Every year during the baseball season, there is one commercial that drives me up a wall, back down again and under the carpet because of it being aired incessantly. In years past, it's been that "Peace Love" Heineken ad, or the Coors Light "Take Me Out to the Party" awfulness (I still, to this day, don't know why the one woman in the ad had her thumb to her teeth and waved with her other fingers. What the hell was that?). This year it's the Ford one that uses Train's "Drive-By" (or, as Tonya's son awesomely calls it, "Derek Jeter's song") and ohmygod I can't mute the TV fast enough whenever it comes on. I've learned to anticipate it and turn down the volume just as the first pixel of it blips on my screen. Okay, maybe not. But it's pretty close.
But then there are those that air that I've loved: The local commercials are always awesome. The Ricoh ads from the early YES Network days, and of course, this one. I think I have some unwritten law on this blog that I have to post this at least once a year. I still flove this thing:
Being on Tumblr now, and following a few different people who have varied interests (mostly older music), I'm discovering that there are some on there who are genuine Internet pals, all supportive of each other with inside jokes and stuff. To some, this might seem strange, weird, creepy, whatever, but it makes me have serious Blog Days of Old pangs, when there were so many awesome people blogging about the Yankees. Like, you get to a point where you follow what someone has to say for a span of several years, and you go back and forth and comment on each others' stuff and you get some mighty good chuckles out of it... and then they all disappear. No, really, I'm the only one still blogging out of everyone I followed.
Wah.
And you know, that's okay. I mean, people have lives and blogs can be time consuming when a s***ton of other stuff is going on(sidebar: How in GOD'S NAME did I have time for over 100 posts a month back in like 2004? What??), or sometimes you just don't want to voice your thoughts into the void anymore, or sometimes you have other means of getting your opinions out there more succinctly (Twitter, Facebook), and a blog is just one medium too many.
I get it. Really.
But it doesn't mean I don't miss those folks sometimes.
First off, was the random turkey I saw wandering Battery Park. Yes, a turkey. Who apparently calls the park home and has a name and sometimes roams up to the West Village, looking for chi-chi hole-in-the-wall restaurants or something. But it was one of those things where you say, "Self, am I hallucinating?" and then when it seems real and you see another person with a big smile following it to take its picture, it's like, "Jesus Christ, there's a turkey hanging out in a not-so-huge city park."
The turkey's name is Zelda, but she will now be known in my head as the Russell Martin turkey because of what unfolded at the game later in the night.
The game itself was fantastic, not just for the win, but because Steph and I managed to summon maybe the most epic "Yankees Insider" Q&A of the season, perhaps the best "getting to know you on the scoreboard" thing the Yankees have ever done. It aired at one of the games I missed and before we got to the Stadium, Steph was like "I hope they show that tonight so you get to see it" and we held our breath when the segment came on, and lo, it was the incredible "Do Your Best Nick Swisher Imitation" installment. You guys? I can't say enough about this clip. You get all the guys aping the ebullient enthusiasm of Swish (Chavez falling over laughing because he can't quite do it) and then taking on his traits: Granderson throwing his fingers around, A-Rod loudly bragging about his "52,000 Twitter followers" and the best, the part Steph couldn't wait for me to see, was Old Man Jeter himself getting in on the action, doing his most animated imitation, complete with bugging eyes, the most completely un-Capitanlike show of emotion I've ever seen.
IT WAS AWESOMETOWN. I really wish there was a way to see these online because it needs to be passed on.
And then you couple it with a straight-up beyond-solid outing from CC, a ball Ichiro hits going down the pitcher's shirt...
....the randomly loud three loud amigos in our section who shot the wave down in most satisfactory fashion and a giant chalice of Reactionary Soda (my personal FU to next season, in which I, an occasional regular soda consumer, will not be able to get souvenir-sized cup drinks because of Bloomberg's 16 oz. or less rule on non-diet soft drinks) adding some sugared-up good feelings, I wasn't feeling so terrible when Soriano blew the save. Sure I was a little peeved that CC lost a chance for a win and that a game that was going so freakishly quick was now going into extra innings, but it ended so delightfully.
Steph and I have taken to using the John Sterling crazy-town French speak when referring to "Monsiuer Martin," so when the ball left his bat (and Steph got untangled from distraction with our hipster seat neighbor) we were all using it to the biggest extreme whilst jumping up and down and high-fiving. And then some guys in the elevator on the way out were like "Monsiuer Martin! Man, I bet John Sterling's still going to be speaking French an hour after that." Which, yes.
