasn’t there in the end when it mattered most, down by the field supporting my team, The American League Champion Boston Red Sox.
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Go Sox!
-Joe Tall
__________________________________________________ ___
Stolen Memories
My first playoff game experience began with high expectations. I knew I was about to have the best time of my life. I was able to buy tickets to Game 7 of the ALCS for $400 an hour before game six. I knew we could do it…. I believed. So my friend Chris and I got the time off from work and drove down to New York from Worcester MA in the early afternoon before game 7. We got all geared up in red, as proud as any two Red Sox fans alive. We had nosebleed seats but we could see the field and there was red all around us, life was good.
We met some excited Sox fans and befriended all of them. I took some great pictures of some real members of the nation and even some Yanks fans having a good time. Game 7 here we go!
By the 5th inning the Yankees fans around us were growing restless, it wasn’t hatred or anger that fed them…. it was fear. Which is the worst of the three. Loose change was being recklessly thrown at us from seats above. Full beers exploded on impact as they hit us, and those around us. It was lame, pathetic even. But given the situation it was easy to endure.
Before the second out of the 5th inning, a large contingent of NYPD men came up the stairs on both sides of our section. We were relieved, not from fear but relieved of annoyance, we thought they coming to eject those tormenting us. I wish the story ended here and ended happy, but it doesn’t. Dozens of Yanks fans started pointing at us trying to get the attention off the culprits who were sending beer missiles our way. The officers up front pointed at us and came down are row, they grabbed 3 of us, My pal Chris, myself, and some Sox fan we’d just met. Several Yanks fans showed me a lot that day by trying to stick up for us in front of the officers……. It didn’t matter. We were cuffed and stuffed and dragged to an outdoor detention facility.
Our ID’s were ran through the system (checking for warrants) and we were forced to stand, cuffed in the shadow of Yankee stadium. We knew nothing, not what we were arrested for, where we were going, or for how long. To make things worse, the boss on the job was a miserable man. He got kicks out of telling us the score was 8-9 Yanks coming back with no outs, Pedro getting shelled. It was 8-1 last we knew. The depth of poor treatment at the hands of these men was endless. Of course the street guys, the men on the beat, knew we were innocent just from the few Yanks fans that stood up for us. But none of it mattered, the officers in charge were Yankees fans, and they hated us.
When they cuffed me, I told the officer who had me in custody that I had just got my arm out of a cast and wasn’t fully healed. He was good about it. But when they loosened my cuffs in the holding pen the boss yelled at the officer and proceeded to recuff me, putting the cuffs on tighter than before and so the chain was on the outside of my wrist. Which twisted my whole arm around causing tremendous pain. I tried to not complain about it, but the pain was obvious. He thought this was funny, and ridiculed me for it. I stayed in that position for an hour. This was the moment I realized that we were behind enemy lines and the wrong words would make this situation more painful. We weren’t in the hands of men dedicated to protecting us, we were in the hands of men looking for an excuse….
Never in my life have I been treated this way. I was kidnapped in Yankee stadium by Yankee fans with badges, put through mild torture and ridicule. Then released right in time to be caught in the middle of 40 thousand angry Yankee fans (not a coincidence) leaving the game early because my team was destroying theirs.
Truth be told, out of all this only one thing bothered me. I wasn’t there! I wasn’t there when Pedro gave it his all but came up short. I wasn’t there when Bellhorn went yard. I wasn’t there when Timlin went lights out. I wasn’t there when thousands of Sox fans drowned out the home team fans and filled Yankee stadium with chants, and I wasn’t there when 40 thousand blue and pinstripe shirts filed out of “The House that Ruth Built” like spoiled brats who didn’t get the toy they wanted at Christmas. Even worse than that, I wasn’t there in the end when it mattered most, down by the field supporting my team, The American League Champion Boston Red Sox.
__________________________________________________ ____
Go Sox!
-Joe Tall