So corwin, my boyfriend of over a dozen years, is something of a genius. You know, double degree from MIT, reads math books and does mind-teaser puzzles in his spare time, and comes up with ideas like the following: I told him last week that I was probably going to have to go to New York City for an early morning meeting on Monday. I figured I'd take the train down on Sunday night, sleep over at my brother's house in Jersey, and then take the train back Monday afternoon. Amtrak costs around $120 round trip. A pair of seats in the upper deck, plus gas and parking--and let's throw in two hot dogs and a soda as well--comes to under $100. "How about we go down Saturday night, I'll share the driving, and we can see the game on Sunday," my genius says. The only way the plan could have possibly been improved, would have been if Saturday's game was bat day and Sunday's game was cap day. We are a bit too old to qualify for the free bat to 14-and-unders. Still, a grand plan nonetheless. I agreed immediately.

So we packed up our sunflower seeds, binoculars, and scorecards, and headed for the City.

We left my brother's place in Leonia Sunday morning between ten-thirty and eleven. Call me nuts, but after spending a month in Florida where I got to watch batting practice every day from the dugout rail, rushing to the Stadium to catch some of the Yankees hitting isn't as much of a burning need for me. At least not with this particular group of players, whose swings I have learned pretty well. That and it was drizzling. So we took our time in the morning. I know what you are thinking--you left at 10:30 for a 1pm game, and for you that's late? Well, yes. We hopped on the George Washington Bridge and were astonished at the thickness of the fog--Manhattan was not even visible from halfway across.

One of the advantages of arriving somewhat early is getting into the parking lot I prefer, and getting a good spot. We then walked up 161st Street a few blocks to the pizza parlor we like. Now this was really indulgent for us, because we've been on the South Beach Diet since December 1st. Don't laugh--corwin has cut his triglycerides from a dangerous 484 to a more manageable 240--and we've both lost about ten pounds. Anyway, South Beach is a diet that cuts carbs and emphasizes fresh vegetables and lean meats. So having a slice of baked ziti pizza is about the worst you can do. But once in a while, it's okay. Insert standard rant about how the only really decent pizza in the world is found in the New York area, here.

After eating, we had time to wander the souvenir shops on River Avenue. On Opening Day this year I decided it was time to retire my fitted blue wool cap, which had shrunk a little and was getting tight. For once, I thought, let's go for something that will actually match my day-to-day clothes, which are mostly black and white. So I bought a black brushed denim cap with a black "NY" logo after the game. Now, corwin's clothes are as monochromatic as mine (more, since he'll even wear black socks with shorts...), and he liked it, so we decided to go looking for one for him, too.

Along the search, we saw a new crop of Red-Sox-taunt shirts, including one that listed the top five things you'll never hear in Boston. They included "C'mon, 1918 wasn't that long ago," and "Steinbrenner? I love that guy!" There definitely seems to be an explosion this year in shirts and gear aimed at female fans. There has always been some, but both here and in Boston there are now legions of girls and women wearing PINK caps. In New York you can also get it with the NY in rhinestones, or a white hat with just the logo in pink. I am sort of anti-pink, pink being too girly-girl-ish (this from the woman whose clothes are all black), but I am all for female fans showing their allegiance in their own way.

We eventually tracked down a black on black hat for corwin, not surprisingly, at the same stand where I bought mine (the one outside next to the bowling alley), but surprisingly, not the same brand! His is a New Era cap, and not brushed denim but a more traditional cap-like fabric. But to the casual observer, we match.

Then it was a quick trip to Will Call to pick up the tickets. This year, we went in with my brother to split a 26-game season ticket package. But was this game one of the ones we picked? Of course not. So I had bought the tickets through Ticketmaster a day or two before, when it was looking like the game might sell out. I am sure if it hadn't been gray and drizzle, it would have. We went through the security line at Gate 4, where for some reason they were asking each person to turn on their cell phone (?), and then through the turnstiles and past the three mammoth pallets of Jorge Posada Replica Bats. Up the escalator, up and up and up, and then over to section 21, and then up and up and up the stairs, to Row W. Not the top row, but one lower than it. We were huffing and puffing by the time we got up there--one of the reasons we need the South Beach Diet is because we spend too much time in front of our computers and not enough exercising--but so was everyone else who came up to that section, except the hot dog man. I wanted to tell him, hey, come back in the fourth or fifth inning when I'm hungry, will you? But I didn't.

It was around 12:30 when we climbed up there, and we spent the next twenty minutes or so looking around the stadium. I pointed out the things that had changed from last year, which I had seen on Opening Day. Then corwin said "Ooo," in an excited way. Then he looked puzzled. He was looking at something on the field. It looked like two tables with some kind of plaques or something wood arrayed on them... a look with the binoculars showed they were boxes like the ones that championship rings come in. "But they didn't win the World Series," corwin said. Like me, he forgets sometimes that we didn't win last year, or in 2001. "Do they still get rings for winning the pennant?" A guy behind us, in typical ballpark fashion answered. "Yeah, of course they do, AL Champs."

