Bleacher Creature Feature

#39: Much Better than the Devlin/Emmerich Movie

8 April 2003

Not only did Godzilla hit his first Major League home run, but he hit it at Yankee Stadium.

Not only did he hit it at Yankee Stadium, but it was a grand slam on a 3-2 pitch that followed an intentional walk to Bernie Williams.

Not only was it a grand slam on a 3-2 pitch following an IBB, but it was hit into the bleachers, right between Sections 37 and 39 (about six feet to Terri's and my right, actually).

About two minutes before he hit it, I was thinking, "If he hits a grand slam, this place will explode." Well, he did and it did.

It was one of those moments you couldn't have scripted, because if you tried to write it, it would sound too contrived.

Okay, enough of that. I suspect that all anyone will be able to talk about regarding this game on TV, on the web, and in the papers will be the grand slam, but there was other stuff going on that will be stepped on by Godzilla, so let's talk about that....

Andy Pettitte threw five good innings, allowing only one run on three hits, with one walk and a strikeout. Unfortunately, Godzilla's rampage came in the bottom of the fifth, and by the time Pettitte came out for the top of the sixth into the thirty-five-degree temperature (according to ESPN.com's box score -- it felt a helluva lot colder than that), he had lost it. After opening the inning with two walks, he proceeded to give up two runs and throw a wild pitch before Antonio Osuna was brought in to stop the bleeding.

This led nicely to a day of redemption for the bullpen. Osuna threw a near-perfect 2.1 innings (marred only by a five-pitch walk to Torii Hunter), and then Jason Anderson redeemed himself for his disastrous opening day outing (where he gave up two runs without getting a single batter out) with a Mariano-esque 1-2-3 ninth (on only seven pitches, no less).

Both Jason Giambi and Bernie came up twice with runners on third and one and two outs, respectively. In the first, it was Nick Johnson on third, in the third it was Alfonso Soriano. Both times, the #3 and #4 hitters made cheap outs that didn't score runs. That was irritating, though not disastrous in the end.

By the way, Johnson was on third in the first because, after slapping a single the other way, he then stole second and went to third on a throwing error.

Yes, you read that right.

Nick Johnson.

Stole a base.

This, unsurprisingly, doubled Johnson's career stolen-base total. All I could think of was the line from the movie Cobb where Ty Cobb is asked to say at least one nice thing about Babe Ruth, and all he can come up with is, "He runs okay for a fat man."

Aside from Erick Almonte, every Yankee got on base today, as the offense rolls merrily along. The Yanks have yet to score less than five runs in a game, and have scored an average of 8.71 runs per game. Especially fascinating is seeing Soriano do things like take the first two pitches out the strike zone and fighting off eight pitches (one taken ball, seven foul balls) before bapping a single to lead off the third inning and Raul Mondesi actually hitting well.

It was good to be back in the bleachers. Hadn't realized how much I missed the place until we went back. All the usual suspects were there, from Milton and the cowbell (who at one point made an announcement to any and all newcomers that the bleachers is an R-rated environment; "This is not a family section!" to which I muttered a reply, "Yeah it is -- the Manson family," and the woman in front of me added, "But we dress better") to Da Queen Bee (wearing a Jets hat for warmth) to Tom (in a different seat, but still doing the Tom-thump with pelvic gusto) to Loudmouth Larry (tossing insults at Mike Cuddyer in right field). The guy behind us (whose name is Jerome) had a sign that read, "MY FAVORITE WINTER HOLIDAY IS OPENING DAY."

Sadly, the two brothers who were next to us last year do not appear to have returned. I sincerely hope that the two yahoos who took their place today are not season ticket holders. They are very obviously casual fans (they made plans to leave in the seventh inning, f'crying out loud), who spent most of the time after Godzilla's home run calling their friends and family and telling them to watch SportsCenter. (Not that it would do any good. SportsCenter's highlights had the camera on the wrong spot in the bleachers.)

All the usual rituals were undergone. We had the wonderful Italian sausages. Roll call went smoothly (with Almonte and Godzilla getting their first chants, and in the latter's case it actually was "God-zil-la"), and the last call was for Derek Jeter (who did not respond, being in Florida and all...). Milton did the usual cowbell riffs, the box seaters were roundly abused, the idiots who showed up in Mets regalia were even more roundly abused, and the "gang-bang" chant went on for quite some time.

All in all, a fine start to the season.

Well, except for the weather. Thirty-five degrees. You shouldn't have to wear flannel-lined jeans, a wool sweater over a long-sleeved shirt, a leather coat, gloves, and wool socks and still need a cotton blanket to stay some semblance of warm to watch a baseball game.

Ah, well.

With any luck, it'll be warmer on Sunday....

NEXT: Beating a Dead Horse

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