Remember Jordan

Smoothly flying through the air

Artist in motion

Summer

Numbers crunched into boyhood dreams

Crack of hit

Thwack of glove

Pop of corn in the bleachers seats

Televised evening entertainment

Family interaction even if begrudgingly

Warm comfort of repetition

Legends passed from previous generations

Into a poetic version of Americana

Had the privilege of going to my first ever New York Yankees game and what a treat it was. Accompanied by my wife and my little, little sister-in-law. Yankee Stadium was incredible.

Photo by Taylor Tompkins

First we literally rolled up next to the stadium on the four train to see more chapionship banners then one can imagine. We were easily able to get into the stadium and to our seats without in less then ten minutes.

As far as lines for concessions or bathrooms, well, there were none. Everything was quick and easy to get which was a bonus. However, I did buy me and my little sister two cheeseburgers, a soda for her, a beer for me and an order of french fries for us to share and the bill came out to 40 DOLLARS!!!! Taylor (Sister) was like “WOW, that’s expensive!”. And she is 14!

As for the game itself, it was not so good. The high point was watching how the crowd buzzed everytime A-Rod came up in pursuit of his 600th home run. Sadly we would not see him get that magical home run as he would remain stuck on number 599 for a few more days before getting his dinger.

It was still a whole lot of fun to see the stadium light up with flashbulbs every time a pitch was thrown A-Rod’s way. I was able to get some good pictures from our seats and on the whole it was a good time had by all. Even if the Yankees did lose by a good amount.

As the New York Jets begin their off season, the sports landscape goes into a bit of a doldrum for this poet. Sure, there is the Winter Olympics, but there is no doubt that NBC will manage to suck all of the fun out of such exciting sports as curling and the biathlon.

Some might think of basketball as the great outlet for the nomadic sports fan. However, as far as college goes, there is March Madness, and then, well, there isn’t much else. The NBA can be exciting, especially when you are a Lakers fan such as yours truly. But, considering games of import aren’t really even played until April, there just is not that much appeal.

This leaves us with baseball. America’s pastime. Field of Dreams, Bull Durham, Major League and all those other great movies. Casey at the Bat was my favorite poem for the longest time. Okay, so perhaps it still is.

Baseball is a marvelously relaxing cerebral sport in so many ways. Yet, the game in its essence is easy to pick up. Explainging baseball to somebody from England is much easier to do than explaining American football.

But lets be even more honest about the situation. There is no better way to tell the civic pride a city has than by how it feels about its baseball team. So it is with this spirit in mind that I slouch my way through the next few weeks, waiting for pitchers and catchers to report, and The Boys of Summer to take the field.

In my time on this planet I have seen the Jets make it to the AFC Championship game a grand total of one time. It is in this frame of mind that I approach this championship round week.

I am not a crazed fan who believes that the Jets have belonged in this final four category since the first day of the season. No, I am the humble fan, the one who realizes that Mark Sanchez is the first quarterback to make the playoffs while throwing twenty interceptions in a season.

It is rare to be in the New York area and be the underdog. Generally speaking New Yorkers think they are the best. (Sometimes rightfully so.) This feeling of superiority is multiplied a few times when you reside in North Jersey as we here have a chip on our shoulder. That in a nutshell is the Jets, one big huge chip on the shoulder. Not so much a blue collar team, not a Steelers or Bears type of team. No, these Jets have swagger and a bit of gloss.

Jets thoughts.

Jets Fan Poetic

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