He was right. So we got to see a Ring Ceremony, which was kind of neat. (I noticed Aaron Boone didn't fly in for it, though.) So, they skipped the pennant-raising ceremony on opening day--they just kind of snuck it up there before anyone arrived--but we got to see the hardware handed out. I couldn't help but notice a bunch of the Royals in their dugout sitting and watching.

The Stadium was starting to fill up. There were lots and lots of kids there--it being bat day--whole families of die-hard Yankees fans. For some reason, though, I was noticing how many couples came to the game. One Japanese pair near us were wearing matching Matsui jerseys. I had to wonder, how many of the couples here are like us, been together a long time, and how many are here on a first date?

A happy crowd, a mellow but attentive crowd. Maybe a five game winning-streak will do that, calm people's nerves, and maybe so many kids there kept the drunken aggressiveness that one sometimes sees at sporting events (yes, even in Yankee Stadium) to a minimum. The Red Sox losing two games in one day to the Texas Rangers probably also did wonders for people's moods. The fact that the team seemed to have come out of its funk, swept the A's "big three," and were hitting well was also a factor.

So even though Moose struggled early on, almost never throwing a first pitch strike, and going to three ball counts on so many batters I LOST count, the grumbling was at an all time low. Not only that, the sun came out and the drizzle disappeared. Mussina struck out the first batter of the game, Angel Berroa, the guy who last year beat out Hideki Matsui for rookie of the year honors by two points. After that, it was sort of good-pitch, bad-pitch. Carlos Beltran, the next batter, was down with two strikes when he hit a triple. The disadvantage of the seats we had was we couldn't see anything in the right field corner. The ball went in, and quite a long time later, it came out. Sheffield must have missed the carom or something. Mike Sweeney brought in the run with a ground ball out and we were down 1-0, but somehow that didn't seem so bad.

On the mound for the Royals was lefty Jeremy Affeldt. I wish I could say I knew all about him, but although I was pretty sure we'd seen him before, I couldn't remember a thing. I thought maybe he had pitched with Cleveland. But no, I just looked it up, it was the Royals. It is only Affeldt's second year. We couldn't resist calling him "Aflac." I wonder if anyone will be able to explain that joke in fifty years.

Affeldt did not have the control trouble that Moose did, or he just got much better calls, because he struck out both Bernie and A-rod looking in the first. But the Yankees tied the score in the third, when Matsui--that unbelievably dependable, fundamentally sound baseball player--doubled to lead off the third. Ruben Sierra then came up--he had 7 RBI the day before, with a 3 run shot and a grand slam, so the crowd was noticeably excited to see him. (On the theme of forgetting we didn't win the World Series, the game I always think we won was the one with Sierra's huge pinch hit triple... I keep forgetting the Jeff Weaver-Miguel Cabrera down the line home run...) Sierra hit one deep, very deep, but a rookie named David DeJesus was able to track it down. Still it was deep enough for Matsui to tag and go to third. Miguel Cairo then followed with another fly ball to left, and Matsui tagged and came home.

The Royals were back to picking on Moose in the third. Beltran doubled with one out, and this time Sweeney brought him in with a single. Juan Gonzalez followed with his second hit of the day off Moose, but Ken Harvey, who had come to New York with a .400 batting average but who was going to leave with it around .350, then grounded into a 4-6-3 double play that Cairo did a nice job of starting.

Bob Sheppard made the traditional announcement, asking everyone to hold their bats in the air at one point. I could not get my camera out in time. The photo will look somewhat different in the papers these days, compared to the old days, because Jorge's bat is finished with a black finish, but it was still really neat to see. Then Sheppard asked everyone to "slowly and carefully stow your bats."

So, with the Yankees down 2-1, I was really hoping they would tie the game again soon, so we wouldn't end up biting our nails in the eighth or something. Coming up in the fourth were Bernie, A-rod, and Giambi. Before the game I had remarked to corwin, "So, who do you think is going to hit a home run for us today?" Because I, like many fans (or is it just me?), believe somehow that when I am in the ballpark and certain Yankees hit home runs, they hit them for ME. Not Derek, because too many 16 year olds have dibs on his dingers, and good for them. In particular I always used to think that Jason Giambi would hit them for me. This started before he was even a Yankee. Pretty much every game I saw him play in (even on TV), he hit a home run. Now, we know he's not Barry Bonds (who hit #545, a grand slam, for me, you know, when I visited PacBell Park), and Giambi homers about once every 12-14 at bats. That means once about every three to four games. I am not a huge stats geek, but even I can see that makes the chances of me seeing him hit a homer at the games I attend is not that great, and if you count up the number of ones I have seen (let's see, one in Anaheim, one in Oakland, another in Oakland, one in New York as an A, one in New York as a Yankee in the ALDS, etc....) it comes out to be way more often than the statistic would lead one to believe. So, you see? He really DOES hit them for me.

