Bronx Bombers

Take yourself out to a Yankees ball game while you’re in New York City. It’s a helluva party.

Safe! Images: Getty Images

Rest assured all you lovers of picnic-rug-on-the-hill footy – our sporting codes aren’t being Americanised ... not by a long shot. Sure, we talk about “metres gained” a lot more than we used to, and the video ref is still more razzamatazz-NFL than suburban NRL. But, as one discovers when they take the train from Grand Central Station in Midtown Manhattan to East 153rd Street Station and take in a New York Yankees home game, Australian sports are – really – about as American as a brand-new Sherrin.

If New York City is The Big Apple, the new $1.2-billion Yankee Stadium, in use since April last year and a replica of its famous predecessor of the same name, must surely be its core. Built, almost cruelly, just across the road from the Yanks’ former digs, it’s actually an exact replica of the old girl, complete with white-picket trimmings across the top of its stands as a tribute to the Bronx’s famous fallen angel.

Each and every one of the Yanks’ 81 home games is a virtual New York pride parade on grass, with no expense spared. On the early afternoon that Inside Sport is a guest of the Yankees’, the Bronx Bombers are in the middle of a hot streak. Their 5-2 win over the Texas Rangers this particular day completes a three-game sweep which has A-Rod and his team-mates pumped and New York’s baseball fraternity in no doubt whatsoever as to who’s rocking Major League Baseball this week. 

Andy Pettitte lets fly
Images: Getty Images

Their fans’ street-cool, gangster-style “Go Yankees” hoodies and pin-striped Derek Jeter replica jerseys house fierce attitudes and baseball-savvy hearts and minds. Each panel of the perspex walls covering the rat run f

rom the trains to the stadium’s surrounds tells you of an upcoming Yankees game, its date and start time. This afternoon, before you start wondering what happened to the old cauldron, opened in 1923 and closed in 2008, the skeleton of one of its main stands hits you in the face like a fouled fly ball. The ex-stadium’s been demolished, but lays there like a curled-up, squashed and forgotten dead spider which someone forgot to bin. “There it is. It’s a shame,” a Jeter fanatic consoles his pals.

“It’s a sin. It’s a fucken sin,” his rugged friend emphasises. “Babe Ruth’s in there.” We know what he’s trying to say. Place any baggage you’re carrying on the long, rectangular desk open for inspection, be full body-scanned by security and you’re in. Your first port of call should be one of the enthusiastic kids carrying a “Can I help anyone?” sign. It’s all too easy, like walking into a house party and being shown where the fridge is – and told to make yourself comfortable. At Yankees games, at least in the $175 padded seats our butts are parked in, a friendly staffer will be along soon with a menu and a list of merchandise for you to choose from.

Recognising that getting up out of your seat is for schmucks, you are still free to leave the comforts of the almost lounge-stand seats 16 rows back from third base and go exploring. The girl behind the hot dog stand will ask “what are ya havin?” She’s not there to muck around. Neither’s the merchandise staff – there are far too many Yankees cap-hunting tourists to process for any small talk. They will stand patiently, though, while you choose between 19 shades of dark blue until you find the cap your relos want you to take back to Oz. Take your Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio and Alex Rodriguez souvenirs back to your seat, mind your own business and keep a sharp and focussed trajectory – the Yankees’ fans aren’t here to muck around, either. “I’m walkin’ here,” is what you’ll get if you collide with one.

“Sorry mate,” you’ll reply in reflex action.

“Donworryaboudid. Where you from, anyway, England?” Close enough ...

The action’s been crisp, quick and as sharp as the mower marks in the outfield while you’ve been away. All that noise is from first baseman Mark Teixeira’s homer over right field. His crack sends Yankee Stadium into raptures. A celebratory air-raid horn booms over the bass-heavy giant speakers – you can’t see any of them, so just assume they’re everywhere. The illuminated advertising strip wrapping around the stadium’s waistline like a glittering belt holding a supermodel together stops advertising chocolate bars and is now dominated by two giant Mickey Mouse-ish hands which clap in between the simple, but powerful enforcement “GO YANKEES!!”

Alex Rodriguez lets rip.
Images: Getty Images

Each batter’s trip from the dugout to the plate is complemented by the stadium DJ’s best doof-doof work, before he makes way for that famous baseball PA drawl: “Now batting for the Yankees ... number 14 ... Curtis Granderson ... number 14.” (Wouldn’t quite work at CUA Stadium, would it? “Now playing for the Panthers, Number 10, Petero Civoniceva, Number 10.” Nup.) The baseball organist is still a staple at Yankee Stadium, too.

Then something interesting happens. As you’re sitting there in your padded seat, feeling over-nourished from your ice cream served in a blue plastic Yankees cap-bowl, you notice the grounds staff who are combing the in-field dirt like a parade of ride-on mowers manicuring Augusta. One of them starts to shake his hips, his mates follow, twirl their broom handles around their heads, then explode into a dance revue of The Village People’s YMCA like it’s the most normal thing in the world. (It is in these parts, because most of the 44,000 in attendance spell out the famous letters, too.) The NRL’s and AFL’s water runners are severely underutilised, in our opinion.

It’s the seventh-inning stretch. Yankee Stadium is letting its hair down, although, all too quickly, attention turns to the jumbo-vision replay screen which has been keeping the kids occupied with guess-which-hat-the-baseball-is-under games and competitions where the camera picks out muscle-flexing seven-year-olds. Highlights from today’s play and from Rangers-Yankees battle royals of yesteryear have also dominated. God Bless America is everyone’s tune now, though. If you can imagine the Australian Rugby League Kangaroos stopping play with three-quarters of the match gone to be upstanding for the national anthem, you’ll get the picture of what the seventh-inning stretch phenomenon is all about: Yankees and Rangers soldiers standing with caps in hand and over hearts. The crowd’s doing likewise, revelling in their boys’ and city’s brilliance. They’re proud to be part of this most famous of all-American clubs. A stirring rendition at the end of the “stretch” of Take Me Out To The Ball Game delivers the knockout stereotype.

With the sun setting, lowering the temp inside the arena, wipe the smirk off your face, sit back and enjoy the Yankees cruising home for another W. They’ve made the days of over 40,000 lovers of America’s national pastime, and have made you want to come back. Make sure you do – the party will keep going while you’re away and Frank Sinatra’s New York, New York will keep playing after every win.

Besides, now you know there’s nothing remotely like this back home.

– James Smith