#153. Yankee Stadium (Friday, July 2, 2010)

What was your best day…of being somewhere, even if you didn’t belong there?

The most ironic trip about this family trip to New York City, was that it took place a the very point in my life where the New York city as I commonly interpreted it—high finance, glamorous social circles, the pinnacle of career success—was as far away as it had even been.

The last two years, and the last three months after I’d returned from my second year at Waterloo with no summer job and no inclination of finding one, had been a disaster. Just the thought of interning at one of hundreds of banks or corporations I walked past on the streets, even as a finance major, was an absolute delusion; when my combined demotivation, non-existent job search skills, and spotty academic resume thus far couldn’t even land me a small temporary position back home.

Then, the Wednesday before the trip, finally some success. It was only a passed G2 driver’s test (#52), but that positive feeling would ingrain itself into the full five days after—in just the city where a bit optimism could go a long way.

We made the seven-hour drive from Ottawa (or rather, my parents did, despite me now being allowed to drive on the highway with supervision), and spent the first two nights in Secaucus, New Jersey (across the river from Manhattan), before spending a night each at the homes of my parents’ old high school friends in Brooklyn and suburban Philadelphia. It was pretty nice. We went to the Financial District with the New York Stock Exchange and Federal Reserve¹, we saw Phantom of the Opera on Broadway, we did the whole Times Square thing, I made a reasonably successful effort of being like an adult around my parents’ friends and had a decent time with them, and this was the peak of my brother and I exchanging inane, repetitive jokes every minute we were on the road together (at least before he grew out of it, and left me being the one who said random things, #80).

But that first full day in Manhattan was special. It starts first thing in the morning, as we’re taking taking the elevator down in our Secaucus hotel, and see a family dressed in Yankees gear. My dad asks, and they say they’re going to the game today. We check, and it turns out that today—out of all days—it’s against the Toronto Blue Jays.

It’s not a committed plan yet—I, in particular, am slightly taken aback by the boldness: go see a game with my favorite sports team (noting my fandom was close to a historical peak, given the little else in my life), against their hated rivals and the defending World Series champions, in their brand-new yet aura-filled home stadium? Not so much “too good to be true”, but rather an inner “did I deserve to be next to such prestige?” But through the day, as we take the bus into the city and walk around Midtown², the idea gathers force.

We stop by the Yankees store, but the only seats are Audi club full buffet for $150 each (not a bad deal these days), so we figure we’ll just pick up tickets from a scalper there. And by our luck, shortly after we get off the 2 Train with a large of mass of Yankees fans, we find a guy hawking tickets for a very reasonable and buy three off him. My dad, my brother, and I head in, me still in a state of total shock. Our seats end up being in the literal last row of the stadium—right behind the (thin-feeling) metal fence structure is open air and the rest of the Bronx down below.

It’s a wild game. Obviously, the Yankees are heavy favorites, and they score an early run. Then, in a critical moment, they have the bases loaded with none out in the bottom of the 3rd, and the Jays escape without giving up a run (started with a strikeout of the one Alex Rodriguez). The score stays that way until the eighth, when the Jays tie it off Joba Chamberlain³ Then heading into the ninth with the score still tied, it’s time for Enter Sandman. Mariano Rivera enters to his infamous Metallica music, and the stadium goes nuts—that was the one point in the whole game when I felt that I wasn’t actually just seeing epicness, but was living in it myself. It then goes to extra innings and the Jays score five runs in the top of the eleventh to win it. (And they’re still technically in the playoff race at this (early) point in the reason, so it’s a pretty big deal.) I was physically there, to see my lowly Jays take down—in comeback fashion—the most powerful team in baseball. I can’t even believe the words as I say them.

Something I never truly appreciated about that, was that this is my only time ever watching the Yankee (and baseball) legends A-Rod, Jeter, and Rivera play in person. Only time. But somehow, that mythic reality got completely overtaken in my memory from that day on by a completely different feeling: for one day, despite all my career and school failures and collapsed self-confidence to this point, I could experience an objective, undeniable, large-scale success in a city that otherwise was far, far out of my reach.

Even at the time, with no conception of future career in the policy finance space (or a conception of future career period), there was something about the New York Fed building that stuck in my mind as a place that meant something a bit more (#23, #12).
And have lunch at this small Chinese restaurant there. In the greatest of ironies that would never be replicated in any form, going there was my idea. My mom just wanted to go to some fast food place, but I figured we should at least do a restaurant if we’re in New York. The food is actually pretty good (and I generally dislike Chinese food); but one thing that sticks out to me. There’s a deal for three egg rolls but four of us. We get it anyways. Then a waiter sees all of us but my brother eating an egg roll, and gets a fourth one and gives it to him, saying (in Chinese), “We can’t leave you out, of course”. I don’t know, but such a small, innocent act in the fast-paced epicenter of the busiest city in the world… left a guilty but uplifting feeling that stayed with me.
A few particular irate Yankee fans in my section go, “Joba! Do your job!”, though given how far we were, he probably didn’t hear them.