Show and Tell

Jen is trying to get her own weekend MeMe started. She calls it show and tell. And since this is different from the "25 things about me" one plaguing Facebook at the moment, I thought I'd play along.

This week her topic is "favorite sports memory." I have lots of them so it's hard to narrow it down to just one.

Since it's Super Bowl Sunday, I suppose I should say something about football. The truth is, I've never been a fan. I'm a baseball girl. But for a very brief period of time, I dated the captain of the football team in high school. This story doubles as a football memory and my worst date ever... I got all dressed up and looked totally cute in my little skirt. Went to his place to pick him up. We were supposed to grab dinner and a movie. (don't pick on me for the picking him up thing - he lived around the corner from the movie theater and my house was across town. plus his car was a piece of crap and always in the shop).

He was very intently watching football when I showed up. Then I realized he was watching HIMSELF play football. It was the replay of the prior week's game. And we had to stay and watch. I think he actually thought I'd be impressed by his running commentary about the game and, of course, his "skills."

By the time the game was over, it was too late for a movie and I was starving. Starving Jaime = cranky Jaime. Not a pretty thing. If you're going to subject me this nonsense, the least you can do is feed me. Let's just say that was our last date. Captain of the football team or not, I can't stand people who are that into themselves.

But for a real favorite sports memory...

I grew up at Yankee Stadium. Sundays and Yankees - it was my family's tradition. We'd trek into the Bronx, me, my dad, my uncle and when she got older, my sister. I've been going to games since I was 5.

I could tell tons of stories about the players I've met, games I've been to and stuff I've seen there. I hate that they're tearing down the old stadium. Even more than that, I hate that I'll never be able to take Andrew to a game there. There's just something magical about the place and it's history that makes everyone stop and stare when they see it for the first time. The big stadium across the street with all its stupid luxury boxes won't be the same.

But that's not the point.

During the 80s, the Yankees were terrible. Actually, terrible doesn't even begin to describe it. The team couldn't buy a win. And even if they actually made the game a little interesting - bottom of the 9th, bases loaded, 2 outs, the best hitter up at bat - you could hear crickets chirp. No one came out to the games back then. They'd announce attendance at 25,000 but, judging from all the empty seats and the eerie quiet, the real attendance was far below that.

I can't remember what prompted my dad and uncle's utter hatred for Steinbrenner. What I do remember is the Saturday that we all sat around the kitchen table decorating brown paper shopping bags which they said we would be wearing over our heads at the next game. Each bag had a picture of George on the back. Under the picture were the words "The Baron of Baseball Buffoonery."

We wore those bags for the entire season. We were far more entertaining than the actual game. People would come around and take pictures of us. Fans cheered our protest far louder than they cheered on the team.

In the Ledger's final tribute to the stadium, they actually mentioned us. And now you know the true identity of the fans who wore bags over their heads and led the stadium in anti-Steinbrenner chants.