Quote of the Night honors go to Steph for her, "I bet Martin is Teixeira's favorite player because he wears number 55." This is a nod to a The Dangers of Speeding commercial that Thumper narrates and has somehow stayed with Steph when she is behind the wheel.
It was our last Season-Ticket Friday of the year, alas, but it was definitely another good year in section 427 (my Friday record was 6-3. Not too bad.) And next year? There's only ONE interleague game on a home Friday, and it's not till September. So, like, the world totally can't end now on Dec. 21st, okay?
Let me start out by saying I think this is a lovely piece on finding where one belongs, and it's especially nice that it's the place I happen to live too. Not enough good things are ever said about New Jersey, especially Jersey City, so it's refreshing to see someone openly admit to their hesitation to moving there and then embracing it. The fact that she doesn't take the easy way out by leaning on "Jersey" cliches alone scores points. As a personal essay, I completely appreciated it.
That said, I have to take issue with some things, because it did strike my Sensitive New Jersey Accuracy Nerve:
Jersey City is not a place that people come to from distant parts of the country with great intention and purpose. It is a place that people come to from distant parts of New Jersey.
Now, you know I am from New Jersey, right? So full-disclosure on that count: She's right about me. However, out of my circle of friends who live/have lived in Jersey City, I am one of maybe two or three native Jerseyites. The rest? Are from Iowa (3 people), Pittsburgh, Texas, California, Maryland and Virginia. I'm not saying the city isn't made up of many lifelong state locals - just that it's had its fair share of transplants in recent years and is not merely a refuge for those of us who grew up in the Garden State and are New York allergic or whatever.
Also: I highly doubt that Brooklyn, where the writer moved to originally, is made up entirely of transplants and that it is devoid of people who grew up there (or even on Long Island). I hear too many Brooklyn accents in my day to know this cannot be the case.
They like the proximity to the city, the almost New Yorkness...
This is where I had to just sigh deeply. The reason I live in Jersey City isn't because it is almost New York. It's because it's not New York. Nothing against The Big City where I spend my working days and many nights, but I value quietness and semi-calm more than I do Being In The Center of It All (like the Milford Plaza... If you understand that reference, you probably grew up around here). My neighborhood may be considered "urban" but in the evenings, it's as quiet as my parents' suburban home. The buildings are all pretty much four-stories or smaller in my section, so you can see the sky here. Cabs may not really come here, but then neither do tourists (unless they're staying near Exchange Place, but even then they are mostly in the city all day). There's a legit mall and Target within walking distance of my place. It has an absolutely gorgeous waterfront. It's far less populated than where most of my friends and family live in Manhattan, and the price tag for my rent is decidedly not New Yorkish. I don't think the want of peace and quiet is an exclusively Jerseyite trait, either, which is perhaps why my out-of-town friends moved here, too.
80s New York-themed commercials WERE THE BEST
In short: The only bearing New York has on my living in Jersey City is that it's where I work and hangout with friends and I want a short-ass ride to get there. And to the Yankees.
...combined with the convenience and comfort of still being in New Jersey.
This I found slightly condescending. To say that I, as a native New Jerseyite, live in Jersey City because it is comfortable is pretty much saying I have not cut the apron strings from this state (fact check: I went to college in Delaware and lived in Astoria at the turn of the century. The only reason I left is because my elderly landlord, who lived upstairs, wanted his son to take over my apartment and I didn't have enough money to move elsewhere. I'd still probably be there if not for that) or that somehow every part of the state is covered in familiarness if you grew up here. I can tell you right now, with as many suburbanish qualities as Jersey City possesses it is in NO WAY like my hometown. Nor is it like Cape May. Nor Princeton. Nor the Pine Barrens. The state is varied as all get out. And if someone were to offer me my choice of a free apartment in New York or New Jersey, I wouldn't be like "The Jersey one, of course. Because it's what I know. JERSEY PRIDE, BITCHEZ."
But the author is only one of many I've heard who has had or still carries a similar view of "New York or Bust", and the stress some transplants put on being from New York, and therefore, Death Before Jersey, has always puzzled me. Because while my friends who are legit born-and-raised New York Cityites have a great sense of pride in where they're from - like most people have in their hometowns - it's not something they flash around like a badge or gnash their teeth over if they end up moving to, god forbid, the other side of the Hudson. One native Manhattanite didn't even bat an eye about moving to Hoboken - Jesus, he WANTED to move there. Another was surprised how adorable Hoboken was and thought of moving there herself before an almost unheard of deal on the Upper West Side came through. They don't view New Jersey as a leper colony or whatever the hip thing is.
