Happy Birthday Derek Jeter!

Every girl has her famous future husband and if you hadn't already guessed, Derek Jeter is mine. Okay, he may be turning 33 and I'm about to turn something significantly less than that, but hey, it could still happen. I haven't lost hope yet (That'll happen when he hits his 40s and then it'll just be weird.)

I like to say that Derek Jeter got me into college. The essay question was about a conversation you would have with someone and my essay detailed my interview with him after winning the 2012 World Series. Even reading it today I think it's one of the best things I've written. (Don't roll your eyes, at least I didn't write about how being biology club president changed my life.)

But I bring up Jeter for a reason (besides the fact that it's his birthday.) I've always considered myself a huge Yankees fan, but when talking to others, there was always one small fact that stood in the way of their accepting me as a true fan. I've watched countless games on television and have seen the Yanks play at a couple of different ballparks. Except the most important one. Yes, it's true, I'd never actually seen a game at Yankee Stadium. Oh stop shaking your head in disbelief, I can explain. You see, I'm not exactly a hometown fan, and it's not as though I haven't tried. But every time I've traveled to New York City, the Yanks have been in Detroit playing the Tigers. Every single time.

So finally, my fellow fan and also Yankee-Stadium-deprived friend Megan and I got to talking and decided that no longer would we allow our support of the Yankees to be tainted by our lack of attendance at the ballpark in the Bronx. We hashed out a plan to go visit our friend Aley in New Jersey and then the three of us would head on over to the Bronx to catch some bomber action before they change stadiums. So, we bought tickets for the Yankees-Pirates game and boy what a game it was.

Looking back, that day was one of the best I've ever had. That morning, we packed a big red bag full of turkey sandwiches, pita chips and cherries, met up with some of Aley's friends and had a picnic in Central Park. A picnic in Central Park! It was a hot, sunny day and we were sitting in front of a playground. Somebody, presumably park maintenance had set up a sprinkler at the edge of the playground by the path, and, surprisingly, several minutes went by before one mischievous little boy discovered it. He picked it up and began aiming it in all directions, until he finally left it positioned so that the water sprayed right onto the walkway, soaking anyone in its path. Kids of all ages were everywhere, playing on the swings, the monkey bars, running after each other in fast paced games of tag. A group of kids in matching t-shirts was walking through the park on a field trip, and moms pushing strollers periodically went by. A group of kids began playing catch and frisbee near us, and there were more than a few close calls.

Quite a few other people had the same idea to lunch in the park. Some couples were sitting together, either on vacation or off work. Many people were on their lunch breaks, sleeves rolled up and suit jackets at their sides. Just looking around made me wish desperately that I could be one of those city dwellers who had the chance to lunch in Central Park each day.

But before long, lunch was finished and the three of us were off to explore. Aley's friends left to run some other errands, so we proceeded to stroll on through the park. We saw a movie shoot and a large pond where people were boating. There was also a big fountain, and this one woman was getting her picture taken while standing inside the fountain, under the falling water, and holding an umbrella, off of which the water was bouncing away from her and leaving her perfectly dry. After sufficient meandering, we decided to head over to the Met, where neither Megan nor I had been.

Walking down the streets, the three of us garnered quite a few stares, as we were all decked out in our Jeter jerseys and Yankees caps. At least Megan and I were finally in a town where we weren't yelled at for showing our true colors.

The Met was really cool; my favorite part was definitely the roof. As we were up there, sipping lemonade and staring off at the skyline of this amazing city, I wondered what it would be like to attend a cocktail party for some exhibit opening up here. Can you just imagine putting a little black dress on, sipping a cosmo and looking out at the buildings outlined against the dusky sky? Yes, I really need to move to this city once I graduate.

But soon enough it was time for us to begin heading over to the stadium. As we walked down the streets toward the subway, I saw a sign on one of the lampposts that read "No honking, $300 fine." I really wanted to take a picture of it, since I wondered how often those instructions would be enforced, especially in this city.

