{"id":603,"date":"2013-03-23T15:36:46","date_gmt":"2013-03-23T19:36:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/stephaniesilberwordsworks.com\/?p=603"},"modified":"2015-01-29T12:20:11","modified_gmt":"2015-01-29T17:20:11","slug":"opening-day","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/hometeamproductions.tv\/wordsworks\/opening-day\/","title":{"rendered":"OPENING DAY"},"content":{"rendered":"

Vic’s gone off to Tampa for Spring Training, along with his waggish cronies, where they are certain to be making extravagant wagers, boasting mightily about their respective teams, and watching a WHOLE lotta baseball.\u00a0 Sun, silliness, and a rollicking good time.\u00a0 In their honor I give you OPENING DAY<\/strong>, an oldie written at a time when Yankee Stadium was still the House That Ruth Built, and the bleachers a bacchanalian carnival beyond the wildest imagination.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

We waited until the last possible minute to bother about tickets; a mistake, as it turned out, since it was after all Opening Day, and Billy was back, and the great DiMaggio was to throw out the first ball.\u00a0 But it has always been our way to wait until the last minute, and we were therefore not surprised to find our choice of seats limited to either a precarious perch in the far reaches of the upper stands, or in the bleachers.\u00a0 Since we are both afraid of heights, the bleachers would have to do.\u00a0 We seated ourselves comfortably in the last row, our backs against the concrete wall, and prepared to watch the show.\u00a0 And the ballgame, too, of course.<\/p>\n

\"bleacher<\/a>Already, all was bedlam in the bleachers.\u00a0 Just in front of us, a hardy youth of about 18, sporting a hat emblazoned ‘Copenhagen,’ was spotted purchasing a joint from a wizened creature of indeterminate age and gender, though a wisp of mustache seemed to suggest a male; that worthy had been doing a brisk business throughout the bleachers, calling “Yankee joints!\u00a0 Getcha Yankee joints!\u00a0 Yankee bags here!”\u00a0 He was displaying a plastic bag filled with an astonishing number of skinny hand-rolled.\u00a0 Every now and again he would stop and accept a sip from a contraband bottle somebody in the crowd would offer.\u00a0 Standing on a bench as the first inning approached, he did a merry little dance to the organ riff.<\/p>\n

An ice-cream vendor warned him of the presence of the law, and he headed for the exit, his high good spirits unchecked.<\/p>\n

“I paid a buck and a half to get in,” he informed the fans.\u00a0 “And I’m leavin’ out with a couple hundret.”<\/p>\n

\"bleachers<\/a>A pigeon dropped its leavings on the ground between Copenhagen’s legs, who appeared not to notice.\u00a0 He was taking off his shirt, oblivious to the 35-degree wind.\u00a0 Opening Day had come around again, and that meant spring, and sitting in the bleachers with your shirt off drinking beer.\u00a0 There was no sun this Opening Day, and the goosebumps bristled on Copenhagen’s naked back.\u00a0 He grew too cold within five minutes to care about losing face, and the shirt and windbreaker went back on, to a torrent of hoots and catcalls from the crowd.<\/p>\n

The rotund and jolly fan beside me called, “Yo, bro, leave it off!\u00a0 You’ll get on TV!”\u00a0 The man sprayed me with a beery mist as he shouted.<\/p>\n

Nearby, a bleary-eyed fellow allowed his Four Roses bottle to fall empty underfoot and proceeded to urinate against the wall.\u00a0 The fan beside me was appalled.<\/p>\n

“HEY!” he shouted.\u00a0 “NEXT TIME WEAR A DIAPER!\u00a0 GO DOWNSTAIRS TO DO THAT, FOOL!”<\/p>\n

The bleary-eyed guy appeared untouched by this advice.\u00a0 He asked for a nip of the vodka the shouter-sprayer was chasing his beer with.\u00a0 Very hard drinking was in evidence this Opening Day, and the first inning had yet to begin.<\/p>\n

A skinny dude in his forties with a dissipated face sitting to our other side reached down and tapped Copenhagen on the shoulder.\u00a0 “My name’s Jay-Jay,” he told him.\u00a0 “And two bucks says the Yankees don’t score in the first.”<\/p>\n