Also: Brooklyn and Manhattan are amazing and I'd consider living in Brooklyn myself... but I've never been bowled-over impressed if someone says they live in either place or possess a license from there. Am I supposed to be? Is that a side effect of growing up around here - deadened to the glamorousness of laminated New York addresses?
Anyway, just because you don't live in the five boroughs, doesn't mean you can't enjoy all their perks and conveniences (especially with a ten minute train ride to Manhattan). And unless borders go up and the states declare war on each other, there's no stopping us Jerseyites from doing so at any given moment. So, no, I don't have any inferiority complex or penis envy or whatever it is I, as a Garden Stater, am assumed by many to have because I didn't grow up in/or live in The Big City.
It also means the city has never let me down because I didn't come to it with crazy high expectations (all those New York newscasts I watched as a kid - you don't have to live in NYC to have had Ernie Anastos, Chuck Scarborough and Sue Simmons in your homes nightly - kind of helped with that. Preppy Murders and Zodiac Killers and I still wanted to hang out there as an adult? What?) and I've never blamed it for when I've been unhappy. I've always let it be what it is, it lets me enjoy its myriad things to do and we've always been friends for it.
And when I go back to the Jersey Side at night, we wave at each other and say, "Go Yankees" or "See you tomorrow" or whatever.
International Talk Like a Pirate Day may not be till tomorrow, but I earned a badge of salty honor today when I commuted over my roughest seas to date:
It should be noted that there was no hurricane or tropical storm churning out in the Atlantic or anything - it was just a barrage of heavy wind. And said wind made sure to blow all that seaspray right on anyone in its path. Really, if you need any sea salt, come brush it off of me today.
Just in case you didn't believe these were my initials, and that I didn't actually hang my Yankee hat on them. (BTW, that's natural light there, no fancy flash work. Just the sunset.)
And another BTW, I'm taking my Monkee/other ye olde music love to Tumblr, so if you haven't gotten sick of me yet here on Facebook and on Twitter, go here
So, as I'm standing on the pier in Jersey City, waiting for my ferry and satisfying my Seafaring Heritage yesterday morning, I looked to the south and saw two clusters of dots in the sky over the Verrazano Bridge. They were moving really slow, whatever they were, and I soon figured out the cluster to the left was made up of little planes with signage. The cluster to the right was more rounded, and I thought "Hot air balloons over Staten Island?" but as they slowly came closer, I realized it was blimps. Four of them, to be exact. At this point, the planes have gotten closer to the pier, and even though their signs are facing toward Manhattan, the lead plane says "Parade of Blimps," while the plane in the middle has a giant-ass American flag, and the one on the end says "LOOKUP". Like so:
Everyone standing on the pier at this point is staring up, curiously, and it was pretty amazing to see everyone's faces soften (and I'm talking people from tourists to business men here. No one was immune to the charms of a random blimp parade) then look just a bit delighted as they pulled out their camera phones and started taking pictures. The blimps were a little too slow for us, though, because the ferry came and we had to get on before they got in really good photo range. Still, if you were seated on the right starboard side of the boat, you got to see them on the ride. Some people actually got up from their seats to move to the open door and take pictures.
Blimps aren't rare in this area - especially with god knows how many outdoor sporting events that go on in the summer - but to see this many together, and to have it trumpeted in pretty cute fashion with their airplane cousins, was enough to win me over.
Probably because anytime I see a blimp, I remember when I was like six or seven years old, playing at the end of my driveway with my friend Brian. It was a Saturday in the summer, and we were making "coconut soup," which was basically us just throwing black walnuts (from the tree in my backyard) into a water-filled cement bucket and stirring it up like it was something we'd actually eat (given I wouldn't even eat most vegetables at the time, this goes to show you what kind of imagination I had, that I fancied myself some kind of pretend-food foodie or something). All of a sudden, we heard this low, rumbling/whirring sound. I think it was the previous summer that we'd been playing outside and two military helicopters came flying really low and loud over the neighborhood and simultaneously awed and scared the bejesus out of us. So we were like "IS IT THE ARMY HELICOPTERS AGAIN?"