Soon enough we reached the subway station and packed ourselves onto the standing-room-only train, with me awkwardly squished between the pole and three people. Of course, one or two stops later, we get stuck inside a tunnel. I'm used to trains stopping for a moment in the tunnel, the metro here does it all the time when there's another train ahead, so I didn't really worry at first. But the moments stretched into minutes, and a voice came onto the PA system and announced that we were stopped because of smoke in the station ahead. Everyone groaned, and I began to worry. Would we get there on time? It was about 4:30 or so; I had wanted to get to the stadium early to potentially try and get someone's autograph (I know I know....but I'm still a kid at heart :) Anyways, I start knocking the bill of my cap against the pole to keep myself busy, since I can't even talk to Aley or Megan because they were standing a couple people behind me and I had no room to turn around. I remember staring at one of the ads lining the car, about a brand new condo tower called something like The Oro opening up in Brooklyn and found myself wishing I could buy one.

Ten minutes went by, 15 minutes went by, and the smoke in the station up ahead turned into the fire in the station up ahead. We were told at the next station the train would go out of service and we had to empty the train. We got out and a there were people in Yanks gear everywhere. A Jamaican woman told us she knew how to get to the stadium and walked us to the nearest train station. But when she explained us how to get there, we didn't quite understand the route, so we asked a cop. He didn't know either, and recommended we wait out the train problems, which would probably clear up in half an hour. We said no thanks and decided to catch a cab. But of course, the hoards of fans outside had the same idea and the one cab we saw go by was quickly claimed by a group of guys. We found one guy who told us of another subway station a couple blocks ahead that would take us to the stadium, so we began the 8-block trek. As we were walking, I realized I was walking through Harlem, and if Mom knew that she would probably have a heart attack. We even walked by the Apollo Theatre, but I was too preoccupied with getting to the stadium to care. The sun was beating down on us, and I turned to Aley and said, "I wish the sun would just go dow...uhhh stay up," almost forgetting where we were and how screwed we'd be if I got my wish.

Finally, after finding the right train, we reached our destination and entered the stadium. I can't even begin to tell you what it felt like to step out into the ballpark and see that Yankees logo freshly painted behind home plate. We found our seats out in left field and took in the sights around us.

The stadium looked smaller in real life, but it was still an incredible feeling to look out at the sea of blue seats around us, the bullpen and Monument Park, which we unfortunately didn't have enough time to see, on our left. Seeing the white grandstand fencing above the bleachers and the flags waving in the wind, it made me feel right at home. A couple of Pirates fans were seated on one side of us, and a family of four, with two young boys were on the other side. I looked at them and hoped that eventually I’d be taking my family to see some Friday night baseball in only the best stadium in the league.

Soon enough the game started and I couldn’t have asked for a better one to attend. The first couple innings were slow; I was really hoping we’d at least score, so I could justify the cost of the trip to Mom. But I had a feeling the Yanks wouldn’t let us down. And of course, when Matsui sent that ball flying, the roar of the crowd was music to my ears. The 7th inning though, that’s when the fun began. The energy in that stadium was electric. The crowd was yelling, screaming, pumping its fists. We were coming back strong after the crazy inside-the-park-homer the Pirates had. The game was tied, and I noticed the family beside us had left, since their younger son had fallen asleep. Now that’s something I hope I won’t have to do in the future – leave in the middle of such a great game.

Anyways, by the 8th inning or so, Megan and I were getting really excited at the prospect of extra innings. Free baseball, we kept thinking, free baseball. And what a show we got. Mariano Rivera had come out to pitch, the Pirates were changing pitchers every second batter, and it was none other than Jeter himself who hit the game-winning single. Seriously, Megan and I could not have asked for anything better. I even got her to scream “We love you Derek Jeter,” with me. Yeah, Aley pretended she didn’t know us.

But now this post has gotten waaaaaaay longer than I meant it to be, so I think it’s time for me to go do something productive...