“Done!” Copenhagen whipped out his deuce, and my companion was chosen as the neutral who would hold the four dollars.\u00a0 This was the last sentence Copenhagen would utter until the sixth inning, and the last wager Jay-Jay would make throughout the game.<\/p>\n

Jay-Jay had the look of a man with a gambling problem, among other challenges.\u00a0 The shouter\/sprayer became interested.\u00a0 He introduced himself all around as George the Fifth.\u00a0 “My son is George the Seventh,” he informed us.\u00a0 “I work on the West Side Highway.\u00a0 You know Pelham Construction?\u00a0 I told my boss at noon I was goin’ to the store, pick up a sangwich.\u00a0 Then I come up here.”\u00a0 He cackled wildly at his own guile.<\/p>\n

\"Yankee_Stadium_Overview\"<\/a>But his attention was diverted by pre-game festivities; hang-gliders were drifting gracefully one by one into the stadium.<\/p>\n

Jay-Jay called to Copenhagen, “Hey guy!\u00a0 No score in the first, right?”\u00a0 Copenhagen made no answer.\u00a0 He was sprawled face down across the bench, clearly under the weather.\u00a0 He began to lose his beer and pretzels at precisely the moment the Yankees began to lose the ballgame, at the top of the first inning.<\/p>\n

Jay-Jay won his bet.\u00a0 Flushed with success, he attempted to find more takers, but was roundly ignored.\u00a0 It became unfortunately clear that he was a Tigers fan, and this affiliation annoyed George the Fifth.<\/p>\n

“Hey, whaddaya wanna gamble for??\u00a0 We don’t wanna gamble, man, we just wanna enjoy the GAME.”<\/p>\n

George the Fifth reached then to pluck the Yankee cap from Jay-Jay’s head and placed it upon mine, where it remained only briefly.<\/p>\n

\"franks<\/a>“Whaddaya wanna wear that for? You ain’t no real fan,” he instructed Jay-Jay sternly.\u00a0 He threw a bit of Yankee frank into the crowd for emphasis.\u00a0 “You should take off that hat and stomp it,” he added.\u00a0 He laughed wildly, head thrown back.\u00a0 By way of truce, he offered Jay-Jay his vodka bottle.\u00a0 Jay-Jay demurred prudently.<\/p>\n

“Whaddaya, a fuckin’ virgin?”\u00a0 George the Fifth cried, insulted.\u00a0 “Ya look like a truck driver, ya know that?\u00a0 You a truck driver, man?”<\/p>\n

Jay-Jay, equally insulted, declined to answer.\u00a0 George the Fifth appealed to the fans around him.\u00a0 “He looks like a fuckin’ truck driver, don’t he?\u00a0 Hey, Otis!”\u00a0 This to a black kid whose cap was logo-ed ‘Osiris.’\u00a0 “Don’t he look like a truck driver?\u00a0 Who’s Iris?\u00a0 That your girlfriend?”<\/p>\n

Osiris regarded him coolly.\u00a0 “That’s my name<\/em>, yo,” he said, removing his cap and holding it up, presumably so George the Fifth would be able to read it properly.<\/p>\n

Copenhagen had begun to shake violently, and his shame-faced cohorts were covering him with an assortment of towels, denim jackets, and Yankee jerseys.\u00a0 Jay-Jay, despairing of any other gamesmen as hope for a Yankee win swiftly waned, attempted unsuccessfully to rouse the trembling wreck that Copenhagen had become, proffering a couple of wrinkled bills.\u00a0 George the Fifth called, “Hey livin’ dead!\u00a0 Get up!\u00a0 Take your shirt off!”\u00a0 Wild laughter, spray of beer.<\/p>\n

The cold wind blew, the Tigers continued to bare their teeth and claws, and the Yankees frankly stank up the field.\u00a0 But in the bleachers, all was as it ought to be.\u00a0 It was Opening Day.<\/p>\n

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Vic’s gone off to Tampa for Spring Training, along with his waggish cronies, where they are certain to be making extravagant wagers, boasting mightily about their respective teams, and watching a WHOLE lotta baseball.\u00a0 Sun, silliness, and a rollicking good … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\t\n