To hold season tickets and be able to go to any Yankees home game any time I want and to feel, unlike with other teams I have backed and continue to back, that as long as the Yankees are not behind by double digits there is a chance they can come back and win.
To believe that even on a dreary day and in a dreary game like today's 6-1 loss to Oakland. (After a Yankee win, the stadium sound system plays Frank's version of New York, New York. After a loss, it is a female jazzy version I don't recognize.)
To sit in Yankee Stadium, refurbished twice and soon to be replaced, but still haunted by legendary ghosts and served with the worst selection of concessions in the major leagues -- at least of those stadiums I know -- and where for some reason only light beer is sold in the upper deck.
To be able nonetheless to at least get a hot Italian sausage.
To hear this fan dialogue -- him: "It was a ball, ump." Her (embarrassed): "Please shut up." Him: "I paid $60 for this seat and I should shut up??!!"
To then jog home after the game, a couple beers content, through Harlem to our apartment on Broadway.
Sweet!
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