But when we looked up, suddenly this big gray thing that was most certainly not a helicopter floated into view, seemingly right above the houses across the street: The Goodyear Blimp. Friends, when I tell you this was one of the craziest things to ever happen in good old River Plaza, NJ, it was one of the craziest things. The Goodyear freaking Blimp, right there in black-boldfaced type on its side. I have no idea what it was doing in my neighborhood, at least 50 miles from the nearest major sporting event, but we both just stood, jaws on the ground, coconut soup ignored, as it floated on by. I remember it being enormous, and recently asked my dad "Was it flying that low or did I imagine that?" and he confirmed that it really was as low as I thought. At that age, this was simply incredible, so I thank the pilot for taking that route that day, for whatever reason, and for flying as low as he did. I don't remember if we were too stunned to wave, but I certainly hope we did.
So for that alone, I'll always associate blimps with something sort of like childlike whimsy, which is why seeing four of them together, for no other reason except to have a blimp parade, was a true and utter delight. I Tweeted about it, and the people who ran it, Van Wagner Airships, Tweeted back, so I'm glad I showed my appreciation (as did many others, which was nice to see).
"...And when Martin hit the homer, it was 'Russell, showing some muscle!' and then with a French accent 'Mosieur Martin heh heh' or some other French sounding grunt."- Steph, on the pain of listening to games on the radio.
If there's one thing I don't understand about certain fan behavior, it's the turning on one's own team to spit your frustrations at them in gross, entitled fashion. If there's one thing I don't understand about Yankees fans, it's when they do this themselves.
Check it: There is no excuse for someone of a certain age who claims to be a lifelong Yankees fan to get all huffy and pouty the second the team starts doing poorly. Hast thou not seen a good chunk of those 27 championships (and should therefore not be so downright bitter when the team hits the skids)? Hast thou not lived through enough playoff-making seasons that thou dost not remember other slumps that worked themselves out just fine? Because when I see comments like this, I almost wonder if it's teenage kids doing the complaining - ones who have the luxury of not being alive during the "bad times" and therefore don't know any better (or know any worse in this case). A grown-ass adult who should have gained some perspective by now, though? I. Don't. Get. It. Oh wait, maybe I do. Maybe it's a bandwagoner who pretends to have remembered the bad times, but was really rooting for the Mets back then. Or someone who is just so blinded by the need to win that it's become like The One Ring to them. Anything less than first place with a month to play is worthy of a temper tantrum, and MUST be taken out on social media.
Of course, complaints can and should be made when warranted and frustration in one's favorite team is absolutely valid. When phrased in the right way, it can convey a realistic point of view. Pollyanna-ing can be dangerous in and of itself - if you set yourself up for miracles all the time, you may not be able to pinpoint the things that ARE actually wrong. But I'm not talking about reasonable-argument-making fans who are like, "Why would you send the runner there when you know the pitcher has a good pickoff move?" No, in this case, it's the comments that are like "bunch of spoiled rich whiny babies" (Irony Alert: They're referring to the team... not to themselves or the other "fans" making these comments) that are so completely off-putting, and I have to question why one would even watch a sport if this is the place they go when things get "bad."
If you've read this blog in its entire 11-year run, you know how long I've been rooting for this team. Essentially since I was a zygote. Probably before that. I've seen a lot of s*** go down in my years of growing up with these guys. Right now, they look anemic as all get-out at the plate. The pitching is tepid at best. I don't, however, see any need to question or challenge the integrity or desire of any player on this team. I don't see or hear of any of them loafing or blowing things off and pretending that everything is A-OK. You know, we've rarely seen an entirely healthy team take the field this season, and the five-man rotation/bullpen has pretty much performed above expectations till now. They've stayed afloat way longer than they probably should have, given that Pineda never really got a chance before he got shut down, Andy's been down since June, our epic rock of a closer tore his ACL, Nova's been MIA these last two crucial weeks with injury, A-Rod was out for a good chunk, Teixeira is now out, Cano and Granderson are playing hurt. Having all that talent ailing around the same time isn't going to do wonders for any team.
That's not to say they won't get their asses in gear and fix this. Get Thumper back. See if Andy can slip right back in there and do his thing. Get A-Rod and Granderson hot. Keep Jeter from pressing and go back to his insanely good year. Let Swisher go back to being a A guy in the lineup, not THE guy. I mean, I don't have a crystal ball or anything, but I do think it's counterintuitive to just freak the hell out over something you have no control over and may actually end up turning out okay. Hell, it could even get worse, and then what? You have a full-on meltdown if they don't make the playoffs? You swear off the team because, ohmygod, for only the second time in 17 years they don't make it to October? THE HORRORS.
But this IS to say that this doesn't seem like 25 surly egomaniacs merely coming onto the field to collect a paycheck and who take delight in pissing the fans off by losing. Mel Hall they ain't.
And I'm guessing if you had to look up who that is, you probably wouldn't even understand this argument anyway.