By Zaheer E. Clarke
(Published August 31, 2015)
“Let’s go, Brian! Let’s go!” was shouted repeatedly by Brian’s drunk friends as they jeered him for not offering his seat to any of the ladies who were standing in the packed #4 subway train. He eventually yielded, I guess to peer pressure and adopted a gentlemanlike behaviour. His friends broke out in celebrations at his newfound nobility while the passengers on the train erupted in laughter at the series of events. While holding my four-year-old daughter, who was sleeping, I flashed a smile. That’s how my night ended as I boarded the train and left “The House That Jeter Built” (Not Babe Ruth): The (New) Yankee Stadium. How the night transpired prior was quite something else.
After a bus, and a few trains through the New York Subway system, both above and underground, I came through the exit, and before me was the humongous sign “Yankee Stadium”. My mother-in-law, an avid baseball fan, like myself, purchased tickets for my entire family and me to attend. Did I say I love my mother-in-law? “I love my mother-in-law.” As we entered Gate 6, went through the punctilious security checkpoints, which I imagined was as a result of New York’s greatest tragedy, 9-11, I beheld a sea of Yankees’ fans, standing and seated before me, of over 43,000, from touching distance to the field in front to the super-high upper decks above. I was in awe. Continue reading