Okay, at the suggestion of my father (and after all, it’s Father’s Day, so I ought to listen), I’m going to attempt to blog once a week, on Sunday nights. And this is a good week to start, since I went to a baseball game on Tuesday… and life got in the way of writing about it until now. The New York Yankees came to the Bay Area this week, and my friend e-mailed asking if I wanted to take in a game. As long as he wasn’t a Yankees fan, I was down. (He’s a Dodgers fan — I never know where NL fans loyalties lie in the American League.)
A funny thing happens in Oakland when the Yankees (or Red Sox or Giants) come to play… the Coliseum gets over run with away fans. There are a large amount of New York (and Boston) transplants in the area, and Oakland tickets are cheap. Last season when I went to see the Red Sox on the 4th of July, the Coliseum looked a little like Christmas with all the red in the green seats. But even when Yankees or Red Sox are in town, there is one section of the stadium that remains rabidly loyal to the A’s — a section I have previously never sat in because I wasn’t sure I had the stamina:
The Right Field Bleachers.
All of the crazy things you hear about happening at the Oakland stadium: Jeff Francoeur sending pizzas and starting a bacon tradition, the drumming, the Bernie Lean, and Balfour Ragin’ all started in the right field bleachers. These guys take being an A’s fan seriously. So obviously, this is where we decided to sit to avoid the incoming glut of New Yorkers. By some miracle, we managed to finagle a pair of seats in the second row… and by the 8th inning, someone left and we jumped up to the front, where taking part in the traditional festivities, like standing during the wave so as to stop it, was a requirement, not a suggestion.
So, while a non-trivial proportion of the rest of the stadium didn’t seem to be quite so excited when Coco Crisp started off the bottom of the 1st with a solo homerun, or watching Derek Norris go deep in the 4th inning, our section was having a blast. C.C. Sabathia, who just might hold the record for the most pinstripes of any Yankee ever, gave up 6 runs over six innings while Bartolo Colon pitched six innings of shutout ball. The final score may seem close, but it never felt that way.
At one point, we discovered that another mutual friend of ours was at the game. And he saw us Balfour Raging in the front row of the bleachers in the 9th inning and snapped a picture. (With his cell phone, so you’re just going to have to believe me when I tell you that one of those blurry people in a yellow A’s jersey is me.)
Balfour raging… I’m in there somewhere
Colossus of Rhode 
‘spect if you’re going to blog every Sunday night then I’m going to have to read it. and given that I’m a week behind in finding your classic missive, I’m struck by a couple of small details.
first, nice writeup on your Yankee game. albeit, the picture leaves a wee bit to be desired in the world of ‘You are there’, but I’ll take your word for it.
But here’s the real thing, and somewhat crucial to winning back your loyal readers, many of whom I’m quite sure are or will be thrilled to learn that you are going to provide a weekly commentary on all things baseballian, or whatever else crops into your glowing fingertips.
Unfortunately, as I am reading the first of what I am sure is to be many “weekly” efforts, on the 24th of June and I note that this is particular blog is dated the 16th of June, which in what was intended to be no coincidence, was Father’s Day, but when I did the math, I discovered that that was 8 days ago and then when consulting the Farmer’s Almanac, I learned that there are, by convention I suppose, 7 days in a week, and further by counting the days out loud, I discovered that yes, indeed, there was another Sunday in between the 24th and the 16th, I was left with the rather startling conclusion that the “Weekly” had begun rather weakly and the streak, such as it was, ended at ONE.
This puts your weekly idea in league with such other classic one-time wonders as Osbourne’s : Reloaded and Heil Honey, I’m Home.