Yesterday, I popped into the Yankees clubhouse store on East 59th Street to grab a few pocket schedules–except there were none.
“There are so few tickets remaining,” said the man behind the counter, “that they’re not bothering to make any.”
Wonderful. I feel so…blessed…to be a baseball fan in New York City. I predict that I will attend anywhere from zero to three games at Yankee Stadium this season.
It turns out that there WAS one more empty barrel in my parents’ basement storage locker. Last week, I brought it upstairs and washed it out. Yesterday, before I went over for brunch, I tossed 50 more of last season’s balls into my backpack. Only 221 more to go, and then my apartment will be (temporarily) ball-free…
A few other things:
1) I learned how to ask for a ball in Romanian. Written phonetically, with CAPS indicating where to put the emphasis, this is what it sounds like: “TEH rogue ah-RUNG-kah MIN-jah”
2) If anyone has snagged a ball from the World Baseball Classic, I want to see it.
3) I love the Superbowl because it marks the end of being-annoyed-by-football season.