YU Baseball Sunday

On the Field

I was at the beautiful Van Cortlandt Park in Riverdale (the Bronx) yesterday watching the Yeshiva University Maccabees (Macs) vs. Vaughn College’s team in a double header. Unbelievable. YU won both games! That broke a 67-game losing streak! The guys looked sharp in their white uniforms adorned with blue letters. There were some great hits and pitches, and lots of steals causing the dust to rise from the field. What a day!

Pirates Hat at 191st St Station

The sky couldn’t have been bluer nor the clouds fluffier. Breezy and a bit on the cool side, it was a perfect day for baseball. Some trees in the distance blossomed; a nearby tree shed red florets. I took the 1-train up to its last stop, 242nd Street, and the field was right by the station. I came prepared, proudly wearing my vintage Pittsburgh Pirates cap (with the mean Pirate). With my sons being on the team, I had to show our Pittsburgh pride. I wouldn’t care to be mistaken for a Mets fan after all!

As I sat in the bleachers soaking up the sun (and pretending to be able to see the ball against the sky when someone hit a pop-up), I felt the sun warming my body and heart. A bit of happy deja vu floated up. It’s one more time that I’m sitting in the bleachers for my sons’ baseball game. I’m reminded of all the Little League games I’d attended when the kids were small, but now it’s the big time: college baseball. The kids are bigger, but they’re my still kids, and I’m busting* with pride!

After-Game Wrap-up

Being not too far from campus, there was a bit of a cheering section, too. I chatted with Coach’s mom, the photographer, and some of the other people on the bleachers. One player’s sister who was visiting from Chicago came and another’s grandmother even came! I had met a few of the guys before and it was nice to be remembered and smiled at.

Nostalgia set in. How many hours had I warmed the bleachers supporting my kids’ teams? How many times had I yelled “way to go” or cheered when our team came home? This seemed not much different, only this time, the players had beards and were taller than previously.

Best of all was hearing how the players spoke to their teammates. Cries of encouragement were voiced to the guys at bat or on the field, and guys were clapped on the shoulder or tapped with affection when they came back to the dugout. Some cute nicknames were bandied about, too. Even the guys who didn’t play supported their teammates loudly and with passion. Brotherhood and camaraderie were evident.

There were some funny moments, too. At some point they called out random Hebrew words to confound the other team’s pitcher. I remember hearing “iparon” (pencil) and “todah rabbah” (thanks a lot) thrown out and cracking up over the absurdity! It was weirder than if the other team had babbled Spanish. One could expect Spanish in New York. But Hebrew?

I took plenty of pictures. I called my Mom to tell her about the game. I followed the players accessing the team roster via smartphone. I even got my sons to pose with me at the end of the day, as the team was breaking down the practice nets and putting away equipment. I didn’t get in the way and wasn’t embarrassing to them. I suppose teen angst has passed and appreciation has set in. They are men in uniforms, now.

Only one thing was missing that would have made the day perfect: I didn’t bring a knitting project!

Team going home seen from 1-train platform

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* Yeah, I know it should be “bursting,” but I felt like a balloon swelling with happiness and thought I’d bust out in song!

Wrecked on Broadway

Wrecked Camry in the Bronx under the 1-Train tracks on Broadway

Today’s blog comments on a scene not far from Washington Heights. I moved my car for the first time in two weeks the other day. No snow, no Alternate Side Parking. Bad news: a tire was flat. I drove slowly to the gas station and filled it with enough air to get me to the tire shop in Riverdale. Preparing for a bit of a wait, I walked down Broadway to the supermarket to get something to drink and came across this ruin.

The wreck sits under the 1-Train tracks. It has been moldering here at least since last fall, six months or so, judging from the dead leaves inside and around it. Ironically, a white police cruiser sits across the street, and two cars over is a black auxiliary police car. You would think that the police know about this eyesore and would be doing something to have it removed. I can’t fathom why it’s been here so long. The owner must be known; the front license plate is still affixed!

An intact shoe rests on the driver’s side rocker panel contrasting oddly with the condition of this wrecked Toyota Camry. How odd, I thought, my curiosity piqued. I walked around it noting the totally shattered windshield, the flayed innards, rusted metal, nightmarish wires jutting out, and the oddly unmolested back seat. I prayed that nobody was in it when it got crushed. No one could have lived through an accident that would cause this much damage.

What story could this car tell? What happened to cause this damage? And how did a lone shoe come to rest here, of all places?