Actually, my belief in that, and the statistics, were much stronger before last year, when I felt like he really hardly EVER hit one when I was there. I forgave him for that when he hit two in Game Seven of the ALCS, since I was supposed to be there, I had tickets, but I was in Arizona playing ball for a good cause. But before the game, as we were discussing who we thought might go yard, I said "I think it will be Bernie, but I really want it to be Jason." Off the lefthander and all.

In his first at bat against Affeldt, Giambi had swung at the first pitch, which you almost never see him do. He grounded to first. In the fourth, he came up with two outs. I don't know what Affeldt threw him--we were way too far to be able to tell--but on what I think was the second pitch, he launched a shot into the upper deck in right, that just shot on a line right from the bat into the seats. I actually gasped--the sight of it took my breath away. We were at a great angle to see it through its whole flight. If the stands hadn't been in the way, who knows where it would have come down?

It was after this that Moose suddenly got the breaks going his way. He didn't give up a hit after that, though he was still throwing ball one an awful lot, and he was helped by one sparkling defensive play from Alex Rodriguez, and one from Jeter who snared a sinking liner on instinct that had been hit right at him. All the hesitation A-rod showed in spring training is gone, and in every game we've seen this year, both on TV and in person, he has made a handful of really darn good plays. Is he better at third base than Soriano is at second base? Hmmm, I'm not ready to make that call yet. But in another year or so, you may really be looking at a legitimate third base candidate for the Hall of Fame. And that is pretty darn cool.

Moose retired nine in a row in the 5th, 6th, and 7th, and you had a feeling if the Yankees could take the lead in the bottom of the 7th, that would be it for him. (We could see action in the bullpen.) Well, darned if the Yankees didn't do just that--bringing in the winning run and one for insurance. Jorge, on his own bat day, led off with a double, chugging around the bases like the little engine that could. (With any other runner, that's a triple, for sure.) Matsui cashed him in immediately with a single, and Jorge chugged on to the plate, where there was a play on him because he so lovably slow of foot, but the throw was up the line. While they were throwing to the plate, Matsui was taking second, and although they had a close play there, he was safe. This brought the manager out to the mound, and as usual, the Yankee Stadium crowd started to go nuts, making all kinds of noise, some in concert with the scoreboard department, some not. Affeldt then threw a wild pitch, Matsui took third easily, and I turned to corwin and said "We did that." Sierra then lifted a fly to right, not super deep, but Matsui tagged and scored. Cairo then followed with a hit, stole second, and moved to third on another wild one. A new pitcher, but an old friend, Jason Grimsley then came in to stop the bleeding.

He was due to face Derek Jeter. My prediction was that Jeter was going to walk. They both know each other well. My theory was that Grims was going to bust Jeet inside to get him off the plate, and then go to the sinker he throws, but that is often too low for a strike. But Jeter, I think, has not been seeing the ball that well lately. He recently snapped the longest oh-fer streak of his career (was it up to 35 at bats?) with a home run to lead off a game, after several days of the streak getting longer and longer and one day where he actually got booed. ("I almost cried when they booed him," my brother said. One of the tv announcers said "Isn't that like booing Santa Claus?") The next day the crowd got behind him though, with very loud "Let's Go Jeter" chants. Anyway, he has been hitting a bit better of late, and so I hoped he had started to see the ball better. Nope. Grimsley struck him out, to give Jeter an 0-for-4 day.

The last bit of excitement came in the ninth, when it was Mariano time. He gave up a soft hit to Ken Harvey, and then nailed Joe Randa, to put two on with no outs. "Wow. Mo might be in danger of giving up a run," I said. I wasn't really worried that someone was going to hit a home run. We've seen it happen--Shea Hillenbrand at Fenway Park--but I didn't really think Matt Stairs pinch-hitting, a lefty, was going to do it. He didn't. He struck out with a weak wave. So did Desi Relaford. That brought the number nine batter, DeJesus, to the plate. The guy was only hitting .053. I guess when you are hitting that badly, you don't deserve to have your name pronounced right, or Mo's jam had gotten Bob Sheppard so excited, that he actually muffed the name. "DeHoosoos," he said, and everyone around me turned to each other and said "DeHooSoos?" Now we really have seen, and heard, everything--Bob Sheppard made an error.

Mariano did not. He got a ground ball right to Tony Clark to end the game, no sweat. Other than Sheppard's last batter goof, there were no errors, a fine come-from-behind win on a sunny day to finish off a home stand with six wins in a row, and you know what it was? It was fun. I've been to so many games lately, Yankees at Fenway Park, and playoff games, quote-unquote "big" games, that it was kind of nice to return to the state of pleasure that is a regular season game without a lot at stake. Sometimes I think we forget that the basis of baseball is mostly games like this. FOX wants to hype every game, every series, like it is "big." But the whole reason baseball thrives as an every day sport is because people go to the games that are not so big, that are just a simple joy, a good time at the park, a nice day with the family, or on a date, or playing hooky, or getting in a bonus game because you had to go to the city for a business meeting. Nice. Very nice.

Let's do it again, sometime.